Last week I spoke with a young man who attends our young adult ministry. He told me he was becoming convinced of Pentecostal Oneness theology from a “pastor” on YouTube. A few months earlier I met with a couple of young men who were being swayed by some things they had seen from Catholic apologists on Instagram Reels. Two years ago, I counseled a young woman who was considering changing her view on what the Bible teaches on sexuality because her favorite Christian influencer had become “affirming.”

In Paul’s day one of the main things Corinth was known for was sophistry. People went to Corinth to display their prowess at rhetoric. Not simply demonstrating they were wise, but that they were skilled at displaying their wisdom. The best would compete for greater reputation and larger crowds. Devoted disciples would attach themselves to a silver-tongued rhetorician in the hopes of kickstarting their own career.

This culture led to Corinthian Christians claiming Paul or Apollos over and against the other to the point of splintering the Corinthian church (1 Cor. 1:10–12). It was such a serious problem that Paul spent the opening four chapters of 1 Corinthians addressing this issue, leading to his final appeal in 4:14–17:

I do not write these things to make you ashamed, but to admonish you as my beloved children. For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers. For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. I urge you, then, be imitators of me. That is why I sent you Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord, to remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church.

After four chapters of a theological master class on the power of God in the gospel which confounds human wisdom, this is Paul’s closing statement on the issue. No more arguments, just an appeal: “you have so many guides, but I am your only father.”

I’m convinced we find ourselves in a similar situation, and an even more pervasive one, as the Corinthians. You and I live in a digital Corinth, and we too certainly have “countless guides in Christ” (1 Cor. 4:15). Podcasts, social media accounts, YouTube channels, book authors, Xers, Substackers, sermons from celebrity pastors we care for more than the ones coming from the pulpits at our own churches—we have countless guides in Christ. More countless than the Corinthians could have dreamed of.

And, also like them, we don’t have many spiritual fathers. The Corinthians at least had Paul. What about us? Can the swaths of Gen Zers getting the vast majority of their Christian content via their phones name anyone they could call a father in the faith?

And before you see a baby flying out with the bath water, this is not all bad. What a tremendous blessing to have at our fingertips so many godly and sanctifying resources! Where would any of us be without online Christian ministries? Having guides in Christ is not the problem—if they are truly guides “in Christ.” The problem for the Corinthians, and the problem that faces us, is when we try to use those guides to fill our need for spiritual “fathers.”

Not only this, but with the rise of social media and all the modes of Christian content mentioned above, how much of a felt need for spiritual fathers even remains? When constant access and seemingly unending resources—whether they be full online articles or 20-second reels—offer 24/7 instantaneous input laced with a dopamine hit to boot, how many Christians truly have someone who could be called a spiritual father? How many feel that they even need one? Just like with the Corinthians, the guides and gurus slowly but surely replace our felt need for would-be-fathers in the faith.

The trouble is that guides, even well-meaning ones, simply can’t do what only spiritual fathers (and mothers of course!) can do. Online or any at-a-distance guides remain woefully inadequate to do the two things Paul tells the Corinthians that only he can do for them as their spiritual father: love them and be their in-flesh model of the Christian life.

Love

Paul loves the Corinthians. Like a father with his children, he has a deep and genuine affection for them. They are his “beloved children” (4:14)—and not just anyone’s beloved children or God’s generally, but “my beloved children.” And Paul is their “father”—their only one, he not so subtly suggests—through the gospel. This is the core difference between spiritual fathers and guides. Gospel-fathers really know and really love their gospel-children. Because of that love, they have a unique relationship that guides simply can’t replicate.

It doesn’t matter how much you love Desiring God or John Piper himself (I count myself in that number by the way). It and he cannot love you back. Help? Totally! Guide? Yes! Know you? Love you? Feel for you and be concerned for your good like a father is for his children? No way. Not possible. And that’s ok. Being known and fully loved is what you need as a disciple. And it is something only a spiritual parent can offer.

Modeling

Secondly, the guides couldn’t satisfy Paul’s urge “to be imitators of me” (v.16). That’s the reason Paul says he is sending Timothy, so that if they forgot how Paul lived, Timothy can “remind you of my ways in Christ.” And notice that the purpose is to “remind.” It’s a refresher. Paul lived among them for at least 18 months. He was there, among them in person. They watched him live day in and day out. He had demonstrated his Christian life before them in such detail that they should know its shape and “vibe” and only need reminding of his “ways in Christ.”

Consider Your Ways

Who are you imitating? Not what Christian influencer, author, or preacher do you like. Whose life are you so close to that you could actually imitate them? What more-mature-than-you Christian are you tailing so closely that they are rubbing off on you? Whose “ways in Christ” have shaped and are shaping you because you’ve watched them be lived out in front of you?

I imagine most of us—especially younger Christians who have never known life without access to countless guides in the palms of their hands—struggle name someone whose life we are truly imitating. And that inability reveals our digitized Corinthian problem.

Rather than being content with digital and paper guides who cannot love us and whom we cannot imitate, we need spiritual fathers and mothers who love us and live in front of us.

We are not so different from our Corinthian brothers and sisters; our Corinth is simply digitized and our options for guides even more countless. We too need spiritual fathers and mothers who actually know and love us as their beloved spiritual children. We too need spiritual moms and dads we know are worthy of looking up to and who are actually around so we can follow in their footsteps.

So here’s a call to pursue spiritual fatherhood—both to those who need fathers in the faith and to those who need to become them for the spiritually fatherless. We don’t need to get rid of all the guides, though perhaps a few less wouldn’t hurt. But what we do need, like the Corinthians, are fathers like Paul who know and love us and whose ways we can imitate because we’ve watched and are watching closely.

Some of us spend so much of ourselves trying to be “on” at church that when we get home at the end of a long day, we become a person we don’t want to be—depressed, frustrated, self-pitying, lethargic—and our loved ones see it. They often witness what others don’t.

Such seasons can leave many of us asking: What can be done to counteract the painful, sometimes debilitating effects of the work God has called me to do? I don’t want it to be this way. Is there anything I can actually do to change?

Thankfully, we’re not left without answers. The Spirit of God has seen to it that there’s a treasury of precious resources available to us in the pages of Scripture. Many saints throughout history have discovered that one of these resources—which is indispensable—is a practice of gratitude.

An Indispensable Key

Consider Paul’s prayer in Colossians 1:11–12, “May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy; giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light.”

Paul understood that serving the Lord requires endurance because it can be hard. There are crises, controversies, conflicts, and criticisms along the way that can make the work of the Kingdom quite painful. Many in ministry have felt the way George Herbert did when he wrote, “Have I no harvest but a thorn?”^[1]

Ministry also requires patience because it can take a long time to see the fruit of your labor. Most often, the Kingdom’s effects are hidden and gradual, not big and splashy (Matt. 13:33).

But Paul also understood that you can endure and be patient in a way that is essentially joyless. It is possible to endure something with white knuckles and a bad attitude. It is possible for patience to curdle into pessimism when it takes a long time to see a good thing come. This is why Paul prays for the Colossians to have endurance and patience mixed with joy.

Yet how can we experience joy in the midst of the pain and waiting that so often accompany our ministry? Paul’s answer is clear: by giving thanks to the Father. In other words, gratitude is one indispensable key to a ministry that remains joyful through each season.

Of course, our track record with gratitude isn’t what makes us pleasing to the Father. Remember what Paul says: God has qualified us (Col. 1:12). By grace, He has made us acceptable and equipped to receive every spiritual blessing that has come and is coming to His people in Christ. We must therefore never treat gratitude as a prerequisite for acceptance with God, but as a consequence of that acceptance.

Cultivating Gratitude in Ministry

Knowing that God has thus qualified and accepted us, how does gratitude actually work? How do we cultivate it when our souls are weary and our circumstances are hard? Three observations can help God’s servants to cultivate gratitude:

1. Gratitude Is a Decision

This reality breaks the false assumption that joy and gratitude are strictly emotional. They can be, but they don’t have to start there. You don’t always have to feel grateful before you can be grateful. There is nothing inauthentic about choosing to give thanks even when your most prominent feeling is pain. Choosing to be thankful grounds our attitude and outlook in agency and responsibility, not mood-chasing.

2. Gratitude is Built Through Practice

Learn a habit of slowing down your mind, paying attention to the graces of life, and openly expressing gratitude with words of thanksgiving. Embracing these simple acts will build the habit and reflex of thanksgiving over grumbling. Christian philosopher Kent Dunnington elaborates, “Gratitude begins by acting and speaking. Acting and speaking, more than feeling, are the favorable responses called for by God’s gifts. Of course, feelings will show up too, but they ought not be the focus if we hope to grow in gratitude to God.”^[2]

Human beings are designed such that the things we do have a way of doing something to us. Before gratitude can be spontaneous, it will need to be intentionally practiced through speech and action. No one learns to shoot an effective jump shot or play a difficult piece of music without practice. The same is true of gratitude.

The psalmists’ examples are often challenging for us. For instance, it says in Psalm 138, “I give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart.” This kind of wholehearted overflow can seem impossibly distant when you’re just beginning to practice. But the psalmists aren’t describing a feeling you must have before you start. They’re describing where practice is meant to lead.

3. Gratitude Can Affect Culture

A pastor or ministry leader who practices gratitude doesn’t only foster their own joy. They also influence the culture of their ministry environment. When an elder meeting or staff planning session is marked by genuine thanksgiving, it changes the vibe in the room. When your family sees you choosing gratitude even in the midst of difficulty, they learn that it’s possible to have joy so real that it transcends circumstances. Your grateful practice becomes permission and pattern for others.

In fact, it is the very pattern of Jesus himself. Our Savior had a perfect track record of grateful, joy-filled ministry. Though he was the Man of Sorrows, suffering deeply throughout His earthly days, He also decided to be grateful and expressed it outwardly (Matt. 11:25–26).

Even as the world rejected him and the horrors of crucifixion loomed ahead of him, Jesus modeled a ministry marked by genuine gratitude and joy. His human soul never once failed to overflow with thanksgiving. Part of following Jesus and ministering in His name means that our souls learn to overflow with gratitude by the power of His Spirit working within us.

What are you grateful for? Stop and ponder that question. Invite the Lord to commune with you as you ponder it. Write down whatever He brings to mind. Tell someone else—a friend, your spouse, a fellow church member—what you’re thankful for. Do whatever you can to more fully learn the way of gratitude, because, let’s face it, Christian ministry can be hard. And you need as much joy as you can get.

^[1] See Stephen Witmer, In All Things Thee to See: A Devotional Guide to Selected Poems of George Herbert (Crossway, 2026), 76.

^[2] Kent Dunnington, Gratitude to God: The Heart of Christian Formation (Baker, 2026), 203.

Four Questions That Reveal Your Commitment to Christ

So, how do you know if you have counted the cost of following Jesus? According to Luke 14:33, the big question to answer is this: Are you willing to give up everything for Jesus?

Here are four diagnostic questions to help you answer for certain.

1. Are You Willing to Do Whatever God Asks You?

When you decide to follow Jesus, you give up your own life plans. You embrace the reality of Proverbs 16:9: “A person’s heart plans his way, but the Lord determines his steps.”

God placed you on this earth for a purpose, and you must decide if you will join Him in His plans or try to plan your own way through this life.

2. Are You Willing to Go Wherever God Asks You?

God told Abraham to leave his homeland (Gen. 12:1–4), giving him a promise before revealing the destination. God called Abraham to leave what was familiar and trust Him with the destination.

We are often tempted to follow God on our terms, including the location of where we serve Him. However, that is not “renouncing all that he [or she] has.” Following Jesus means being willing to go wherever God leads, even if it is somewhere you had not imagined.

3. Are You Willing to Go Whenever God Asks You?

Abraham left his homeland when he was 75 years old. Even at an old age, Abraham was obedient to God.

We must be ready for—and obedient to—God’s timing, which is often different from ours. God calls us to faithful obedience, whether His timing feels immediate or delayed. Whether it is age, a financial situation, a relationship status, or a wrench thrown into your plans, you must be willing to go whenever God calls.

4. Are You Willing to Interact with Whomever God Asks You?

Let me state the obvious: This world is filled with a lot of people—a lot of sinful people (Rom. 3:23). I say this to remind you that what God asks of you will involve other people in one way or another, whether it is whom you are moving on from, working alongside, preaching to, counseling, or asking for support.

We can be tight-fisted about what God asks us to do, where He asks us to go, and when He asks us to act. However, when it comes to people, we are more tempted to be tight-fisted about how God wants to do things. But renouncing all that you have means giving up your terms of what interacting with other people looks like. It might involve someone you dislike, someone who has hurt you, someone you think is weird, awkward, or crazy. It may also involve someone you have not had contact with in a while, someone who is not a Christian, or someone you just met in the grocery store. Are you willing to be around whomever God calls you to?

Are you willing to renounce all that you have to follow Jesus? Another way to ask this is: Are you willing to let God determine the “how” of your life? You might be willing to do what God asks you to do, but are you willing to follow His leading in how it happens?

Following Jesus is not about adding Him to an already established life. It is surrendering every part of life to His lordship. The question is not whether Jesus fits into your plans, but whether your life belongs entirely to Him. Talking about Jesus, going to church, going to seminary, and leading Bible studies are not qualifications to be a follower of Jesus. Those who are willing to give up everything they have—including their own lives—are the ones who have counted the cost of following Jesus.

Have you counted the cost?

Jesus grew that seed into a bounty of spiritual fruit in a small group of us who have practiced garden friendship for over thirty-five years. Together we have weathered the anguish of our own Gethsemanes: cancer, church conflict, care and loss of parents, raising children, strained marriages, depression, chronic pain, being fired, and a grease fire. Here’s what we’ve learned so far about being “garden friends.”

What’s Special about a Garden Friend?

A garden friend is not a “garden variety” friend. “Garden variety” means ordinary, everyday, or common. In Gethsemane, a “garden variety” friend just wouldn’t do. Jesus was looking for a special kind of friend for His specific time of need.

1. Garden Friends Are Often Only Found in Special Gardens

Gethsemane means “olive press” and is a walled garden on the slope of the Mount of Olives where olives were crushed under a stone pillar to extract their oil. Here, Jesus’ soul was crushed to the point of brow bleeding agony (Luke 22:44). Jesus invited three disciples to remain near Him in the press of His loving service to sinners. Jesus was in no ordinary garden. He needed not-so-ordinary friends. Ministry leaders, you also need garden friends in the press of ministry life.

2. Garden Friends Are Few in Number

Garden friendships require a more intentional investment of time and attention that only a few people can provide. Jesus asked nine disciples to sit close by, but only three were asked to remain closer to Him in this desperate hour (Mark 14:32–34).

Who are the few garden friends you can safely invite into your special seasons of sorrow and struggle? My wife and I have been held and helped by the handful of garden friends with whom we’ve walked for decades. Ask Jesus for a few garden friends and for help to be a garden friend to a few people.

What Does a Garden Friend Do?

A garden friend finds pathways into another person’s pain and remains there as his friend wrestles with the Father. Jesus showed his friends the paths into his pain by what he instructed them to do.

1. The Path of Presence

Jesus said, “Remain here” (Matt. 26:38; Mark 14:34). He wanted them with Him. I sat alone in the burn unit waiting room the day after 38% of my wife’s body was burned in a kitchen grease fire. My garden friend, Damon, unexpectedly walked into the room and embraced me. He got on a plane that morning to be with us. The taxi driver dropped him at the wrong hospital, so he walked five miles to be with us.

2. The Path of Paying Attention

Jesus said, “Watch”—stay awake and alert (Matt. 26:40–41; Mark 14:37–38). He wanted them to remain alert to their own weakness, His pain and prayers, and the threat of the enemy. Weekly phone calls with my garden friend, Steve—who pastors in a different state than me—help us both pay attention to our ministry hearts and hurts, wins and losses, and joys and fears. Steve’s insightful questions allow me to be known by another and help me see Jesus. He walks the “watch” path well.

3. The Path of Prayer

Jesus said, “Pray that you will not enter into temptation” (Luke 22:40). Our group was inspired by the movie image of Roman soldiers shouting, “Lock shields!” as they brought together their individual shields around and above them to form a tortoise-like shell of protection from the enemy. Whether in person, by call, or text, one of us will say “Lock shields!” and ask for prayer. Sometimes we simply send the shield emoji. We pray for each specific need, yes, but more that our hearts will not doubt our Father, deny Jesus, or disregard the Holy Spirit.

My wife and I treasure the well-worn paths between us and our garden friends.

If the Disciples Failed, Can I Be a Faithful Friend?

Jesus’ hand-picked garden friends failed! They fell asleep and fell short of walking those paths with Him into His pain. I, too, have a willing spirit but weak flesh (Matt. 26:41).

The good news is that Jesus is the first faithful Garden Friend. When His garden friends stumbled, Jesus walked those paths back to them. Jesus returned to be present with them even in their weakness. He paid attention to their willing spirits and weary bodies. Then He locked shields with the Father against the enemy in prayer. He was pressed, and love flowed. He submitted to all He would have to suffer to crush Satan, sin, suffering, and death under the power of His love for failing friends. He was the true Garden Friend in their place and for their sake.

He is that garden friend for you! Jesus showed up in the flesh as “God with us.” He pays attention to every hair on your head and hurt of your heart. On the cross, He prayed, “It is finished!” paying the price of your failure to be His friend. By His Spirit, He enables you to cry out, “Abba, Father!” (Rom. 8:15).

Jesus trail-blazed the paths that garden friends follow, and He has filled us with His Spirit. For almost four decades, our garden friend, Jesus, has shown up in the flesh for us through our friends and for them through us. What a friend we have in Jesus!

Pray that the Spirit will help you find and be garden friends. Through garden friendship, you’ll tangibly experience the comfort of Christ’s presence with you in your trials and temptations.

The Bible is not naïve about the brokenness of the world around us. It doesn’t describe life according to our wishful thinking. No, it describes and matches life as it truly is. Proverbs 1:10–19 is a clear example of this.

The passage is blunt, realistic, and disturbing because it shows how evil works—not only through obvious violence, but through social dynamics, recruiting, grievance, and even shared resentment.

I think that’s why the father in Proverbs doesn’t begin by talking to his son about abstract concepts. Instead, he tells him the truth about the kind of world he is entering. He points out that sinners entice and evil always comes with an inviting attitude. Indeed, there’s such a thing as a kind of “reverse-evangelism” where fools don’t just want to sin alone but invite others into their dead-end lives.

“Come with us,” they say. They embrace the language of this kind of shared destruction. The end of that path isn’t always literal murder. Sometimes, it’s deeper and hits closer to home than that.

As I was studying this passage, one writer asked this question: Are you happy when other people succeed, or are you happy when they get their comeuppance?[1]

That’s a good question. Asking ourselves a question like that will reveal a lot about where we are headed. That question reaches beyond typical gang violence and beyond the thinking that someone is going to rob my grandma if I’m not careful.

It reaches into the ordinary poison of the human heart. The text points to pride, envy, greed, jealousy, retaliation, and what is called a kind of “bloodlust” deep in every heart. Violence begins there. It happens before hands ever move or weapons are ever drawn.

The human heart lies in wait for blood.

That is why success can become the unpardonable crime in the eyes of rampant sinners and even in the eyes of people we know.

For example, we can start with the person who writes better, speaks better, works harder, or is more successful than us. To the envious heart, these people seem guilty of every imaginable offense. Its cry is, “Down with him! Get rid of their success at any cost!”

When Another Person’s Success Feels Like a Threat

Think of Cain. Cain could not bear Abel’s acceptance, so he murdered him. Saul could hardly endure David’s praise, so he tried to pin him against the wall. Joseph’s brothers could not tolerate the favor given to him, so they put him in a pit and sold him into slavery. Even the religious leaders grew jealous of Jesus and handed Him over to be crucified. It’s clear then, that human beings don’t simply dislike evil; they often hate excellence, fruitfulness, favor, and blessing in another because their giftings and successes expose what is lacking or disordered in themselves.

For the envious heart, another person’s success can feel like the greatest offense. So they recruit.

Envy Always Wants Company

Sin is always finding people who agree with it. I think this is one of its darkest features. A man rarely stays content with his private resentment and will begin to gather others. His thoughts and feelings creep into all his conversations. We find him becoming increasingly obsessed. He wants allies and company because his grievance enjoys fellowship.

“Throw in your lot among us,” the sinners say (Prov. 1:14). From there, we watch a cause—even a negative cause—provide a context people can belong to, and it feels good. More than that, it feels meaningful. But when men gather around grievance rather than Jesus, that is not community at all. It is what Ray Ortlund calls counterfeit community, even black-market relationships.[2]

This is everywhere we look. Bullies at school, office meetings, divisions in churches, neighbors endlessly gossiping, political movements fueled by retaliation, and the list goes on. These are all variations of the same old invitation:

“Come with us, let us lie in wait for blood.”

Sure, the methods changed and the vocabulary became more respectable, but the call is the same. We build communities that, in one way or another, slit each other’s throats and call it justice and discernment.

So the question is: Is there something better?

Christ Offers a Better Way

Yes, Proverbs gives the son another option. The offer of wisdom in verses 8–9 is beautiful. The father says that wisdom will become a graceful garland for your head and pendants for your neck. In other words, wisdom adorns a person’s life with true beauty. It makes a person attractive in the truest sense of the word. The answer in Proverbs is continually the same: Get wisdom.

Paul’s command to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” captures the same idea (Rom. 13:14). Wisdom is seen in reasonableness, honor, humility, and a life that is not oriented around itself. Wisdom is not just asking for a life of rule-keeping. Wisdom is found in Christ. Wisdom is the attractive glory of Christ beginning to show itself in the human heart.

And the final answer to our bloodlust is peace. Not the world’s peace, but the peace found in Christ. The gospel reminds us that God is not lying in wait for our blood. He gave His own son at the cross. When the peace of Christ rules the heart, a person no longer needs another man’s downfall to feel justified. He can become, by grace, a peacemaker rather than a rival, a life-giver rather than a destroyer.

Do you recognize this attitude in your own life? Do you see it in your friends or your church?

Instead of joining communities built on resentment, become the kind of person who delight in the grace of God wherever it appears. The wisdom of Christ frees us to rejoice in another person’s blessing because our hope is secure in Him.

May we heed the father’s instruction: “My son, if sinners entice you, do not consent (Prov. 1:10).

[1] Ray Ortlund, Proverbs: Wisdom That Works (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), 38–40.

[2] Ortlund, Proverbs, 38–40.

It’s possible Jared just wanted to trick Ronni into talking about UFO’s again, but on this new installment in the FTC Film Club feature, the guys discuss the artistic excellence and spiritual resonance of M. Night Shyamalan’s 2002 film, Signs.

Perhaps this is the first time you have considered the possibility that you may be single for the rest of your life. This should prompt you to reflect on your own devotion to the Lord. Since God knows what He has planned for your life, you can devote yourself fully to Him in your present season and trust Him to orchestrate the details of your future.

Do not wait to begin serving God wholeheartedly until you are married. Rest in God’s sovereignty knowing that if He has called you to marriage, He will make it happen. As you trust God, I want to share a few reflections to help you maximize your singleness for His glory (Col. 3:23).

1. The Desire to Marry Is Good.

The desire to be married is a God-given one. Marriage can be a beautiful picture of the gospel, as shown in Paul’s instructions to the Christians at Ephesus about a God-honoring marriage (Eph. 5:22–33). The desire to be married is not sinful; rather, the New Testament shows that Paul gives God-honoring counsel to both single and married Christians. Therefore, you should take that desire to God in prayer often.

The Apostle Paul also acknowledges that some Christians will strongly desire marriage. Addressing Christians who are single, the Apostle Paul writes, “I say to the unmarried and to widows: It is good for them if they remain as I am. But if they do not have self-control, they should marry, since it is better to marry than to burn with desire” (1 Cor. 7:8–9). Paul recognizes that marriage is a God-honoring path for those who desire it. Therefore, if you desire marriage, bring that desire to God in prayer and trust Him with His timing and purposes.

2. Marriage Can Be Idolized.

While marriage has been created by God, it can become an idol in your life.  If that desire is not held prayerfully with open hands, it can grow into an idol, pushing God from the primary place in your heart. Paul calls out this temptation in the church at Corinth, “I want you to be without concerns. The unmarried man is concerned about the things of the Lord—how he may please the Lord. But the married man is concerned about the things of the world—how he may please his wife—and his interests are divided” (1 Cor. 7:32–34a). The demands of marriage and family bring additional responsibilities that can divide your attention in ways single believers do not experience.

This is why I challenge you to think about how you would live your life if marriage was not in the picture for you. Marriage is not meant to satisfy the God-sized void in your life. The fifth-century Christian theologian St. Augustine famously remarked, “You made us for yourself and our hearts find no peace until they rest in you.”[1]

If you desire to get married, know that your future husband or wife will not satisfy you because only God can. While marriage is created by God, it is the union of two imperfect people. Do not idolize marriage; instead, be fully devoted to God in your singleness because this life is all about glorifying Him, not worshipping a spouse or expecting them to do what only God can.

3. Singleness Is a Gift from God.

Lastly, considering what has been said, I am not advocating that marriage should be dreaded. I simply want to draw out Paul’s point that singleness is a gift in the way that marriage is a gift. Paul says, “Yet I wish that all men were even as I myself am. However, each has his own gift from God, one in this way, and another in that.” (1 Cor. 7:7; emphasis added).

Paul wishes that all were single like he is, but he recognizes that God has given the gift of marriage to some and the gift of being single to others. Marriage brings unique blessings, but it also brings unique responsibilities and challenges that single believers do not bear. Singleness is a gift because you can be fully devoted to God without the distractions of marriage and family life.

I want to ask you one more time: If you knew today that you were going to be single for the rest of your life, how would you begin serving God?

Make the most of your singleness by serving God with the same wholehearted devotion you would have if you knew you would remain single for the rest of your life. You have the gift of serving God with an undistracted devotion. There are so many ways to steward this gift well. Go on mission trips. Serve in your local church. Start a discipleship group. Find a godly mentor. Read good books. Write. Prioritize the spiritual disciplines.

This life is all about worshipping Him, so how will you steward the season He has given you? Don’t let your wishes about being married get in the way of your full devotion to God. And if God sees it fit to bring a companion alongside you to run the race set before you, trust in His sovereignty to work it out. Marriage, too, is a good gift.

[1] Augustine, Confessions, trans. R. S. Pine-Coffin (London: Penguin, 1961), 21.

The principle of the antithesis can be described in two ways. First, it is the fundamental opposition between the believer and unbeliever related to our spiritual state (Gen. 3:15; Matt. 6:24; Rom. 8:5–9).^[1] Believers and unbelievers live in the same reality of God’s created world, but every person is either spiritually dead in sin in Adam or united by faith and given new life in Christ (Rom. 5:12–21)^[2]. For instance, the sheep and goats are together (Matt. 25:31–46). The wheat and weeds grow together (Matt. 13:24–43). Nevertheless, this temporary togetherness will end when the believer and unbeliever are finally separated at the end of the age. For now, both live in God’s created world but are spiritually at odds with each other. While we share workplaces, live in the same neighborhoods, drive the same streets, and shop at the same grocery stores, the difference between Christians and non-Christians is no less than between light and darkness (1 John 1:5–10).^[3]

Second, the antithesis is the fundamental opposition between the believer and unbeliever related to our epistemological commitments (Eph. 4:17–18).^[4] As John Frame writes, it is “the opposition between Christian and non-Christian thought.”[5] We observe the same world, but we have drastically different starting points and opposing interpretations. This contrast is between rival worldviews. Every worldview begins with its own set of first principles. It is a frame of reference that orients and directs our thinking. It is directly related to our spiritual state. For example, a humanistic psychologist assumes that man is by nature good, growth-oriented, and will thrive if given the right conditions. These are worldview commitments that directly oppose a biblical view of man as a sinner in need of divine redemption. The fall plunged man into a sea of distortion, folly, and intellectual rebellion (1 Tim. 6:5). Sin has cast a thick darkness over the unbelieving mind. When consistent, the unbeliever will express futility in thinking from a spiritually darkened heart (Rom. 1:21–28). By default, he interprets and responds to the facts around him through the lens of unbelief. In contrast, believers have the mind of Christ and, when consistent, interpret the world according to God’s Word (1 Cor. 2:14–16). In either case, human reason is never spiritually neutral.

This spiritual and epistemological conflict shows up in systems of thought. For this reason, a complete contrast must be maintained between believing and unbelieving systems of thought (Col. 2:6–8).^[6] God’s wisdom and ways are categorically opposed to the wisdom and ways of the world (Job 28:12–28; Prov. 1:7; 1 Cor. 1:21, 25–31; 2:14; James 3:13–18).^[7]

Beginning in the garden of Eden, there have been two opposing counsels—the counsel of God and the counsel of the evil one (Gen. 1–3). The two opposing counsels are presented in Psalm 1:1–2: “Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night.” Adams comments, “The Psalms, in particular, from the first Psalm on, set up the antithesis between the two ways and the two kinds of people who walk on them. It is not right for Christians, therefore, to become enamored with the ways of the world. From the garden of Eden, it has always been a choice between God’s Word and the devil’s, between the way of life and the way of death.”^[8]

Counseling and the Antithesis

What does the principle of the antithesis have to do with counseling? As Adams developed biblical counseling, he accepted Van Til’s claim that all unbelieving systems of thought are opposed to biblical thinking. In his words, he aimed “to expose sharply the antitheses that exist [between Christianity and the major schools of counseling]. For too long biblical presuppositions and methodology either have been ignored or blurred by eclecticism.”^[9] For this reason, the antithesis serves as a foundational principle of the biblical counseling movement. Using Van Til’s language, Adams presents, “In God’s world, all men are related to him as covenant breakers or covenant keepers (in Christ). The judgments of unbelievers, therefore, are arrived at and presented from a point of view which attempts to divorce itself from God.”^[10]

Powlison, too, acknowledges that man is “either a covenant-breaker bedewed with common grace, or a covenant keeper compromised by indwelling sin and prone to suffer.”^[11] In either case, a theorist or counselee’s spiritual state will fundamentally determine his interpretive framework. For this reason, he prioritizes “discerning the antithesis between secularism and biblical truth.”^[12] Such discernment must be applied both when evaluating other counseling systems and working with specific counselees. A systematic, biblical approach to counseling will oppose secular counseling systems over issues such as: (1) the epistemological standard for truth and authority, (2) the jurisdictional standard for who has the right to help, and (3) the remedial resources to diagnose and cure souls effectively.^[13] Powlison presented at least these three areas of sharp contrast and fundamental disagreement.

On this account, the clash is over basic issues such as the nature of knowledge, what it means to be human, the nature of people’s problems, who is authorized to help troubled people, and what resources can bring true remedy. Powlison believed the modern psychologies launched a self-conscious, intentional attack against Christianity.^[14] As such, there can be no peace between biblical Christianity and the modern therapies. Through Word-based ministry, biblical counselors must make it our business to take every system of thought captive to obey Christ by destroying the competing arguments and lofty opinions raised against the knowledge of God (2 Cor. 10:4–6).

[1] Van Til used the term “absolute ethical antithesis.” Cornelius Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology: Prolegomena and the Doctrines of Revelation, Scripture, and God, ed. William Edgar, 2nd ed. (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2007), 64. James Anderson uses the term “spiritual orientation.” James N. Anderson, “Presuppositional Apologetics,” in Understanding Christian Apologetics: Five Methods for Defending the Faith, ed. Timothy Paul Jones (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2025), 95, Kindle. Oliphint proposes the term “covenantal” in place of “ethical.” K. Scott Oliphint, Covenantal Apologetics: Principles and Practice in Defense of Our Faith (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2013), 47–67, Kindle. In this sense, then, the antithesis can be described as ethical, spiritual, or covenantal.

[2] Scott Oliphint argues, “An absolute ethical antithesis is one in which there are not two worlds but two kinds of people in one world; two activities—in principle—that are associated with these people. To use the language of Reformed theology, there is a covenantal antithesis between believer and unbeliever. All people are either in Adam or in Christ. These are the two, and only two, covenantal representatives whom God has appointed.”

[3] According to James Anderson, “This is a categorical difference, not merely one of degree.” James N. Anderson, “Evangelizing Fallen People: Apologetics and the Doctrine of Sin,” in Ruined Sinners to Reclaim: Human Corruption in Historical, Biblical, Theological, and Pastoral Perspective, ed. David Gibson and Jonathan Gibson (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2024), 858.

[4] James Anderson explains, “A biblical epistemology should also recognize the fundamental antithesis between Christian thought and non-Christian thought—that is, between believers and unbelievers with respect to their intellectual orientation and outlook.” Anderson, “Presuppositional Apologetics,” 108, Kindle.

[5] John M. Frame, Apologetics: A Justification of Christian Belief, ed. Joseph E. Torres, 2nd ed. (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2015), 289.

[6] Greg Bahnsen clarifies, “Van Til held that there are no main points, systematically basic principles, or central truths in philosophy where the disagreement between the believer and the unbeliever will not be seen.” As such, he argues, “The antithesis between the thinking of the believer and the thinking of the unbeliever must be systemic and total.” Greg L. Bahnsen, Van Til’s Apologetic: Readings and Analysis (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 1998), 273–74.

[7] James Anderson asserts, “Paul draws a sharp contrast between the ‘wisdom of God’ revealed in Christ and the ‘wisdom of the world’ and correlatively between the ‘spiritual person’ and the ‘natural person.’” Anderson, “Presuppositional Apologetics,” 108.

[8] Jay E. Adams, Teaching to Observe: The Counselor as Teacher (Cordova, TN: Institute for Nouthetic Studies, 2020), 109, Logos Bible Software.

[9] Jay E. Adams, Shepherding God’s Flock: A Handbook on Pastoral Ministry, Counseling, and Leadership (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1974), 166, Kindle.

[10] Jay E. Adams, Competent to Counsel: Introduction to Nouthetic Counseling, The Jay Adams Library (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1970), 269.

[11] David Powlison, “Frame’s Ethics: Working the Implications for Pastoral Care,” in Speaking the Truth in Love: The Theology of John M. Frame, ed. John J. Hughes (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2009), 760.

[12] Powlison, “Does Biblical Counseling Really Work?,” 64.

[13] David Powlison, “Modern Therapies and the Church’s Faith,” Journal of Biblical Counseling 15, no. 1 (Fall 1996): 34.

[14] Powlison, “Modern Therapies and the Church’s Faith,” 32.

Pastors are often discouraged. This is for a variety of reasons. Some pastors are left beaten, battered, and bruised by their congregations. Others are left burdened and discouraged by the normal things of ministry—unfinished tasks, needy sheep, financial stress, an upcoming counseling session, a deacons’ meeting that could go off the rails, etc. And all of this gets compounded by the stress of Sunday morning. Sunday morning is the big day. It is, naturally, what many pastors give the most weight to. Sunday, largely, will make or break a pastor’s level of encouragement. The “Monday blues” plague so many pastors, but what if the battle against Monday discouragement actually begins on Sunday itself? Your encouragement cannot depend on how you think Sunday went. It must be shaped by God’s faithfulness before, during, and after the service.

Before Sunday Morning

Wake up early. I know some preachers who finish their sermon on Sunday morning. As such, they wake up early—5:00 a.m. at least! Others I know are ready by Thursday afternoon and don’t need to be at the building until Sunday School starts. Let me encourage you to wake up early, especially if you do not have a sermon to write or notes to refine. Wake up early, do not look at your phone, and place the Lord’s Day service at the forefront of your mind.

Pray through the entire service that morning. Do not just pray for the things you are responsible for—the sermon, Scripture readings, Sunday School. Get out your order of service and pray for each element and those who will play a part. This gets your eyes and mind off of just what you are responsible for and puts your sight upon the wide array of other things which will be done to glorify the name of Christ. The sermon is very important, but it is not the only element of worship on Sunday.

Pray for the people of your church. It is natural to pray for the elements of worship and parts of your church—music team, ushers, etc.—but spend time praying for specific people. Perhaps specific people playing a part in service, or perhaps it is just people the Lord lays on your heart. Pray for the people of your church by name before you see them.

During Sunday Worship

Focus on who is there during the service. Focus on the number of people who showed up. That number may be low one particular week, but you must not let those who are not present steal away your affections and attention to those who are present. Aside from health concerns you may have for someone who is not accounted for, do not let your mind be occupied with the names and faces of those who are not there. . At least, not in the way that would lead you to be discouraged or to doubt. Focus on the 30, 300, or 3,000 who showed up. Imagine that, 30 people got out of bed and cancelled brunch plans to hear you preach! More than that, they showed up to worship alongside of you. That’s worth being encouraged by.

Try to find one thing each Sunday, unrelated to yourself, which encourages you. This is something I learned from a mentor, and it has paid dividends. By all means, be encouraged by those who thought you preached a good sermon and liked your outfit (I mean, your wife didn’t even pick out your clothes this time!). But look around at the church being the church and find something that encourages you which is totally unrelated to you. I am regularly encouraged by members who go out to lunch with one another. Just this week, I saw a member hand their newborn baby to a couple they have connected with recently. Those things encourage me and show me the work of the ministry being done by the saints.

After the Service

Eat a good lunch. Let me press in there for a moment. We are embodied creatures. The physical, mental, and spiritual all combine and all attribute to our state of being. Sunday is a stressful day. My fitness watch records my heart rate and “stress level” all day long. Sundays always have a spike around the time of Sunday service. Indeed the whole day is mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually taxing. You need to eat a good lunch with good nutritional value. As hungry as you may be, do not give into your flesh to overeat or to eat junk food. Your mind and soul will be served by taking care of what you put into your body.

Do not take a misery nap. If you have a rough, discouraging Sunday, do not just “sleep it off.” Nothing is worse for you than to take those discouraged emotions and that negative mindset and to try and pacify them with sleep. By all means, take a nap because you are worn out in service to Christ. (I mean, you got up at 4:30am after all!) If you are discouraged, don’t take a nap. Drink another cup of coffee, walk around outside, tell your wife to pinch you if you start nodding off—whatever you have to do. Just do not go to sleep. You will wake up groggy, cloudy, and even more discouraged than when you went to sleep.

Have a short memory. This is what they say of Quarterbacks after they throw an interception. If he goes out there unsure of himself or his preparation, on the next possession he will second guess himself and make a mistake. He needs to click “delete” on that file and move on. Likewise, brothers, have a short memory for the bad sermon you gave, embarrassing turn of phrase you used, or the lambasting you took from a church member. Learn from those things, sure, but do not let them linger upon your heart and mind.

The battle against discouragement is often won or lost before, during, and after the Sunday gathering. Take care how you spend your time and prepare your heart in each area and you will be more encouraged.

It’s a new installment of the FTC Mailbag, in which Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz respond to your submitted questions and topics. On this episode, the guys speak to: applying to be a lay elder, cultivating the soul, keeping your mind from wandering during spiritual disciplines, preaching’s importance in a church, responding to a Catholic challenge on the sufficiency of Scripture, and breaking out of introverted ruts. If you’ve a question or topic to submit for a future episode, you can always email us at mailbag@ftc.co

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/gRdl2HFXJAQ

My phone the moment I wake up. An energy drink before I’ve even fully opened my eyes. My wallet when I think buying one more thing might make life just a little better.

These things aren’t inherently bad. They may not even be a crutch for you. But I’ve become increasingly convinced that there is something deeper beneath them. What we reach for often reveals what we depend on.

Reaching Reveals Trust

My wife and I have three little children under four. If you’re a parent, or if you’ve been around little children, you can probably picture this story.

Every morning, we get our kids up. We open their door, their blinds, turn off the sound machine, change their pull-ups, and begin our trek downstairs for breakfast. And every morning, before we head downstairs for breakfast, our two-and-a-half-year-old reaches both hands toward me at the top of the stairs and says, “Daddy, carry me, please.” I used to think he was just clingy or needy, but then I realized something: That’s what children do. It’s all he knows.

He’s reaching because he’s tired and he knows I can safely carry him down the stairs. Children instinctively reach for the one they trust. In many ways, that’s exactly what the Lord invites us to do.

That realization forced me to ask a harder question for myself: If my son naturally reaches toward the one he trusts, what do my own instincts reveal about what I trust?

My heart instinctively reaches toward whatever it believes will satisfy. Sometimes it’s my phone, caffeine, or shopping. Other times it’s a distraction from what’s in front of me.

But why do I do it? Because I reach for what I think will provide satisfaction or safety.

Our reaching reveals our worship.

Consider what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount:

So don’t worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be provided for you. Therefore don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matt. 6:31–34)

Scripture reveals that the habits and routines that form my life don’t always reflect how the Lord calls me to worship and live.

Instead of reaching for my phone to scroll, I’m called to reach for my Bible to be renewed. Instead of reaching for an energy drink to get me through the day, I’m called to depend on the Lord for lasting joy and strength to live for Him. And when I’m tempted to reach for my wallet to buy the next best thing, I’m called to discern whether my purchase is a need or a want fueled by my desires.

And we’re not just called to the omission of something, but to the submission under the only One who can satisfy more abundantly than we can imagine.

Redirecting Our Desires

The Bible doesn’t simply tell us to stop seeking satisfaction, it redirects our desires altogether. Rather than chasing the world, Christ invites us to seek Him and His kingdom first, trusting that He alone provides what our hearts truly need.

Every morning my son reaches for me because he knows I’ll carry him safely down the stairs. The question I’ve been asking myself is simple: When life feels exhausting, when anxiety creeps in, when I’m bored, when I need comfort, who or what does my head and heart instinctively reach for?

By God’s grace, I want that same instinct to mark my own life. That my instinct isn’t to reach for my phone, wallet, or another distraction, but that my first instinct is to reach for Him. Because what I reach for first often reveals what I trust most.

Dear brothers, honor your sisters.

In recent years, many pastors have found themselves in difficult positions and conversations as they seek to defend conservative biblical doctrine. In defending and holding to such doctrines, these shepherds are doing what they are called to do: Protect the sheep of God’s flock. In an age where progressive theology has challenged historic Christian beliefs and reshaped many denominations, there is a need for faithful leaders who stand firmly on sound doctrine and the authority of Scripture.

Jesus warned of “ravenous wolves” who would seek to harm His sheep (Matt. 7:15). If the church abandons biblical convictions regarding leadership, it is the church membership—the sheep of the pasture—that will ultimately be led astray and harmed. Therefore, pastors have a responsibility to protect the flock, guard sound doctrine, and faithfully proclaim the truth.

But as we contend for biblical convictions, we must remember that how we engage these conversations matters. Well-meaning pastors, brothers in Christ, and co-laborers in the work of the kingdom are seeking to uphold the biblical model of leadership found in Scripture. Yet, in the process, faithful women can be trampled underfoot.

Complementarian leadership does not mean the suppression or oppression of women, yet that is the impression being given through many media outlets and from those who disagree with this position. It is important for these brothers—who are leading churches around the world—to recognize that the language and rhetoric they use in this conversation is extremely important. Every pastor is involved at some level, and how things are said matters as much as what is said.

Defending Truth While Honoring People

In conversations about biblical leadership, two things can be true at the same time.

First, complementarianism is the ecclesiological position held by many conservative evangelicals regarding the roles of men and women in church leadership. Many evangelical churches and some denominations have sought to clarify these convictions to better reflect the teaching of Scripture.

At the same time, the way these convictions are communicated matters. A defense of biblical doctrine should never communicate a disregard for women who faithfully serve Christ and His church.

Unfortunately, there are many pastors and individuals who are doing more harm than good in the posture that they approach this issue. Due to how vehemently and passionately they argue, it makes it sound like they truly do wish to suppress women to the point of insignificance. This is largely accidental and is not the heart of biblical complementarianism. When we focus so much on what we oppose, it is easy to lose sight of who and what we are for.

Faithful pastors and students of the Word know how important women have always been to the work of the gospel. Jesus’ ministry was supported by women such as Mary Magdalene, Mary and Martha of Bethany, and even the Samaritan woman who proclaimed Christ to her town. The birth of the church was spurred on with the help of women like Lydia, Phoebe, and Priscilla.

We celebrate the work of women throughout church history who devoted their lives to the advancement of the gospel on the mission field such as Elisabeth Elliott, Annie Armstrong, and Lottie Moon. In local churches around the world, there are countless women who have poured blood, sweat, and tears into the building of the church for the glory of God. Many of them have no desire for recognition—much less a title. They desire to use the gifts God has given them to serve Christ and make an impact on the world. That work must be honored, celebrated, and encouraged.

Remember Your Sisters

Brothers, you have sisters who are listening and following your leadership.

This is an important moment not only to fight for biblical convictions but also to stand alongside these women who are laboring with you to win souls for the Kingdom. Elevating women does not mean placing them into positions not allowed by Scripture. Elevating women in a biblical way means giving them every opportunity to serve in their own ministry capacities and to do their part in building the church. The church does not honor women by setting aside biblical convictions, nor does it honor biblical convictions by failing to honor women. As Paul says, “Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor” (Rom. 12:10).

Should “Christian celebrity” even be a thing? How should we think about Christians and fame? How should we think about the concept of public ministry and platform? On this ep of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the challenges — and potential — of Christian celebrities and Christian celebrity culture.

Luke’s first beatitude is “blessed are the poor” (Luke 6:20). Some have argued that Luke and Matthew are at odds because, in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus adds the words “in spirit.” In the Old Testament, there is a frequent connection between the poor and those who rely entirely on God. Consider Psalm 37:14, “The wicked draw the sword and bend their bows to bring down the poor and needy, to slay those whose way is upright.” Notice how the psalmist connects the poor and needy with the way of the upright. Or consider Psalm 69:32–33: “When the humble see it they will be glad; you who seek God, let your hearts revive. For the Lord hears the needy and does not despise his own people who are prisoners.” In this psalm, the ones who are humble and who seek God should not be discouraged. Why? Because the Lord is attentive to the needy, literally, “the poor.”

Now, it must also be said that the poor are not automatically blessed by God just because they are poor. One can become poor due to their sinful or foolish actions (see the example of the prodigal son in Luke 15:11–32). Likewise, wealth can become a detriment to one’s spirituality because of its tendency to make one feel satisfied apart from God. That being said, the blessed poor hope in God, not in the things of this world. Even though they have nothing to their name aside from their hope in Yahweh, they are flourishing.[1] It’s entirely possible for the wealthy to be “poor in spirit.” But generally speaking, it’s more difficult because of the temptation to trust in one’s possessions apart from God. Put another way, it’s easier to trust God when he is all you have. Though Luke and Matthew emphasize different aspects of this reality, the first beatitude in their Gospels are talking about the same thing.

Both this beatitude and the second (“blessed are those who mourn”) are likely alluding to Isaiah 61’s picture of the eschatological restoration that the Messiah would bring. Isaiah 61:1 says, “The Spirit of the Lord God is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and freedom to the prisoners.” Jesus fulfills this prophecy in his ministry (Luke 4:16–21) and proclaims freedom from the power of sin and death. Final deliverance will not come until his kingdom is consummated, but there is real deliverance for the poor in spirit now at the inauguration of his kingdom.

Going a step further, it’s necessary to say a bit more about what exactly it means to be “poor in spirit.” To be poor in spirit is to see ourselves as we really are on our own: hopeless. Martyn Lloyd-Jones writes, “To be poor in spirit means a complete absence of pride, a complete absence of self-assurance, a complete absence of self-reliance. It means a consciousness that we are nothing in the presence of God.”[2]

Our culture today is fixated on self-confidence, self-esteem, and self-reliance. We are told that we must believe in ourselves. If we believe in ourselves, we can do anything. Unfortunately, this mindset often carries over to our spiritual lives as well. We can be tempted to take credit for the spiritual growth we see in our lives. We might even think that we are pretty good Christians compared to other people in our church. As a result, we begin to implicitly believe that we bring something to the table, spiritually speaking; that we’re pretty good at this whole Christian thing and the church would be far better off if more Christians were like us.

To be “poor in spirit” is the opposite of that. When you’re poor in spirit, you realize that it’s not about you and what you can do. It’s to realize that you bring absolutely nothing to the table. Apart from Jesus Christ, every person is spiritually dead—no matter their education, wealth, accomplishments, or social status.

The poor in spirit recognize their spiritual bankruptcy and total need for God. All they can do is beg for mercy and grace. This describes the person in Isaiah 66:2: “To this one I will look, to him who is humble and contrite of spirit, and who trembles at my word.”

The poor in spirit flourish because they are a part of God’s inbreaking kingdom now. Again, the verb is in the present tense: “The kingdom of heaven is theirs.” It’s a present reality for those who follow Christ. They may have nothing of their own to cling to, either physically or spiritually, but they have their Father’s kingdom which, in turn, gives them everything. If they have God’s approval and are heirs and citizens of his kingdom, then what more could they possibly want or need?

Editor’s Note: Excerpted with permission from The Sermon on the Mount: A Devotional Commentary ©2026 by W. Tyler Sykora. Used with permission of Courier Publishing.

[1] Don Carson, Matthew & Mark: The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2006), 131.

[2] David Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Studies in the Sermon on the Mount (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2001), 40.

All I know is that the church I planted more than a decade ago is no longer a church “plant.” It is an established church with elders, staff, property, and long-term plans for disciple-making.

I am also no longer there. A little over a year ago, I was called to serve as a lead pastor of BLDG 28 Church in Clearwater, Florida. Meanwhile, the church I planted, HighView Church, has carried on—advancing its mission and continuing to make disciples in that community.

The truth is, I didn’t stop being a church planter when I left the church I planted. In many ways, the church had ceased to be a plant years before my departure. By year three, it was financially self-sustaining, with a functioning membership, a plurality of elders, deacons, and countless faithful ministry leaders.

From my front-row seat as a church planter, I was able to watch God work in powerful ways. What began with a core team of five people and $200 in support became a vibrant, healthy, gospel-centered church through one act of God’s grace after another.

My time as a church planter was the most faith-building season of my life.

My biggest regret? That I didn’t enjoy it more.

The Burden of Always Looking Ahead

Church planters are a rare breed. Distant cousins of the international missionary, they are (usually) very driven people. While not every church planter is entrepreneurial—that’s a tired stereotype—most possess a deep, internal drive to reach people and start new things. They can instinctively gather a group of people with the gospel and then build that group of people into a functioning, institutional reality we call a local church.

This is a wonderful and desperately needed calling and work. But with some of these “future-facing” gifts comes a shadow. Church planters can become prisoners of then.

“Then” is a mythical time in the future when the church finally becomes what you imagined it would be. The problem is that then never quite arrives. Like Tantalus from Greek mythology—forever reaching for food he would never be able to grasp—our desires always remain out of reach.

Recently, a young pastor exploring church planting asked me, “What’s one word you rarely use to describe church planters.” I blurted out “happy.”

Most church planters I know are joyful people. After all, joy is possible because we rest in Christ regardless of our circumstances. But happy? For me, at least, happiness as a church planter was often elusive because it was tied to arrival—to becoming some final version of the church that was never truly attainable.

Three Lessons I Wish I Had Learned Earlier

If I had it to do over again, here are three lessons I would tell myself.

1. Look Back More Often.

When you are wired to build what isn’t there yet, gratitude takes discipline.

Your eyes are trained on the gap between where the church is and where you believe God is taking it, and that gap never fully closes. So you have to deliberately turn around.

Look. Remember. Keep a record. Write down the name of every person who comes to faith in Christ, every leader God raised up, every month the bills somehow get paid.

I wish I had built a habit of rehearsing those mercies out loud from the beginning—in elders’ meetings, around the dinner table, on the drives home. Looking back is not nostalgia; it is how you store up evidence of God’s faithfulness for the next valley.

2. Don’t Despise the Day of Small Things.

Zechariah spoke these words to a discouraged remnant laying a foundation that seemed insignificant next to the temple they remembered from Solomon (Zech. 4:10). These words are just as relevant for church planters.

The small gathering in a living room, the awkward first baptism, the volunteer team held together with duct tape and prayer. These are not the embarrassing prelude to the real church. They are the real church. God delights to work in such a way that only He can get the credit.

If I had believed that more deeply, I would have spent less time apologizing for what we did not yet have and more time appreciating and thanking God for what was already right in front of me.

The “small” day was never small to God.

3. Remember Who the Church Belongs to.

Jesus said He would build His Church and that the gates of hell would not prevail against it (Matt. 16:18). I believed that. I preached it. But somewhere along the way, I began to live as though the outcome rested on my next decision, my next hire, or my next sermon series.

That is a heavy way to plant a church, and it is an unhappy way to live.

If Christ is the builder, then I am not the one holding it together. The church I kept straining to produce was never mine to build in the first place. It is His to build, in His time and by His grace.

So, church planter, be happy. Not later, when the vision finally arrives. Now, while the work is small, unfinished, and unmistakably His. Christ is building His church. You have the privilege of watching Him do it.

Some walk through chronic illness. Others bury loved ones, endure loneliness, face disappointment, or wait for answers that seem slow in coming. There are moments when life seems to stand still and prayers appear to go unanswered. During these difficult seasons, believers often ask a similar question: “Lord, why am I here?”

The Bible is filled with people who spent time in what we might call a wilderness.

Moses spent forty years in the wilderness before leading Israel. David spent years fleeing for his life before becoming king. Elijah found himself alone in the desert, exhausted and discouraged. Jesus Himself spent forty days in the wilderness before beginning His public ministry, fasting and resisting the temptation of Satan.

The wilderness is rarely comfortable, but it is often transformative.

The Wilderness Is a Place of Formation

Modern culture teaches us to value speed, success, and visible results. We want immediate answers, instant solutions, and clear direction. Yet God frequently works through waiting. Scripture repeatedly shows that spiritual maturity is often developed not during seasons of abundance but during seasons of dependence.

One of the greatest dangers in difficult seasons is believing that God has abandoned us. Circumstances can easily become louder than faith. Pain can distort perspective. Disappointment can convince us that our story has stalled. Yet the Bible consistently presents a different message.

God was present with Joseph in prison, Daniel in Babylon, Paul in prison, and Christ in Gethsemane. The absence of comfort does not mean the absence of God. The clearest proof of this is found in Christ Himself. Jesus entered our suffering, carried our grief, and walked through the ultimate wilderness of the cross so that His people would never walk alone.

Many Christians can testify that their deepest spiritual growth occurred during seasons that they would never choose to repeat. The wilderness often strips away false securities and reminds us where our hope truly belongs.

This does not mean suffering is beneficial in itself. Christianity never glorifies pain for its own sake. Jesus healed the sick, comforted the grieving, and fed the hungry. God cares deeply about human suffering. However, Scripture teaches that God can bring purpose from pain and hope from hardship.

Romans 8:28 remains one of the most beloved promises in the New Testament for this reason: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

Notice that Paul does not say all things are good, but that God can work through all things for good. The “good” Paul describes is not necessarily comfort, success, or an easier path, but God’s purpose of making His people more like Christ. That distinction matters.

Christians are not called to deny reality or pretend that hardship is pleasant. Instead, they are invited to trust that God remains faithful even when circumstances are difficult to understand.

The wilderness also teaches dependence. When life is comfortable, it is easy to rely on our abilities. Success can create the illusion of self-sufficiency. Yet difficult seasons remind us how deeply we need God’s grace.

In the wilderness, we often discover how dependent we truly are. Prayer becomes less of a routine and more of a lifeline. Scripture becomes more precious and necessary. Faith becomes less theoretical and more personal. Perhaps this is why God meets people in unexpected places so often. The wilderness may feel empty, but throughout Scripture it often becomes a place of divine encounter.

The Wilderness Is Not Wasted

If you find yourself in such a season today, take heart because your waiting is not wasted, your struggles are seen, and your prayers are heard. God is still working even when His activity is difficult to recognize—and it is often these very seasons that are the most formative.

The wilderness is not the destination; it is part of the journey. And if Christ walks with us through the valley, then even the hardest road can become a place of hope. Through every season of waiting, uncertainty, and hardship, believers can trust that God remains faithful and that Christ walks with them. He has not forgotten His people, and He never wastes the wilderness.

The phrase comes from 2 Corinthians 10:5 — “taking every thought captive to the obedience of Christ.” But what does it mean? And how do we do it? In this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss how to cultivate a Christ-captivated imagination.

The second and related storyline has been the politicization of self-identified white “evangelicals.” These accounts have often focused on the (allegedly) large number of people leaving evangelical churches, partly due to the churches’ alignment with Donald Trump’s Republican Party. One characteristic column from The Conversation investigated “Why Some Younger Evangelicals are Leaving the Faith.” This account was drawn from data publicized by the Public Religion Research Institute, an organization which regularly touts the decline of “white evangelicalism.”

We take a different approach to these matters. Our goals in The Death of Religion? are threefold. One is to argue that the decline of American and world religion—and Christianity, in particular—has been vastly overstated. The second objective is to show that predictions of religion’s demise have been commonplace in America since the Pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower in 1620. The third is to show what a terrible loss it would be if religion did collapse in America or around the world. Or, to put it more positively, we show that religion is one of the anchors of human flourishing worldwide.

We do not believe that it is impossible for religious groups to decline or even disappear. Indeed, we will demonstrate why and how some denominations have done so. But if the forecasts by media and pollsters of religion’s or Christianity’s doom came to pass, it would exact a terrible social and spiritual price.

This book is contrarian. It goes against dominant media and scholarly narratives regarding religion. We present conclusive data to show that religious people are thriving and that practicing religious people are thriving most of all. We further show that at almost every turn, commonly used polling and survey data on religion is misleading, confused, or grossly incomplete. Many self-identified evangelicals, for example, rarely, if ever, go to church, whereas many of the so-called Nones do go to church. We also demonstrate that typical surveys of American congregational life undercount the number of American churches by as much as 40 percent. The uncounted churches are disproportionately evangelical or Pentecostal, and often minister to immigrants and people of color.

We are not contrarian just for the sake of it. Decline is definitely happening among the Protestant mainline churches. Recent years have also seen weakening in major evangelical and Pentecostal churches in America (though not in their global counterparts). Media, polling agencies, and even some pastors have a vested interest in casting religion’s downturn as an unprecedented development.

In historical perspective, however, the storyline seems like a familiar prophecy of spiritual malaise. People in early America worried about the religiously unaffiliated too. They talked about them constantly, although they did not call them Nones, but by the long-forgotten term, nothingarians. The religiously unaffiliated were already stock characters in discussions of religion’s decline by the early nineteenth century. This fact should make us pause when we hear today’s alarm bells concerning the death of religion. Once again, it seems there is nothing new under the sun.

The most influential voices around me instilled the idea that obedience to Jesus was synonymous with giving up everything you have—all your comforts and success—to go to the nations and declare the gospel to those who have never heard.

I embraced that vision, spending two semesters overseas and committing to a life that meant my earthly gain would be set aside for the Kingdom of God. Much of the radical movement’s emphasis was undeniably necessary and transformative. Christians, especially in the West, should have our comfortable Christianity challenged, especially when our discipleship often shows no signs of sacrifice. Most of us can probably think of ways that we’re holding on to things we love more than Jesus, and every Christian is called to lay aside these lesser loves for the greatest Love of all (Luke 9:23).

Yet many of us who came of age in the radical era absorbed an unintended lesson: The highest form of obedience is leaving everything behind to become a missionary.

After graduating college, I began participating in other ministries and opportunities that weren’t necessarily as “radical” as I had learned I should be. As friends moved overseas, I wondered whether signing a lease, building a career, and furnishing an apartment were signs that I was settling for less than radical obedience. I believed that others around me would judge these choices for not being radical enough, and even received some comments in this vein. I still believed Jesus called me to radical, costly obedience, but my vision of what that meant was far too narrow.

Sometimes, obedience means leaving your home to go to the nations. Sometimes, obedience is remaining where God has you, laying down a dream, offering your gifts for God’s purposes, or loving your neighbors. Always, obedience is surrender. I didn’t need a smaller view of obedience, but a more robust one.

One of the most helpful guides for me when thinking about obedience is Lilias Trotter, an artist and missionary. Her story is not well known, but is often told as though she abandoned art entirely to become a missionary. While Trotter did surrender her pursuit of artistic recognition, she continued to use her art to share the gospel for forty years of ministry in Algeria. Her story helped me realize that obedience is not always about abandoning our gifts and ambitions.[1] It is about surrendering them to Christ and asking Him to establish the work of our hands (Ps. 90:17). Trotter did not stop being an artist when she became a missionary. She simply stopped pursuing artistic recognition as her primary aim. Obedience is surrendering everything to the lordship of Christ.

Today, I still believe we need more missionaries heading to unreached nations, not less. I believe we need more Christians who are foster parents, work in crisis pregnancy centers, feed the hungry, and provide medical care for those in need, not less. I believe we should regularly ask the Lord what we need to surrender to His will. And I also believe that whether you are a chief financial officer, a pastry chef, a cashier, a truck driver, an artist, or a missionary, you are called to do all things to the glory of God (1 Cor. 10:31).

The question is not whether your life appears radical enough to other Christians. The question is whether all that you have—your gifts, ambitions, career, possessions, relationships, and future—is surrendered to Christ. Obedience may lead you across the ocean or across the street, but it will always result in a radical life, because a radical life is one that belongs to God.

[1] For more on Lilias Trotter, see Allyson Howell, “By Faith Women: Lilias Trotter,” Substack, June 9, 2026, https://allysonmhowell.substack.com/p/if-she-chose-another-path-you-might.

Why do we experience such distance between the idea of doctrine and delight? Why do we insist on a separation between learning doctrine and practical life? This week Jared Wilson talks to Ronni Kurtz about Ronni’s new book Theology for Life: A Joy-Filled Introduction to Christian Doctrine (Baker Books) releasing this week. Theology for Life takes a distinctive approach to introducing Christian doctrine. Each chapter does two things: first, it explains a crucial doctrine clearly and accessibly; then, it shows you how to delight in that doctrine and be shaped by it into the person God calls you to be. Good theology, Kurtz argues, isn’t simply about learning–it’s about living. And it produces not division or drudgery, but joy. Available now wherever Christian books are sold.

Performance and Pride

To say that theology can be misused in the direction of performance and pride is to recognize that there are those whose goal is applause, and theology just happens to be a convenient vehicle toward that end. Of course, this ultimate desire is not an expressed one, for few would come out and explicitly state that they strive for applause, yet the gravitational pull toward acceptance via doctrinal thinking is real. There are spaces in evangelicalism where it seems that theology has become something of a stage on which doctrinal pundits perform an act in hopes of riling an already agreeable base toward applause and acceptance. As we have seen various news outlets move from the business of information toward entertainment, we have also witnessed a growth—especially in our social media age—of theology-as-entertainment in which the goal is not the glory of God or love of our neighbor but the continued pursuit of outrage, clicks, and controversies.

When theology is pursued as a performance, it is often accompanied by pride. There is something intoxicating about receiving the applause of others, being the focal point, memorizing arguments, using fancy jargon, and being the most informed person in a room. When time spent developing theological ability is used toward the end of puffing someone up instead of in service to God and his people, corrosive pride often follows. We know pride has taken over the theological pursuit when the telos, or goal, of our theology shifts from loving our neighbor to getting the attention of our neighbor.

Division and Discord

Beyond the pull toward performance and pride that can accompany theology done poorly is the evergreen worry that theology may lead to division and discord. The worry here is that theological exploration will lead not to intellectual clarity leading to deeper community and more rooted belonging but to an ever- growing list of ideas over which the church may divide. This problem is accentuated by our cultural moment. It seems that some spheres of theological discourse have taken notes from modern political discourse, as many of the same divisive tactics are employed. When theology is framed merely in us- versus- them dynamics, it is easy to prioritize “winning” doctrinal arguments and “defeating opponents.” Rather than theological contemplation being a God- ordained means to steady our souls and form us into persons who are equipped and enabled to behold the glory of God, theology done poorly has the potential instead to become mere intellectual ammunition in our ever- shifting ideological wars.

Substitute Wisdom and Wholeness

The final malpractice I want to mention is mistaking theological knowledge for wisdom. To put it plainly: We must see Christian maturity and sanctification as more than mere theological intelligence. When Scripture describes faithful followers of Christ, it seems to have the whole person in mind. For example, when the Synoptic Gospels discuss “the greatest commandment,” we can see the emphasis in Matthew’s, Mark’s, and Luke’s lists. The disciples ask Jesus, “Which is the greatest commandment in the law?” In Matthew’s account, Jesus says the greatest commandment is to love the Lord with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind (Matt. 22:36–40). Mark’s and Luke’s accounts also include these three— heart, soul, mind— but also include a fourth: strength (Mark 12:28– 31; Luke 10:27).

Two observations about these passages are important for our purposes: First, any notion of holistic devotion to the Lord must include the life of the mind. Theological contemplation is not reserved for a special sect of super- Christians but is the glorious calling and task of all those who wish to follow Christ. Second, while all three lists include the mind, they also include other elements of the Christian life. These two observations come together to instruct us that the life of the mind is a necessary ingredient but is not sufficient for a holistic understanding of Christian maturity.

Yes, theological wisdom is needed for a rooted stability in the Christian life. So is relational wisdom, emotional wisdom, ecclesial wisdom, and more. We must not make the mistake of confusing theological intelligence for Christian wisdom. Knowing a lot of facts about God does not mean one has an intimate relationship with God. Moreover, knowledge and wisdom are not synonymous. There is a substantial difference between being well- read in theology and knowing how the doctrines that make up the Christian faith cultivate our souls and enable us to administer reality in a world full of lies.

Editor’s note: Excerpted from Theology for Life: A Joy-Filled Introduction to Christian Doctrine ©2026 by Ronni Kurtz. Used by permission of Baker Books. 

[1] There are, of course, others who have written about misuses and abuses of theology. See, for example, the three reasons Keith Johnson gives in his book Theology as Discipleship (IVP Academic, 2015), which has some overlap with the three I have listed here. Also see my chapter “Why Do the Theologians Rage?” in Ronni Kurtz, Fruitful Theology: How the Life of the Mind Leads to the Life of the Soul (B&H, 2022).

I grew up in eastern North Carolina, “in the sticks.” As a teenager, my folks built a house in the middle of nowhere, and my stepdad set out to “tame” the land—chasing critters, chopping down trees, and cleaning up the river.

Sometimes beavers dammed the river, flooding the woods and trapping trash. One day, he took me to clear a dam. I hated the idea: mosquitoes, spiders, leeches, the stench of stagnant water and garbage. Still, I pulled on chest-high waders, put on gloves, and stepped in. We tossed sticks aside, ripped out weeds, dragged trash to the bank.

When we climbed out, I peeled off the waders and realized I was still clean. No mud, no leeches—just a little sweat from the work. That day, I learned a valuable lesson: You can clean up a mess without becoming a mess.

That’s the challenge of toxic cultures—especially for people of faith. Surrounded by “it is what it is” and “that’s just how things work around here,” we’re still called to step into the mess and help change it, without letting it change who we are.

Living in a Dysfunctional Culture

Do you ever feel stuck in a dysfunctional culture—polarized, hostile, and fragmented? Or surrounded by superficiality, instant gratification, and “you do you” morality? Many of us face dysfunctional homes, office politics, toxic classmates, and constant manipulation. So how do Christians “clean up” the culture without the culture sticking to us? How do we pull apart the “toxic dams” around us without our clothes getting muddy?

Second Samuel begins with a bloody war between the dynasties of David and Saul. We see battle, bloodshed, civil war, rival generals, political maneuvering, deception, and betrayal. Many of the individuals in these dynasties grew up worshiping, singing psalms, offering sacrifices, and hearing Scripture. Stepping into the “real world” of adulthood was quite different as boys turned into soldiers and they were exposed to—and engaged in—manipulation and bloodshed. They were exposed to a broken and sinful culture, and many chose to participate in it and reinforce its patterns through the way they live.

But in 2 Samuel 3, David goes against the grain of the culture. As the long, messy war drags on, David refuses to seize power through revenge or manipulation when presented with the opportunity in this scene. He steps into the mess and shows us that you can clean up a mess without becoming a mess.

Following are three options for confronting a toxic culture that we observe in 2 Samuel 3.

Option 1: Avoid Culture — The Way of Ishbosheth

Avoidance is Ishbosheth’s specialty. He is a weak king caught in a leadership mess.

While war rages between the house of Saul and the house of David, Abner is “making himself strong” in Saul’s house. Ishbosheth finally confronts him over Saul’s concubine, accusing him of betrayal (2 Sam. 3:6–8). Whether the accusation is true or not, the dynamic is clear: Ishbosheth is a weak leader and Abner is an underhanded, manipulative power player.

In chapters 3–4, Ishbosheth does only two things: He passively lets his general do whatever he wants, and he takes a nap he never wakes up from. He proves to be a passive king of avoidance. Even his name betrays him as, when translated from Hebrew, it means “man of shame.”

“Ishbosheth could not answer Abner another word, because he feared him” (2 Sam. 3:11). That is leadership by avoidance: refusing to engage the mess, confront problems, or take responsibility.

We feel this pull too. It is easier to ignore the dysfunction in our homes, to dodge office politics, to stay out of church conflicts. Sometimes you do have to walk away for safety or sanity. But when avoidance becomes our default mode, the mess doesn’t disappear. We leave others to deal with it, and the toxicity and manipulation only grow.

Option 2: Adopt Culture — The Way of Joab

If Ishbosheth avoids the culture, Joab adopts it. He is a product of his culture.

After Ishbosheth’s weak confrontation, Abner crosses enemy lines to make a covenant with David, promising to “bring over all Israel” (2 Sam. 3:12). It looks like the civil war might finally end. Then the family mess erupts.

Joab, David’s commander, hears that Abner—who killed his brother Asahel in battle—is now making peace. Joab is furious and plots revenge. He secretly lures Abner back, pulls him aside as if to talk, and murders him “for the blood of Asahel his brother” (2 Sam. 3:26–27).

This is the logic of adoption: “You killed my brother; prepare to die.” It’s a bloody world, so I guess I need blood on my hands. It’s a muddy world, so I guess it doesn’t matter if I get muddy.

Saul mastered political maneuvering. Abner was skilled at manipulation. Joab embraced the same violent logic as everyone else.

We face the same temptation. Everyone cuts corners at work, so why shouldn’t you? Everyone gossips and manipulates in your friend group, so why not join in? However, just because the system is broken doesn’t mean you have to be. When we adopt the mess, we become part of the problem. We take on the culture’s manipulation and help perpetuate its dysfunction.

Option 3: Alter Culture — The Way of David

David chooses a different path: alteration. He doesn’t avoid the culture like Ishbosheth, and he doesn’t adopt it like Joab. He is countercultural.

In this story, David consistently acts with integrity. He seeks peace, uses diplomacy to end the civil war, and refuses to play the usual political games. The clearest window into his character comes in his response to Abner’s murder.

David orders Joab and the people to tear their clothes, put on sackcloth, and mourn. He himself walks behind Abner’s bier, weeps at his grave, and composes a public lament (2 Sam. 3:31–34). He even refuses to eat until sundown as an act of grief and protest. The people notice, and “it pleased them, as everything that the king did pleased all the people” (2 Sam. 3:36).

This is also the first time the narrator explicitly calls him “King David.” Up to this point, he has been anointed and called king by others, but now the story itself recognizes him as king—and repeats the title. At last, Israel has a leader who does not simply mirror the surrounding culture. David is not perfect, but he is transparent, ethical, and faithful. He is willing to get into the mud of leadership, yet he emerges clean.

How Can I Influence Without Sacrificing My Faith?

David wrestles with the same questions we all face:

• How do I influence a toxic culture without letting it change me?
• How do I speak up without losing my character?
• How do I engage problems without compromising my integrity?
• How do I clean up the mess without getting mud on my clothes or blood on my hands?

Like David, we are called to step into broken situations without adopting the world’s way of responding to them. We cannot avoid every difficult circumstance, nor should we mirror the manipulation, bitterness, or revenge around us. Instead, we are called to pursue integrity, faithfulness, and peace.

Step into the mess. Alter the culture by pursuing faithfulness where you are with integrity.

“Faith That Believes” and “Faith That Is Believed”

There are two ways to conceive of faith: Faith that believes and faith that is believed. The first—faith that believes—is personal and internal. It is what the Scriptures mean when they instruct us to have faith in God. This faith exists in the heart and deals with one’s personal relationship with God.

The second conception of faith—faith that is believed—is objective and widely measured. It is the summary of Christian belief, often referred to as the faith. This is the purpose of creeds, confessions, and statements of faith. They provide concise summaries of how to understand the whole of the Christian faith.

Why Interpretation Needs Guardrails

These two concepts of faith are related. Faith that believes must have an object of faith that is believed. In other words, our faith isn’t vague or abstract; it is built upon a set of doctrines that are convictionally held and clearly articulated. It isn’t enough to say, “I believe the Bible,” without also saying what you believe about the Bible. Or, to put it another way, believing the Bible isn’t just a matter of content but also a matter of interpretation. To say, “I believe the Bible,” doesn’t mean much unless you say what you believe about the Bible (i.e., how you interpret it, apply it, understand it, use it, etc.).

Why not? For at least two reasons. First, Scripture wasn’t written in a vacuum. It was given to God’s people in real historical contexts and continues to address God’s people today. Second, and probably most important, you don’t live in a vacuum. Every reader approaches Scripture from a particular point of view. This is the danger. If we do not interpret the parts of Scripture in light of the whole of Scripture, we will interpret it through our worldview, culture, backgrounds, etc.

For these reasons and more, it is important for the church to consider its method of interpretation. The Bible isn’t open to whatever interpretation you personally prefer. You don’t get to impose your feelings or perspectives on it. What is at stake in our interpretation is a right understanding of God. Our interpretative practices will either lead us to see God as He has revealed Himself, or they will lead us to make up an idol and call it “God” when in fact it is our own perception of Him.

This leaves us with a glaring question: How do we rightly interpret the Bible?

I find this to be one of the most important questions facing the modern church. When everyone has a theory or an idea about a doctrine and can appeal to some portion of Scripture to support it, the issue is no longer simply fidelity to the Bible but of rightly handling the Word of truth (2 Tim. 2:15).

The Rule of Faith

To rightly handle the Bible, there must be some universal guidelines and parameters. Here enters the importance of historic creeds, confessions, and statements of faith—or the rule of faith. These rules of faith summarize the major tenets of the Christian faith in a clear and concise way. They do not replace the Bible, but they help articulate its central message.

Such rules of faith serve as fences of protection. They help readers interpret Scripture in light of the Bible rather than themselves. What we are after is the Bible interpreting the Bible, not the Bible being reshaped by an individual’s preferences, ideas, or assumptions.

How can we say that the Bible interprets the Bible if we need rules of faith like creeds to help keep us on the correct path?

The reason this is true is because our rules of faith themselves come from the Bible. It is a beautiful conundrum that our Bible reading informs our doctrine and our doctrine informs our Bible reading. The more we are exposed to Scripture the more we develop doctrinal convictions. And the more we develop doctrinal convictions the more they mold our interpretation. Therefore, if we begin with commonly held standards of orthodoxy—creeds and confessions from church history—we will start our journey of interpretation from the right place.

The Church’s Role in Interpretation

Here is another very important question: How do we get rules of faith? Who gets to decide what creeds or statements of faith are correct?

This is where the importance of the church enters the discussion. By God’s grace, we are a priesthood of believers (1 Pet. 2:9), each filled with the Holy Spirit who guides us into truth (John 16:13). It is a wonderful gift of God that we have the Bible in our own language, can read it, and can understand it with the Spirit’s help.

However, biblical interpretation isn’t just an individual practice. It should be done by the individual but also in conjunction with the Church. Why? Any student of the Bible will know that when left by themselves, they are more prone to error than when they are held accountable by the collective wisdom, memory, and studiousness of a group of believers. This is not to say that a group cannot get it wrong. It is to say, however, that we are better students of the Bible when we study it in the context of the Christian community, the Church. This is God’s design. So, while you can and should study the Bible as an individual, you must also study it under the accountability of the collective Church.

This is why it is the Church who determines the rules of faith. This is why churches need to take their Statement of Faith seriously. Churches must be wise and not abandon the collective study of Scripture from 2,000 years of church history. They need to help guide their people in biblical interpretation by defining what is the rule of faith—the central components of the Christian faith. The church must care about doctrine, truth, and guiding others according to that truth. This responsibility is not for a select few but for the whole body.

The need is only growing for not only a strong commitment to the Bible’s inerrancy, but also a strong commitment to faithful interpretation. The Bible is not a free-for-all to be read however we feel. There are right ways and wrong ways to approach it. As we work to understand it collectively as a church, we must make clear what is absolutely central—the deity of Christ, the Trinity, justification by faith—and study Scripture as individuals in light of these communal guardrails. Such an approach is God’s design, and it is for our good.

*Much of the underlying information came from Presley, Stephen O. Biblical Theology in the Life of the Early Church: Recovering an Ancient Vision. Grand Rapids, MI. Baker Academic, 2025.

Mr. Berry was a complex figure. He was “too liberal” for some conservatives, and “too conservative” for some liberals. His writing ranged widely, but he examined nearly every issue with an eye to the local, keenly aware that global problems are, in some sense, all local ones. Agriculture’s call to “get big or get out” sounded good on paper, but Mr. Berry showed how that USDA-led agenda, under Earl Butz, destroyed local communities and harmed the land. His 1977 book The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture addressed such issues, and it is likely his most famous work.

Mr. Berry also rejected many modern conveniences, including television and computers. So, it is deeply ironic that I was introduced to his work in 2019 through the documentary Look and See: A Portrait of Wendell Berry, and that I’m writing this on a computer now. I once published an academic journal article on his work, and I sent him a copy along with a lengthy letter thanking him for how it had shaped my own. It wasn’t until after I sent the letter that I realized that sending him a two-page typed letter felt … weird. He was kind enough to send me a handwritten note in return.

As I began to read through Mr. Berry’s work, I was struck by the deeply pastoral tone running through much of it. Of course, I don’t agree with everything he wrote. If I did, I suspect Mr. Berry would cast a sideward glance at me, wondering whether I had even read his material. I’d like to address one issue that he returns to often: language that is spoken but not understood.

The Unknown Tongue

Mr. Berry is best known for his essays, but I’ve always been drawn to his Port William novels. It isn’t “world-building” in the Tolkien or Lewis sense, but Mr. Berry does construct a small community that mirrors his native Kentucky. And what is most fascinating to me is how simple and ordinary the lives of these people are. They work together, fellowship with one another, and live out an old, unseen world slowly being taken over by the “new” world of fast-paced living and “greener pastures.”

Mr. Berry makes this case for a responsible language throughout his work, and two stories illustrate it well.^[1] In the novel Remembering, Andy Catlett attends a conference on “The Future of the American Food System” in San Diego. Andy is not impressed with what he hears; these former farmers are now living luxurious lives despite the harm their policies have caused many communities and—importantly—the soil. What is seen as “progress” is nothing more than harm to families, healthy communities, and good land. The language they’re speaking, Andy concludes, is only known to themselves. The average, everyday farmer hasn’t the slightest idea what is being discussed.

The same thing is seen with Nathan and Hannah Coulter’s son. Caleb loved farming, but his professors convinced him there was no future in it. To help farmers like his father, he’d have to not farm. So, Caleb became Dr. Coulter, a respected academic who taught agriculture to fewer and fewer students who wanted to farm. But his publications, Hannah says, are written in the Unknown Tongue. “Reading them always makes me think of this farm and how it has emerged, out of ‘agriculture’ and its ‘soil types’ and its collections of ‘species,’ as itself, our place, a place like no other, yielding to Nathan and me a life like no other.”^[2] Her point is clear: farming, and the life it provides, cannot be so easily dissected.

Pastoral Responsibility

This has vast implications for pastoral ministry, especially for young pastors fresh from seminary and seasoned scholars alike. It’s simply this—know your people. Mr. Berry wrote, “We must speak, and teach our children to speak, a language precise and articulate and lively enough to tell the truth about the world as we know it. And to do this we must know something of the roots and resources of our language; we must know its literature.”^[3] Mr. Berry wouldn’t object to learning and specialization, so long as they’re rightly used and understood.

But what we must do, as he points out, is not read merely to learn about something, but to be shaped by it. We learn from it, not just about it. His criticism of those who treat the Bible as mere literature is, in my opinion, vintage Mr. Berry:

It is conceivable that the Bible could be well taught by a teacher who believes that it is true, by a teacher who believes that it is untrue, or by a teacher who believes that it is partly true. That it could be well taught by a teacher uninterested in the question of truth is not conceivable.^[4]

So, pastors: Preach in a language that is coherent, not unknown. Academic jargon has its place, but the truths of Scripture must come in clear, effective, and persuasive language. I’m always reminded of this whenever I attend an academic conference. How does what they’re saying translate to our local church? Would Mrs. Bonnie understand what they’re saying? Can we make it accessible without dumbing it down? I’m not saying specialized study is unimportant; it is. But we must speak in the known tongue of our people, and that means actually being among them and learning their language.

I think of this most when I remember the note that Mr. Berry sent me a few years ago. It is brief, only a few handwritten lines, but it was written by a man who spent his whole life speaking a language that his neighbors could read. That, among other things, is something I thought about when I learned of his death. Mr. Berry never traded Port Royal for the lecture circuit, and he refused to write in Caleb’s “Unknown Tongue.” And perhaps that is one reason why his reach is so far.

I never had the privilege of meeting Mr. Berry, but I do have this letter and a stack of books by him. By reading his books again and again, I learned his language and how the patient, local way of seeing helped shape him. Pastors would do well to learn that language. Know your people, love your place, and speak so that the ones in front of you can understand what you’re saying. Mr. Berry did, and I intend to keep learning how.

^[1] See “Standing by Our Words: Learning a Responsible Language,” in Wendell Berry and Higher Education: Cultivating Virtues of Place, eds. Jack R. Baker and Jeffrey Bilbro (University of Kentucky Press, 2017), 47–69.

^[2] Wendell Berry, Hannah Coulter (Counterpoint, 2004), 132.

^[3] Quoted from Baker and Bilbro, 63.

^[4] Quoted from Baker and Bilbro, 64.

Likewise, the New Testament demonstrate prudence as a practice of the Christian to discern the best means and ends for the sake of their realization in the true Good. Hebrews 5:14 notes, “solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.” Instead of falling into lawless acts or being double-minded, James warns us to practice the meekness we have received through the implanted Word by being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger (1:19–21). Jesus teaches in Matthew 7:24–27 that the wise man applies what he knows to be true so that he can be safe from the storm (i.e., enter the Kingdom of heaven).

Therefore, since virtue “is a right and well-ordered habit of the mind which facilitates the soul in all its operations, ordering it to blessedness,”[2] prudence is the mother of the virtues. Prudence can simply be said to be well-ordered reason in well-ordered action. Prudence distinguishes according to the order of love so that one is empowered to be good and to act well in daily life. The Christian practices prudence because of their “becoming partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4). That is, those in Christ have been swept up into the vast ocean of His being, which is so full of life where they find all happiness, contentment, and bliss. This takes shape in their acting in accordance with new covenant reality through the happy life of attentiveness and guidance by God’s Spirit.

Building Up the Body

For the pastor, the virtue of prudence (right reason for right action) is found in the whole of ministry, but maybe it’s most present in the way in which we equip the saints for the work of ministry. In Ephesians 4, Paul shows that the pastor’s ministry of equipping isn’t to increase the church numerically nor to determine the ROI of the church’s various programs. This ministry entrusted to the pastor is for the purpose of the saints growing into the maturity of Christ’s fullness (v. 13). In other words, the pastor’s ministry of equipping is theological and spiritual in nature. Thus, the focused aim of the pastor is the body building itself up in love (v. 12, 16).

The doctrine of union with Christ has great importance for the pastor’s practice of prudence because for those in Christ, their thought, speech, and actions are done through the Spirit, in which He, through the grace of regeneration, has enlivened and restored our faculties from bondage. As sinners are transferred from the kingdom of darkness to the Kingdom of the Beloved, their entire being is restored and remade. So, for the pastor, his labors in equipping the saints require biblical prudence grounded and shaped by the new life in the Spirit of Christ who sanctifies and renews real people that were once dead to sin but are now made alive in Christ Jesus. From decisions about Scripture and song selection in the liturgy to the decisions on a sensitive pastoral care matter, the prudent pastor’s ministry is engulfed by the reality that we are no longer compelled to settle for lesser loves by looking to ourselves, but by God’s grace, we are freed to choose love—God—and delight in Him through gratitude and worship.

Here, we see a reverberating effect of the ministry of the Word. As the pastor practices prudence for the “right action” of equipping the saints toward maturity in Christ, now, those in Christ can practice well-ordered reason in well-ordered action. Now, those in Christ can practice prudence that distinguishes according to the order of love so that we are empowered to be good and to act well in daily affairs. Webster notes, “the Christian moral life, arising within a perception of the primacy of God’s regenerative grace in Christ which the gospel announces, entails learning how to steady oneself by its reality, how to act in its wake, how to refuse the charms and threats of other reality indications.”[3] With a new heart of flesh, spiritual eyes, and incorporation to Christ’s body, we can see that Christ is the chief good, the one at God’s right hand, where “there are pleasures forevermore” (Ps. 16:11). Christ’s divine power has granted to us all that is needed for life and godliness. Being attentive to this reality, both in the world and in Christ, will help us see that God has richly provided us all that is needed to make it home.

Entrust to Faithful Men

The first, and arguably most important, aspect of prudence (or any of the virtues) is that it must contain the right desire. “It is a great virtue in a virtuous man to despise glory, because this contempt is seen by God, but is not revealed to the judgment of men.”[4] Virtue for self-glorification, or virtue signaling, is destructive and deformative because it is a practice of the old man, whose father is Satan. Not only can false prudence look like in virtue signaling, but it also can look like manipulation or slothfulness all for selfish gain at the expense of others. The true practice of true virtue is intrinsically self-denying. Recall that the very act of sin goes against the essence of our beings and therefore the purpose of our life. “No one who is prudent will have a high view of himself.”[5] False prudence is following the old man’s father and his ways of wickedness.

This angle of virtue, and prudence in particular, bears important significance on the unique task of pastors to train and entrust faithful men in pastoral ministry. The “approved worker” not only avoids irreverent and empty speech, but seeks to correctly teach the word of truth in both life and doctrine. In other words, the way in which a gospel minister is approved is through his willingness and eagerness to be an example to the flock as he correctly teaches them. The corrupted desire of compulsory oversight and greedy lordship runs counter to the privilege of “sharing in the glory about to be revealed” (1 Pet. 5:1). The one who seeks his own glory cannot model to the congregation of how to seek the glory of Christ; indeed, he will lead the congregation astray.

Pastors, as you seek to entrust and commit to faithful men the message delivered, do so in such a prudent way that is modeling what you want to raise up: willing men who clothe themselves with humility and eager men who seek the glory of Christ alone.

Editor’s Note: This is an edited excerpt from Every Perfect Gift: Classical Virtues for Christian Formation

[1] John Calvin, Commentary on 1–2 Corinthians, 1:401.

[2] Thomas Traherne, The Shining Human Creature, 33.

[3] John Webster, God Without Measure, Vol. 2, 18.

[4] Augustine, City of God, V.19.

[5] Basil the Great, On Christian Doctrine and Practice, 111.

It’s that time of year again. Kids are a mix of excited and sad. Parents are a mix of excited and sad! In this episode of the pod, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the back to school experience, why it always comes with a mix of emotions, and offer some counsel for students (and for parents) in making the best of their new season of studies.

While not every book contains advice on Christian living or biblical wisdom, it is helpful to consider reading as an act of wisdom for the Christian life. Through books, we learn from disciples of Jesus Christ who have gone before us—their successes and their failures.

Here are three reasons why you should consider reading more.

1.    Books Are Written from Deep Reflection.

Authors are passionate enough about a topic to spend hundreds of hours thinking and writing their thoughts out. They have pondered the topic, learned from personal life experiences, and offer thoughtful conclusions to their readers. Take Jason Allen’s three-volume series Letters to My Students, for example.^[1] In the spirit of Spurgeon’s Lectures to My Students, Allen saw it fit to give his advice to pastors-in-training. Reflecting on his decades of ministry experience and current experience in higher education leadership, Allen’s books are a gold mine for pastors-in-training who desire to learn from a ministry leader who has gone before them and learned lessons about the Christian life and ministry.

2.    Books Connect Us with Christians Who Came Before Us.

The Lord told the prophet Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations” (Jer. 1:5). The Lord sovereignly ordained Jeremiah’s life and calling within a specific moment in history to serve the people of God. Similarly, you and I did not choose when we were born. What is clear, however, is that people have lived before us. When we pick up books such as Letters to My Students by Charles Spurgeon or The Cost of Discipleship by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, we are learning from disciples of Christ who lived before us in history with different contextual struggles. In other words, we should ask ourselves, “What did they learn about the Christian life that I can learn for my benefit today?” We can save ourselves time and avoid unnecessary mistakes by learning from those who lived before us.

3.    Books Can Help Strengthen Your Faith.

I want to be clear: Scripture is sufficient for the Christian life (2 Tim. 3:16–17). By strengthening your faith, I mean that reading can help you glean wisdom from multiple authors about how to live the Christian life more faithfully. You may not agree with everything an author writes, but reading their books sharpens your thinking and helps you better understand why you believe what you believe. Read and study Scripture, then supplement your Bible study by consulting other disciples’ reflections on the Christian life.

In his popular book Teaching to Change Lives, Howard Hendricks writes, “The two factors that will influence you the most in the years ahead are the books you read and the people you’re around.”^[2] Choose your books wisely. The authors are your counselors. In the end, books are a matter of wisdom. Scripture is sufficient, and God has provided everything you and I need for life and godliness (2 Pet. 1:3). We should not walk the Christian life alone, though (Prov. 27:17), and that includes not ignoring our counselors in written form. Save yourself some time by learning from others: Pick up a book, glean wisdom from the author, and strengthen your faith—all under the authority and sufficiency of Scripture. Reading is wisdom for the Christian life.

^[1] Jason K. Allen, Letters to My Students, 3 vols. (Nashville, TN: B&H Books), 2025.

^[2] Howard Hendricks, Teaching to Change Lives: Seven Proven Ways to Make Your Teaching Come Alive (New York, NY: Multnomah, 1987), 27.

“Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.” – Mark 11:24

Brethren, do you believe in prayer? I know you pray because you are God’s people; but do you believe in the power of prayer? There are a great many Christians that do not, they think it is a good thing, and they believe that sometimes it does wonders; but they do not think that prayer, real prayer, is always successful. They think that its effect depends upon many other things, but that it has not any essential quality or power in itself.

Now, my own soul’s conviction is, that prayer is the grandest power in the entire universe, that it has a more omnipotent force than electricity, attraction, gravitation, or any other of those secret forces which men have called by names, but which they do not understand. Prayer has as palpable, as true, as sure, as invariable an influence over the entire universe as any of the laws of matter. When a man really prays, it is not a question whether God will hear him or not. He must hear him, not because there is any compulsion in the prayer, but there is a sweet and blessed compulsion in the promise. God has promised to hear prayer, and he will perform his promise. As he is the most high and true God, he cannot deny himself. Oh! to think of this; that you a puny man may stand here and speak to God, and through God may move all the worlds. Yet when your prayer is heard, creation will not be disturbed, though the grandest ends be answered, providence will not be disarranged for a single moment. Not a leaf will fall earlier from the tree, not a star will stay in its course, nor one drop of water trickle more slowly from its fount, all will go on the same, and yet your prayer will have effected everything. It will speak to the decrees and purposes of God, as they are being daily fulfilled; and they will all shout to your prayer, and cry, “You are our brother; we are decrees, and you a prayer; but you are yourself a decree, as old, as sure, as ancient as we are.”

Our prayers are God’s decrees in another shape. The prayers of God’s people are but God’s promises breathed out of living hearts, and those promises are the decrees, only put into another form and fashion. Do not say, “How can my prayers affect the decrees?” They cannot, except in so much that your prayers are decrees, and that as they come out, every prayer that is inspired of the Holy Ghost unto your soul is as omnipotent and as eternal as that decree which said, “Let there be light, and there was light” (Genesis 1:3), or as that decree which chose his people, and ordained their redemption by the precious blood of Christ. You have power in prayer, and you stand today among the most potent ministers in the universe that God has made. You have power over angels, they will fly at your will.  You have power over fire, and water, and the elements of earth. You have power to make your voice heard beyond the stars; where the thunders die out in silence, your voice shall wake the echoes of eternity. The ear of God himself shall listen and the hand of God himself shall yield to your will. He bids you cry, “Your will be done” (Matthew 6:10) and your will shall be done. When you can plead his promise, then your will is his will. It seems, my dear friends, an awful thing to have such a power in one’s hands as to be able to pray! You have heard sometimes of men who pretended to have a weird and mystic might, by which they could call up spirits from the vast deep, by which they could make showers of rain, or stop the sun. It was all a figment of the fancy, but were it true the Christian is a greater magician still. If he has but faith in God, there is nothing impossible to him. He shall be delivered out of the deepest waters—he shall be rescued out of the sorest troubles—in famine he shall be fed—in pestilence he shall go unscathed—amid calamity he shall walk firm and strong—in war he shall be ever shielded—and in the day of battle he shall lift up his head, if he can but believe the promise, and hold it up before God’s eyes and plead it with the spell of unfaltering reliance.

There is nothing, I repeat it, there is no force so tremendous, no energy so marvelous, as the energy with which God has endowed every man, who like Jacob can wrestle, like Israel can prevail with him in prayer. But we must have faith in this; we must believe prayer to be what it is, or else it is not what it should be. Unless I believe my prayer to be effectual, it will not be, for on my faith will it to a great extent depend. God may give me the mercy even when I have not faith; that will be his own sovereign grace, but he has not promised to do it. But when I have faith and can plead the promise with earnest desire, it is no longer a probability as to whether I shall get the blessing, or whether my  will shall be done. Unless the Eternal will swerve from his Word, unless the oath which he has given shall be revoked, and he himself shall cease to be what he is, “We know that we have the requests we have asked of him” (1 John 5:15).

Editor’s Note: Excerpted from Breath of the Soul: Devotions for Powerful Prayer©2026 by Charles H. Spurgeon, edited by Geoff Chang. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission. To purchase this and other helpful resources, please visit newgrowthpress.com.

Sometimes the people who are supposed to know the most about God know Him the least. Perhaps this sounds counterintuitive, but this has consistently been the case throughout history. The past is littered with examples of men and women who have been raised to believe in God, who have been trained in theology, and who spent their whole lives studying Him but did not truly know Him. Martin Luther is a perfect example of this. Prior to his rediscovery of the gospel during the Reformation, Martin Luther claimed to hate God.[1] Yet, as a monk he studied Scripture, fasted regularly, and did all sorts of devotional duties. Luther knew many things about God, but he did not know God.

This phenomenon—knowing lots about God yet hating Him—is present in the Bible as well. The Pharisees constantly challenged by Jesus because of this. Just like Martin Luther, these men were required to know the Bible and studied the things of God to a degree beyond many of us. Yet, they too were guilty of not truly knowing God. Jesus makes this abundantly clear when He exclaims, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others” (Matt. 23:23). They failed—just like Luther once did—to grasp the purpose behind all their diligent study.

Believing in God

Both of these examples demonstrate something that is extremely important when dealing with the topic of belief in God. There is a big difference between saying, “I believe in God” and “I believe in God.” The first highlights that someone can have a lot of knowledge about God, can read all the right things about God, can do all the prayers and rituals without ever truly believing in God. For them, belief is merely intellectual assent to an idea. Saying “I believe in God,” under this rubric, is no different than saying “I believe that the earth revolves around the sun.” It is a mere fact.

This is why not everyone who claims to believe in God will enjoy eternal life, because they do not truly know God. They believe in the wrong way—a way that failed to produce life. As the late J.I. Packer says in Knowing God, “A little knowledge of God is worth more than a great deal of knowledge about him.”[2]

However, when a Christian says, “I believe in God,” they are not using this phrase to show their intellectual assent to an idea, but to reflect their trust in the God of the Bible. Belief, faith, and knowledge of God are primarily relational categories. “Christians don’t just believe—we believe in someone.”[3] Obviously, this means knowing things about God. A person cannot claim to be in a healthy relationship with someone if they know nothing about that person. But it also means much more than simple intellectual assent.

Abraham’s Faith

So why do Christians think of belief in this way? Why is it that they focus on the relational instead of only focusing on the intellectual? The answer to this can be found in the book of Genesis and the life of Abraham. Abraham was called by God to leave his family and travel to a new land. God was going to take him and make him into a great nation. But there was just one problem, Abraham did not have an heir. So God appears to Abraham and tells him, “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them . . . So shall your offspring be” (Gen. 15:5). Abraham responds to this in a rather unique way; “And he believed the Lord, and he counted it to him as righteousness” (Gen. 15:6; cf. Rom 4:3).

Abraham believes God, takes Him at His word, and trusts that He will do what He says He will do. This faith is credited to him as righteousness. He is not commended by God for his great theological skills. He is not exalted because he can list the attributes of God without needing to reference a theology textbook. No! He is considered righteous because he believes in God. He puts his hope in the word of the Lord that is addressed to him. He has faith, and as Herman Bavinck beautifully says, “only by faith does a promise become our possession.”[4] It is trust in the Lord that is highlighted when the Christian exclaims, “I believe in God!” It is relationship, not mere knowledge, that is proclaimed by the Christian.

Belief That Leads to Life

Martin Luther, the Augustinian monk who once declared his hatred for God, eventually came to understand this for himself. He did not have any grand vision or a cathartic experience, but he came to believe in God through “study in the tower of the Augustinian monastery.”[5] There, Luther would have a similar experience to Abraham’s. Rather than looking to his own merits, he would learn to take God at His word and trust Christ. This so changed his life that he could write, “What man is there whose heart, upon hearing these things, will not rejoice to its depth, and when receiving such comfort will not grow tender so that he will love Christ as he never could by any means of any laws or works?”[6] Martin Luther’s recognition of these things not only allowed him to say “I believe in God,” but sparked a movement against the cold, dead intellectualism of his day and has since allowed millions of people to proclaim “I believe in God” with him.

None of this is meant to sound anti-intellectual. Learning about God, studying theology, and knowing the Bible are all really good things. Yet, Christian faith cannot end with the intellect. To say “I believe in God” is to proclaim that you have entered into a relationship with Him by taking God at His word. It is, as Herman Bavinck says, “not a matter of knowing a number of doctrinal truths” but consists “in the soul’s union with the person of Christ according to the Scriptures and with Scripture as the word of Christ.”[7] It is a relationship, not knowledge of facts.

[1] Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand: The Life of Martin Luther (New York: Meridian, 1955), 44.

[2] J.I. Packer, Knowing God (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1975), 26.

[3] Alister McGrath, I Believe: Exploring the Apostles’ Creed (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1997), 20.

[4] Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics: Prolegomena, ed. John Bolt, trans. John Vriend (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003), 565.

[5] Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand, 47.

[6] Martin Luther, “The Freedom of a Christian,” 66.

[7] Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics: Prolegomena, 573.

In this installment of the regular Mailbag feature, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss your submitted questions and topics, including: “blank slate” student ministry, questions for pastoral search teams, premarital counseling, unrepentant friends in church, the dynamic between elders and deacons, and what exactly Luke meant when he said Satan “took” Jesus. As always, you can submit a question or topic for the Mailbag any time by emailing mailbag@ftc.co

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/7D_G1aD66dc

There are moments in church life when a man feels both the weight of the task before him and the weight of his own inadequacy.

I know those moments well because I experience them often.

I know what it’s like to stand off to the side before a service begins, Bible in hand, heart pounding, hands shaking, while asking God for help because I don’t feel capable enough to give what the task before me requires. I know what it’s like to want Christ to be honored and yet to feel deeply aware of my inadequacies. There are even times when I want to run away, pretend I’m sick, and let someone else lead.

But lately I’ve begun to embrace this apparent tension.

In his book, The Clay Pot Conspiracy, Dave Harvey says, “Pastoring is where an imperfect person leads imperfect people in an imperfect church to reach an imperfect world.”[1]

Though Harvey is writing about pastors, I think his point applies to anyone who serves in the church. Earlier he writes that when our weakness meets God’s power, the result is resilient ministry.

Leading in the church isn’t about looking capable. It’s about leaning on God because I know I’m not.

The Church Doesn’t Need an Impressive Leader

I remember as a kid—and even through my teenage years—I couldn’t speak to a group of any size without my hands shaking and it ending in tears. Because of this, I concluded that I wasn’t a leader and that if God wanted me to lead anyone, He would need to provide a miracle.

But He gave me more opportunities—starting with my own family.

I found myself assuming that, over time, the work of standing before God’s people would eventually feel natural or effortless. But that has not been my experience. Instead, it has often felt like being a boat tossed by the storms of the sea.

One temptation in leadership is believing that what the church—or even our families—need most is a great appearance, clarity of speech, or confidence and humor that attracts people. But the gathered church doesn’t need a man who appears put together. Indeed, neither do my wife and children.

The church needs to be helped to see God. Not me. That’s the real mission.

When the church gathers, the great need is not that leaders be impressive, but that Christ be visible, the Word of God be clear, distractions removed, hearts lifted, and the people of God drawn again to reverence, faith, repentance, and hope.

We want people to see Christ and cling to Him as their only treasure.

That happens through the Spirit’s work. Often, it comes through ordinary acts of service, preparation, removing distractions, and helping God’s people fix their attention on Christ rather than the man standing in front of them.

The Prayers Weak Leaders Pray

I don’t think of leadership mainly as bringing strength before the body. I think of it as bringing my weakness honestly before God and the body and asking Him not to let me get in the way.

Now, weakness can be damaging if it causes a man to turn inward like it did with me for so many years—and still does at times. It can make you timid, self-absorbed, and fearful. But I’ve learned that there is another kind of weakness. The kind that strips a man of self-trust and drives him to prayer, makes him cling to Christ, and teaches him that he cannot live on gifting or personality alone. It teaches him that he must ask for help.

More often than not, my prayers sound something like this:

Lord, help me.

Lord, keep me from being a distraction.

Lord, let Christ be seen.

Lord, please use me.

These are the prayers of a man who knows he is not the point. And perhaps, at times, they are also a defense against wanting to be the point. They are the prayers of one who remembers that God has always delighted to place His treasure in jars of clay, so that the surpassing power might plainly be His and not ours. The Lord has never been embarrassed to use weak men. He has only ever been glorified through them. This is something that took years for me to learn, and I still struggle to believe it.

Weakness as a Gift

This is good news for a man like me who feels ordinary and for the man who feels too aware of himself. It’s good news for the man who steps forward to lead while inwardly pleading for grace. It’s good news for the man who loves Christ, loves the church, and still feels, at times, too strange and small for the work set before him.

Such feelings do not necessarily disqualify a man from leading. They may, in fact, reveal that he understands the task better than the man who thinks he has mastered it.

Christian leadership is not a great presence, strong communication, or the art of appearing untroubled. It is the humble work of trusting God, speaking His truth, and serving His people while knowing full well that, apart from grace, you are inadequate for all of it.

I know what it’s like to feel too weak to lead. It rarely feels comfortable. But I am beginning to think that this discomfort has been one of God’s greater kindnesses to me. It has exposed the vanity and pride of my heart. It has reminded me that the church does not need my put-togetherness. It has driven me back to a life of clinging to Christ.

And perhaps that is where a man becomes most useful. It’s not when he finally feels strong enough to lead, but when he has been taught, again and again, to seek help from the One who leads him.

Perhaps feeling unfit to lead is not always what keeps a man from serving. Sometimes it is what teaches him how. Keep clinging to Christ.

[1] Dave Harvey, The Clay Pot Conspiracy: God’s Plan to Use Weakness in Leaders (Greensboro: New Growth Press, 2025).

Fortitude simply refers to the ability to endure difficulties and sufferings well for the sake of the good. The church father Ambrose spoke of fortitude as “courage of the mind when a man conquers himself, restrains his anger, yields and gives way to no allurements, is not put out by misfortunes, nor gets elated by good success, and does not get carried away by every varying change by some chance wind.”^[2] Fortitude is the habit of mind and action of those who are united to Christ to readily bear all things for the sake of the good, even in light of difficulties and sufferings of self and world.

Fortitude is possible, fitting, and necessary.^[3] It is possible because, by virtue of Christ’s imputed righteousness, we are brought to life and our soul’s faculties are made new. Fortitude is fitting because the blessed vision of God awaiting us is our source and strength for building our capacity to resist evil and face fear. Fortitude is necessary because, though we have been transferred from darkness to light, that blessed vision awaiting us is not yet realized in full possession.

Importantly, fortitude is determined by its knowledge of and the quality of the good, and thus requires the individual to know what the good is (i.e., God Himself). Particularly, fortitude follows the knowledge of reality that we receive in union with Christ. In other words, courage follows right reason because action follows being; united to the resurrected Christ, we act in that resurrected power. In faith, we are able to be brave for the good. Fortitude is not aimless or haphazard bravery, which is only foolish. Fortitude is not determined by the extent of strength; rather, like the rest of the virtues, its exercise is determined by the object pursued.

2 Corinthians 4:8–12 demonstrates that the power of fortitude comes from the sufferings of Christ and His resurrection power. The life of Jesus was one of suffering, for His gaze was set on those whom the Father had given Him. Christ’s endurance of suffering, even to death, was not only to fulfill the righteous requirements of the law, but to, in unfathomable grace, pour out that righteousness onto His bride so that she would be restored and brought home with Him.

The power of God is powerfully displayed in weakness. It’s when we are afflicted but not crushed, perplexed but not driven to despair, persecuted but not abandoned, and struck down but not destroyed, that the life of Jesus is manifested in our weakness, frailty, and dependence. Richard Sibbes notes here that the spiritual person is courageous and strong precisely in the face of opposition: “The more opposition, the more courage he has . . . the more [the early Christians] were opposed, the more they grew . . . The spirit of liberty gives boldness, strength, and courage against opposition.”^[4] Fortitude, then, is found where the light of life brings the new covenant’s resurrection power for our communion with Christ. Only here do we persevere in holiness and endure death’s affliction such that thanksgiving increases, all for God’s glory (2 Cor. 4:1–2, 8–12, 14–16).

Word and Prayer

The virtue of fortitude plays a unique role in pastoral ministry. Particularly, it is seen in the ministry of Word and prayer. As the pastor shepherds the flock entrusted to him, his mode of shepherding is administering God’s Word to sinners and sufferers as he intercedes on their behalf. In other words, not only does the virtue of fortitude aid the pastor in his ability to keenly comfort the afflicted and patiently admonish the wayward, but in doing so, those brothers and sisters are equipped to endure on their pilgrimage.

Colombe artistically depicts Lady Fortitude as battling a dragon invading the castle. In literature, dragons and monsters typically represent our own wickedness through the indwelling presence of sin.[5] For Colombe, Lady Fortitude’s dragon is the constant war we all wage against ourselves: “To protect the castle of the soul, we must have the courage to wrangle and destroy our dragons of vice . . . she [Lady Fortitude] reminds us to have the courage to pluck out the dragons lurking in the castle of our hearts.”[6]

This, of course, is how the Apostle Paul depicts the nature of the Christian life in Ephesians 6. It is a battle each and every day. The courageous person therefore must look to God in Christ for help in daily help through training and discipline. This is why Colombe’s sculpture depicts Lady Fortitude wearing protective armor as she leans back on a sturdy pillar. She is clothed with the armor of God (Eph 6:10–17), and “relies on God’s towering strength and power to accomplish her deed.”[7]

This sort of ministry, administering true reality to sinners and suffers, is a most glorious ministry. Pastors have the privilege of administering the truth that Christ’s death removes the evil one’s power and Christ’s resurrection empowers endurance in suffering. Through His sin-bearing death, Christ has accomplished victory over Satan, and the propitiation for sins. Of course, Satan still roams about taunting and mocking. Yet, his (borrowed) power of destruction, God’s wrath, has been removed in Christ’s sin-bearing death. God’s mercy in Christ is our shield, and Satan cannot succeed against it. The divine peace that comes through Christ’s decisive defeat of Satan, achieving and imputing righteousness, and pouring out resurrection power to us creates in us fortitude.

It’s true: sin and suffering remain until Christ’s second advent, which means we have to endure the assaults of hell for a little while longer. But we confess with Peter to Christ: “To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” What other source of power is needed to live the virtue of fortitude? While fear of death, indwelling sin, and the assault of hell are the primary obstacles to being courageous, the victory achieved by Christ’s death and resurrection has put those obstacles to an end.

Preach the Word

Augustine notes: “whoever follows after what is inferior to himself, becomes himself inferior… For if happiness consists in the enjoyment of a good than which there is nothing better, which we call the chief good, how can a man be properly called happy who has not yet attained to his chief good?”^[8] While there are several ways to describe the act of preaching, this statement captures the admonishing fervor of a preacher as he heralds to the congregation not to follow self but Christ who is their chief good and happiness.

Following self results in many wounds and casualties. One result is strife which can be conceived as a deficiency of loving peace. Those caught in the vicious circularity of strife have disregarded the chief good, God Himself, and are trapped in their own self-enclosure. In other words, the pastor’s heralding to follow Christ and not self has corporate effects.

The practice of forbearance, closely linked with the virtue of fortitude, lays out the moral responsibility of those loved in Christ to bear with and exhibit long-suffering for our brothers and sisters when they irritate, frustrate, or annoy us, hurt our feelings, or make life more difficult than it already is (Eph. 4:2; Col. 3:13). While forbearance is a command by Christ, it is also a virtue that we cultivate as we endure and live with those around us under the rule of Christ’s peace. Thus, the virtue of fortitude looks like the long-suffering practice of bearing with those who we may want to quarrel with in anger or disregard in strife.

The vice of discord is the deficiency of peace wherein charity is destroyed and self-regard is perpetrated. Gregory says: “let those who sow strife consider the extent to which they sin. For when they perpetrate this particular sin, they also eradicate every virtue that they may have in their heart . . .whoever destroys the charity of his neighbor by sowing strife acts as though he were in the service of God’s enemy.”^[9]

In order to practice forbearance, it requires us not to be so easily offended. Proverbs 18:19 notes that those easily offended are more unyielding than a strong city. In contrast, it is those of good sense who find glory in overlooking an offense (Prov. 19:11), and love, by definition, does not keep a record of wrongs (1 Cor. 13:5). In other words, those who exhibit fortitude, by following Christ and not self, are those who are not riddled with fear, distrust, and worry. Since the life of virtue is in accordance with reality, “we should bear all things rather than forsake God.”[10]

[1] This is an edited excerpt from Every Perfect Gift: Classical Virtues for Christian Formation.

[2] Ambrose, De officiis I.36.181. Cited in Webster, God Without Measure, vol. 2, 91.

[3] Webster, God Without Measure, vol. 2, 88–89.

[4] Richard Sibbes, “Excellency of the Gospel Above the Law,” in The Works of Richard Sibbes, vol. 4 (Banner of Truth, 2023), 232.

[5] “Dante’s threeheaded, monstrous Satan is a mirror of our own capacity for evil. Frankenstein’s monster is a mirror of the society who treats him poorly. Odysseus meets a series of monsters that teach him something about his own vices and virtues.” Davis, Beholding by Becoming, 165, n33.

[6] Davis, Beholding by Becoming, 165.

[7] Ibid., 165.

[8] Augustine, Morals, 47–48.

[9] Gregory the Great, Book of Pastoral Rule, 155.

[10] Augustine, Morals, 22.41

My own team faced many types of suffering firsthand. We argued over evangelistic methods. One teammate’s mother was deathly ill with cancer before the trip began, nearly keeping him off the trip. Another grumbled against the team leader, causing an undercurrent of strife. One village resisted our presence and caused us to leave quicker than we wanted. Time and time again, something rose up to make us doubt whether giving up our summer to be there had been the right decision at all.

I often asked, “Why is this happening to me?”

I imagine Job felt similarly. Job is introduced as a “blameless and upright” man, “one who feared God and turned away from evil” (Job 1:1). Then, Satan accuses God, claiming Job’s devotion is nothing more than a byproduct of His blessing. God permits him to test this claim, and Satan strips Job of his wealth, health, and children in rapid succession. It gets to the point where his own wife urges him to curse God and be done with it. When Job resists, his friends spend nearly 27 chapters insisting he repent of a sin he never committed to alleviate his suffering.

Job’s suffering provided every reason to say, “This suffering isn’t worth it. God, I’m done with you. I’m going to do my own thing.” But he didn’t. He suffered faithfully, never cursing the Lord or turning his own way.

There is much that those of us called to ministry can learn from Job, because there will be many times when we trek through suffering and consider saying, “I’m done. It’s not worth it.”

We need reminders for why faithful suffering is worth it in ministry.

Suffering Under His Sovereignty

God was not surprised when Satan challenged Him about the earnestness of Job’s devotion—He offered up Job himself. This was no arbitrary act, but one that was sovereignly ordained so that God could show His glory through Job’s suffering.

The same is true for us. If God has called you to ministry leadership, He is sovereign over that calling so that He can display His power through us. He places us where he wants us so that they may seek and find God (Acts 17:27). God’s calling isn’t haphazard. This includes our suffering. 1 Peter 4:19 says, “Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.” We can suffer according to the will of God, refuse to reject him, and trust him—even without fully understanding.

Despite all the hardship we faced as we ministered that summer in the Philippines, we trusted that God had sent us there for a specific reason to proclaim His glory, even amidst obstacles.

Suffering for Our Joy

Job does not explicitly express any joy in the book, but there are shadows of rejoicing. God blessed Job, and he died “an old man and full of days” (Job 42:17). He ends his life living in the blessedness of God, reminding us that true joy is ultimately found in God Himself (Ps. 16:11).

The New Testament reminds us that our suffering is never pointless. James tells us to count it all joy when we suffer because our testing leads to endurance toward mature holiness (Jas. 1:2-4). Peter and John leap for joy because they were “counted worthy to suffer dishonor” for Christ (Acts 5:41).

Faithful suffering is worth it because endurance produces maturity that allows us to experience the joy of the Lord. We know that God works everything together for the good of those who love him (Rom. 8:28). This includes the joy of faithful obedience through suffering to God.

We continued laboring for the Lord that summer despite our issues. We suffered and ministered with Him, participated in His joy, saw people receive the gospel, and recognized that we were being obedient just like our missionary heroes—including C.T. Studd, who said, “If Jesus Christ be God and died for me, then no sacrifice is too great for me to make for him.”[1]

Suffering for Gospel Advancement

Job carries missional implications. Job lived in the land of Uz—meaning he was a Gentile. Yet, he knew God personally. Amidst his children and servants, he influenced many people. Job’s faithful suffering led him to pray for his friends, and all his brothers, sisters, and everyone who had known him before came to visit him and show sympathy and comfort after his suffering (42:11). His faithfulness gave him a great opportunity to tell them what the Lord had done for him, and to show how worthy he was to faithfully suffer for Him.

When we faithfully suffer in ministry, we show the Lord’s worth and display our faith in the gospel. Your suffering can be used to proclaim the gospel. God may be calling you to a position or place that is difficult. You may be like Adoniram Judson, laboring for years before you see any fruit. You may be like Elisabeth Elliot, laboring in a place that reminds you of a great tragedy that has caused you great suffering. But it is all worth it for the proclamation of the gospel to all creation.

We finished that summer through all the hardship and suffering. Since we returned, many short-term teams and long-term nationals have gone to that same island to continue ministering. This year—seven years after our initial trip—they finally built a small building to house the church, after many had been baptized. While we cannot take any credit, we see that our short-term faithful suffering led to the continued advance of the gospel.

Minister, continue to faithfully suffer for the Lord. It is under his sovereign will, for your joy, and for the advancement of the gospel.

[1] Grubb, Norman. C. T. Studd: Cricketer & Pioneer. Cambridge: Lutterworth Press, 2003, 144.

Proverbs, as a literary composition, is a bit like the mighty Mississippi River. Proverbs stretches in every direction with one all-encompassing theme—the two ways theme. This theme works through Proverbs much like the Mississippi River branches out into minor rivers and streams. All the medium and small themes feed into the larger theme of the two ways.

The two ways theme teaches us that life comes at us as a series of decisions between two ways: the fear of the Lord or the fear of man or self. All day long we are choosing between fearing the Lord (honoring God as our Creator and choosing to listen to him and follow him) or preferring our own way (disregarding and ignoring God and doing what we think will be best for us). Every person to ever walk the planet follows one or the other of these contrasting paths.

During the coming lessons, you will encounter important subthemes in Proverbs. We’ll look at the heart as decision center, wisdom versus foolishness, and the fear of the Lord versus the fear of man/self. These are important tributaries, and all flow into the main river of the two ways theme.

Stemming from those subthemes are smaller streams of wisdom. These include the many and various individual proverbs found in Proverbs 10–29 and the sayings and poems found in Proverbs 30–31. To stick with the Mississippi River analogy, every word, saying, and proverb has a place; they all come in intentional sequence and surge forth as the cumulative equivalent of 7.7 billion gallons of wisdom and fear of the Lord—all there for the drinking!

God is good to us in giving us the gift of Proverbs. He wants to save us from going our own way and wasting our lives. Proverbs helps us by reminding us to take life one decision at a time—a thought here, a purchase there, a word spoken today. These decisions all present a fork in the road.

Every decision we make, every penny spent or saved, every relationship cultivated or shattered, all sexual encounters whether righteous or evil, and every single thought pondered is a decision between two ways. Proverbs tells us that nothing is neutral. We are revealing whether we fear and love the Lord or fear people and live for ourselves.

The two ways are diverging paths that end in different locations. One fork leads toward life and light and pleasures forevermore, while the other fork leads toward pain, loneliness, death, and alienation from God and people. Praise God that we do not have to make these choices all by ourselves. As redeemed Christians, the Holy Spirit indwells us and serves as our guide to carry us into all truth (John 16:13). Because the Holy Spirit has given us new life and works actively in our lives, we can rely on him to both know the right thing to do and to empower us to be able to do it. Since we have been born again, both the once-for-all choice to follow Jesus (conversion) and each individual choice (sanctification) are empowered by God’s own Spirit.

If you are at all reflective, thinking of your life as a series of choices that leads toward either life or death can be discouraging. We can remember from our past, and even yesterday, times when we chose to go our own way and not God’s way. But the gospel brings us hope.

Jesus is the true and final Solomonic Son, the perfect Son who always listened and obeyed his Father’s voice. Jesus is the Son who did not follow the paths of folly but heard and heeded his Father’s voice. As a young boy, Jesus’s frantic parents found him in the temple. When they demanded an explanation, he simply said, “Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know that it was necessary for me to be in my Father’s house?” (Luke 2:49 CSB). As Jesus grew in favor with God and man, he always chose to follow his Father. Then he gave his life for all our wrong choices. When we put our faith in Jesus, his wisdom, kingdom, birthright, and Spirit are ours.

With this in mind, we can read Proverbs with hope. We can be confident that the Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead is alive in us and helping us to follow in Jesus’s footsteps, listening to our heavenly Father and choosing life over death each day. And when we fail (as we will), we have an advocate with the Father who ever lives to intercede for us and who helps us in our time of need (Hebrews 4:14–16).

Excerpted from Proverbs: Walking in the Way of Christ ©2026 by Samuel Levi Bierig. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission. To purchase this and other helpful resources, please visit newgrowthpress.com.

[1] Stephen E. Ambrose and Douglas G. Brinkley, The Mississippi and the Making of a Nation: From the Louisiana Purchase to Today (National Geographic Books, 2002), 9.

A podcast you’re going to listen to or watch via the Internet warns about voices on the Internet. Not all cultural and theological pundits are helpful to your growth in Christ. Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the strange phenomenon of being “discipled by the Internet.” What does it look like? Why can it be harmful? And how do we recognize the dangers in order to be more wise in our consumption of online media?

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/_-G90054e48

While reading through 1 Thessalonians for my morning devotions, I read the Apostle Paul urging the church in Thessalonica to “aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you, so that you may walk properly before outsiders and be dependent on no one” (1 Thess. 4:11–12). These verses prompted me to ask, “Is God calling us to the kind of hygge that many of us have misunderstood?”

Certainly, Paul’s command to “live quietly” is not an invitation to withdraw from responsibility or pursue comfort. Rather, it is a call to peaceful diligence—a life marked by humble faithfulness, diligent work, and steady devotion to Christ. Christians should not mistake quietness for idleness but recognize it as a life well spent, devoted to faithful labor.

If Paul does not equate the Christian life with comfort, why does he command believers to live quietly?

The Beauty of a Quiet Life

The Apostle Paul encourages the believers in Thessalonica to aspire to live a quiet life and to mind their own affairs (1 Thess. 4:11).

This is an invitation to live peaceably, without meddling in others’ affairs but instead attending faithfully to one’s own. In doing so, the Christian is free from needless strife and gossip over matters that do not belong to us. Paul is calling Christians to cultivate humility, attentiveness to their own work, and a delight in what God has placed before them.

In this age, it is easy to be consumed by the latest news about our neighbor—maybe even our fellow church members—which can quickly turn into gossip, quarrels, and talking behind one another’s backs. Yet Paul reorients our hearts toward peaceful and quiet living, focused on the work the Lord has entrusted to us here and now.

Paul teaches the Thessalonians to live attentively before God, faithfully embracing the work He has placed before them. As the missionary and martyr Jim Elliot said, “Wherever you are, be all there. Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.”[4]

The Dignity of Faithful Work

Paul then urges the Thessalonians to work diligently, supporting themselves so that their witness would not be hindered among the unbelievers in Thessalonica. Some believers in Thessalonica used the second coming of Christ as an excuse to stop working, while others took advantage of the wealthier members of the church instead of supporting their own lives. The Apostle Paul urges them to pursue godly diligence, live responsibly, and steward the bodies, gifts, and talents the Lord has entrusted to them. This is still true for the 21^st-century Christian. No gift is too small in the Lord’s hands.

This exhortation led me to examine my view of work and sanctification. Are we striving to pursue godliness with all our might?

The Witness of Ordinary Faithfulness

I find it encouraging that Paul doesn’t simply command the Thessalonians to live a quiet life, mind their own affairs, and work with their hands; he explains why: “so that you may walk properly before outsiders (v.12).” Paul reminds us once again that every part of the Christian life bears witness to the gospel before the world. What a joy to know that the Lord delights in using His servants to make known His excellencies (1 Pet. 2:9)!

Christian, your life displays your faith. What does your life say to the world?

Laboring in the Lord’s Vineyard

In His providence, the Lord has seen fit to have you and me live in this age, season of life, and amid all the struggles that come with it. He has placed each of us in our present circumstances for our sanctification and His glory.

Yet we can easily be discouraged from continuing to labor with all our strength, pouring out our lives for God’s glory and His purposes (Col. 3:23). We are regularly tempted to idleness, and in those moments, we need to pray and strive even more to be faithful stewards of God’s good gift of work. This quiet life, the Apostle Paul teaches, is not meant to be passive. Rather, it is the means by which Christians joyfully labor, are continually conformed to Christ, and display the beauty of a full life in His kingdom.

Spurgeon reflects on work and its importance to a diligent life: “A Christian man working not at all for his Lord; how shall I speak of him? Time does not tarry, DEATH does not tarry, HELL does not tarry; Satan is not lazy, all the powers of darkness are busy: how is it that you and I can be sluggish, if the Master has put us into his vineyard?”[5]

As we await the imminent return of our Savior, may we live lives marked by peaceful diligence for God’s glory, knowing that true comfort and eternal rest will come beyond the river.

Will you labor heartily in His vineyard?

[1] Olivia Liveng, “Americans Have Hygge All Wrong. Here’s What It Is and Why It’s Important Right Now,” Fodor’s Travel Guide, February 16, 2021, https://www.fodors.com/world/europe/denmark/experiences/news/americans-have-hygge-all-wrong-heres-what-it-is-and-why-its-important-right-now.

[2] “Danish Hygge,” Denmark.dk, accessed July 2026, https://denmark.dk/people-and-culture/hygge/.

[3] Merriam-Webster, s.v. “hygge,” accessed July 2026, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hygge.

[4] Jim Elliot, The Journals of Jim Elliot: Missionary, Martyr, Man of God, ed. Elisabeth Elliot (Grand Rapids: Revell, 2020), xx.

[5] C. H. Spurgeon, “The Sluggard’s Farm,” in The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit, vol. 34 (London: Passmore and Alabaster, 1888), 317.

It is easy to love in general, theoretically, or ideologically, but loving neighbors and giving others their right due is quite difficult in light of all their weaknesses and quirks that drive us crazy. This requires the individual to have their soul rightly ordered to have devotion to the triune God, a disposition of self-denial, and a bent to render each his due in prudential fear of the Lord.

William Ames defines virtue as “a condition or habit by which the will is inclined toward the good and to do well. It is called a habit because it is, in general, a state of mind of various degrees of perfection. It is called habit not only because one possesses it but also because it makes the subject behave in a certain manner.”^[1] Virtue, as a habit, aids the individual’s faculties to move toward good and not evil. Likewise, vice, as a habit, aids the individual’s faculties to move toward evil and not good. This is what the author of Hebrews says in his exhortation to those who should be teachers yet have remained immature and inexperienced in the faith (5:12–14). Those who are “mature,” or, virtuous, have powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil (5:14). Virtue, then, is a gift of God, in union with Christ, that trains the individual Christian to grow in love of God and love of neighbor.

Augustine’s formulation of justice is important here: “Justice is love serving God only, and therefore ruling all else well.…The object of this love is not anything, but only God, the chief good, the highest wisdom, the perfect harmony.”[2] This understanding of justice is crucial, for justice is only virtuous if the soul is ordered rightly. Pastors do not practice justice for the sake of applause from others, a building of platform, a self-vindictive vengeance, or some expectation of repayment. Certainly, pastors do not practice justice for the sake of earning righteousness before God. Pastors can only practice justice truly if we are in Christ by grace and serving God supremely. Justice, then, guides and helps pastors establish their life and doctrine in right relation to God and neighbor.

As a virtue, justice is an inclination to act rightly by rendering all their own due (i.e., love). The just person also practices temperance and is not concerned with his or her own due, but with what is due to God and neighbor. It takes place in the tangible action of giving what is due and the concrete enjoyment of the reception.

The Art of Soul Care

Augustine articulates this point that justice is love serving. Each person, as made in God’s image, is due our love (Matt. 22:37–39). The act of justice is simply loving each neighbor, regardless of functionality or utility, because they have a personal right, or due, to be treated with dignity.

If justice is love serving those made in the image of God, then pastoral work is simply that art of arts whereby souls are loved by pointing them to that sure footing when the creep of fear and storm of anxiety present themselves in the flock of God. The art of soul care takes the virtue of justice into practice because the source and subject of the pastor’s ministry is that which the weightiest burdens, the broadest sins, the deepest griefs, and the strongest losses all crush mere human kindness. And yet, these, and all the rest of the human experience, realize their end in the life-giving Word of God. “The wondrous reality is that God himself is present by means of his word to settle anxious hearts and quiet fear. ‘Thus says the Lord!’ Now that’s a mouthful of certainty in an uncertain world.”^[3]

Because there are no shortcuts or easy way outs with caring for guilt and shame ridden souls, prudent and persistent justice is necessary. And the splendid mystery is that God uses feeble and weak pastors to administer the medicine of heaven, the love of God for sinners, because the same gospel reality that forgives sin also cleanses sin. For pastors, the art of the care of souls is administering the reality, truth vs. fiction, for we do not preach ourselves but Christ Jesus crucified, buried, and risen who eagerly gives life to the dead, love to the wounded, hope to the discouraged, and faith to the faithless.

In other words, in practicing the virtue of justice, pastors “are called to steadily hold forth the word of life to souls sinking in a quagmire of sin and shame, repeatedly ushering people into the presence of the living God where day after day they receive life in the midst of the death that threatens to engulf them.”^[4]

Providence, Humility, and Prayer

Providence is “God’s continuous preservation, direction, and guidance of all created things to the end He has determined from eternity and for His own glory.”^[5] All things are bound up with God since everything is from Him, through Him, and to Him; all things depend on God and are moved and ruled by Him (Acts 17:24–28; Rom. 11:33–36). As such, divine providence is comprehensive in that all creation actions are from him.^[6]

Providence is specifically related to the virtue of justice, for though we confess God’s sovereignty with our lips, we wrestle with Him in our hearts and actions (Isa. 29:13). We continue to believe the original lie that God is not only untrustworthy but that our ways are better, our judgments of righteousness and justice better. If we are to be imitators of God, how can we wrestle with God’s just providence in all things good and evil?

Of course, the practice of justice, and particularly the pastor’s modeling thereof, is only analogous to God as just. Yet, providence and the virtue of justice relate not only in our dogmatic confession of God’s sovereignty, but also in the pastor’s ministry of the Word as a whole. As the Scriptures proclaim and direct us to the righteousness and goodness of God, it is wicked for us to ever think we could shepherd a flock better than the Good Shepherd; we are the sinners who, in God’s kindness, has made us undershepherds.

We all wrestle against the Lord in our arrogant and vain thoughts of making ourselves lord, and pastors are no exception. The pastor must practice justice in the right way: humility and prayer. Humility is a necessary friend of justice, for this inner disposition is cultivated in all our thoughts, words, and actions. And yet, Basil keeps us in check to not even let those right and good actions cultivate pride:

Do you think you have accomplished something good? Give thanks to God lest you exalt yourself above your neighbor . . . Do not judge yourself with prejudice, nor examine yourself with partiality. If you think you possess some good, do not count this to your credit while purposely overlooking your misdeeds.^[7]

Pastors must practice justice in the same way that the Apostle Paul exhorts the Colossian Christians by setting their minds on things above, where our life is hidden with Christ (Col. 3:1–17). This reality of union with Christ is the only way in which justice is rightly practiced. The very nature of mortification and vivification in Colossians 3 requires humility. “The soul grows like what it pursues, and is molded and shaped according to what it does,” says Basil.^[8] Our soul, united to Christ, pursues Him, for He is our life, while our interactions with one another, in the school of Christ, forms a humble, just soul.

Editor’s Note: This is an edited excerpt from Every Perfect Gift: Classical Virtues for Christian Formation

[1] William Ames, Marrow of Theology, 224.

[2] Augustine, Morals, 15.25.

[3] Harold Senkbeil, The Care of Souls, 54.

[4] Ibid., 142.

[5] Synopsis of a Purer Theology, 101.

[6] See Job 12:10; 28:23–27; 37:11–12; Pss. 104:19–28; 119:91; Isa. 10:6–7, 23; Jer. 33:20; Matt. 5:45; Acts 4:28; 14:16.

[7] Mark DelCogliano, “Introduction to Humility,” in Basil the Great, On Christian Doctrine and Practice, 115. One fellow elder, riffing off of Lewis, said to me at an elder’s meeting: “The most obvious cloak pride wears is a humble one.”

[8] Basil the Great, On Christian Doctrine and Practice, 117.

“In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9; emphasis added).

A simple phrase—“the love of God”—appears 10 times in the New Testament.

Twice, the phrase comes from the lips of Jesus in the Gospels (Luke 11:42; John 5:42). Four of the occurrences are found in Paul’s letters (Rom. 5:5, 8:39; 2 Cor. 13:13; 2 Thess. 3:5). The remaining four instances are in the first epistle of the beloved Apostle, John (1 John 2:5, 3:17, 4:9, 5:3).

While the phrase is the same in each occurrence, it can refer to one of two realities, and the meaning can only be determined by the immediate context in which the phrase appears.

First, it can be a reference to what I will call the initiating love of God. That is, the love that God shows to His people. Second, “the love of God” may be a reference to the reciprocal love of God—the love with which the redeemed respond to God.[1]

What I would like to do in this article is briefly consider the former sense of the phrase. Dear Christian, I want to show you how the love you have for God is enabled by, established upon, and constantly sustained in the love He has for you. More specifically, I want to help you understand how the initiating love of God is demonstrated in Christ.

The Initiating Love of God

While the phrase “love of God” does not appear, John 3:16 gives us one of the clearest pictures of the initiating love of God found in the New Testament.

After explaining the necessity of the “birth from above” and drawing an analogy between His crucifixion and the lifting up of the bronze serpent in the wilderness, Jesus explains to Nicodemus the initiating love of God.

Many English translations render the Greek adverb houtos as “so”—which is an acceptable translation of the word. However, modern readers can easily misunderstand the force of the word. Typically, when we read the verse: “God so loved the world…” we tend to think of Jesus as describing the greatness or magnitude of God’s love. Some preachers have even gone so far as to paraphrase John 3:16: “For God loved the world so much…”

While it is undoubtedly true that God does have a great love for the world, that is not the point of what Jesus says to Nicodemus. To better capture the main idea, the adverb houtos should be translated “in this way.” The translators of the CSB have decided to go this route and as such, John 3:16 reads: “For God loved the world in this way…”

Do you see the difference a phrase makes? While it is true God does love the world with a great, unfathomable love, the point Jesus is making is not so much about the magnitude of His love (although that concept is clearly present) but about the way in which He shows this love to us. It is hard to improve upon the way the Apostle Paul articulated this point in Romans 5:8–9: “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God.”

It is in the giving of His Son to suffer in the place of sinners that God has shown His love to us. Has there ever been One so dear to the heart of God the Father as His only begotten Son? Have any ever enjoyed such love and fellowship as that which has been eternally enjoyed between the members of the Godhead? And yet, God the Father freely sent His own Son into the world in the likeness of sinful flesh to suffer and die for the sins of His own enemies so that they might live. Can we truly comprehend this love? “If God is for us,” the Apostle asks, “who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:31).

John Flavel has expressed this point so wonderfully:

O what a fair One! What an only One! What an excellent, lovely, ravishing One, is Christ! Put the beauty of ten thousand paradises like the garden of Eden, into one; put all trees, all flowers, all smells, all colors, all tastes, all joys, all sweetness, all loveliness in one; O what a fair and excellent thing would that be? And yet it should be less to that fair and dearest well-beloved Christ, than one drop of rain to the whole seas, rivers, lakes, and fountains of ten thousand earths. Christ is heaven’s wonder, and earth’s wonder.

Now, for God to bestow the mercy of mercies, the most precious thing in heaven or earth, upon poor sinners; and, as great, as lovely, as excellent as his Son was, yet not to account him too good to bestow upon us, what manner of love is this![2]

Look to Christ and Rest in God’s Love

Do you find yourself consistently in doubt? Are you unsure if God looks upon you with affection or wrath? Look to the cross! God has shown you the love he has for you if you will just look with the eyes of faith to the God-man hanging upon the tree at Calvary and consider what great love God has for your soul in the giving of His Son.

It is true that the love of God has been shown to us in the giving of temporal blessings; He graciously provides for our every need. However, the love of God has been shown to us preeminently in Christ. There will be seasons of suffering and want in this life in which we may be tempted to doubt God’s love for us. There is no surer anchor for the soul than the initiating love of God shown to us in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

[1] The grammatical language used to identify these usages is that of subjective (i.e., the initiating love of God) and objective (i.e., the reciprocal love of God) genitives. By subjective genitive, grammarians do not mean love that is based on personal experience (the way “subjective” is often understood) but that the genitive noun is the agent performing the action. Similarly, in an objective genitive construction, the genitive noun is the one receiving the action of the head noun.

[2] John Flavel, The Works of John Flavel, 6 vols. (London: Banner of Truth Trust, 1968), 1:68 (emphasis added).

“Goodness, brother, what happened?” I responded.

“She was severely fatigued. She went to the ER. Sodium was low. The doctor restored her sodium levels far too quickly, and it shrunk her brain. It’s called Osmotic Demyelination Syndrome.”

Tragedy is horrible. Preventable tragedy is worse. Tragedy that ensues from another’s folly is worst, understandable, and angering. In medicine, iatrogenics (from two Greek words, iatros: healer, genesis: origin) is the field of study that looks to make sense of illness caused by medical intervention. According to a 2016 Johns Hopkins study, medical error (iatrogenic death) is the third leading cause of death in the U.S., behind only heart disease and cancer.[1]

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think the medical community saves more lives than it takes, and it’s not even close. Nonetheless, we’d be foolish not to soberly look at the realities of when the Hippocratic Oath of “do no harm” is violated either because of neglect or folly. Undiagnosed, late-diagnosed,  or untreated but treatable conditions certainly are associated with fatalities. But how many are harmed by failure to act compared to failure of action?

As pastors, I want us to map similar evaluative measures onto our work. In a world where “church hurt” is cited so often as a cause of deconstruction or unbelief, we need to be clear-headed in recognizing not merely where we’ve failed to act, but also where we’ve failed in action.

Failure to Act

The Apostle Paul does not envision pastors as being in a conflict-avoidant role:

• 1 Thessalonians 5:14: “And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle …”
• Acts 20:28–31: “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to care for the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood. I know that after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them. Therefore be alert, remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish everyone…”
• 2 Timothy 4:2: “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort…”

Those pastors with a proclivity toward passivity or people-pleasing, walking in fear of man or motivated by sloth or phony peacekeeping ought to feel cut to the heart by those passages. I know I do. There are dozens of other passages like them.

In medical terms, how trustworthy would a doctor be who withholds bad news—whose goal in meeting with a patient is their short-term emotional wellness over and against their long-term flourishing? He’s “doing harm” by virtue of avoiding words that would be harmful! The capacity to diagnose accurately is why he went to medical school, but without his willingness to communicate that diagnosis, he’s useless. Nowhere do I see Paul giving license to pastors to passively “let things play out.”

Some of the best surgeons in the world have poor bedside manner—but they still save lives. That option isn’t so much on the table for pastors, however.

Failure of Action

Where many pastors fail is not in failing to act, but in failing in their action. I cut off the ending of those verses above—look with me at how those passages above resolve:

• 1 Thessalonians 5:14: “And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.”
• Acts 20:28–31: “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock, in which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to care for the church of God, which he obtained with his own blood. I know that after my departure fierce wolves will come in among you, not sparing the flock; and from among your own selves will arise men speaking twisted things, to draw away the disciples after them. Therefore be alert, remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish everyone with tears.”
• 2 Timothy 4:2: “Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching.”

Help the weak… with tears… with complete patience. Some pastors are wired for conflict. Like a carpenter with a hammer, they know how to swing at a nail. Poor “bedside manner” is not merely a matter of tact and strategy; it’s a matter of fidelity.

We don’t rebuke the weak; we help them. When we’re admonishing the wayward, we ought to have tears in our eyes. Patience, I think, is rightly and best understood as long-suffering. To suffer long with a congregant, to weep over their folly and rebellion, is painful and taxing. In a role where we’re often already drained, choosing the way that is more draining can feel like poor stewardship of our energy and time. Not to Paul. It is the right mode of engagement. Far easier said than done.

We ought not let the ends justify the means. “They’re going to leave anyway, so I might as well not waste my emotional energy loving them.” Or, “They’re not going to see what I see, so spending a whole lot of time on this isn’t good bang for my buck.” From a worldly “return on investment” perspective, this is true. When you’re trying to grow a healthy church, it certainly seems like hard-heartedness towards the wandering in favor of pouring more gas where the fire is already burning makes sense. But when we make that calculation, we’re choosing “fruitful” over “faithful,” and ultimately, we won’t get either.

From an iatrogenic perspective, this is where most of the church hurt I’ve caused has come from. I’ve not emotionally gone the way of Jesus and Paul, admonishing with tears, but I’ve gone the way of non-profit business management, and, like an award-winning surgeon, justified poor bedside manner in the name of stewardship and efficiency.

The Pain Calculation

I do believe a large amount of what has been called “church hurt” comes from faithful pastors acting faithfully in accordance with their call. Those who desire to sin or persist in unsound doctrine will feel judged and misunderstood and will correspondingly say “the church hurt me.” This is inevitable and unavoidable in our cultural moment that celebrates and incentivizes victimhood.

At the same time, there is church hurt that stems from failure to act and from failure of action. Not rebuking sin harms the body. Rebuking sin without complete patience and tears harms the body. Running post-mortem iatrogenic analysis on pastoral failures of every kind should be something we regularly engage in. We have nothing to prove to Jesus, but we do desire to grow as effective, Christlike, and courageous shepherds of the household of God. Perhaps we may win some we would have otherwise lost.

[1] Martin A. Makary and Michael Daniel, “Medical Error: The Third Leading Cause of Death in the US,” BMJ 353 (2016): i2139, https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.i2139.

They’ve apologized and said they won’t do it again? Doesn’t grace require we just accept that and move on? Well, maybe. But maybe repentance is a little deeper than just saying “sorry.” In this episode, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz talk about the signs of genuine repentance — how to genuinely by grace turn from sin to Jesus. And what that looks like, even practically.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/kddol8vjVDQ

When Jeremiah prophesied, the average Jew was convinced that Jerusalem was untouchable, and, by implication, so were they. Although they had watched the northern tribes be taken into exile because of their sin, they were convinced that it would not be so with the southern tribes, for they dwelled in YHWH’s chosen city. The Jews in Jerusalem boasted in their presumed safety and so lived lax lives riddled with sin.

The book of Jeremiah responds to such a situation. It is therefore unsurprisingly a book of judgment, calling the Jews in Jerusalem to wake up to their arrogance and hypocrisy. But this book of judgment is laced with hope. Both challenge and comfort are present in Jeremiah 9:23–24:

Thus says the LORD: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the LORD who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the LORD.”

The Problem of Misplaced Boasting

Observe three things.

First, the LORD does not dispute that there are, in fact, wise, strong, and wealthy people. Some people are wise. Some people are strong. Some people are wealthy. Everyone is endowed with abilities and resources, whether through common grace or the Spirit’s gifting. This is important to register. God gifts us in different ways. Wisdom, strength, and wealth (among others) are gifts God grants. We must acknowledge this, because to ignore it is to misunderstand the weight of what God says here.

Second, the warning of the LORD is not that people do not possess gifts, but that people so gifted should not boast in their gifts. We are to resist the temptation to boast in our gifts, as they are, after all, gifts given by God. The Hebrew term translated boast is the same term translated praise elsewhere, particularly throughout the Psalms. This offers a vivid image of what boasting is: singing your own praise.

Imagine gathering with the church on Sunday and singing with great gusto:

In Me alone my hope is found,
I am my light, my strength, my song

Our trust and boast should not be placed in ourselves or our gifts.

Third, boasting itself is not forbidden completely. But the object of our boasting is vitally important. The LORD invites us to boast in one key thing. Rather, one key person. Our boast should be that we know and understand God.

This is not a mere intellectual reality. This is a relational reality—it includes intellect, but also volition and emotion. Our boast is in knowing and understanding our God because of who he is. He is steadfast in his love, just, and righteous. Real wisdom, strength, and wealth are found in God. Knowing and understanding God is truly wise, formatively strengthening, and enormously wealthy.

What Is Your Boast?

What does this mean for us today? Well, it provokes a deeply penetrating question—what’s our boast? What’s your boast?

Do we boast in our wisdom, strength, and wealth? Do we boast in our academics, our ministry positions, and our bank balances? Do we boast in our experience, our authority, and our relational capital? Do we boast in any of the variety of gifts that God has given to us?

Such boasting is foolishness!

What we should and must boast in is that we know and understand God—that we’ve been delivered from darkness, redeemed from ruin, saved and sanctified. All our boast is in Jesus! Every gift, talent, and skill that the LORD has granted us must be utilized for boasting in our gracious God and Savior.

Paul evidently leans on these verses from Jeremiah as he writes to the church in Corinth:

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” (1 Cor. 1:26–31)

D. A. Carson applies Paul’s words in this way: “Modern Western evangelicalism is deeply infected with the virus of triumphalism, and the resulting illness destroys humility, minimizes grace, and offers far too much homage to the money and influence and ‘wisdom’ of our day.”[1]

This is a devastatingly accurate summary of what we consistently witness transpiring in Christian celebrity culture. But it is also a devastatingly accurate summary of what transpires in my heart, and I presume yours too. What’s the issue? Our boast is in our gifts, not in the giver.

The gospel is the remedy to our twisted hearts, for through it we know our Lord. Sin is forgiven; new life is born. Through the gospel, Jesus becomes our brother, the new creation our home, and perfect righteousness our destiny.

The salvation we’ve experienced can be the joyous experience of others—if only we boast in the Lord and not in ourselves. If only all our boast is in Jesus.

[1] D.A. Carson, The Cross and Christian Ministry, p. 29

Though the medieval four senses of Scripture are often viewed with suspicion or scorn, they essentially tell readers to ask four questions of every text. I think these are helpful questions and can be employed to help train people to read the Scriptures in all their fullness.

Before I enumerate these questions, let me describe the four senses. The four senses historically have been described as the literal (historical or grammatical), allegorical (Christological), tropological (moral), and anagogical (futuristic).

• The literal sense refers to the most natural sense of the words in their grammatical and historical context which will be discovered by sound exegesis.
• The allegorical sense refers to symbolic readings with Christ and the church in view.
• The tropological sense is another spiritual sense but narrows the focus to the formation of the church and persons in the church.
• The final spiritual sense is the anagogical sense. This pertains to what is to come, what we are hoping for, and our ascent to God.

The Four Questions

Some might think it is better not to use these terms, especially since allegory is viewed with such negativity in the modern era. If we can get past the difficult language, one of the strengths of the four senses is the simple and intuitive nature of it. Many Christians naturally read the Scriptures in this way, even if they get things out of order. The quadriga essentially teaches readers to ask four questions of the text:

• What does the text mean in its original setting?
• How does the text point us to Christ and the church?
• How does the text form us as a people and give us instructions for how to live?
• How does the text point us to our glorious future and Christ’s return?

The Four Questions Expanded

The first question is concerned with authorial intent, genre, grammar, history, and the literary flow of the passage. It seeks to bridge the divide between modern culture and the biblical text. Readers should be aware that biblical books come from an ancient author and are written to a particular audience about specific issues.

The second question broadens the scope and asks larger questions about the storyline of the Scriptures and how it culminates in Christ and His church. There are multiple ways to think of how the story progresses, but one helpful way to think of the story is through two simple statements. The narrative structure of the Bible proceeds through covenants and the thematic structure revolves around the idea of Kingdom. Each text has some connection to this reality, and readers should look not only at the individual passage but also at the larger salvation-historical context.

The third question is one many Christian readers begin with, but it should only be asked after the first two have been examined. Readers can and should ask what the text means for them as the Scriptures are a divine word addressed to them. However, they should only ask this question once they have discerned what it meant in its original context and how the gospel informs our understanding. Then one can ask how it forms us individually and as a community.

The final question is one that many Christians forget to ask. The biblical storyline doesn’t simply culminate in Christ’s first coming, but the story will come to completion at His second coming. Therefore, readers should ask how the text points to them to the hope of Christ’s second coming. Reading with the larger biblical storyline includes reading with the word “Maranatha” always on our lips.

Reading in Community

These four simple questions can be employed by any Christian. They are easy to remember, and they keep us grounded in the original meaning without forgetting the larger storyline. Sometimes people wonder what guardrails we have for these questions so people don’t misinterpret Scripture. This is a good question, and this article doesn’t have time to address all the guardrails we should employ. However, one can be mentioned here, and it is the best one: the church. If we read with others, they can help us see where we might be misunderstanding the text. Many think of reading the Scripture only in individualistic terms, but reading is a communal event.

Nothing had gone wrong, exactly. Nobody in his group had dropped out. There was no conflict or crisis. But something had shifted the moment he became responsible for other people’s spiritual growth, and no amount of training had prepared him for what that felt like. He was not struggling with the curriculum. He was struggling with the weight.

I have seen this pattern more times than I can count. A church invests heavily in training its small group leaders—and training matters. But training answers the question, “What do I do?” The question that keeps a leader up at night is different: “Who am I to be doing this?” And if nobody walks with them through that question, the church will keep losing leaders it spent months and years preparing.

The Gap Between Trained and Ready

Most churches have a training process for small group leaders. It might be a class, a handbook, a mentorship semester, or an orientation meeting. These are good things. Leaders need to understand the vision, know the logistics, and feel equipped to facilitate a conversation. Paul told Timothy to entrust what he had learned to “faithful men, who will be able to teach others also” (2 Tim. 2:2). There is a passing down that has to happen.

But there is a difference between passing down information and walking with a person through formation. Training equips someone to lead a meeting. Discipleship equips someone to shepherd a room full of people who are grieving, doubting, hiding, and hoping—sometimes all in the same evening.

When a small group leader sits across from someone who has just confessed an addiction, or when the room goes silent after a question nobody wants to answer, the leader does not reach for a training manual. They reach for whatever has been built into them. And if what has been built into them is only curriculum knowledge and logistical confidence, they will feel the gap immediately.

What It Looks Like to Disciple the People Who Lead

Discipling your small group leaders means staying close enough to see what is actually happening in them—not just in their groups. It means asking questions that go deeper than “How is your group going?” and listening for what they are not saying.

The leader who tells you everything is fine but has stopped inviting new people is often afraid of something they cannot name. The leader who over-prepares every week may not trust that the Spirit is sufficient if their outline falls apart. The leader who avoids conflict in their group is sometimes avoiding something unresolved in their own heart. These are not performance problems. They are discipleship opportunities.

Jesus did not hand the Twelve a facilitator’s guide and send them out. He lived with them. He let them watch him pray, grieve, confront, and rest. He asked them hard questions—“Who do you say that I am?” (Matt. 16:15)—not to test their knowledge, but to surface what they actually believed. And when Peter sank in the water, Jesus did not say, “We covered this in training.” He reached out his hand (Matt. 14:31).

That is the model. Not a program that produces leaders, but a relationship that forms them.

Four Marks of a Church That Disciples Its Leaders

First, the pastor or discipleship coordinator stays in regular, unhurried conversation with every small group leader. Not a monthly check-in email. Not a quarterly leaders’ meeting with bagels and announcements. Real conversation where the leader has space to say, “I do not know if I am doing this well,” and hear something more than, “You are doing great.”

Second, the church creates an environment where leaders can honestly acknowledge their fears and struggles without shame. Most new small group leaders are quietly terrified that they will say the wrong thing, miss someone who is hurting, or be exposed as not knowing enough. If nobody tells them that many faithful leaders have wrestled with those same fears, they will assume it means they are not called. It does not. It means they are taking the work seriously.

Third, leaders are given permission to be in process. A church that only celebrates polished, confident leadership will produce leaders who perform instead of shepherd. Paul did not hide his weakness from the churches he served. He told the Corinthians, “I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling” (1 Cor. 2:3). If the Apostle Paul needed the freedom to lead from weakness, so do the people facilitating your Tuesday night small group.

Fourth, the church teaches its leaders to depend on Christ rather than on their own competence. This is the heart of the matter. Training builds competence, and competence is good. But competence without dependence produces leaders who rely on their preparation instead of the Spirit. The goal is not a leader who has all the answers. The goal is a leader who knows where to go when they do not—and who has been discipled to go there instinctively.

The Leader Nobody Trained For

That leader who called me six weeks in did not quit. But he did not stay because I gave him better material or walked him through another training module. He stayed because someone sat with him in his uncertainty and reminded him that the Christ who called him into that living room on a Wednesday night had not left the room.

His confidence did not come from finally mastering the content. It came from learning—slowly, in real time, through real conversations—that faithfulness in this work is not about having it together. It is about pointing people to the One who does.

If your church is investing in training small group leaders, that is good and right. Keep doing it. But if the training ends when the group launches, you are sending people into one of the most spiritually demanding roles in your church with tools but without a shepherd. They need someone walking with them. Not just before they start. After. During. In the middle of the mess.

That is not a program. That is discipleship. And it is the difference between a church that launches leaders and a church that keeps them.

What’s the big deal about expository preaching? Does it really matter if we preach through books of the Bible? Can’t we just do something more “relevant” or innovative? In this episode, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz talk about the biblical, theological, and pastoral importance of preaching expositionally and warn about some challenges and pitfalls in the practice.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/iALHCKla6Qc

Second, early interpreters distinguished between the senses because the quadriga was a useful method in uniting the Jewish Scriptures and explaining how Christ’s coming had changed history. The four senses allowed them to read the whole of the Scriptures as a Christian document. Thus, every text had something to say to God’s people even if it was written under another covenantal epoch.

Finally, distinguishing between the senses provides a mechanism by which interpreters can commune with God. For most of Christian history, this was the primary purpose of biblical reading. Modern methods, by contrast, seek the correct interpretation—a worthwhile goal but not the ultimate one. Each of the four senses leads interpreters higher up the ladder until they reach an interpretation that points to the glorious future and causes us to proclaim, “Maranatha.”

The Literal, Allegorical, Tropological, and Anagogical

Now we turn to a more philosophical summary of the senses. The four senses are essentially two senses: the literal and the spiritual. The literal sense indicates what God is saying in the text, and the spiritual senses show where God is going with the text. The spiritual sense is broken down into three categories, which results in the quadriga. The four senses historically have been described as the literal (littera, historical), allegorical (allegoria, symbolic), tropological (tropologia, moral), and anagogical (anagogia, futuristic).

The literal sense refers to the most natural sense of the words in their grammatical and historical context, a sense that will be discovered by sound exegesis. It, as some have paraphrased Aquinas, is “the way the words go” and is the author’s intention in accordance with genre. The literal sense contains, discloses, but also veils the mystery of Christ. When we seek the literal sense, we ask questions of the text like “What is being said?” and “To what does this refer?”

The allegorical sense refers to symbolic or figural meanings that have some connection with Christ or the church. To discern an allegorical sense is to assert that the words point to things that point to other things. But an allegorical sense will always be in conjunction with the literal sense. This sense has gone by a variety of names throughout history—typological, mystical, sacramental, spiritual, theōria (contemplation), and hyponoia (deeper sense). To seek an allegorical sense is to ask questions such as “Where is Christ or the triune God in this text?” and “How does this text point to the church?”

The tropological sense is another spiritual sense, but when we seek this sense, we narrow our focus to the formation of the church and persons in the church. We’re concerned with morality, ethics, and being. A tropological interpretation affirms that the Scriptures are meant to be lived, not simply studied; they pertain to what we are called to do. This phase of interpretation asks questions such as “Who are we?” and “How is this text calling us to act?”

The final spiritual sense is the anagogical. This sense pertains to what is to come, what we are hoping for, and our ascent to God. When we interpret anagogically, we ask questions like “How does this text point to the new creation or God’s judgment?” and “How does it help me ascend to God?”

Literal > Allegorical > Tropological > Anagogical

The four senses have been expressed in this little jingle:

The letter teaches facts, allegory what you are to believe,

The moral meaning what you ought to do, anagogy what you should strive for.

Bonaventure puts it this way: “By tropology, they teach us how to act as men; by allegory, show us what to believe with faith; by anagogy, reveal to us what to desire for our eternal delight.”

In essence fourfold interpretation affirms that meaning is referent. The literal sense points to an immediate referent, whether abstract or concrete. The spiritual senses extend that referent. The referent changes in one sense (Moses is not Christ), but in another it is simply drawn out to its true and ultimate referent (Christ is the new Moses). The curtain of the temple in the Old Testament truly was the sewn cloth that resided in the tabernacle and temple of ancient Israel. Yet the referent is ultimately Christ, since the curtain participated in and points to something greater that Christ fulfills. Because Christians believe in a providential view of history and because Christians believe all things participate in Christ, a word can have multiple referents in accordance with the progressive nature of revelation. These referents are linked but distinct.

…

The most famous example of the fourfold sense can be found in ancient interpretations of the name Jerusalem. Though such interpretations are usually done with reference to Galatians 4, we will look at Matthew 23.

In Matthew 23:37 Jesus says, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her.” The fourfold sense can be explained in this way. Jerusalem refers first to a historical city and its first-century inhabitants. The city was once inhabited by the Jebusites, captured by David, and made the capital of Israel and later the capital of the Southern Kingdom of Judah (literal). Jesus is entering that historical city and referring to the people of the city on his way to his death on the cross.

But Jerusalem is also more than simply a historical city and its people. Jerusalem can also be understood as a cipher for all God’s people, both past and present (allegorical). Jesus’s words refer first to the historical city and the people who rebuff him. Yet Jerusalem spiritually represents all God’s people who have killed the prophets—past, present, and future (Gal. 4:25).

Jerusalem also represents the individual human soul (tropological). Christ’s lament is personal. He longs for his own people to be ready to accept their Savior. He longs for you and me to have our hearts opened to him. We shouldn’t be like historical Jerusalem, which sought to kill him.

Finally, Jerusalem reminds us of the new Jerusalem (anagogical). Christ’s cry of agony over Jerusalem is a prayer aimed toward the time when his great city will welcome him with open arms. His cry is laden with hope: On the last day, Jesus will no longer lament over his people but rejoice over them (Gal. 4:26; Heb. 12:22–23; Rev. 21:2).

The Reformer Johannes Oecolampadius makes the same sort of exegetical move when speaking of Babylon’s destruction as described in Isaiah 13–14. He says that the prediction concerns Babylon’s fall in history (literal sense). Then he describes how Babylon’s destruction should be understood according to the other three senses. “Babylon has been destroyed by Christ who has restored our every freedom. For he says, ‘Take heart, for I have overcome the world’ (John 16:33). And through him we are daily conquering Babylon within ourselves. But the full and true overthrow of the world will not occur until the end of the ages of this world.” Babylon, as representative of the kingdom of this world, has already been overthrown by Christ (allegory), has to be daily conquered by the Christian (tropology), and will finally be destroyed in the last day (anagogy). Even a Reformer employs the quadriga.

The Fourfold Sense

Another example comes from Aquinas, who articulates the four senses through a phrase from Genesis 1:3, “Let there be light” (as it is rendered in the Latin of the Vulgate: “Fiat lux”). He says that, with reference to the literal sense, “let there be light” pertains to corporeal light. God created physical light at creation. However, according to the allegorical sense it means “Let Christ be born in the church.” This is confirmed in John’s Gospel, which compares Jesus’s coming to the light shining in the darkness (John 1:5). The tropological sense refers to “Christ illumining our understanding and kindling our emotions.” Paul commands us to walk in the light (Eph. 5:8), and the psalmist says God illumines our darkness (Ps. 18:28). The anagogical sense urges us, “Let us be led into glory through Christ.” In the last day, the earth will be illuminated by Christ’s splendor (Rev. 18:1; 21:23). Inherent in the language of Genesis are all these senses.

We have looked at examples of the quadriga that interpret a single word (Jerusalem, Babylon) and a phrase (Let there be light), and now we will see an illustration of this practice through a major event—the exodus. The literal sense tells us that Moses and Israel crossed the Red Sea to escape from Pharaoh; it relates both to the event and to the narration of the event. The allegorical sense is that the literal sense points beyond itself to Christ’s death on our behalf and his victory over the powers. This victory is then embodied in us as we are baptized and practice a new way of life (tropology). Finally, we long for the day when we make our final journey and cross from death to eternal life (anagogy). Dante puts it this way: “For if we inspect the letter alone, the departure of the children of Israel from Egypt in the time of Moses is presented to us; if the allegory, our redemption wrought by Christ; if the moral sense, the conversion of the soul from the grief and misery of sin to the state of grace presented to us; if the anagogical, the departure of the holy soul from the slavery of this corruption to the liberty of eternal glory presented to us.”

Content taken from The Four Senses of Scripture by Patrick Schreiner, ©2026. Used by permission of Baker Academic.

The Bible often articulates the virtue of temperance as sobriety or self-control, as in 1 Peter 1:13: “preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded.” Or, in 1 Peter 4:7 he says, “The end of all things is near; therefore, be alert and sober-minded for prayer.” Likewise, in 2 Peter 1:5–8 he commands believers to “make every effort to supplement your faith with goodness, goodness with knowledge, knowledge with self-control, self-control with endurance, endurance with godliness, godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love.” Here we see why Scripture frequently contrasts the outer man from the inner man, the old man from the new (1 Cor. 15:47–49; 2 Cor. 4:16; Col. 3:1–17). This is the substance of temperance, “to put off the old man and to be renewed in God—that is, to scorn all bodily delights, and the popular applause, and to turn the whole love to things divine and unseen.”[1] Temperance is that habit of grace, by the Spirit’s employment, whereby the Christian is able to keep his soul from corruption, degradation, and deformation.

The cultivation of virtue is not an end in itself, nor are virtues simply to bring about the common good. Rather, we are in service to holiness since we are in union with Christ to God. Because believers are united to Christ—having his righteousness imputed to them—the pursuit of virtue has a new foundation and end. It is directed toward eternal life and blessedness, culminating in the vision of God when we see Christ as He is.

Augustine says temperance is “restraining and quieting the passions which make us pant for those things which turn us away from the laws of God and from the enjoyment of His goodness, that is, in a word, from the happy life.”^[2] Temperance is not merely avoiding or negating earthly passions, but cultivating love for the chief love. It is like a faithful parent who restrains and trains a child to grow up and flourish. Like good parents, temperance seeks to use the proper means of discipline and restraining and of conditioning and training.

Holiness: Keeping Watch Over Your Life

Robert Murray McCheyne’s well-known comment about the pastor’s holiness is well-known and worth being reminded of (even if it’s apocryphal): “The most important thing our people need is our holiness.”

Pastors are models of what the psalmist says, “My soul longs, yes faints, for the courts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.” (Ps. 84:2)

One of Satan’s greatest devices against pastors is to adorn the world’s folly in such beauty that the soul is ensnared into false affection. He does this to keep us from the holy life of mortifying sin and vivifying Christlikeness. The actions of mortifying and vivifying not only capture the regenerate life of the Christian in Colossians 3:1–17, but also the way of pastoring. The one who is hidden with Christ in God mortifies that which remains fleshly (vv. 5–10) and vivifies, or enlivens, who we are in Christ (vv. 12–17) for the sake of the flock entrusted to him.

However, for the pastor, the life of holiness and temperance is not without peculiar obstacles.

Even within the holy action of temperance, there is opportunity for disorder and entanglement. Of this disorder, Webster insightfully notes that mortification and vivification are “often marred by self-absorption, whether in the form of excessive confidence in human powers of self-realization, or in the form of restless anxiety about performance. Both threaten the flourishing of the Christian life, because both manifest mistrust in the condition in which God’s grace has placed the believer, and are accompanied by the temptation to detach mortification and vivification from the original grace of regeneration.”^[3] In other words, the pastor is not merely tempted to have excessive confidence or restless anxiety in his leadership or preaching, but in his very life of holiness.

As a gift of God’s grace, the virtue of temperance allows us to both restrain and quiet the passions by resting and enjoying Christ’s temperance for and on behalf of us. The virtue of temperance is designed by God in such a way for pastors to be who they were made to be by seeing that “the true sacrifice is offered in every act which is designed to unite us to God in a holy fellowship, every act, that is, which is directed to that final Good which makes possible our true felicity.”[4] Instead of morbid self-absorption that ruins our enjoyment of this earthly life, the practices of temperance are themselves the path to true joy in the chief good.

Enjoyment: Right Ordering of Loves

The virtue of temperance says the life of the pastor is ordered in such a way that he restrains the passions and trains his affections to produce righteousness, resting all the while in Christ’s righteousness imputed to them. As such, pastors cultivate temperance by ordering affections through enjoyment of God.

If David relishes the contentment found in the self-sufficient God in Psalm 34, then he revels in the abundant joy of the right hand of God in Psalm 16. Being content in God means participating in his ever-new happiness. With contentment in the all-satisfying and self-sufficient God, the pastor bears the fruit of joy because he is made happy in Christ. In both Psalm 16 and 34, David relates his enduring joy specifically in God’s goodness. Moreover, David says he has no good apart from God (16:2), but that in God he lacks no good thing (34:10).

Though this God-centered and God-backed joy is real now, it awaits full completion. Pastors daily encounter competitors to God’s goodness, rivals to God’s beauty, challengers to God’s truth. Thus, in other Psalms, David repeatedly makes known his laments and longings for the fully satisfying enjoyment of God (i.e., 42:2; 63:1; 84:2; 119:81; 143:6). This complete satisfaction and enjoyment of God is both our source of strength and our motivation to endure in the life of temperance (i.e., Rom. 5–8).

In other words, the relation of God-centered joy, which arises from God-centered contentment, to temperance is that the hope of heaven trains us for our arrival on heaven’s blissful shore (Ps. 16:9–11). Temperance believes that God will make sure we make it home. The hymn on Psalm 16 helps the pastor treasure God as his chief good as he is an eager and willing example to the flock entrusted to him:

You have made know to me

The path of life divine.

Bliss shall I know at Your right hand;

Joy from Your face will shine.^[5]

[1] Augustine, Morals of the Catholic Church, 63-64.

[2] Ibid.

[3] John Webster, God Without Measure, vol. 2, 105.

[4] Augustine, City of God, X.6

[5] Words: Psalm 16; Music: Ananias Davisson (1780–1857), arr. David Iliff (1939–present)

Apart from divine grace, we are in danger of self-help legalism and the self-pitying despair. We may, through flawed-yet-functioning faculties of the soul, order our appetites to obey our intellect through the mediation of our willpower. (Without the benefits of moderate health and decent education, even this prospect seems unlikely.) We do not need knowledge in general. We need the knowledge of God that takes root through faith in Jesus and produces good fruit by the Spirit. The argument is not that Christian formation “works,” whereas sub-Christian or anti-Christian formation do not. There are many natural practices that can help humanity to, for example, become physically fit, gain expertise in particular subjects, or even cope less destructively with the horrors of a fallen world. But what profits us partially and temporarily cannot perfect us, because being and becoming human requires an everlasting unit with God and his people. Christian formation is the carrying on of the process of beholding Christ that culminates in the transformation of the human nature into the heavenly glory of Christ on the last day (2 Cor 3:18; Phil 3:21). Christian formation is a way of being and becoming human that is transformed by divine grace.

Through faith in Christ, the incarnate Word, “with all those in every place who call on the name of Jesus Christ our Lord,” Christian formation is a way of being and becoming God’s new humanity (1 Cor 1:2). This eschatological orientation of Christian formation—already inaugurated and not yet consummated—means that it must be pursued under Scripture and, therefore, as the church.[2] If Christian formation is both a conforming to revelation and a transformation by grace, then theology and spirituality depend on the Spirit’s Word (Scripture) and the Spirit’s people (the church). It is the Spirit, after all, who reveals the mind of God to us as we behold the Son in the Scriptures (1 Cor 2:11; 2 Cor 3:18). Further, the spirituality of theology necessitates that we seek to learn alongside Christians from around the world and throughout the ages. Because this Spirit unites believers in one body, we are to make “every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit,” including in our theology, “until we all reach unity in the faith” (Eph 3:3–4, 13).

Though there are “necessary … factions” that distinguish us from those who undermine the faith (1 Cor 11:19), and “sharp disagreement” leads brothers to part ways temporarily (Acts 15:39), we must humbly recognize that God’s Word did not originate with us. The Word has “reached” us through the millennia-long relay race of believers preserving and proclaiming it (1 Cor 14:36).[3] From the Father, in the Son, by the Spirit, and under Scripture, the church is God’s school of theology and spirituality, through which God forms his new humanity so that we are “mature and complete, lacking nothing” (Jas 1:4). The gift of perfection comes from above, through trials, with the new humanity (Jas 1:4, 17–18).

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Every Perfect Gift: Classical Virtues for Christian Formation by Travis J. Montgomery and Joseph Lanier, released by B&H Publishing (August 2026).

[1] As we will discuss more, especially in chapter 4, Augustine defines virtue as “ordered loves” in his City of God, XV.22. C. S. Lewis succinctly summarizes Augustine, Aristotle, and Plato on the idea of ordo amoris (order of love) in his Abolition of Man, 16–17. See also Oliver O’Donovan, The Problem of Self-Love in Augustine (Wipf & Stock, 2006).

[2] John Webster, Word and Church: Essays in Christian Dogmatics (T&T Clark, 2001), 196.

[3] As will become clear throughout this book, we are approaching the topic from the perspective of Reformed. catholicity. Often, catholicity will take center stage, emphasizing the common ground of Christian thought through the ages. At certain points, however, our decidedly Protestant, Reformed, evangelical, and Baptist convictions will be apparent. On the biblical, historical, and dogmatic basis for this term, see Michael Allen and Scott R. Swain, Reformed Catholicity: The Promise of Retrieval for Theology and Biblical Interpretation (Baker Academic, 2015).

The following Sunday, the couch was calling my name. It would have been much easier to stream the service and let her play with her noisy toys, feed her in the comfort of my own home, and not have to load, unload, and reload a giant stroller. Yet, we persisted.

Almost four years have passed, and we have come to realize that our church needs us there as much as we need to be there. Our family serves as an encouragement to others who also walk with the special needs demographic. Looking back at those first weeks and months, I can see many things my congregation did that helped us feel loved and welcomed. I also see opportunities for churches to continue growing in how they serve families with disabilities.

Here are seven ways churches can care well for these families:

1. Provide a Reserved Space

Perhaps you do not have chairs rather than pews, but the point is the same. We had a specific place we sat regularly. In our case, it was a shorter pew to accommodate wheelchairs. Individuals with neurodivergence often find more comfort in consistency. When they have a place to sit each week and a spot to call their own, it can make for smoother Sunday mornings.

2. Set Up a Private Changing Station

Not everyone with physical disabilities needs this accommodation, but many do. Our church purchased a privacy screen and changing mat for diaper changes. This way, she was able to be changed with dignity and discretion.

3. Learn Some ASL.

Though I cannot say each and every person learned ASL, a few people took interest and asked specifically for the words our daughter knew. You don’t need to become fluent—even learning a handful of signs goes a long way. It is as easy as an internet search to find common signs to make deaf, hard of hearing, or mute congregants feel more welcome.

4. Make the Effort to Say Hello

Rather than the natural instinct to shrink away when a person feels uncomfortable to talk to, the people in my church regularly drew near. There were individuals each week who made sure to say hello to my family—all five of us. This was by far the most meaningful; no one was forgotten.

5. Sensory-Friendly Bags

Putting together a few sensory-friendly bags for families to use during their time at church would be a special help for many. Filling them with noise-canceling headphones or earplugs for them to use during the worship service, squishy toys, and fidget items would serve these members well while not drawing attention away from the service. These are items kids can look forward to playing with only at church.

6. Help Build Connections

Churches increasingly have programs for children. However, once the kiddo is a teenager or young adult, the opportunity for relationship dwindles. This can leave individuals with disabilities feeling isolated after aging out of children’s ministry.

Churches can intentionally encourage friendships by inviting peers to include them in conversations, activities, and everyday church life. Often, a simple invitation to belong can make a family feel seen and welcomed.

7. Support Caregivers

I do not pretend that every family will trust those within their church to care for their favorite humans, nor should they feel pressured to do so. Trust takes time.

Even so, churches can intentionally care for caregivers in practical ways. Perhaps individuals and families in the church can check in through texts regularly, arrange meals during times of illness, and ensure that the parents do not become too isolated.

Being a caretaker can offer great reward, but it can also take a severe toll on the provider. A church that consistently encourages and supports caregivers reflects the love of Christ in tangible ways.

As we journey to the throne, may our churches show love to families of all types. “And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me’” (Matt. 25:40).

The mailbag is full! In this installment of our regular listener-submitted feature, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz dig into the private reserves of messages in order to tackle questions and topics like siblings serving on an elder team, theological triage in speaking engagements, what new members should ask about the church they’re joining, finding your preaching voice, and differences of views among elders. As always, if you’d like to submit a question or topic for the Mailbag, you can email us at mailbag@ftc.co

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https://youtu.be/_iGGkJdw5Xw

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If suffering is a microwave, inconvenience and discomfort are slow cookers. They take longer, but sanctification still happens beneath the surface.

James 1:2–4 tells us, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.”

Sometimes the trials we face will be big—terminal illnesses, house fires, car accidents, war. Sometimes they will be small—traffic, long lines, toddler tantrums, difficult coworkers. Yet, big or small, all these afflictions are preparing for us an eternal weight of glory (2 Cor. 4:17).

As Christians, we talk about the “big” suffering we experience in this life a lot. We often fail to consider the little discomforts we face daily, though. These are not the microwave, but the slow cooker. The Lord still has plans for our good in these moments; we just need eyes to see them.

Everyday Affliction

Most of our lives play out in the mundane moments between indescribable joy and intense sorrow when everything feels ordinary, and our minor inconveniences feel like a big deal. These discomforts matter because the Lord is too good to waste even one moment.

Inconveniences come for everyone every day. Seasons of intense suffering still include stubbed toes. Seasons of joyful success are still punctuated by changing deadlines at work. We can try to prevent these things—we can offload tasks and adopt the way of the “essentialist”—but we will never eliminate all the minor pain points that plague our days. They’re part of life in a fallen world and they’re part of God’s plan for our sanctification.

God’s Plan for Us

If you’re rolling your eyes right now, thinking this is an attempt to “bludgeon you with providence,”^[1] just know, it’s not. We don’t know what God intends to do through every inconvenience we face, but we do know that 1 Thessalonians 4:3 says, “This is the will of God, your sanctification.” No matter what else He may be doing, we know that God is working to make us more like Jesus, and He uses everything we face for that purpose. The slow cooker is on, and the heat is working.

A few years ago, while in Dallas for a Christian conference, I got to see this in action. My boss realized her credit card was missing after we returned to our hotel from a restaurant. We had to go back. We struck up a conversation with our Uber driver, and he mentioned that he hadn’t been to church in years. After hearing about his life and his ideas about God, a coworker explained the true gospel to him. She prayed with and for him and concluded just as we got to our hotel. Without that forgotten card, we would have missed this opportunity entirely.

That said, I forgot my wallet the very next day, and it didn’t lead to any clear gospel opportunities. But in that moment, in an Uber on a crowded highway, God desired for a man named Sam to hear the good news about His Son. I can also trust He had good purposes the next day when it was my wallet that went missing. Glory be to God, He uses everything.

One Day We Will Be Truly Comforted

When the paperwork piles up and we wait on hold for hours, we can be assured that this is not wasted time. In God’s economy, there is no such thing. The Lord is always sanctifying us, and if we see no other good from our circumstances, we can meditate on this: One day, these things will be over. We’ll work without the frustration of weeds. We’ll no longer tediously try to force back the effects of the fall because they will all be gone. There will be no more forgotten passwords, hidden costs, or grocery bags that tear when you pick them up.

God uses the temporal things of this world to increase our longing for the eternal. Ecclesiastes 3:11 tells us that God has put eternity in our hearts. By God’s design, we long for a better day. Our momentary afflictions are preparing for us an eternal weight of glory. They are lifting our eyes from the things we can see, which are transient, to the things we cannot see, which are eternal (2 Cor. 4:17–18).

There is purpose in our inconvenience. Perhaps the traffic jam, delayed flight, and toddler tantrum are working together to lift our eyes from the world and force them heavenward. Perhaps they are kindnesses from God to remind us that we’re not yet home. This world is not where we belong.

So, what can we do today when inconvenience comes—when thorns poke through our garden gloves and thistles attach themselves to our pantlegs?

1.     Pray

We can pray that God would open our eyes to see what He is doing in this world—through this inconvenient circumstance. As John Piper famously said, “God is always doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may be aware of three of them.”^[2]

We can ask God to show us what He’s doing and help us delight in it. We can ask Him for faith to believe He is at work, even when we can’t see it.

2.     Look

When inconvenience arises, we can look for doors the Lord may be opening. We can look for good works He is revealing. We can look at what rises in our hearts as a response to the inconvenience. Is it the peaceful fruit of the Spirit or is it the ugly fruit of discontentment and frustration?

3.     Rejoice

We can rejoice that God breaks into our ordinary days with beauty and purpose. We can rejoice that He is too good to waste anything. We can rejoice when we see His Spirit at work in us and in the world around us.

4.     Trust God and Do Good

We don’t have to despise the slow cooker. We can rejoice because God can be trusted with everything—big, small, happy, sad, or mildly frustrating. We can walk toward Him and do the good works He’s prepared for us, even when they show up in unexpected and undesired places.

We’re Almost Home

This world is not our home. It will be full of thorns and thistles, but take heart. Our Lord bore the cursed thorns we deserve on His own brow. He reversed the curse, overcame the world, and He’s loosening our grip on it. As we sit in the slow cooker or bake in the microwave, we can know that none of this is wasted; the Lord is completing the good work He began in us. We’re almost home.

^[1] Tim Challies, “Bludgeoning with Providence,” Challies, September 7, 2007, https://www.challies.com/articles/bludgeoning-with-providence/.

^[2] John Piper, “God Is Always Doing 10,000 Things in Your Life,” Desiring God, January 1, 2013, https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/god-is-always-doing-10000-things-in-your-life.

Can you guess how I answered her? I looked right into her beautiful bright eyes and said, “Sweetie, I have no clue how the internet works.”

To riff in light of Jesus’ words to Nicodemus in John 3:12, “If I can’t explain how the WiFi works, how will I explain the deep things of God?” And yet, we have a sacred responsibility to tell the mighty acts of God to the next generation.

Over the last 10 years, I’ve lived in the tension of comprehending high and communicating low. I am the father of two girls under the age of 10, and my family served as a foster family for several small children over the last five years. In addition to that, I pastor a church with hundreds of kiddos under the age of 10.

I firmly believe that deep doctrine is for everyone, including little disciples. But how?

Last year, I released a book on union with Christ entitled Home with God. I immediately heard back from adult readers of the book asking, “How can we share the doctrine of union with Christ with the kids in our homes and ministries?” When we encounter life-changing truths about God—when they pierce our hearts—we are compelled by the Spirit of God to share them. We are missionaries for whatever has captured our hearts.

But trying to explain a “mystical union with Christ” to a five-year-old will leave even the most persuasive poets, parents, prophets, and preachers grasping for the right word or phrase.

Over the last 10 years, I have discovered three faithful paths to proclaiming deep doctrine to little disciples.

1.     Mimic Jesus

At one point when some tax collectors in Capernaum are trying to trap Jesus with some hard-hitting questions about taxes, Jesus tells them to go catch a fish and look for the coin in its mouth. That’s a bit of a departure from a three-point sermon or an exegetical paper.

When teaching deep doctrine to little disciples, mimic the approach of Jesus. Don’t be afraid to use props and objects. Make a craft, color a picture, or maybe even go fishing.

2.     Tell Stories

Jesus doesn’t tell parables because He is unfamiliar with sermons. Keep in mind that most of the recorded parables occur after He preaches the greatest sermon ever. The parables are there to bring the truths of the kingdom into the imaginative field of His audience.

We are all story-shaped creatures, but kids are story sponges. Don’t be afraid to faithfully paraphrase and summarize biblical stories, use storybook Bibles, and make up your own parables to point to Christian truth and virtue.

3.     Engage Imaginations

In an attempt to help parents and ministry leaders teach the doctrine of union with Christ to kids, I recently released a kid’s picture book entitled The Dragon Slayer and His Super Special Suit. It’s an imaginative retelling of the gospel story with a focus on the armor of God and union with Christ.

Quite a few people expressed surprise that I would take an allegorical and fantastical approach to a retelling of the gospel story, but I was surprised that they were surprised. One of the most effective ways to engage a kid’s heart and mind is through the door of the imagination. Hollywood, and every tech startup in Silicon Valley, knows this and I am absolutely not going to outsource training the imaginative world of the kids in my home and church. And I don’t think you should either.

Embrace and explore imaginative approaches to teaching deep doctrine to little disciples. Jesus did—and we should too.

Maybe someone famous, a first responder, a parent, a spouse, or someone in your church. Whoever comes to mind, servants are compelling. We may not always want to do what they do, but we admire them. We recognize the wisdom and beauty that manifest in a life of service. But how can service become more central to who we are?

Serving is part of every relationship, but it’s not easy. We often don’t know what to do. We struggle to serve with joy. Over time, we burn out.

How can we grow in serving with wisdom?

1. From Emotional to Consistent

Often, we serve emotionally. A GoFundMe shows up. A tragedy happens. A big event needs support. We feel moved, so we give, help, respond, or rally around the need.

That isn’t bad. But sometimes the big gesture feels easier than the daily one. It’s easier to buy the spa day than to do the dishes every day. We may more readily commit to a Disneyland vacation than to a regular practice of family worship. It’s easier to say, “I would die for Jesus,” than to say, “I’ll set up pipe and drape for Jesus.”

The Bible calls us to more than bursts of emotional service. Paul says, “Do not grow weary in doing good” (2 Thess. 3:13). That command assumes a life of repeated, ordinary, tiring good. Jesus gives us the clearest picture when He washes His disciples’ feet. He takes the posture of a servant and does something basic, dirty, menial, and lowly. Then He tells His disciples to wash one another’s feet too (John 13:14).

True Christian service often looks less like changing the world and more like showing up again and again in ordinary ways.

2. From Words to Action

Christians know how to use words. When people are in need, words can roll easily off the tongue: “God bless you.” “Go in peace.” “I’ll pray for you.” Words matter. But the danger is that words can make us feel and look good without actually helping the person in need. Love is not merely something we feel; it is something we do.

John says we know love because Jesus “laid down his life for us,” and therefore “we should also lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” Then he says, “Let us not love in word or speech, but in action and in truth” (1 John 3:16–18).

Christian love should cost us something so others gain something. One way we try to cultivate this in our church is by asking small groups to share not only “prayer requests” but also “needs requests”—real, practical ways the body can help.

3. From Available to Intentional

One of the most common things we say when someone is struggling is, “Let me know if you need anything.” It sounds kind and thoughtful, but almost nobody responds to it.

If someone said, “I’d like to bring you and your family dinner tonight,” I’d probably say, “Wow, that would be really helpful.” But if they said, “Is there anything I can do for you?” and I answered, “Yes, would you make me dinner tonight?” that would feel rude.

We all know this. Nobody has a baby and texts the church, “I would like lasagna on Wednesday.” But meal calendars get set up because someone else says, “Let’s bring them meals.”

Paul says, “Everyone should look not to his own interests, but rather to the interests of others” (Phil. 2:4). Availability says, “I’m here if you need me.” Intentionality says, “I see you, and here’s what I’m doing about it.” Instead of saying, “Let me know if you need anything,” say, “Can I bring dinner?” “Can I watch your kids?” “Can I help you move?” “Can I sit with you?”

4. From Reciprocal to Gracious

Often, we think about serving in a reciprocal way. You helped me move, so I’ll help you move. You made me a meal, so I’ll make you a meal. We want the equations to balance—but often, they don’t. Even if serving continues, bitterness grows.

However, Jesus calls us to move beyond reciprocity. He says, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?” Then He says, “Love your enemies, do what is good, and lend, expecting nothing in return” (Luke 6:32, 35).

Jesus calls us to serve graciously without keeping score—to serve those who don’t deserve it. This frees us from watching the scales and measuring others’ responses.

How Can We Serve Like This?

This kind of service is beautiful, but it isn’t easy. It pulls against many of our instincts. If we want the wisdom and endurance to serve with joy, we need more than a command to serve. We need to fill our hearts with how Jesus has perfectly served us in all these ways.

Jesus serves us consistently. He doesn’t serve us in a burst of emotion and then leave us alone. He gives daily bread and keeps showing up.

Jesus served us sacrificially. He didn’t merely shout, “I love you” from heaven. He took on flesh and went to the cross to give us life.

Jesus serves us intentionally. God isn’t standing far away, saying, “I’m available if you ever need me.” He knows what we need before we even ask and is presently working all things for our good.

And Jesus serves us graciously. None of us deserved His love. We were enemies of God, yet He gave us everything.

There has never been a moment when Jesus looked at your life unmoved, uncaring, or unwilling to act. He is the perfect servant. The more His service fills our heads and hearts, the more our hands are trained to serve with wisdom, joy, and endurance.

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It takes more than academic success and excellence in ministerial skills to produce pastors. That’s because the biblical qualifications for the pastorate are matters of spiritual maturity and Christlike character, and an academic institution can only do so much—by design—to influence and assess such things.

It has become cliché at this point to hear from ministers the laundry list of things they “didn’t learn in seminary.” When churches everywhere were navigating the confusion of the COVID-19 pandemic, it was a familiar refrain. “They didn’t teach us about this in seminary!” Church leaders have become accustomed to saying this about lots of things that pop up in regular ministerial life.

The truth is, seminaries could improve in exposing pastoral aspirants to more of the practicalities of ministry. We could do more to minimize the theoretical, especially as it pertains to practical theology and pastoral ministry courses. I try to do that very thing in my own pastoral ministry classes. But if seminaries added everything ministers ought to know in order to be fully prepared for the challenge of serving a church, the MDiv degree would be hundreds of credit hours long, and nobody would go!

The solution is not to go to seminary. These days, theological education is more available and, in some cases, more affordable than it has ever been. I encourage any young man aspiring to pastoral ministry to get a seminary education, if he is able. For many—though not for all—foregoing seminary training would be poor stewardship of their mind and even of their finances. The academy can’t meet every need, but it can be a sound investment that pays lifelong dividends.

No, the solution is not to get rid of academic training—but we can’t expect from academic training what only pastoral mentoring can provide.

In teaching my pastoral ministry class, I spend more time on matters of the heart—the fruit of the Spirit, pastoral disposition, and personal holiness—than on the practicalities at hand. My students spend more time rehearsing the pastoral implications of assessing baptismal candidates than physically practicing how to baptize somebody. (I always say to my students that if they can’t figure out how to put somebody under water, they’re probably too dumb to be in a Baptist seminary anyway!) And I definitely spend more time in the classroom reinforcing gospel-centrality as a unifying biblical theme and as an urgent and necessary ministry philosophy than I do teaching them how to officiate weddings and funerals (though we spend some time on those things too). In the exams I administer and the papers I assign, I am far more interested in whether a student can substantively and thoughtfully reflect on the biblical emphases for ministry than in whether they can regurgitate things they’ve memorized in the readings. But despite all that effort, I am still not really in a position to determine whether what a young man can express in writing or in a classroom discussion matches how he lives and conducts himself in a real-life church setting.

For a man to be truly qualified to care for souls, he needs life-on-life mentoring. He needs another pastor or mature leader to speak into his personal spiritual life and bear ongoing witness to how he’s responding, how he’s learning, and how he’s growing.

I like to say that it’s the job of theological education to give the scarecrow a brain, but it’s the work of spiritual formation to give the tin man a heart.

Precisely because there are so many permutations of leadership challenges, relationship dynamics, and personal and spiritual conflicts throughout a life of ministry, it is not seminary we should expect to prepare men for them, but a pastoral mentor.

Formation into Qualification

While the biblical qualifications for eldership include things like “able to teach” (1 Tim 3:2) and “able to give instruction in sound doctrine and also to rebuke those who contradict it” (Titus 1:9), which are certainly things formal theological education can inform, the majority of the qualifications focus on areas of character, disposition, and temperament. These qualities are certainly not divorced from sound doctrine and theology, but as the fruit of Christlikeness, they require a more intensive cultivation than even the best academic institutions can provide. What they require is personal shepherding.

What the biblical qualifications for eldership require is discipleship.

In 1 Corinthians 4:15, the apostle Paul says to the church, “For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers.” Paul himself provides spiritual fatherhood to many disciples of Jesus. He says as verse 15 continues that he became a father to the Corinthians “through the gospel.” He certainly was a spiritual father to the pastors Timothy and Titus.

Because the mandate of discipleship is given to the church catholic (Matt 28:19), every Christian ought to make it a priority to pass on the faith to others in a guided and even pastoral way. Titus 2— with its familial and intergenerational portrait of spiritual formation—reflects how this discipleship may play out in a local church setting. But as those with the mantle of church leadership are tasked specifically with equipping the saints for ministry (Eph 4:12), it is incumbent upon those in the pastoral office—that is, those who have been ordained, installed, or otherwise recognized by the church governance as holding pastoral authority and responsibility in a congregation4 —to serve as spiritual fathers to those who are training for that office.

In my capacity as both a seminary professor and a local church pastor personally invested in the training of pastoral aspirants, I frequently speak with young men who, despite making known to their pastors their desire for the noble task (1 Tim 3:1), have gone without discipleship in this area. Undoubtedly some have overstated their pastors’ unavailability or lack of investment, but a good number of them have either been neglected or simply told that seminary will provide their training. What these young men know they lack, however, is not just education, but formation. They’ve had many guides, but they’ve had few fathers.

And what does a spiritual father do?

The principle aim of a spiritual father in the work of pastoral mentoring is inculcating the centrality of the gospel in the mind and the heart of one who is called to ministry. We are helping one who aspires to the pastorate to achieve a greater intellectual grasp on the gospel and to develop a greater spiritual devotion, through the gospel, to Christ Jesus the Lord.

The fruit of this work is greater focus on and development in those biblical qualifications for ministry. Pastoral mentoring is about formation deeper into qualification. The mentor, then, must envision the training of pastors as beyond the intellectual and even the practical, and more substantively into the realm of gospel-centered discipleship. And because the training of pastors is primarily a work of discipleship, and because discipleship is the primary work of the local church, it is the local church that is uniquely qualified to carry it out.

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Pastoral Mentoring: For the Care of Souls by Jared C. Wilson, released by Baker (July 2026).

Dear Gen Z Pastor, our generation is marked by many traits, some of which will directly impact the way you minister to your congregation. Understanding these traits can help you recognize both the opportunities and challenges they bring to ministry.

1.   Alien

You are from a planet unlike the one most of your congregation has lived on for their entire lives. This new world doesn’t seem so strange to you and me, as it’s all we’ve known. However, you will likely be outnumbered by other generations who come from a very different world—many of whom remember life before cell phones!

Recognize that the experience you grew up with is not like theirs. In some ways, it will be as though you have gone cross-cultural when paying a visit to the couple in their eighties. You will need to actively think, “How can I step into the world they occupied and the culture they grew up in?” Otherwise, your ability to minister to them will be hindered.

2.   Local

You need to learn to be present where you are ministering. Gen Z is more global than any generation before us. You have likely been to more countries by age 25 than your parents had at the same age. Likewise, as an internet generation, we plug into goings-on around the globe and maintain entirely online friendships. We enjoy the luxuries of technological advances, yet we must recognize the ways they have shaped us negatively. One way is that we are much less local than previous generations.

Our generation is not as naturally inclined to invest deeply in the neighborhood or part of town right around us as previous generations were. Older pastors, like my predecessor, were regulars at the same restaurants, well known by the local funeral home, and couldn’t walk through town without hearing, “Hey, Pastor!”

The Gen Z pastor must work hard to be local and known in the community. The pastor who is a local hero and local resource is a blessing to his community as he ministers the gospel to his neighbors and constituents.

3.   Harmony

You need to balance your work with your life. I will grant you that I know of folks who did not value work-life balance. Husbands and fathers worked 80 hours a week and alienated themselves from their wives and children. In response, Gen Z often places a higher value on work-life balance. They take all their PTO, clock out at 5:00 PM, and don’t check work email in a way previous generations were not as careful to do. The Gen Z pastor knows he needs to balance his work and his life.

However, I do see a growing trend in guys who aren’t very balanced at all. Sure, take the opportunity to come in an hour late if you had a late night of ministry. But recognize that ministry is not a 24-hour job commitment—yet it does require a commitment from you. That means setting healthy boundaries, but also not taking advantage of your congregation.

If you are like me, you will work at a church where you are the sole staff member. No one is watching you, yet God is watching you. Your hard work is part of how you set the example (1 Tim. 4:12) for the congregation in a culture of quiet quitting.

4.   Finite

You cannot—and should not—know everything. Generation Z has greater access to information than any generation before it. If we are resourceful, we will be able to use that access for the benefit of our ministry. But recognize that you cannot know everything at all times.

You cannot know all the goings-on outside your church, in your denomination, or in the culture. And, truth be told, you cannot know everything in your church. The first time you get wind that members are critiquing you behind your back, you may feel something you have never felt before. That feeling is called the unknown. You do not know what was said, why it was said, or even who said it—and no amount of refreshing Facebook or X is going to change that.

This is a phenomenon largely foreign to Generation Z. You cannot know everything. You cannot know every single question that will be asked at an upcoming business meeting. You will not have every answer. And that is okay. Learn to embrace your limitations as another piece of evidence that your people need Jesus more than they need you.

5.   Patience

You will likely want to change everything right away—don’t.

Generation Z enjoys the benefits of a fast-paced and immediate culture. We hardly remember a world without Prime two-day shipping. We are accustomed to instant gratification in a way previous generations did not know. The issue is that things in the church don’t always move so fast. Granted, some things do. Culture, however, takes much longer to change—as it should.

The real, weighty changes to the culture of your church will require time and patience. Since our generation is not used to waiting, you may struggle with the kind of patience ministry requires. You must learn to wait, pray, and endure the months and years required to change the winds of culture. If you do not enter ministry with this expectation, you will lie awake at night—anxious and obsessing over the things you want to see change—thinking that taking your time is the end of the world.

6.   Charity

You may struggle with disagreements.

Our generation is not used to disagreement. We, along with the Millennials, are labeled the “Snowflake Generation.” However, I do not think Gen Z is bad at disagreeing simply because we have been coddled. Rather, I think the world our generation has grown up in has fostered an environment where one does not have to encounter many dissenting voices.

Gone are the days when there were only a select number of news or sports-talk channels and you simply had to bear with the hosts. Now, you can find the exact curated voice for your preferences, sensibilities, and eccentricities.

After years of curating your algorithm and feed to fit your preferences, you may find that you haven’t listened to the other side of the aisle much at all. How does this affect ministry? Gen Z is not used to encountering disagreement. Or, when we encounter a dissenting view, we are accustomed to tuning in to another voice.

But ministry is a work among people who often disagree with one another—and with you. Not all disagreements are significant, but you will not last long in ministry if you tune out your members whenever they have a differing opinion. The Gen Z pastor must learn to welcome disagreement and not remain restlessly uneasy or tune others out in anger or hurt.

Conclusion

Do not be ashamed to be a Gen Z pastor. Embrace that God has raised us up, just as He did with every preceding generation, but be honest with yourself about the sins and habits to which may be prone.

You cannot escape the fact that all—or at least some—of these habits will impact you and your ministry. The better you understand them, the better equipped you will be to minister faithfully to the people God has placed under your care.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/BEKdtHny8jc

Resolved to Pray

As we continue to knock on doors and make introductions, we are committed to building a habit of praying for our new neighbors. In the past, I haven’t known many of my neighbors well enough to pray with depth. Now, we will get to know our neighbors by praying for them. It may be that no one comes to Christ in my neighborhood and that the relationships I hope for never form. Regardless, I can love my neighbors by bringing them before the throne of God and making petitions on their behalf.

God loves our neighbors more than we ever could. God knows them better than we ever will. Let us honor the Lord (and our neighbors) by being a people resolved to pray on their behalf. When you meet a new neighbor, write down their name so you can remember it, ask them for their prayer requests, and then pray!

Resolved to Pursue

Easy opportunities to build a relationship exist when you are a new neighbor, freshly moved in. Our instinct is to settle in quickly for the sake of our own comfort. We want those boxes emptied, bedframes built, and then to hit the pillow in our new fortress of solitude. However, with a new home comes not just a new commute, but also a new community. God has given you the blessing of a new home, the blessing of neighbors, and the opportunity to be a neighborly blessing. When we move, we find ourselves called to a new mission field with an old mission. Be resolved to pursue your neighbors. Pursue relationships with your neighbors through traditional hospitality, despite the imperfections of your half-painted bathroom or your half-empty boxes laying around.

Moreover, pursue more than just brief moments with your neighbors. Are there nearby parks to spend some quality time while your kids burn off some energy? Are there local coffee shops that you’ve been eager to try? Are there common areas in your apartment or dorm lobby? Those spaces can provide a meaningful opportunity to pursue new friendships and evangelism with those God has entrusted to you.

Resolved to Portray

The pursuit of love for others in a new neighborhood isn’t only an effort to bless those across the street. In this pursuit, you portray obedience to Christ for those around you—most critically, your own family and children. In my old neighborhood, there were girls the same age as my daughters. They never jumped on our trampoline or had a tea party with my girls. That is not my daughter’s fault—it’s my fault. The opportunity for obedience to my King was ever present and I was not desperate enough to model that for their young hearts. After moving, I am resolved not to make the same mistake.

They must learn by example that Christians have a calling from God to love our neighbors. Will our kids learn that lesson from us? May we be a portrait of obedience to the King so that those in our life see the Kingdom lived out through us.

Resolved to Praise

We are called to be a people who love our neighbors because our Savior took their place on the cross and died for their sin, just as he did for ours. We may be the most hospitable, friendly neighbors the world has ever seen, but if the love of Christ is not within us, it will end in vanity. Therefore, may we be resolved to praise the name of Jesus in all places, at all times, to all people. Wherever the Lord may place you, His wisdom has you there on purpose. You need not wait until you move somewhere new to be good neighbor. If you haven’t prayed, pursued, or portrayed Christ to your neighbors, you can resolve to begin today. But if God has brought you somewhere new, resolve to be a good new neighbor.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/vj4agJ4PQOs

Have you ever seen a mother or even a father cry on their child’s wedding day? Some parents feel downcast when their son or daughter moves out of their home for the first time to go and attend college. Some spouses are saddened when their partner leaves for a work trip lasting several weeks or months. Moments like these reveal how deeply connected we become to those we love—and that’s how God designed it from the very beginning.

Genesis 2:18–23 narrates how God brought all the animals He had made to Adam in pairs so that he would give them names. Yet Adam himself had no partner, which prompted God to say, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him” (v 18). It was part of God’s original plan to create Eve, but He wanted Adam to feel a strong need for her first so that when He eventually presented Eve to him—as a father hands over his daughter to her groom on the wedding day—Adam would cherish her.

From the beginning, there has always been a longing for companionship and association in each of us. Even our Lord Jesus Christ surrounded Himself with disciples and close companions during His earthly ministry.

The stronger the bond with someone, the heavier the pain when they pass away. A man who hates his wife is not likely to miss her when she dies, whereas a man who loves his wife will be shattered by her death. Even though we may know that a loved one is going to heaven when they die, we will still be heartbroken when they’re gone because we will no longer be able to enjoy their companionship here on earth.

To demonstrate that aspect of His own humanity, Christ wept over the death of Lazarus and the anguish it brought to his family (John 11:35). That is why the Scripture enjoins us to “mourn with those who mourn” (Rom. 12:15). Doing so does not imply a lack of faith, but it reflects our capacity for empathy.

Grieving with Hope

Nevertheless, the Bible urges us to “not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). While it is natural to express sorrow over the loss of a loved one, there remains hope for us even in loss. For those who are in Christ, we can encourage ourselves and rejoice in our spirit, knowing that they’re now with the Lord and blessed with eternal tranquility in heaven. For those who die apart from Christ, our grief is marked by sorrow and sobriety, yet even then we are not without hope in God’s justice and mercy, nor without comfort in His sovereign goodness. Certainly, no amount of peace, comfort, pleasure, or luxury on earth can compare with what awaits those in Christ!

Our Lord Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Losing people very dear to us is part of that trouble. Our grief will be deep and our pain will be devastating, but in the midst of it all, Christ wants us to know that He shares in our grief and pain (Heb. 4:15; 5:7).

In John 16:33, Jesus unequivocally acknowledges the distressing circumstances that will sometimes confront us in life, but His intention is not for us to fixate on them. Rather, He wants us to focus our attention on the fact that He has overcome for us. The troubles of life may throw us into emotional turmoil, but Jesus has gained victory for us.

As a result of the victory He won on the cross, grief cannot incapacitate us. We can receive grace from the Father—through faith in Christ Jesus—to move on triumphantly, so that, like Prophet Habakkuk, we can say in our time of sorrow,

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights. (Hab. 3:17–19)

Near the Brokenhearted

The Bible assures us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18). A grieving heart takes time to heal, but God will not allow us to be consumed by our sorrow. In our times of anguish, if we hold fast to Him, the Lord will always give us cause to testify, “You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy” (Ps. 30:11).

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/gZtWY8DfWKw

When it came time for our church plant to determine what our women’s Bible studies would look like, Hendricks’s idea became our guiding aim. Not because one-to-one reading, workbook studies, or lectures lack value, but because we felt a particular burden for this formal class to help our women believe they could study their Bibles well at home rather than depending on a more formal teaching environment.

If we were studying Genesis, we wanted women not only to understand Genesis more deeply, but also to learn how to study Genesis (and historical narrative more broadly). To do this well, our women couldn’t simply sit and take notes on a lecture or answer predetermined questions. They needed to be actively engaged in the process of Bible study, practicing inductive tools as they saw them used in real time.

In other words, our formal Bible studies would be a space for active learning, and we have seen it transform our women.

What Is Active Learning?

The author of Hebrews writes, “Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil” (Heb. 5:13–14).

Discernment is not merely acquired by knowing what to believe, but by understanding why and how. Why is something good or evil, and can I explain how I arrived at that conclusion? When applied to our Bible study, this means participants should not only leave knowing something new about the passage, but also how to defend their interpretation from the text.

This requires a space of active learning—where participants practice using the tools they have been given, and learn not to “look for what the teacher wants,” but to look to Scripture itself to understand what it says.

A helpful way to encourage active learning is through visual reinforcement of instruction. When verbal teaching is paired with visual structure, our capacity to remember increases significantly.^[2] We have an ongoing joke in our Bible study that “there is power in the whiteboard.” The whiteboard rolls out, and the teacher asks specific questions that help the class move through the passage, synthesizing the discussion into cohesive, interpretive conclusions and filling the board with a visual map of what the passage says, means, and how it points to Christ.

The teacher may facilitate, but the board is filled with the active work of the women present.

Our Women Need Tools

1 Peter 2:2 has a similar sentiment as the author of Hebrews, “Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation.” We are all commanded to grow in our knowledge and understanding of God through His Word—and we are never to stop this pursuit. We are always growing, feasting on the solid food God graciously provides.

Going from milk to solid food requires what Hendricks further argues in his book: learning to think, learn, and work.^[3] If the goal of our Bible study is to produce women confident in handling their Bibles, then we can’t just tell them what the text says and what it means, nor can we leave them alone in the process of discovery. We must partner with them—giving tools, helping them get familiar with those tools, then practicing the tools together.

These “tools” are the basics of inductive study: observation, interpretation, and application. What I have found over the years is that telling a woman the various ways to merely observe a passage has its limits. However, showing how to implement these tools is more effective. An active learning space provides the opportunity to identify appropriate study tools for a text, practice them together, and see why they matter for understanding Scripture. We’ve seen this approach send many women home more confident in studying on their own.

For Becoming Spiritual Mothers

Toward the end of his book, Hendricks concludes, “the process of teaching is that of one total personality transformed by the supernatural grace of God, reaching out to transform other personalities by the same grace.”^[4] Reading that sentence, I immediately think about the Great Commission: “go therefore, make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:18–19).

Our hope for our active Bible study is to see women confident and equipped to “go”—to teach other women what is good and profitable (2 Tim. 3:16–17; Titus 2:3–4), and to be able to argue the ways of God with grace and truth (Acts 18:28). We want women to grow beyond dependence on a teacher or the temptation to idolize them, maturing instead into spiritual mothers in the faith.

At the end of our class time, we almost always say, “Ladies, you did this. You discovered truth and beauty; you got us to the gospel.” Not only do they see that they can study Scripture and do so well, but that they are needed. Not because they themselves have the power to transform, but because as daughters of God they are called to carry the gospel forward—and it’s a joy to see our active Bible study play even a small role in that journey.

^[1] Howard G. Hendricks, Teaching to Change Lives (Portland: Multnomah, 1987), 57.

^[2] Ghulam Shabiralyani et al., “Impact of Visual Aids in Enhancing the Learning Process: Case Research (District Dera Ghazi Khan),” Journal of Education and Practice 6.19 (2015): 226–34.

^[3] Hendricks, Teaching to Change Lives, 43–46.

^[4] Ibid., 85.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/1AjAHppX914

Brokenness in this world is apparent. While it grieves my heart to see the effects of sin, I can look at the corruption and distortion in culture with an understanding of what caused it and can look forward in hopeful expectation to the restoration of all creation.

My struggle comes when I think on the church. Why is there brokenness in her midst? Why does God not protect her more? As a pastor, is she worth giving my life to? As a lay member, is she worth the sacrifices required to be an active participant? It is a bold question, but it is also one that deserves to be wrestled with: Is she—the church—worth it?

God’s Design for the Church

Scripture is clear that the church is the body of Christ, the bride of Christ, and a picture of heaven here on earth. She is the sum of all who believe and are indwelt by the Holy Spirit. To be such, she is necessarily distinct from any other gathering or organization in this world.

Sadly, when we look around or experience her in practice, we often see something that falls short of this heavenly picture. We see exclusive groups that fail to include the least of these. We see leaders who abuse the office of pastor and those under their care. We see organizations that care more about public image than holiness. We see carefully worded mission and vision statements that reveal hearts that value seats over souls.

The Church Is Broken—but Being Redeemed

The body of Christ, the bride of Christ, the picture of heaven here on earth is broken. But what we find in Scripture is that she is beautifully broken. She is beautifully broken because, like creation, she is also being redeemed (Eph. 5:25–27).

The entirety of Scripture tells the story of God redeeming His people. From Adam and Eve in Genesis 3 to the covenant promises given to Abraham, to Moses leading the people in the wilderness, to Joshua leading them into the promised land, to a nation under the Davidic kingship, and finally to the New Testament church—God’s people have always been a broken people living in a broken world. But they have also always been a people being redeemed and sanctified.

God’s people have always been a distinctive people set apart for God’s purposes. Even in her brokenness, what sets the church apart is Christ. She is indwelt by the same Spirit who is working in every member to bring about sanctification into the image of Christ. She has been bought with a price and is worth it to Him who calls her His beloved.

As a pastor or layperson, if she is worth it to Christ, then I can and must say she is worth it to me, for I am counted in her midst. That Christ would call me to be part of His church and His redeeming work within her produces both deep gratitude and awe.

To see and experience the brokenness of the church is also to see and experience the redeeming work of Christ as He makes all things new. As we navigate failed leadership structures, misaligned purposes, and wrong motives within her, we are also seeing the gospel of grace and mercy at work in real time as God withholds the judgment we deserve in Christ. He can deal gently with her because His wrath fell on Christ, whose righteousness now covers her.

In all her brokenness, she is worth it because one day she will be united face to face with the One who is redeeming her and bringing her to perfect holiness and final union with Him.

Humans are repeatedly compared to sheep in Scripture. If you know anything about sheep, you understand this is not a flattering analogy. Watch a few sheep videos and you’ll quickly see why.

Like sheep, we tend to stray (Isa. 53:6). We can be “harassed and helpless” (Matt. 9:36). We are not known for strength in adversity or for our ability to care well for ourselves (Ezek. 34:11–23), but we do have a “great shepherd” (Heb. 13:20). We may wander, but the Lord knows us (John 10:11–16) and claims us as His own (Ps. 100:3).

This world is a hostile place, and sheep only have two defense mechanisms: the Shepherd and the herd.

If you get too far from the Shepherd, you become lamb chops. And if you lose your herd, you become a gyro.

Thus, it is too spiritually dangerous for a Christian to walk alone. Christians need both the Shepherd and a local herd. When a sheep wanders from the herd, it’s only a matter of time before it becomes easy prey.

The Danger of Wandering Alone

I see this all the time. I meet Christians, who still believe in Jesus, but they are not a part of any church or body of believers. Perhaps this stems from church hurt or some other legitimate reason for leaving. But whenever I hear about a Christian that has no church family, I think “Oh boy. That doesn’t sound good.”

A Southern preacher put it this way: “If you’re a lone sheep, you’re not a stud. You’re next.”

Whenever I meet a Christian who gloats in not needing a church, I never feel envy. I feel nervous for them: A believer without a local church is not a self-feeding, super-mature, super-Christian. They are wandering in the woods, oblivious to their need for community. Have you ever met a sheep alone in the wild? Exactly my point.

Imagine meeting someone with a Navy anchor tattooed on his shoulder. You might ask him, “Are you in the Navy?” “Nah,” he replies, “I used to be. But there was too much drama, frustrating leadership, and they made me go to this hour-long meeting every Sunday. It was inconvenient, so I left. I’m still a sailor—I’m just in my own Navy.”

You might reply, “You started your own Navy of one? That sounds like a good way to get captured by the enemy!” A Christian without a herd also sounds like a great way to be captured by the enemy.

The Shepherd Brings Us home

Jesus famously told a parable of a lost sheep in Luke 15.

Most of us revel in the shepherd’s tenacity to leave the herd and journey through the wilderness looking for his lost sheep. It’s a beautiful image of God’s pursuit of his wayward children.

And yet, we often miss what happens next. What does the shepherd do once he finds his lost sheep? “He lays it on his shoulders,” Jesus says, and brings the sheep “home.” Home is the herd—the safest, healthiest, most prosperous place for a sheep to be.

For the record, the shepherd is with the herd. To value a deep relationship with the Lord while seeing no meaningful value in the church family butchers the shepherd imagery of Scripture.

To be far from the herd is to be far from the shepherd (Ps. 79:13). To be one of God’s sheep is to be placed in His “pasture,” within His “gates” (Ps. 100:3–4). When the Good Shepherd speaks to His sheep, He speaks to a herd (John 10:14). When He tends to His sheep, He gathers them as a flock (Isa. 40:11).

Jesus knew there would be Christians who would believe in Him but struggle to find a church family. He declared in John 10:16, “I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

Getting Involved with the Herd

We must make church involvement a priority.

Perhaps you have a good reason for being unchurched. Maybe pain or disappointment from the family of God has left you with a bad taste in your mouth. If that’s your story, that pain matters, and it shouldn’t be minimized. Just “going back to church” may not be reasonable.

I instead challenge you to take one baby step toward finding a herd. Perhaps you need to seek healing from religious trauma. Maybe joining a Bible study or church small group is your first step. Or maybe you would benefit from simply talking with someone and sharing your story.

Whatever you do, do not remain churchless forever. And do not believe the lie, “I only need Jesus and my Bible. I don’t need a church.” The Bible never says that; not even once. The Good Shepherd never intended His sheep to live outside the flock He gathers and sustains.

You need the Shepherd, and you need His herd. So take one step toward home.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/vQUhsWsupVc

That answer lingered with me as I thought about my role as a preacher of God’s Word. What do I leave my people with? What do I train them to hunger for? Am I helping them taste the nourishment of the meal, or covering it up?

Pastors should think about preaching this way.

At its heart, preaching rests on a theological conviction: God has chosen to work through His Word. Scripture is not merely information about God; it is the instrument through which the Spirit confronts, exposes, and renews His people. The preacher’s task, therefore, is not to compensate for Scripture’s weakness but to faithfully serve its power.

Competing with the Text

In churches that rightly value expository preaching, the danger is rarely abandoning the text—it is subtly competing with it.

I felt this tension in my own ministry. I prepared sermons I believed were faithful, and I even had affirmation from others. Yet among the students and young adults I served, I noticed a disconnect. Their attention was present, but their hearts seemed elsewhere. Their expressions said, “This makes sense, but I don’t see how it has much to do with me.”

So I adjusted. I leaned harder into stories, illustrations, and humor. I felt I had to become the missing link.

And it worked—at least on the surface. Engagement increased. People thanked me for the fun and engaging message. Small group leaders told me their group discussions centered on my funny or heartfelt stories and how relatable they were.

At first, it felt great—it felt like I was doing my job well.

But there was a problem: I was slowly training our people to hunger for what I added rather than the Word of God itself.

The Inherent Power of the Word

Eventually I found myself burned out. One day I knelt before the Lord, anxious and exhausted, because I had nothing left to give.

As I sat there, I opened my Bible and read: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12).

I read the verse again and again.

Then it struck me: the issue was not that expository preaching was ineffective or cold. The issue was that I had under-trusted the power already present in the Word itself.

Scripture does more than inform—it exposes and restores the heart.

Instead of asking how to make sermons more engaging, I began asking a better question: What is this text intending to do to the human heart—not just the mind?

If Scripture is sufficient (2 Tim. 3:16–17), then it already contains both diagnosis and remedy. My task is not to fill a “relevance gap,” but to stay with the text until it does its work.

As this conviction deepened, something in my preaching began to change. I preached more boldly, trusting God’s timing and methods. Immediate response mattered less because I knew the Word would work.

And in time, it did.

Transformation became quieter but more durable. Leaders shared that group members were confessing their own sins rather than criticizing or gossiping about others. Fewer people thanked me for a good message or story; more volunteered to share testimonies of what God was doing in their lives.

As the Word became central, I became less so.

Preachers as Servants, Not Substitutes

A sauce enhances a meal; it does not replace it. In the same way, pastors serve the Word—we do not substitute for it.

When people leave remembering the preacher but not the passage, something has gone wrong.

This does not mean illustrations or personality are wrong. It means they must never compete with the formative work the text is already doing. When we rely too heavily on our contributions, we subtly suggest that Scripture needs our help to be effective.

Often, the deeper issue is impatience—an unwillingness to trust the slow work of the Spirit through the Word.

Serve the Meal

If you are just beginning in preaching ministry, you will feel pressure to perform before you have learned to trust the Spirit’s work through the Word.

When a sermon feels dry, you will be tempted to compensate. And people may respond. They may even applaud. But attention is not the same thing as nourishment.

Stay with the text longer than feels efficient. Learn to trust that the Word is good. Let it do its work. In time, your people won’t just remember your stories—they will be fed by the Bread of Life.

Serve the meal. Trust the Word. Let Christ feed your people.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/ijMi7iYVax8

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/cOy2MbP1BvM

I’ve spent much of my Christian life wondering what’s wrong with me—more than I care to admit. Why is it that I not only fail to want the things of God, but sometimes feel a strong urge to resist or even reject them? Some years ago, I learned there’s a name for what I’ve felt. Earlier generations of Christians referred to it as acedia (from the Greek akedia, meaning “lack of care”).

Most Christians today have not heard of acedia, but in the fourth century the desert fathers numbered it among the deadliest temptations, precisely because it can attack subtly, quietly, and without warning.

Acedia should not be confused with doubt. A person experiencing acedia still holds to the faith. It is not overt rebellion. People with acedia usually don’t storm away from God. Nor is it identical to depression, though it often resembles it and may accompany it. Acedia is more specific, and in its own way more alarming: It is a deep-seated weariness with the divine good. It is a condition in which God and the means of grace by which we know Him—His word, His table, His people, His presence—become genuinely unwanted.

Drawing from Psalm 91:6, one fourth-century monk—Evagrius of Pontus—nicknamed acedia “the noonday demon.” This nickname was well chosen. Acedia does not usually attack in the morning, when the day is fresh and God’s mercies are new, nor in the evening, when rest is close at hand. Most often, it attacks at midday when the sun is at its highest, the heat is at its worst, and the day feels like it will never end.

Three Symptoms of Acedia

Christian tradition has identified three primary symptoms of acedia.

Lethargy

A heaviness of soul that makes the means of grace feel like burdens rather than gifts. Prayer feels futile. Reading Scripture is tedious. Going to church fills you with dread. It’s not that the means of grace have changed—it’s that your soul has grown numb to them.

Restlessness and Fantasizing

A tendency to fantasize about a different life—a different job, a different city, a different set of circumstances. You find yourself staring out the window and wonder if the grass is greener someplace else, convinced that your circumstances are your biggest problem. Yet the problem is your soul’s refusal to receive the life God has given you. The noonday demon always makes you want to leave.

Irritability

The people and responsibilities God has given become sources of frustration rather than fulfillment. Friends and family become insufferable. The congregation you’ve covenanted with becomes a cacophony of pet peeves. Everything near looks like a problem and everything far feels like the solution. Acedia turns the people you serve into problems you’d rather avoid.

The Downward Spiral

As acedia takes hold, these symptoms become a vicious cycle that feeds itself. Left unnamed and unaddressed, it subtly hollows you out like a tree that’s dying at the root while still budding in spring.

The cruelest effect of acedia is that it shuts down the very means that has power to break its grip: prayer. Not because you deny God’s existence, but because you cannot stomach one more forced or artificial conversation with Him.

You know what Christians are supposed to sound like in prayer. But you can’t bring yourself to pray that way. The distance between how you feel and how you know you should pray feels too wide. So you go silent—and that silence feeds the noonday demon.

Learning to Pray Honestly

Yet—for those experiencing acedia— something worth considering is this: The most honest prayers I’ve ever heard did not come from polished believers, but from people who appear in the pages of Scripture itself.

Jeremiah accuses God of deceiving him. Habakkuk demands to know why God seems silent while the wicked prosper. David asks why God is hiding His face. Elijah sits under a tree and begs to die.

Notice that these are not villains in the biblical story! These are the good guys and examples of faithfulness, and they prayed with a gut-level honesty that would make most churchgoers blush. Which raises a question: What makes that kind of honesty possible? What makes it safe to say, “Lord, I don’t want you right now, and I don’t know how to change that”?

God Can Handle Your Honesty

The answer, I am convinced, lies in one of the most misunderstood doctrines in Christianity: divine impassibility.

In popular theology, impassibility is often portrayed as the cold indifference of a distant creator. However, this doctrine shows us one of the most important ways that the Creator is different from the creature—and why that’s such good news. Impassibility means that God is not subject to sudden emotional change. Unlike you and me, God is not destabilized by shifting circumstances.

Impassibility is not the absence of love, but the infinite perfection of it. Scripture tells us that God is love. Because love is His essence and glory, His love for His people cannot be replaced with a different reaction to your acedia.

This means something extraordinary for the person who no longer wants God and has stopped praying: Your brutal honesty about where you are spiritually cannot make God have a bad day.

Every human relationship involves some level of calculation—what is safe to say, how it will be received, whether it will be misunderstood. In most cases, there is such a thing as being too honest with your friends, your pastor, or even your spouse. But there is no such thing as being too honest with God.

Security in Christ

In Christ, God’s love for you is not contingent on your prayers sounding good. His commitment toward you is not dependent on you feeling the right way or wanting the right things. Because He is impassible, He’s not threatened by your acedia. You can say to Him what you’re too scared to say to anyone else—you don’t have to perform. That’s not because God is indifferent about how you pray, it’s because His Son—your Advocate—is perfecting your prayers at the Father’s right hand. It’s because His Spirit is interceding for you according to the will of God. The entire Trinity is at work to ensure that every prayer you’ve prayed from the throes of acedia will reach the throne of grace.

Perhaps lately you’ve wondered the same thing I’ve wondered so often: What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I want God and His means of grace? Not only is there a name for that feeling you can’t shake, but there’s also a way forward: Pray the unvarnished truth, even if it feels too raw and ugly to face. Your Lord will by no means be damaged by it. To the contrary, in Christ, He will welcome it. After all, He’s God! He can handle it.

Though our desire for Him fluctuates—though there are days when that forgotten noonday demon gets the better of us—the God who hears your prayers will not forget you and does not change. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/J7XTd25EGG0

Biblical Foundations of Reverence

The Holy Scriptures provide tangible principles—drawn from key events—that church leaders can use to foster reverence every Sunday morning. Two such passages are Isaiah’s vision of God in the temple and the high priest’s duties on the Day of Atonement.

Encountering the Enthroned Lord

In Isaiah 6, the prophet recounts his encounter with the Almighty. He describes God sitting on a “lofty and exalted” throne—a seat built for a monarch. Its elevated position signifies God is above all earthly rulers in power and authority. Likewise, the “train of his robe … [which] filled the temple” displays the extent of His royal dominion. In the ancient world, a king’s conquests were represented by portions of the conquered kings’ robes sewn to his own robe. A train long enough to fill the temple communicates that this Monarch’s authority is worldwide.

Another striking image is the seraphim who stand above the Lord. Despite being great in power and physical presence, their subservience to the Lord highlights how great His power and majesty are compared to theirs. Isaiah’s immediate response to this display of God’s monarchical glory is telling: he confesses his desperate state and uncleanness. Confronted with divine holiness, he is undone.

The High Priest and the Weight of Worship

Leviticus 16 describes the high priest’s preparation and duties on behalf of himself and the Israelites. First, he bathed his body, and then dressed in prescribed linen garments: undergarments, a coat, a sash, and a turban. He proceeded to offer specific sacrifices according to God’s command. Each animal type served a distinct purpose. For example, a bull was killed for the sin offering, and its blood was placed on the mercy seat and on the altar.

The sacrificial system communicated to Israel that entering into the Sovereign’s presence and beholding His holiness was an extreme honor and a weighty matter. The author of Hebrews explains that these practices were shadows of a greater reality—the heavenly “throne room” and and the once-for-all priestly work of Christ. The earthly rituals, he writes, were “copies of the true things.”

From Isaiah’s experience, we learn that being in God’s presence is humbling. His confession, “Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips; my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts,” flows from the staggering enormity of the Almighty he saw. The appropriate response to such purity is awareness and confession of one’s own sinfulness.

From the high priest’s duties, we learn that being in God’s presence is sobering. He followed meticulous, sacrificial preparations and directives so God would be pleased and His wrath averted. The event’s seriousness was also reflected in the priest’s attire, which pointed to purity and righteousness (Rev. 19:8)—realities that find their fullness in Jesus, the “great high priest” (Heb. 4:14). This emphasis on purity was further seen in the command to bathe before offering sacrifices. With his life on the line, the high priest demonstrated reverence by obeying every priestly directive without deviation (Lev. 16:2–5).

Approaching with Reverence

These two passages serve as reference points for New Testament believers in understanding what it means to “offer to God acceptable worship, with reverence and awe, for our God is a consuming fire” (Heb. 12:28). The language of “offering” connects our worship to the priestly actions of the Old Testament. When the high priest offered sacrifices, he was worshiping with profound reverence and submission. It is no wonder, then, that God calls Christians—His “royal priesthood”—to approach Him with the same posture as we enter the true “Most Holy Place.”

Cultivating Reverence in the Church

In light of these truths, how can churches cultivate reverence?

First, reverence can be exhibited. Church leaders can intentionally incorporate elements into a service that shape a congregation’s posture before God. These might include extended Scripture reading, the recitation of creeds, pastoral prayer, and responsive readings from catechisms.

Secondly, reverence can be taught. Cultural reference points for formality have waned over the past half century. People no longer dress formally for work, church, or travel, nor do they consistently use honorifics in professional settings. These touchpoints once helped communicate appropriate behavior for particular settings. Today, church leaders must be more intentional. By teaching the passages above, they can help believers recover a sense of the uniqueness and weightiness of corporate worship. Whether in a cathedral or a cafeteria, a formal setting can be marked by reverence.

Finally, reverence cannot be commanded. It is a response to the beauty and power of God rightly seen. The Apostle Thomas insisted he would not believe unless he touched Christ’s wounds. Yet eight days later when Thomas placed his finger and hand on Jesus’ hands and side, he responded with belief and reverence: “My Lord and my God!” The same can occur in our hearts when God’s power and holiness are faithfully proclaimed regularly on Sunday mornings.

The God Who Is a Consuming Fire

A recognition of God’s power underlies each instance of reverence above. The high priest knew it and modeled reverence by carrying out his sacrificial duties precisely. Isaiah encountered the Lord’s superiority when he beheld His majestic throne room and was undone. The author of Hebrews reminds us that God is a “consuming fire.” Unlike earthly fire, which burns and dies out, His holiness is unending. The God of heaven and earth is always worthy of reverent worship because He is forever supreme. May these truths ring out from our pulpits, take root in our hearts, and produce deeper reverence in our churches.

[1] Matthew McDonald, “Eucharist, Unity, Clarity: What Attracts Converts to the Catholic Church?” National Catholic Register, https://www.ncregister.com/news/easter-converts-2024-by-the-numbers; Orthodox Studies Institute, Converts to Orthodoxy: Statistics and Trends from the Past Decade (Saint Constantine College, July 2024), https://resources.finalsite.net/images/v1722890523/saintconstantineorg/wwfz57wzdrdkx7tj1xu1/ConvertstoOrthodoxy.pdf.

Every week, you would find me at church, and at the age of eight, I confessed my sin, realized my need for forgiveness, and gave my life to Christ.

Like many believers, I grew up saying that Jesus is my Lord and Savior. I knew He had saved me from my sin and that my life was meant to follow Him. But there was a gap between what I confessed and how I lived. I said Jesus was Lord, but I didn’t fully understand what that meant. His rule and reign felt abstract—something I affirmed theologically but hadn’t learned to live under practically. It wasn’t until I began to see Jesus as King that my faith moved from belief to worship, from confession to genuine submission.

In 2017, my wife and I started attending a church in St. Louis where we heard a phrase that caught my attention and, over time, reshaped the way I think about my faith:

King Jesus.

We walked into what is now our home church, and the pastor welcomed the congregation and encouraged us to prepare our hearts to worship King Jesus. As someone who had grown up in the church and was already a believer, it immediately stood out—especially when we realized it wasn’t just a one-time phrase. It was regularly used to describe Jesus in the worship service and in the life of the church.

King Jesus Rules Over Every Area of Life

The title King Jesus has helped me move beyond thinking of Jesus as simply my personal Lord and Savior to seeing Him as the triumphant King who rules and reigns over every area of life.

Jesus Himself declared, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me” (Matt. 28:18). As believers, we are called to relinquish our self-rule and submit our identity and worship to the One who has all authority.

Seeing Jesus as King reminds us that our faith is not confined to a moment of salvation or a private belief. Every part of our lives—our careers, finances, children, and futures—falls under His good and rightful rule. Everything He has given us to steward ultimately falls under His dominion, not ours.

King Jesus Is Reigning—Even Now

Viewing Jesus as King has also given me greater confidence in the midst of life’s uncertainties and society’s instability. The Bible reminds us that Christ is not only our Savior but the One who holds all things together.

“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:17).

As the nations rage, kingdoms rise and fall, moral decay deepens, and the world feels chaotic or uncertain, we can rest knowing that King Jesus reigns over all of it.

In a culture that protests authority, we are reminded how deeply the human heart resists the true King who already reigns over everything.

King Jesus Has Brought Us into His Kingdom

Seeing Jesus as King has also reshaped how I understand the story God is telling in Scripture. The gospel is not only the forgiveness of sins; it is the announcement that the true King has come and that through Him we are brought into His Kingdom.

Through His death and resurrection, Jesus defeated sin and death and was enthroned as the rightful King over all creation (Col. 1:13).

The story of the Bible is the story of a conquering and redeeming King who stepped down to earth, died so that we might live, and invites us to become citizens of His Kingdom. The gospel is God’s story of redemption told through the life of a gentle and lowly King who was slain for a sinful and undeserving people.

Living Under King Jesus Today

Seeing Jesus as King has changed the way I understand God and what it means to live a life worthy of His calling. It reminds me that Christianity is not simply about what Jesus has done for me in the past, but about who He is right now.

Jesus is not only the Savior who forgives sins. He is the risen King who rules and reigns over heaven and earth. Because He is King, my life is meant to be lived in joyful submission to Him (Phil. 2:10–11).

The invitation of the gospel is not merely to acknowledge that truth someday, but to begin living under the good and gracious rule of King Jesus today. The title King Jesus has shaped me not only to receive salvation by grace, but also to actively worship the One who secured it.

I spent years confessing Jesus as Lord without fully living under His rule. The phrase King Jesus changed that. It took a truth I had always believed and made it something I could actually live—in worship, in submission, in the joyful recognition that He is King over every part of my life, not just my salvation.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/b7UZxBFY3x0

First, we should understand the terms. Cannabis refers to the entire plant, and marijuana refers to the part of the plant grown, harvested, and produced specifically to produce a “high” and thus psychoactive effects. There are parts of the cannabis plant that are neither addictive nor designed to generate a high. Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) is the primary psychoactive compound. For instance, CBD is a popular ingredient in restorative and medical applications. It does not have THC and therefore doesn’t have mind-altering properties.

How should believers think about marijuana and similar substances that have psychoactive effects? While no specific Bible passage addresses marijuana, there are several biblical principles and ideas we should consider.

In Cannabis and the Christian, ethicist Todd Miles recounts visiting a weed dispensary to learn what customers seek:

In doing some research for my presentations on this topic, I visited one of the seemingly ubiquitous marijuana dispensaries near my house. The staff at this shop were extremely patient and helpful, answering many of my questions by pulling out large visual aids with charts and graphics, showing me the different THC products and how they worked. At one point, I asked, rather embarrassingly, if there was any reason to smoke pot recreationally other than to get high. The clerk looked at me like I was an imbecile and laughed, “Why else would anybody smoke pot?”

While there may be a secondary purpose in consuming marijuana, let’s be honest: People use it to get a high. What is a high? A high is a form of intoxication. Scripture doesn’t speak to marijuana, but it does strongly condemn intentional intoxication. To the Ephesians, Paul urges, “And don’t get drunk with wine, which leads to reckless living, but be filled by the Spirit” (Eph. 5:18). This passage, like many others, frequently references alcohol, as it was the primary substance in use during the context addressed by the scriptural authors.

Consider this warning from Proverbs 23:

Who has woe? Who has sorrow? Who has conflicts? Who has complaints? Who has wounds for no reason? Who has red eyes? Those who linger over wine; those who go looking for mixed wine. Don’t gaze at wine because it is red, because it gleams in the cup and goes down smoothly. In the end it bites like a snake and stings like a viper. Your eyes will see strange things, and you will say absurd things. You’ll be like someone sleeping out at sea or lying down on the top of a ship’s mast. . . . “They struck me, but I feel no pain! They beat me, but I didn’t know it! When will I wake up? I’ll look for another drink.” (vv. 29–35)

This passage discusses “lingering over wine,” consuming so much that one becomes intoxicated and drunk. Scripture warns of its perils: loss of coherence, lack of control of what one says, hallucinations, and addiction: “I’ll look for another drink.” Scripture never portrays intoxication as a good thing for God’s people. What’s more, often drunkenness—intoxication—is seen as sinful. In Galatians 5:19–21, it is listed as a characteristic of people who “will not inherit the kingdom of God” and is inconsistent with a life in step with the Holy Spirit. A similar sentiment is expressed in 1 Corinthians 6:9–10 and 1 Peter 4:3. In 1 Thessalonians 5:6–8, intoxication is contrasted with sobriety and self-control, that is a characteristic of the spiritually mature follower of Jesus. Nine times the New Testament refers to drunkenness or intoxication in its list of sins.

Scripture also offers examples of the kind of debauchery that can result from intoxication: Noah embarrassed himself with public nakedness (Gen. 9:21). Lot committed incest (Gen. 19:30–38). Nabal risked his life and family before the king (1 Sam. 25:36). The Corinthian Christians blasphemed the Lord’s Supper (1 Cor. 11:21). David Mathis is right when he says, “When we turn to the New Testament, drunkenness has no place in the church but belongs to the course of this fallen world and the pattern of rebellion against God.”

Scripture warns against it because the effects of intoxication are many. Families, lives, and communities are often destroyed by violence, infidelity, and loss of control. Scholar Christopher Cook asserts from church history, “At least up until the nineteenth century, these ethical conclusions were remarkably uniform. All agreed that drunkenness was a sin.” If the primary purpose of marijuana is to get high and if intoxication is seen as a sin in Scripture, can a Christian seek to get high and be in obedience to Christ?

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Biblical Wisdom for Everyday Life: Ethical Answers for Cultural Questions, by Daniel Darling, released by B&H Publishing (May 2026).

• Share in suffering for the gospel (1:8; 2:3; 2:5)
• Guard the good deposit entrusted to you (1:14)
• Entrust what you’ve heard to faithful men (2:2)
• Think over what I say (2:7)
• Remind them of these things (2:14)
• Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved (2:15)
• Avoid irreverent babble (2:16)
• Depart from iniquity (2:19)
• Flee youthful passions (2:22)
• Pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace (2:22)
• Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies (2:23)
• Continue in what you have learned (3:14)
• Preach the word (4:2)
• Be ready in season and out of season (4:2)
• Reprove, rebuke, exhort with complete patience and teaching (4:2)
• Be sober-minded (4:5)
• Endure suffering (4:5)
• Do the work of an evangelist (4:5)
• Fulfill your ministry (4:5)

Faithful oversight of the church—seeking to model these imperatives—is hard, good, and all-encompassing work. Paul’s commands cover the task (guard, think, entrust, preach, evangelize), promote endurance (share in suffering, be ready in season and out of season, continue in what you have learned, fulfill your ministry), instruct discipleship (remind, reprove, rebuke, exhort), and requires integrity (present yourself approved, flee youthful lusts, pursue righteousness, be sober-minded, avoid irreverent babble, and have nothing to do with foolish controversies).

Paul’s heavy list of imperatives presents a high calling for pastors. How should a pastor “fan into flame the gift” (2 Tim 1:6) so that he can do what it takes to fulfill this ministry and to conclude at the end that—“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith” (2 Tim. 4:7)?

Empowered by Grace

It’s interesting to note that all the imperatives carry an active sense to them, except one: “You then, my child, be strengthened by the grace that is in Christ Jesus” (2:1). This is the only passive imperative in the entire letter.

Pastors can only meet Paul’s commands by being strengthened by grace through Jesus Christ.

Paul describes the grace in detail:

Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God who saved us and called us to a holy calling not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began, and which now has been manifested through the appearing of our Saviour Christ Jesus, who abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. (2 Tim. 1:8–10)

What will keep pastors from being ashamed of the gospel during a hard season? What will keep them from deserting Paul like Demas who was “in love with this present world” (2 Tim. 4:10)? It will not come from merely affirming that death has been abolished and that life and immortality have been brought to light—but they must be strengthened by such grace, deriving strength, faith, and conviction to carry out the work of ministry. This is a supernatural work of God through the Spirit. It’s experienced—not just affirmed—and the experience comes from outside as we meditate on the reality of grace—“remember Jesus Christ risen from the dead” (2 Tim. 2:8).

Paul concludes the letter with his testimony of God doing this in his ministry:

At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me. May it not be charged against them! But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me, so that through me the message might be fully proclaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen. (2 Tim 4:16–18)

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/ipdusCw2k1o

As long as believers give generously to needy people and worthy causes, do they really need to give to their local church?

Who Funds the Church?

Of all the justifications I’ve heard for not giving to the local church, the “maximum impact” argument is the strongest I’ve come across. After all, sheltering children in Uganda does seem more urgent than helping fund your church’s weekend parenting conference.

And yet, as intuitive as this line of reasoning might seem, it’s problematic to make perceived impact the sole determinative metric for how we give.

While there are a variety of reasons believers ought to give to their local church, the NT repeatedly offers one that renders the “impact only” giving strategy unbiblical despite being well-intended.

Consider for a moment: How has God designed the church to be supported financially? Who funds its ministries and ministers?

Students of church history know that in the past, the state served as the church’s primary benefactor. Indeed, the title ‘Magisterial Reformer’ refers to Protestants like Luther and Calvin who “worked for the reconstruction of Christendom in alliance with the secular magistrates of Europe”[1]

While well-meaning Christians continue to debate about church-state relations, it’s important to recognize that the Scriptures themselves never place the responsibility of bankrolling the church at the feet of Caesar. Instead, they call the church’s members—the believers who directly benefit from its ministers and ministries—to provide the needed resources.

Not Charity, but Fairness

For Paul, giving isn’t merely a call to dig deep and show compassion. It’s often presented as an issue of fairness.

For example, while he personally forgoes financial support, he exhorts the Corinthians to provide materially for those who sow among them spiritually: “The plowman should plow in hope and the thresher thresh in hope of sharing in the crop. If we have sown spiritual things among you, is it too much if we reap material things from you? If others share this rightful claim on you, do not we even more?” (1 Cor. 9:10–12).

Similarly, in Galatians 6:6, Paul writes, “Let the one who is taught the word share all good things with the one who teaches.” Finally, Paul tells Timothy: “Let the elders who rule well be considered worthy of double honor, especially those who labor in preaching and teaching. For the Scripture says, ‘You shall not muzzle an ox when it treads out the grain,’ and, ‘The laborer deserves his wages.” (1 Tim. 5:17–18).

For Thomas Schreiner, Paul’s logic is straightforward: “Those who proclaim the gospel have sown, so to speak, spiritual seed, and because they have done so, they should reap a material harvest—that is, they should be supported financially.”[2]

Contribute Where You Benefit

Notice that in each of the exhortations cited above, Paul consistently articulates two principles: (1) Those who give themselves to teaching the Word should be financially supported and (2) their financial support should come from those who benefit from their instruction.

Providing the “laborer’s wages” isn’t the responsibility of the state or a few wealthy church members—it’s the collective responsibility of the believers who reap spiritual fruit from those who labor among them in preaching and teaching.

Stated plainly: If you benefit, you should contribute.

Properly examining your giving strategy is not a matter of asking, “Do Paul’s instructions resonate with me?” but “Am I doing what God’s Word says? Are those who are sowing spiritually among me reaping materially from me?”

If you answer, “No, because I think my money can serve better ends by giving it elsewhere,” then not only are you disregarding apostolic instruction, but you’re also allowing your share of the burden to fall on someone else—in the name of God-honoring generosity!

Don’t Forget Commonsense

We have no problem giving money to things we value.

That’s why it’s difficult to conceive of believers who tip their server after a meal out (after 45 minutes of service) more than they gave to their church last year. After all, the church is not a mere product we consume but the blood-bought institution ordained by God to make and grow disciples of all nations.

Similarly, if you have Netflix, Amazon Prime, or Disney+, it’s because you value the benefits it offers enough to pay for it.

And yet, what does it say if we compensate Netflix because we value Stranger Things, but don’t give a penny to the church that invests in our souls?

If your local church isn’t interested in disciple making or doesn’t benefit your soul in the long term, by all means find another one (after you’re certain that church is really the problem). But to regularly gain spiritual benefit from its various ministries and to make no financial contribution is simply a failure to submit to Scripture.

Both-And

Must believers restrict their giving to the local church? Absolutely not. As a pastor, I directly support a number of worthy causes and individuals and encourage others to do the same as they have opportunity. Rather, we should make sure our relief-oriented giving serves as a supplement to—not a substitute for—local church giving. Scripture calls us to more than giving materially where we reap spiritually, but not less.

[1] Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Reformation: A History (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 143 (Kindle Edition).

[2] Thomas R. Schreiner, 1 Corinthians: An Introduction and Commentary, TNTC (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2018), 186.

Perhaps it was in a home wrought with chaos and conflict or in a family soon to be devastated by divorce. Maybe it begins amid a cycle of job-loss, mounting bills, frequent address changes, or an environment marked by addiction and abuse.

The question is: If your childhood was marked by brokenness and turmoil, what did this teach you about yourself?

Whether for good or ill, our sense of self is profoundly shaped by our formative years. Our first interactions with family and early experiences of home—these ingredients combine to create our first conclusions about who we are and what we’re worth. The problem is, not only are these first conclusions often untrue, but they are also far more persistent than we’d prefer.

But what if they don’t need to be? What if brokenness could mark your childhood, but not your continued sense of identity? Sure, sometimes it seems we’re simply wired to take cues from our beginnings, but what if our beginning goes back far beyond our formative years?

Where You Really Began

Yes, Christian, your story did have a beginning. And yes, God means for you to derive your sense of self from it. But your beginning—your real beginning—took place long before your birth and long before family brokenness. Long before the stars ever shone in the sky.

When your story began in the eternal purpose of God, it was before the world began. He chose you, in him, before the foundation of the world (Eph. 1:4).

To truly understand your story, then, you must start with God long before you were born or the world was made. Begin with God: Holy, happy, and wonderful—before He had created the day or night and all was whole. To see ourselves rightly, we must start before the foundation of the world.

God brought you into His mind according to His will and delight. It was in a context of perfect, unremitted peace.

As God thought of you, He did so according to His peerless wisdom and boundless understanding. He did not think of you because of confusion or an argument, but from a life-giving love that is unmatched by any. In this setting of supreme and unblemished goodness, God established His plan for you. You would be:

• A soul He would send His Son to save.
• A child He would adopt and call His own.
• An image bearer He would conform into the image of His glorious Son (Rom. 8:29).

He would write you, His beloved character, into His Great Story—the one that would beget all others. An epic of justice, sacrifice, victory, and delight. A tale in which Jesus shines as the only true hero, and His Church reflects His glory. This, Christian, is the true first page of your story—a story not ultimately of loss, disappointment, and confusion, but of promise, assurance, and everlasting victory.

We must see ourselves not mainly in terms of broken beginnings, but God’s persistent involvement and perfect love.

God’s Purpose Through the Brokenness

Why is it that you, today, believe in Jesus? Is it because God just so happened to look down one day, notice your life spinning out of control, and enter in? Was there a point in which God was a newcomer to your life—reacting to the mess of some new situation? Or, in truth, had He been present all along, working out the details according to His grand design?

Paul, in 2 Timothy, says the saved are saved, “Because of [God’s] own purpose and grace”—a purpose He decreed “before the ages began” (2 Tim. 1:9).

Although we must face the painful realities of a fallen and sinful world, the fact that God, “works all things according to the counsel of His will” is a more ultimate reality that should cause us to hope (Eph. 1:11). The omniscient mind that thought up the universe is behind every detail of life—even the painful ones—for your good (Rom. 8:28).

God’s involvement in your life has never skipped a beat.

God’s Perpetual Love

Not only have His purposes never skipped a beat, but neither has His pure and perfect love. Before time began, God loved you (Eph. 1:4–5). Two thousand years ago, He proved this love for you at the cross (Rom. 5:8). At the time of your conversion, God poured out His love upon you by making you alive in Christ (Eph. 2:4–5).

God’s love has never changed, and He has always remained close—even when His love seems difficult to feel. God set His love upon you before He called light into being and planets into orbit, and His heart has continued to beat with that same love for you ever since.

God’s Declaration Over It All

Long ago, God wrote your name—and it wasn’t on a scrap piece of paper or on a list of to-dos. He inscribed your name into His book of life so deep and bold that no eraser could ever touch it, nor any scheme of Satan pluck you from His hand (Rev. 13:8). God’s story of you is older than the universe. It was He who spoke the first word over you.

No, you don’t ultimately come from brokenness. You come from the perfect, consistent, never-failing God.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/MIxLPgBLyg0

The pastor had just invited the congregation into a moment of silent confession. Silence is already difficult in a society saturated with distraction, so focus requires intention. But then… a cell phone rings.

Instantly, attention shifts. The sanctuary fills with subtle glances, internal irritation, and the shared wondering of whose phone it is and how quickly it will be silenced. Some of us have been “that person,” fumbling in embarrassment to stop the noise.

Distraction itself is nothing new. But when it comes to prayer, smartphones pose a deeper problem than occasional interruption. They are quietly forming us into people who struggle with attention, silence, desire, and patience—the very soil prayer requires to flourish.

What Smartphones Are Subtly Doing to Prayer

Our phones are not inherently evil, and many Christians pray deeply while using technology wisely. Distraction, after all, predates the smartphone.

But there does seem to be a cultural shift in the way we approach prayer that may be shaped, be it ever so subtly, by our digital devices. Here are a few ways our devices may be affecting our prayers.

1. Training Us to Avoid Interior Silence

Prayer often begins where stimulation ends. Our phones make moments of silence vanish. Every pause in life becomes fillable. Whether we’re waiting in line, sitting in our car during a carpool, or lying in bed, these devices get pulled out instinctively. Even in moments of anxiety or boredom, we tend to look at the screen rather than close our eyes and talk to Jesus.

Yet Scripture emphasizes the importance of stillness, waiting, and meditation (Ps. 46:10; 62; Luke 5:16).

2. Reshaping Our Expectations of God

Our phones catechize us to expect immediacy, affirmation, and constant engagement. By contrast, prayer often seems slow, quiet, and can feel unresponsive. Over time, this mismatch subtly convinces us that prayer is inefficient or ineffective. But the Bible reminds us that God works powerfully through prayer, that God hears every word uttered, and he uses it as a means of grace (Jas. 5:16; Ps. 139:4; Heb. 4:16).

3. Turning Anxiety into Distraction Rather Than Supplication

Phones offer relief without transformation. Rather than casting our cares on Jesus, as Peter exhorts us to do (1 Pet. 5:7), we’ve trained our reflexes to reach for our phones. The gesture looks small, but it reveals our sinful instinct to distract ourselves until anxiety is dulled rather than entrusting our fears to a caring Father.

How the Church Can Respond

Prayer assumes a capacity that many of us must relearn—or learn for the first time. Personal practices matter, yes, but the church also plays a crucial role in reshaping our instincts.

1. Recover Corporate Practices of Silence

Creating noise in worship is not difficult. As a worship leader, I’m constantly thinking about smooth transitions because, frankly, silence can be awkward.

But we need to recover the importance of intentional corporate silence. And not just for fifteen seconds, but perhaps for a few minutes. Yes, a phone may ring from time to time, a baby will cry, or a coffee mug may be knocked over. There will be distractions.

But building silence into our worship services, whether it be a longer time of quiet confession or an unhurried Scripture reading, helps congregants relearn what it means to sit quietly before God. It will likely take time for this to feel somewhat normal. People may be uncomfortable for a while. But when silence is taught, it’s less intimidating, and it becomes more welcomed in our daily routines than the all-too-accessible time-fillers offered by our phones.

2. Teach Prayer as a Practice, not a Performance

Since our phones cultivate in us a desire for immediacy, we need to be modeling and teaching prayer as a discipline that reshapes desires over time, and as a privilege, because we have uninhibited access to a Father who delights in His children.

It may be helpful for pastors and liturgists to pull away from scripted prayers. There is nothing wrong with writing out a prayer, and it is often very helpful. But even reducing your notes to bullet points to model honest, unspectacular conversation with God is important for our congregants. Prayer is ultimately grounded not in eloquence, but in relationship that grows stronger over time, and we can model that in our churches.

3. Formation Beyond Sunday Worship

If smartphones are retraining our instincts, the church needs to be equally intentional about counter-formation. How can we encourage intentional practices within our local churches that shape how we use our time, where we give our attention, and what we desire?

Rather than offering blanket condemnations of technology, it’s more helpful to ask good questions: What am I most distracted by? What practices help me resist constant stimulation? Create spaces to talk practically in small groups or Sunday School classes. Learning about embodied practices and intentional limits remind us that prayer is cultivated.

When a phone rings during prayer, sure, it feels jarring. But I don’t think it’s only because it’s a distraction. It feels that way because it exposes how fragile our attention has become. The solution is not to do away with our phones, but to relearn practices that form us toward attentiveness and communion with God. Yes, smartphones shape us in subtle ways, but the God who invites us to cast our cares on Him is present, and He is worthy of our unhurried attention.

Now, as you plan the route to health, keep in mind that moving down the path you plan is as much an art as it is a science. When we say it’s a science, we mean that there are particular convictions that are biblical and right and must be pursued. At the same time, pursuing those convictions requires both social and self-awareness. This is the art of leading a church down the road of revitalization, having the wisdom to know how and when to take each step. Here are a few thoughts to help you map the way.

First, begin by addressing what is critical. As you reflect on the list of questions above, what is most obviously missing from the life of your church? What are the primary hindrances to the pursuit of health? This is where you, as a leader, need to be prayerful and honest. A church with a vibrant culture begins and is built by naming “reality with courage and does so in a way that is hopeful and encouraging.” Within my (Matt) first few years of ministry at my current church, it became clear to me that clarity on biblical leadership was a critical issue to address. The church had (and still does have) great leaders. But, the congregation did not have clarity on how to qualify leaders biblically or as to how decisions should be made. Does every decision involve the whole congregation? Who has the authority and trust to lead in decision making? So, we began using biblical qualifications for all our volunteer leadership positions. In time, we also developed a decision-making process, along with a checklist to communicate how decisions would be made.

Second, look for low hanging fruit. Oftentimes, even in a declining church, there are healthy ministries already in existence that do not receive the focus they deserve because so many other ministries are fighting for attention. Or, there are potentially fruitful ministries that could be healthy if they receive a slight directional tweak, refocus, or increased intentionality. To put it simply, celebrate the great things and make the good things great.

Third, prioritize based on the mission, the membership, and the church’s ministry opportunities. Keep the church’s mission at the forefront. What has God called us to do? Consider the gifts, talents, and interests of the members. Who has God sent to our church? And with those two in mind, consider the ministry opportunities that will allow you to bring the mission to bear with the members. How can we employ our members to pursue the mission through the ministry opportunities before us? Give them encouragement or hope to act, and specific steps to do so.

Editor’s Note: This is an excerpt from Shepherding Renewal: A Guide to Lasting Church Revitalization by Matt Capps and Steven Wade, released by B&H Publishing (May 2026).

1 John is all about fellowship with God, which is possible through Jesus Christ and life in the Spirit (1:1–4). The Apostle John describes life in the Spirit through the abiding “anointing” (2:27) and abiding “seed” (3:9) of God before speaking explicitly about the abiding Holy Spirit in chapter 4. Although fellowship with God is the primary focus of the letter, we must not overlook John’s desire: “what we have seen and heard we proclaim to you also, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father, and with His Son Jesus Christ” (1:3, emphasis added). John’s purpose is that others may have fellowship with him and the church. Thus, all who are in fellowship with God are in fellowship with one another.

This framework is important for understanding the letter because as John writes to establish faith and assurance (1 John 5:13), he addresses three characters and the conflict that arises from them: friends, foes, and fauxs. The “friends” are those who are truly in fellowship with God and God’s people. The “foes” are those who are in fellowship with the world and the devil. Finally, and most challenging, are the fauxs—imposters of the faith—who appear to be in fellowship with God but truly belong to the world and the devil. The main test in 1 John, then, is not distinguishing between friends and foes, but friends and fauxs.

To illustrate, the greatest threat in war is not the place outside the gates where the enemy is gathered, but sabotage, spies, and traitors from within. Think of the Trojan horse and how the guise of a ceasefire resulted in the fall of the city from within after decades of standing strong. The fellowship of the church is to be a secure fellowship, but often, fauxs find their place within and bring destruction. Fauxs are hard to detect because they come just as everyone else: with a profession of faith, baptism, and so on. They continue in the fellowship and discipleship of the church for a time. Yet, as many pastors and laypeople can attest, they have witnessed the destruction fauxs bring on the church. In this letter, John provides insight for discerning fauxs so that appropriate action can be taken in love and truth to preserve the faith and fellowship of the church before ruin occurs.

Revealing Friends

From 1 John 1:5–5:12, John sets forth various tests which differentiate between the three characters. Friends are known by confessing their sins (1:5–2:2), living in obedience to Christ’s commands (2:3–11), persevering in the faith and fellowship of the Church (2:18–27; 4:1–6; 5:5–12), and practicing righteousness (2:28–3:10). Furthermore, obedience and righteousness are characterized by love for one another, which is a dominant emphasis in the letter (2:7–11; 3:10–24; 4:4–5:5). John uses the word “ought” to describe how Christians are expected to live like Christ (2:6) through a love of sacrifice (3:16) and forgiveness (4:10–11). In this way, the friends enjoy the Life (1:2), Light (1:5), and Love (4:8) of God.

Revealing Foes

In contrast, the foes are completely against the friends. They are opposed to the Father (2:15–17), the truth of Jesus Christ (4:1–6), the church (3:1b, 13), and righteousness and love (3:4–10). They are of the world and the devil, living in sin and darkness, and filled with hatred and murder—especially towards Christians. The foes of God and His people are given no assurance but are warned of coming destruction (3:8; contrast with believers in 3:18–24 and 4:15–21 who have confidence). The contrast between friends and foes is set in black-and-white terms, creating a sharp distinction between the two groups. Discerning between friends and foes is easy!

Revealing Fauxs

However, the challenge arises with the fauxs. What was black-and-white becomes gray and more dangerous. The friends are a loving people, and sometimes their love can interfere with the safeguards of truth. So, the friends often lack discernment, which matters not just for their own sake, but for one another—their fellow friends. Nevertheless, John exposes the fauxs as those who “say,” but what they “do” contradicts their claims: They claim to have fellowship with God, but walk in darkness characterized by unconfessed, unrepentant sin (1:5–10); they claim to know Christ, but then disobey His commands (2:3–6); they claim to be in the Light characterized by truth, but they hate their brothers/friends in Christ (2:9–11).

Exposing the fauxs, John declares they are liars, self-deceived, still in darkness/sins, of the devil and the world, do not have eternal life, and are headed for judgment (1:6, 2:4, 2:11, 2:15–17, 2:22, 3:7–10, 3:15, 4:3–5, 4:8, 4:20). They are antichrists and followers of antichrist (2:18–19); they are false prophets and the followers of false prophets (4:1–6). They remain in their sins and darkness and are headed toward judgment. Despite their claim to be friends and to be in fellowship with God, they are given no assurance of eternal life. Instead, they are allotted a portion with the foes!

Despite the presence of fauxs, true friends stand out as those who know, repent, walk, love, obey, practice righteousness, and persevere with Christ and His Church. This multifaceted understanding of faith is consistent throughout 1 John and reflects Jesus’ own teaching (John 13–17). When John says in 1 John 5:13, “these things I have written to you,” he means the faith presented from 1:5–5:12. This faith characterizes those who believe and are assured of eternal life. They are set in contrast to both those who completely reject God and those who say they are of God but are not.

A Call to Discernment

To conclude, distinguishing between friends, foes, and fauxs is as crucial in our day as the first century. If God’s people lack discernment, their faith and fellowship will be compromised by fauxs even as they seek to stand in truth and love against their foes. As we rest assured that Christ and His Church will prevail (Matt. 16:18), we recognize this victory is accomplished through the Church’s merciful discernment in the Spirit (cf. Matt. 18:15–35).

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/FCsWFB9HvYY

Our new neighbor, who would later tell my husband, “I don’t carry knives because I’d shank someone,” proceeded with his compliment: “She must be tough.”

Other than a decent glare when the situation calls for it and maybe a propensity to talk a big game, I’m not what anyone would call “tough.” During our first week in our new home—in which I celebrated my 22^nd birthday, our first wedding anniversary, and our first church service—my husband had to evict someone from our property for assault and I had a run in with a mentally ill man who told me his brother was buried in the basement of our building (confused, but not a lie—that’s a story for another day). I was in over my head from the moment we started in a life of ministry.

Covered in the Armor of God

The truth is, we aren’t called to be tough. The Christian life is about putting on the armor of God and taking shaking, trembling, weak-kneed steps in the direction our Savior calls. Not everyone will sit on the steps of an apartment building while drug addicted ex-cons talk about your shocking toughness, but every Christian will be asked to follow Jesus into things that feel uncomfortable, hard, and even unsafe. Our Lord didn’t live His earthly life in the company of safe people who made Him feel secure. He walked boldly into the homes of sinners, sat at their tables, and broke bread with them. Perhaps the most shocking part is that He enjoyed it. Those were His friends. Those were the ones He defended against attack. Those were the ones he chose to be with. I think He was onto something.

The Lord has called Christians to follow Him into hard places, not grudgingly as if we are doing the world a favor by stepping into things that make us uncomfortable. Not as if we are the hero of the story because we were willing to go to “those people”—but happily, because we see ourselves among the hurting, the beggars, and the broken. We know we have no strength on our own, but we know that the Lord has strength in abundance and He can supply all that we need.

There was a time in my life when pride would have said, “Look where I’ve been and what I’ve done with the Lord.” But no more.

The only hero in the story of the Great Commission is the Lord of glory whose right authority demands our lives.

The Christian life is not primarily about our safety. It isn’t primarily about us at all. Maybe the “unsafe” thing for you to do isn’t to uproot your life and move to the inner city or across the sea, but that doesn’t mean the Lord is fine with you living a life away from the pain of the world. While I think this will look different for different Christians in different contexts, I am confident of a few things:

1. God Works Through Unlikely People in Unlikely Places.

We see this all over Scripture and throughout history. Only the Lord would have planned for a prostitute to shelter the Israelite spies in Jericho and end up in the line of Christ. Only the Lord would have chosen lying Jacob, timid Moses, or adulterous David. Rather than running from the problems of this world—or the problem people of this world—Jesus enters in. In His earthly ministry, He ate with tax collectors, spoke with adulterous women, and spent time with children. This is His church growth strategy. He chooses the weak, foolish, and despised of this world so that no one can boast in His presence (1 Cor. 1:18–31).

2. Great Commission Work Isn’t Comfortable.

I doubt the stones which left Paul so injured that he was carried out of Lystra and presumed dead were very comfortable—and they certainly weren’t safe. Neither was Peter’s upside-down execution or John’s imprisonment. For millennia, God has been working through people who were uncomfortable with what the Great Commission was calling them to. Their eternal destiny secure, the older generations of our spiritual family were sent to engage in unsafe tasks that made God’s glory known among the nations. God’s plan for His people and the spread of His fame has not changed. He is using saints today to share the gospel in unsafe places. While His plan for your life might not include martyrdom, it absolutely does include discomfort (Matt. 10:24–25). Rejoice in that and see what He will do!

3. God Uses His Church in Hard Places.

We serve a good and sovereign God. He is able to save people through online sermons and radio programs. He works wonders when His people are faithful to proclaim His gospel, even at a distance. But God’s primary means of working in any locality is to establish His people there. He moves in the hearts of His people to plant us exactly where He wants us to be, and then He saves people through our proclamation of the gospel. From the beginning, God’s plan was that His people would be a light to the nations. Nothing has changed. So, while your Christ honoring Facebook post might be used by the Lord to do His work (and I’ve been shocked to see how much He uses social media and the internet!), the comfort of screen distance is not the normal means that the Lord uses to reach people. With the rise of technology and the distance it brings, the local church, in all of its eclectic beauty, shines as an even brighter light in the dark world.

God’s Strength Made Perfect in Our Weakness

We don’t have to be tough to go where the Lord is calling us. I promise, I have more in common with Ms. Frizzle than I do with Xena: Warrior Princess. Praise God that He doesn’t need me to be strong. In His upside-down kingdom, our weakness displays His strength. We can follow Jesus into things that are hard. We can walk toward people who are easier to run away from. Then we can stand back in amazement, because the Lord Jesus delights to do His work in exactly these places.

1. Jesus Says We Can

It is appropriate to see Jesus in the Old Testament because Jesus says we can. John 5 makes this exact point. In verses 30–47, Jesus is speaking to the Jews about having witnesses to the claims He is making. Jesus is claiming many amazing things and the Jewish people are wondering who can testify to the truth of these claims.

Jesus is more than happy to oblige this request, and He says that “the Father who sent me has himself borne witness about me” (5:37). The Jews want a witness to testify on Jesus’ behalf. Jesus responds and says that God has testified on his behalf. Yet where does God give credibility to his claims? Jesus tells us in verse 39, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me.” The Jews are wondering who can back up Jesus’ claims and Jesus responds by saying, “God backs up my claims in the Old Testament.”

What this means is that it is appropriate to see Jesus in the Old Testament because it is about Him. Jesus confirms this just a few verses later: “Do not think that I will accuse you to the Father. There is one who accuses you: Moses, on whom you have set your hope. For if you believed Moses, you would have believed me; for he wrote of me” (John 5:45–46). Moses—the author of Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy—wrote about Jesus. Jesus tells us that we can, and He makes it clear that we are doing so without undercutting authorial intent.

2. Jesus Shows We Can

Jesus does not only claim that the Old Testament is about Him, but He shows that it is about Him. He does this at the end of Luke’s Gospel. Two of Jesus’ disciples are walking to a village called Emmaus. As they are walking, they talk about what happened in Jerusalem with the death of Jesus and the reports of his resurrection. Suddenly, a stranger joins them on the road and asks what they are talking about.

They tell this stranger everything that has happened, and he responds in a very interesting way in Luke 24:25–27:

“O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself.

As it turns out this “stranger” was the resurrected Christ who shows them how Scripture points to Him. Jesus takes these men to the Old Testament and demonstrates how it is about Him. Consider how wonderful it would have been to experience this!

Practically, this means that we should have no issues with seeing Jesus in the Old Testament. We are simply following the example of our Lord and Savior. Clearly, Jesus thought it was appropriate to find Himself in “all the Scriptures” without threatening the original intent of the author. We are not misreading Scripture by seeing Jesus in the Old Testament, we are reading it the way it was intended to be read.

3. Jesus Reveals We Can

If the above is true, then how come so many people seem to miss seeing Jesus in the Old Testament altogether? For example, why do Jews today fail to see Jesus as the promised Messiah? Doesn’t this show that Jesus is not clearly portrayed in the Old Testament as we think he is? While differences in interpretation and tradition certainly shape how people read these texts, I would like to argue that, in cases like this, the reason people fail to see Him is not because He isn’t there—it is because they are blinded by sin.

The Apostle Paul makes this argument in 2 Corinthians 3. One of the things that always grieved Paul was that many of his fellow Jews did not believe in Jesus. Paul tells us that the reason for this is because “their minds were hardened” (3:14). They have a “veil” over their eyes. He writes, “For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted.” They are unable to see Jesus in the Old Testament because a spiritual veil remains over their eyes.

How then is this veil removed? Paul tells us, “But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed” (3:16). The theological term for this is illumination. When a person comes to trust in Jesus, the Holy Spirit removes this veil and allows them to understand the Scriptures fully and rightly. This explains why so many of our family and friends can read the Bible but still not believe. Trusting Scripture as God’s Word is a work of the Spirit which takes place when we come to trust in Christ. For this reason, we can see Jesus in the Old Testament when others don’t because Jesus reveals Himself by his Spirit to those who trust in Him.

We began this article with a question: Is it wrong to see Jesus in the Old Testament? Are we undercutting the intent of the Old Testament authors by seeing Jesus there? Are we reading Jesus into the Old Testament rather than discovering Him there? The answer to all of these questions is an emphatic no! We are completely justified in seeing Jesus in the Old Testament. Jesus tells us explicitly that the Old Testament is about Him. Likewise, He walked with his disciples and demonstrated to them how it points to Him. Lastly, He has revealed to us that it is about Him by removing the spiritual veil that prevents us from seeing Him there. We can see Jesus in the Old Testament knowing that we are not committing some grave hermeneutical error. As David Murray writes, “What’s the Old Testament all about? Jesus’ emphatic answer is ‘Me! Me! Me!’”[1]

[1] David Murray, Jesus On Every Page: 10 Simple Ways to Seek and Find Christ in the Old Testament (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2013), 18.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/EAe65IG-aww

If you asked a pastor or elder to describe how he tends the flock, he’d likely mention phone calls, coffee conversations, prayers, hospital visits, text messages—a lot of small, ordinary things.[1] The simplicity of these activities sometimes calls into question their effectiveness, and the repetition of doing them year after year can make us weary. After yet another visit, another phone call, another Scripture shared, what has changed? Are these things helping at all?

Often, caring for people spiritually is simply about helping them take the next little step. Usually there’s a larger goal that they (and you) want to reach—reconciliation, forgiveness, sobriety, restoration—but that can seem many years distant, maybe altogether unattainable. Yet we begin today with small steps like these:

• Urging someone who thinks they have lost their faith to start reading the Bible again—even just one psalm a day.
• Persuading the man enslaved by his addiction to pick up the phone and have the first conversation with an addiction counselor.
• Inviting a straying member to come to worship again, even though it has been years.
• Challenging a combative husband and wife to show each other one act of Christian love each day.

These are small things. The idea of rebuilding a marriage or restoring a wandering member can overwhelm us, but we simply need to start somewhere and trust in God to bless our efforts.

Encouragement from Zechariah

Centuries ago, Zechariah encouraged God’s people with this promise: “Whoever has despised the day of small things shall rejoice” (Zech. 4:10). The prophet was addressing Judah’s dismay over the insignificant progress that they had made in rebuilding the temple. The stones of the foundation had been laid, but there was so much more to do.

During Solomon’s golden age, God’s house had been magnificent. But then the Babylonians pillaged it and razed it to the ground. Decades later, the reconstruction could never hope to match the temple’s former grandeur—and the people knew it (Ezra 3:12). It seemed like an impossible task: rebuilding a house for God in a time when human and material resources were sorely lacking.

However, Zechariah reminds us that small beginnings should never be despised—not when God is working by His mighty Spirit. For God can always give great reason to rejoice again. With his help and strength, there’s no telling how blessed the outcome of “the day of small things” will be.

So it is for our work in the church. The most glorious, everlasting foundation has been laid, and that foundation is Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 3:11). If pastors are building on him, they need not despair. Christ can make something of this little gesture toward repentance. He can bless this new beginning. He can cause the smallest seed to bear abundant fruit. We believe that Christ can do it, and we plead with him to do so.

This makes another word from Zechariah so encouraging for those who serve the church: “Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts” (Zech. 4:6). It’s a profound reminder about whose help we need to be faithful and fruitful servants of Christ. In ministry, there are moments of proud self-reliance when we must hear this humbling truth: No matter how capable we are, the results aren’t up to us. But also in times of worry, in seasons of cynicism or weariness, we can gain great strength from this promise: the Spirit of the Lord of Hosts is still moving among His people.

Pastor, do not despise the day of small things, but always depend on the mighty Spirit of Christ.

[1] For more on this theme, see Reuben Bredenhof, The Ministry of Small Things: Wisdom for Those Who Serve the Church (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2026).

Our church’s demographic is largely influenced by the transient nature of city life, the seasons of college semesters and holiday breaks, and healthy members desiring to go to the nations. At the time of writing this, three separate families are in the evaluation process with three different mission organizations. For a small church plant simply needing stable membership, this is a significant proportion of our current membership.

The elders asked our church to pray for a stable core of senders. They did not discourage members who were seeking to be missionaries or ministry leaders in other local churches. Instead, they asked us to pray for those who were working and living in our city to find our church and commit to being senders. Oftentimes, missions resources and stories focus on the joys and adventures of being sent, but what about the joy of being a sender? Though there may be many reasons, I believe three rise to the top of the list.

1.   The Joy of Advancing Missions

Any local body of believers must answer the question: How will our specific church respond to the Great Commission? Local churches are outposts of God’s kingdom in a dark and hostile world. The light of the gospel housed in these outposts should shine outward as far as the horizons allow. If gospel light is to spread, the right people must be sent and the required resources must be allocated. The vital role senders play in the church—to both evaluate and resource those who are sent—cannot be overstated.

Living in close community with fellow believers in the local church will shape and mature disciples from within so that some may desire to be sent out as missionaries. Senders who stay have spent their time teaching, discipling, and evaluating the lives of these missionary candidates. Senders advise individuals or families considering the step into mission work. Missionaries who are qualified to be sent are members who have grown and matured in their faith through the ministry of senders.

Senders advance missions when they send the right people with the right resources. Much like Andrew Fuller and the Baptist Missionary Society, who “held the rope” for William Carey by financing his mission to India, senders who support their missionaries and see to it that they “lack nothing” (Titus 3:13) do an invaluable service to the mission of the gospel and the growth of Christ’s Church. Senders advance missional hopes and dreams by sending and servicing the voices of truth into the world.

2.   The Joy of Stewarding a Legacy

Senders who belong to churches that support missionaries have the privilege of participating in and observing gospel proclamation around the world for many years. The work of missions can often be tedious and slow, with little outward fruit to show for years of faithful service. Senders are there from the beginning of the story onward. They get to see the faithfulness of God and the power of the Spirit work in one location or in one missionary family’s ministry as it develops. Missionary children get to come home for college and be welcomed by senders who started the journey with them when they were young.

If a church has a reputation for sending missionaries, more missionaries will likely be sent in the future. If the church continues to train and resource the right people, senders will see many go. Over time, the process for training and sending may be made clearer, the support system made more efficient, and the budget more robust. Senders who stick around over long periods of time can speak seasoned words of wisdom about the process and how it may be improved and handed to the next generation of senders.

3.   The Joy of Witnessing Global Glory

Resolving to be a faithful sender does not mean that one does not get to witness missions firsthand. Senders often visit and support missionaries on the field through short-term trips. They also receive and care for missionaries who come home temporarily. Regularly sending missionaries expands the local church’s awareness of the global state of lostness and the glory of God in the gospel spreading to each corner of the earth.

Being a sender means participating in the same joy as your missionaries when people find Christ. Senders get to hear reports of the work they helped advance on the field, and often these senders get to participate in hands-on experiences on a regular basis.

Though one may be encouraged by searching for missionary stories or baptism statistics online, the joy of sharing in the work and results of locally sent missionaries cannot be replicated.

Are You Called to Be a Sender?

My local church is actively calling its members to consider whether God has called for them to stay as senders and to pray for more senders to join our membership. The glory of missions is all God’s, and both senders and goers have a part to play. Joy is shared because missions is a work of the unified body of Christ.

Are you called to be a sender? Consider how you might engage in the work of sending in your local church today. Maybe it looks like continuing the work of faithful attendance, hospitality, and discipleship. Maybe it requires finding a stable job and putting down roots somewhere. Not every Christian will cross an ocean, but every Christian and church must decide whether it will hold the rope. May your choice be the source of joyful prayers like Paul’s for the Philippians because of your partnership in the gospel (Phil. 1:4–5).

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/m2rlh1pCLrk

There are two key reasons why we should be continuously aware that the devil opposes us. First, we are told in Scripture to be vigilant: “Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8). Unless we are watchful and thinking clearly, we risk allowing the devil to attack us unprepared, making us easy prey.

Second, Scripture urges us to “resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (Jas. 4:7). Unless we are aware that we need to resist the devil, we might misinterpret spiritual opposition or some negative events in our lives as coming from God rather than recognizing them as attacks from the devil. We may also be prone to sin because we do not take seriously that the enemy is trying to destroy our lives.

Now that we understand why awareness of the devil’s hatred is important, let us now look at what the devil resents about us.

The Enemy Hates What We Have

The devil despises what we have been given through the sacrifice and resurrection of Christ. In Christ, God has given us His righteousness: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21). In Christ, God has given us His peace: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you” (John 14:27). In Christ, God has given us power, love, and a sound mind: “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind” (2 Tim. 1:7). In Christ, God gave Himself for us: “And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20).

The enemy hates these gifts and that they were given not because of what we have done, but because of what Christ did for us.

The Enemy Hates What We Radiate and Declare

Because of what we have been given in Christ, others benefit through our witness and example. Sometimes this is done directly: Our presence radiates God’s peace. Other times it is indirect: When you tell others about Christ, they receive His righteousness when they accept Him into their lives.

Because God’s Spirit lives in us, when we live by the Spirit, we display the fruits of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, [and] self-control” (Gal. 5:22). When people hear the gospel and believe in Christ, the Spirit produces these same fruits in their lives—and the devil hates our role in this. He would much rather see rudeness, unfaithfulness, and impatience in place of Christ’s love and goodness.

As the adage goes, you give what you have. And the devil does not like what we have. Because the “Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you” (Rom. 8:11), our words and example manifest Christ’s work. The enemy opposes this, but he cannot overcome Christ’s victorious work done in us and through us.

The Enemy Hates What We Believe

The devil also despises what we believe. He resents that we believe in God as the Creator of the world, infusing our lives with beauty, meaning, and purpose. He would much rather that we feel continually demoralized. He opposes our confidence in God’s promise: “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1). He would much rather that we believe we are continually condemned. He hates that we believe in a God that has “borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Isa. 53:4). He would much rather that we believe we must carry our griefs and sorrows on our own.

Victory Belongs to Christ

As important as it is to remember that God loves us, it is also important to remember that the devil hates us and is working against us. Ultimately, the devil’s mission is our ruin and destruction—“to steal and kill and destroy” (John 10:10). Yet he will not be able to ruin us, and instead, “Christ who lives in” us (Gal. 2:20) will ruin him even as He has secured our victory.

Remember, you are not fighting alone. The Spirit works in and through you to bless others, and Christ has already triumphed. Stand vigilant, resist the enemy, and rejoice in His victory which He has given us.

Jesus Rejected

Nazareth was a small town—the kind of town where everybody knows everybody. This familiarity will be the reason Jesus is rejected in Nazareth. These people know Jesus, His family, and social standing (Matt. 13:55–56). So they question His prowess, “When did Jesus become so smart?” “Where did He get his theological training?” “When did He become so learned?” They did not know—nor did they want to know—Jesus as the authoritative Messiah. As a result, Jesus left Nazareth having received no honor, even in his hometown (13:57–58).

John Rejected

Around the same time Jesus was rejected in Nazareth, Herod heard about Him and began to worry that Jesus was John the Baptist raised from the dead (14:2). Matthew takes this opportunity to recount John the Baptist’s death. John had been preaching against Herod’s unlawful marriage to Herodias, which got him arrested (14:4). His life ended when Herodias’ daughter asked for his head on a platter (14:8). The final moments of the great John the Baptist were a terrifying and gruesome death at the hands of a corrupt ruler. He preached that the Lord Jesus was the Lamb who takes away the sins of the world, but John would not get the opportunity to see the Lamb slain for sinners. Even in death, John pointed to Christ, preparing His path.

Rejection in the Ministry

Jesus and John were both rejected—one by His hometown, the other by the state. Most pastors may never face such extreme forms of rejection and persecution. Of course, some brothers over the course of their ministries have faced extraordinary persecution. Yet in one form or another, you and I will all face rejection in some form.

I do not say this to give you fuel to preach at troubling members who give you a hard time. And I don’t mean to present a hopeless, nihilistic view of ministry that shrugs and says, “You just need to get over it.” Ministry is hard. I don’t particularly enjoy being taken to the woodshed by members of my church. I do not like my ideas being shot down. I am terribly grieved by members who fall away in the same manner week after week.

I am not telling you simply to get over it, but I am telling you that what was true for our Lord is often true for His servants. We can take comfort knowing that our Lord and our ministry heroes, like John, have faced what we face—even persecution unto death. This is good news for us because suffering does not signal failure; it places us in the company of our Lord.

The Hope of the Resurrection

Herod regretted putting John the Baptist to death. He feared that Jesus of Nazareth was John the Baptist raised from the dead. But Herod was mistaken. Jesus is not merely John the Baptist—Jesus is a prophet like John. Yet He is more than just a prophet. Jesus has disciples like John, yet He is more than just a teacher. Jesus was a wanderer like John, yet He was more than just a wanderer. Jesus would even suffer a similar fate to John, condemned by earthly authorities. But unlike John, He would not remain in the grave.

That is the great irony of Herod’s predicament. Soon they would kill the Lord Jesus, place His body in a tomb, and seal it shut. Yet on the third day, His body would not be there. The carpenter’s son would rise from the dead as the vindication that His sacrifice for sinners had been accepted.

Pastors, the hope that steadies us in rejection is this: Jesus truly is the Lamb slain for our sins. We follow Him into ministry goals that fall short, sheep that bite us, and church events that do not go as planned because Jesus walked the road first. He calls us to walk paths He Himself has already cleared: to take up a cross like His, be rejected like Him, and die like Him. That isn’t just a call to rejection, but also resurrection. We will be rejected in ministry and resurrected in eternity because Christ has gone before us.

Enduring in Light of the Resurrection

Our call is to endure—not because we must simply grit our teeth and bear it, but because we look forward to the day when we will bear it no longer. Brothers, our lives and ministries have such great hope because even if the worst possible thing could happen to us, we await a more glorious life with our risen Christ. That is a message of gospel hope—the hope that we may indeed be rejected with Him, but we will surely be resurrected with Him. This gives us fuel for the hard days of ministry, because what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Rejection is not the final word. Resurrection is.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/J1SeRL8YkDE

So, what is going on here? Given that Paul clearly wants false teaching and teachers dealt with and also wants these pastors to avoid certain discourse and people, the question arises: What is Paul prohibiting here and what does it mean for pastors today?

Why Paul Commands Avoidance

Paul applies this virtue to two broad categories: words and people. Five of the seven times Paul commands Timothy and Titus to “avoid/having nothing to do with,” it is regarding “irreverent silly myths” (1 Tim. 4:7), “irreverent babble” (1 Tim. 6:20; 2 Tim. 2:16), “foolish [ignorant] controversies” (2 Tim. 2:23; Titus 3:9). In the two other instances, he tells them to avoid or have nothing to do with certain people (2 Tim. 3:5; Titus 3:10). But what is it they are not to engage in?

It is difficult to come up with any real difference between myths, babble, and controversies—especially when you consider that in each place Paul attaches a similar negative adjective such as “foolish,” “silly,” “irreverent,” “ignorant.” In each case, Paul has in mind a certain kind of speech that Timothy and Titus are not to engage in. The specifics of the speech might differ case by case, but they are all of a similar pointless, ungodly, and muddled nature which renders it unworthy of these pastors’ time and attention. But why does Paul want them to avoid it?

This point is clearer as Paul gives reasoning for his command of avoidance:

• 1 Timothy 4:7 – Avoid irreverent, silly myths because “godliness is of value in every way.”
• 1 Timothy 6:20–21 – Avoid irreverent babble and contradictions because “by professing it some have swerved from the faith.”
• 2 Timothy 2:23 – Avoid foolish ignorant controversies because “you know that they breed quarreling and the Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone.”
• 2 Timothy 3:5–7 – Avoid the ungodly people because “among them are those who creep into households and capture weak women, burdened by sins, and led astray by various passions, always learning and never able to arrive at a knowledge of the truth.”
• Titus 3:9 – Avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law “because they are unprofitable and worthless.”

• Titus 3:10 – Avoid those who stir up divisions; “knowing that such a person is warped and sinful; he is already condemned.”

• 2 Timothy 2:16–18 – Avoid irreverent babble because “it will lead people into more and more ungodliness, and their talk will spread like gangrene.”

In 2 Timothy 2:16–18, Paul gives the most insightful reasoning. Here we get the content of the “babble”: The resurrection has already happened. Paul wants Timothy to avoid this idea because it spreads like gangrene, leads “people into more and more ungodliness,” and upsets their faith. The principle is that sometimes the way to stop a disease from spreading is to avoid the disease rather than fight it head-on. It’s a virus rather than a cancer.

This is somewhat bewildering as we think about the pastor’s role to protect the flock from “fierce wolves” who will not “spare the flock” (Acts 20:28–29). It is also contrary to what most of us feel internally and would amount to what some would deem an abdication of our responsibility as leaders. So, what are pastors today supposed to take from these commands?

Biblical Avoidance

The outworking of this command will differ depending on the immediate context we pastor in. Here are six principles and suggestions that arise from this virtue that apply universally (in no particular order).

1. Avoiding Doesn’t Mean Passivity (2 Tim. 2:23, 25).

Given that Paul wants Timothy and Titus to engage certain false teaching and teachers, it seems that he has a kind of refusal to be “drawn in” in mind. The avoidance he commands does involve interaction and providing reasons, but it stops short of aggression, lashing out, fighting, “sinking to the level,” or becoming obsessed with defeating them. We must avoid without neglecting to protect.

2. Avoiding Means Giving Your Time to What Is Profitable.

In order to avoid, you need to know what does or does not need time and attention. Pastors should be devoted to cultivating godliness rather than tearing down the ungodliness of others. Rather than using most of our limited time to engage with “irreverent babble,” we ought to focus on worthwhile things (Phil. 4:8).

3. Avoiding Doesn’t Mean Being Uninformed.

The more informed you are, the more you are able to know what proportion of time to give or not give certain ideas. Pastors, by nature, are more informed than the flock. They understand doctrine, implications of certain ideas, when cultural issues shift from tier 3 to tier 2, and so on. Through training and the Spirit’s guidance, they discern what and when to avoid.

4. Gently and Firmly Remove Those Who Are Breeding Quarrels in the Church.

Warn them once, then twice, then remove them from the fellowship of your body, having nothing to do with them until they repent (Titus 3:10). Rather than tolerance, avoidance may look like an active decision to “cut out” infected tissue so that it does not spoil the rest of the body (2 Tim. 2:16–17).

5. Don’t Get Sucked into the Pseudo-World of Social Media.

Social media is truly an endless chasm of debating ideas and worldviews. Think of it as a video game server that is constantly live and filled with everyone from the entire world. You could literally spend all your time there. Don’t. Join the server in appropriate proportions and be strategic as to how you engage. Spend most of your time and energy logged in to the server of your immediate context.

6. For a Pastor to Do All of This, He Must Be Sober-Minded.

A quarrelsome man has lost his senses. He feels threatened and offended. He is annoyed and angry. He bites the bait of the fool. He can’t walk away or let the issue rest. He can’t simply say, “No more,” but has to win and get the upper hand. Everything is a “hill to die on” to him. So, in time, he will die on every hill, and it will be for the wrong things. Sober-mindedness allows a pastor to discern when engage, when to step back, and when to protect the flock without overacting.

In a day and culture where many assume the virtuous thing to do is always to enter fully into every debate and squabble, Paul’s pastoral virtue of avoidance forces us to ask ourselves, “Is this something I should be engaging with? If so, how, and to what extent?” Because pastoral malpractice is not only possible by cowardly holding back, but by impassioned rushing in as well.

Pastors will say this for a few reasons. First, they don’t want to sound patronizing: “I know you already know and agree with this!” Second, they’re feeling insecure about saying something that feels obvious, and they don’t want to seem “un-insightful.” So it has the effect, “Please don’t tune out! I know you’ve heard this before.” Third, they appropriately want the listeners to feel like insiders: “People like us believe and do things like this.”

We often use the phrase “the choir” not in reference to the literal choir (which most churches don’t have anymore), but in reference to the committed, regular attendees of the church who do, in effect, address one another in songs, hymns, and spiritual songs.

I’m sympathetic to all those reasons and have made use of similar pastoral contextualizations and caveats. However, they reveal a fatal assumption that pastors cannot buy into: that the majority of the regular church attendees agree with the Scriptures on most issues at both an intellectual and emotional level.

Instead, preachers must, and should, feel free to “preach to the choir” without shame or apology for three reasons: the choir needs preaching, the choir contains heretics, and the choir is often shaped by worldly ethics.

The Choir Needs Preaching

“Prone to wander, Lord I feel it / Prone to leave the God I love!” sings the choir. They know this, we know this. It isn’t patronizing to remind people of what they’ve already experienced but are prone to forget. This is both kind and realistic.

My favorite kind of Sundays are when I’m preaching. My second favorite kind of Sundays are when I’m not preaching. I get to sit under the heralded, treasured, exposited, and applied Word of God! Rarely do I “learn something new,” but every time I’m inspired to see Jesus as good, true, and beautiful, and am therefore moved to treasure him afresh and follow him more relentlessly. I need preaching like a worker bee needs pollen. When I’m in the choir, preach to me and the rest of us frail but committed saints!

The Choir Contains Heretics

There are two types of heretics: accidental and intentional. Most heretics in our churches are accidental heretics. They’ve got bad theology, don’t know the Scriptures, and are worldly in their assumptions about humanity, God, and the purpose of life.

The 2025 Ligonier and Lifeway report on the State of Theology of self-identified evangelicals should make pastors sweat:[1]

• 64% agreed that “everyone is born innocent in the eyes of God.”
• 53% agreed that “everyone sins a little, but most people are good by nature.”
• 53% agreed that “the Holy Spirit is a force, not a personal being.”
• 47% agreed that “God accepts the worship of all religions… including Islam.”

This is awesomely and impressively awful. These are the people who frequent our churches. They may not be your covenant members or core people in the church—although, they might be—but they’re in and around our local churches.

What makes this especially striking is that the same people who were surveyed agreed at 100% that “The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe.” They say they believe the Bible and want to submit to the Scriptures—they just need to be taught what the Bible says!

Basic biblical teaching about basic biblical concepts is needed more than ever. Preach to the choir!

The Choir Often Shaped by Worldly Ethics

Orthodoxy is important; orthopraxy is also important. The same 2025 report showed that evangelicals are weak in their moral and ethical reasoning:[2]

• 29% disagreed with “God created marriage to be between one man and one woman.”
• 54% agreed that “Christians should not allow their religious beliefs to influence their politics.”

In the 2024 Pew Religious Landscape Survey, we find even more troublesome tendencies:[3]

• 33% of evangelicals agreed that “abortion should be legal”
• 18% said that “acceptance of transgender people is a positive change”
• 36% said that “gays and lesbians should be allowed to marry”
• 36% said that “homosexuality should be accepted by society”

Yes, those statistics are better than every other group surveyed, but they are still not good. In a church with 1000 congregants, would a pastor be happy if 360 of them thought homosexuality and abortion were public goods? That choir needs to be preached to!

It is foolish and fatal to assume that the people who go to your church agree with the Bible on ethics. We cannot get so caught up with critiquing those outside of the church that we neglect to form those within in basic matters of ethics and fidelity.

Your people are shaped by many voices beyond your own. Some of that is excellent; we don’t aspire to be cult leaders. Some of that is terrible; there are a lot of godless fools on the internet who are bent on normalizing what is abnormal and unholy. We need to explicitly and proactively combat the chorus of voices that scream at our people through mainstream and social media.

Feed My Sheep, Connect the Dots

“I’ve been doing Bible Study Fellowship for thirty years, and I’ve never thought about that before.”

A sweet woman who is newer to my church told me this recently. She’s in the choir. Her heart’s in the right place. She just hadn’t learned basic evangelical theology and ethics yet, despite having read so much Bible. Bible study is good, but preaching that courageously and faithfully includes synthesis into doctrine and application in ethics is also necessary.

The sheep needs sound, holistic, and grace-saturated preaching—so let’s feed them.

[1] “The State of Theology,” accessed March 30, 2026, https://thestateoftheology.com/.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Gregory A. Smith et al., “Religion and Views on LGBTQ Issues and Abortion,” Pew Research Center, February 26, 2025, https://www.pewresearch.org/religion/2025/02/26/religion-and-views-on-lgbtq-issues-and-abortion/.

What Trueman says rings true. Life in a fallen world is full of hardship and struggle, and the normative Christian life is decidedly not one long triumphalist street party. The Bible is not shy about this. Life is often painful. Within this reality, what responsibility does the pastor bear in the liturgy and teaching of the church?

The fact is, pastor, your people will suffer. This is not breaking news. When and how they suffer, only the Lord in His sovereignty knows. While we will inevitably minister to people in the midst of suffering—and after suffering has already come—we must also prepare them for suffering beforehand.

In other words, we ought not wait for suffering to happen before teaching about it. We must equip our people ahead of time so that, when the inevitable struggle comes, they are not without language or categories for faith.

Mark Vroegop reflects on this well. Looking back on a particular season of grief for him and his wife, he writes, “I can now see that the missing element in our grief was a familiarity with lament—heartfelt and honest talking to God through the struggles of life.”[2]

We must be equipped—and equip our people—to know that lament is both appropriate and helpful when suffering comes.

Here are three ways pastors can, and should, incorporate lament into the life of the church so that God’s people have words when sorrow and suffering befall them.

1. Sing Songs of Lament

A brief listen to popular Christian radio or a glance at the CCLI Top 100 reveals that most songs sung on a given Lord’s Day in America are upbeat. Fair enough—the gospel brings joy and announces good news. And yet, as Trueman observes, the human condition remains profoundly broken.

It is not wrong to sing joyful songs. But if joy is all we sing, we risk offering a truncated view of life in a fallen world. Jesus’ own hymnbook was the Psalter, and its most frequent genre is lament.

Trueman again notes,

The psalms, the Bible’s own hymnbook, have almost entirely dropped from view in the contemporary Western evangelical scene. I am not certain about why this should be, but I have an instinctive feel that it has more than a little to do with the fact that a high proportion of the psalter is taken up with lamentation, with feeling sad, unhappy, tormented, and broken. In modern Western culture, these are simply not emotions which have much credibility: sure, people still feel these things, but to admit that they are a normal part of one’s everyday life is tantamount to admitting that one has failed in today’s health, wealth, and happiness society.[3]

Including songs of lament in the church’s liturgy does something profound: it gives people words to sing when life is hard. Those words sink deep, equipping believers to sing through pain rather than fall silent in it.

I pastor a local church, and we intentionally include songs of lament, particularly when we preach selected Psalms each summer. When my dear son Ambrose was stillborn this past July, I drew comfort from songs like Lord, From Sorrows Deep I Call, Psalm 13, and He Will Hold Me Fast. Songs of triumph did not match my sorrow—but songs of lament did. They gave me language to sing through tears and ministered to my soul.

Include songs of lament in your liturgy, and your people will have words to draw from even when it is hard to sing.

2. Teach and Preach Lament

A similar effect occurs when lament is taught and preached. As noted above, we preach the Psalms every summer and intentionally include Psalms of lament. There are also books like Job, Habakkuk, and Lamentations in which saints are honest about how they feel.

Teaching these texts shows your people that lament is not abnormal. It gives them words to pray when they find themselves in grief, confusion, or loss. It teaches them that honesty before God is not irreverence, and that the God who hears can handle our cries. When they lack words, they can open the Psalter and pray what God has already given them.

3. Point to Saints Who Have Suffered Honestly

Finally, pastors should point to saints—past and present—who have suffered with honesty and faith. This can be done through sermon illustrations, pastoral writing, social media posts, and other teaching. Show how mighty saints through the ages have suffered, written down their honest feelings, and handed their works down to us.

Consider Augustine writing in Confessions grieving the loss of his mother, John Calvin writing to a friend when his wife died, or Martin Luther lamenting the death of his beloved daughter. These saints show us that it is possible to be faithful and sorrowful, trusting and confused, joyful and mourning—all at once.

Your people will suffer. This is an unavoidable reality of life in a fallen world between the Advents. Let us be honest about that with them. Let us equip them beforehand with language for prayer and song, so that even in sorrow they can turn toward God with hope—looking ahead to the day when every sad thing comes untrue.

[1] Carl Trueman, “What Can Miserable Christians Sing?” IX Marks, https://www.9marks.org/article/what-can-miserable-christians-sing.

[2] Mark Vroegop, “Strong Churches Speak the Language of Lament,” The Gospel Coalition, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/strong-churches-lanuage-lament/.

[3] Carl Trueman, “What Can Miserable Christians Sing?” IX Marks, https://www.9marks.org/article/what-can-miserable-christians-sing.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/kO66Mpx1VO8

Jonah’s reaction may seem overreactive or even embarrassing. But before we turn him into a caricature, we should pause and ask an uncomfortable question: If we were in Jonah’s place, how would we respond?

When God removes what we cherish, how do we think about Him? What do we learn about who He is and who we are? While these questions could be answered in many ways, Scripture presses two lessons on us in moments like this.

1. God Is Greater Than the Gifts He Gives

The first lesson Scripture presses upon us is this: God Himself is infinitely greater than the gifts He graciously places in our lives. However precious those gifts may be, they are never meant to rival the Giver.

Job: Worship Without Conditions

Few figures embody this truth more clearly than Job. Scripture introduces him as “blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil” (Job 1:1). When Job loses all his wealth, his servants, and even his seven sons and three daughters, his response is astonishing: “The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21).

Job does not deny his grief; he tears his robe and shaves his head. Yet he recognizes a deeper reality: everything he possessed was a gift, not a right. God, the Giver, remained worthy of worship even when the gifts were removed.

Abraham: Loving God More Than the Promise

Abraham learned the same lesson through an even more painful test. In Genesis 22, God commands him to offer Isaac, his beloved son, the child of promise, as a sacrifice (Gen. 22:1).

Humanly speaking, Abraham could have protested. He could have questioned God’s goodness or consistency. Instead, he rose early and obeyed. When God finally stopped him, He declared, “…for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me” (Gen. 22:12).

The test was never about Isaac alone. It was about whether Abraham loved the gift more than the Giver. Mature faith learns that God is never merely a means to something else—He is the ultimate treasure, the ultimate gift.

A Personal Lesson in Loss

This truth became painfully real to me in August 2019. One late evening, I received one of the most devastating phone calls of my life from my dad: my oldest sister had been hospitalized with dengue fever, and doctors gave her only a two percent chance of survival. She was not only my sister but had also supported my education for seven years.

That night, my wife and I pleaded with God through tears, fully believing He could intervene. But God chose not to heal her permanently. Within the week, He took her home.

In that loss, God taught me a difficult but freeing truth: God owns what He gives. My sister belonged to Him before she was ever my sister. Accepting this did not erase the pain, but it brought clarity and freedom. There is a strange peace that comes when we stop pretending that God’s gifts are ours to control.

2. Our Reason for Righteousness Matters More Than the Reason for Our Suffering[1]

The second lesson may be even more searching: the Bible is often more concerned with why we worship God than with why we suffer.

The Foundational Question of Job

Many people approach the book of Job seeking answers to suffering. But Job never receives a full explanation for his pain. Instead, the book answers a different question: Why is Job righteous? Satan accuses Job of serving God only because God has blessed him. Remove the blessings, Satan argues, and Job’s faith will collapse. But Job proves him wrong again and again. Even when his health is destroyed and his wife urges him to curse God, Job responds: “Shall we receive good from God, and shall we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10).

Job’s righteousness is not transactional. He does not serve God for benefits. He serves God because God is God. He worships God because God is God.

We must be honest as we answer questions like: Why do we worship? Why do we fear God? Why do we give? Why do we obey? Why do we call ourselves followers of Christ? Is it because God is worthy, or because we expect something in return?

The prosperity gospel offers a dangerously shallow answer, promising health, wealth, and comfort as guarantees of faith. Scripture offers something far deeper and costlier: the call to take up the cross and follow Christ, even when obedience leads through suffering. God is everything—He is the greatest gift ever.

When God Is Enough

When God takes away what we love, He is not being cruel. He is revealing what or whom we truly treasure. The greatest gift God has ever given is not health, wealth, or security. The greatest gift is God Himself. He gave Himself to us in the incarnation, and He gave Himself fully on the cross. He is to be loved above all. He alone is worthy of worship.

If we have God, we ultimately have everything—even in loss. If we have everything, but not God, we have nothing.

Yes, we will grieve. Yes, we will be discouraged. But even in sorrow, faith teaches us to turn toward Him rather than away from Him. When we look to the cross and see the depth of God’s love, self-pity gives way to trust. God is greater than every gift He gives and He is enough—even when those gifts are taken away.

[1] I owe this reflection and understanding to John H. Walton, Job: The NIV Application First edition (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012).

Some were expected. A saint in her nineties whose Bible had nearly fallen apart before her body did. An older husband who slowly forgot names but never forgot the Lord’s Prayer. Or a sick child only twenty weeks in the womb. Those funerals carry tears, but also a quiet gratitude. You feel like you are escorting a pilgrim to the finish.

Others were not like that.

I have preached for a young man whose friends cannot delete his number from their phones. I have preached for parents who had to walk behind a child-sized casket. I have stood in a hospital room where there was no casket at all—only a silence heavier than wood could hold.

When my wife miscarried several times, we buried the tiny bodies next to our house and planted tulips above them. The spring flowers make us smile, but there is a peculiar grief in the makeshift burial of someone you never heard cry. A grief made sharper by the strange fact that your memories are not events, but expectations—no birthdays, no food fights, no prom dates. An unwrapped future.

I write this especially to younger pastors and seminarians, because no class will truly prepare you for what funerals will ask of you.

The Preparation and Weight of Every Funeral

In seminary, I had a pastoral ministry professor who taught the basics—funerals, weddings, counseling, administration, baptism. I remember thinking he had more to say than I could possibly absorb. He was excellent, and I still keep the notes from that class. Yet more than a decade later, I realized something else: Though he put me on a good trajectory, funerals would ask more of my heart and focus than any classroom could cover.

I think there’s a danger hidden within all the great advice you can receive from seasoned pastors. For pastors, in all of this, there is danger in repetition.

You will eventually know the routine. How long to preach, when to stand, where to sit, and how to dismiss the crowd. You will coordinate meals with the kitchen team, contact a deacon for flowers, arrange slides and music, and you will know the cemetery undertaker by name.

And if you are not careful, this repetition can produce callousness.

A friend of mine owns a funeral home in town. One day, I jokingly asked if he had been busy lately. He said he had directed eighteen funerals that month—but did not consider it busy. That stunned me. That is roughly two hundred funerals a year.

For you, it might be the fifth funeral this year. For the family, it’s chaos.

It is the worst day of their lives. The room you have stood in many times is completely new territory for them. They will probably not hear any of what is said. They will have watched the slideshow a hundred times while preparing it. They are exhausted, disoriented, and fragile.

You are not managing an event but shepherding wounded people. You may be the primary speaker, but you are mostly a presence.

Sometimes the most pastoral thing you will do is sit quietly. Sometimes it’s offering a short prayer. Sometimes it’s helping them choose hymns because they cannot think clearly. Sometimes it’s gently telling them it is okay not to have an open mic or an open casket.

Your calm and confidence become borrowed stability.

Even when the deceased is elderly, the loss is not small. A ninety-year-old mother can leave behind a sixty-five-year-old child who now feels like an orphan. Even when a baby dies in the womb, another baby may never come to the younger parents.

Every funeral is catastrophic for someone.

Why the Work Matters

I once heard a seasoned minister say he preferred funerals to weddings because people are more ready to hear the gospel when facing a casket than when looking at a bride. I understand what he meant and do not entirely disagree.

But I still hate funerals.

After nearly thirty-five funerals before personally turning forty years old, I would gladly never do another. I do not like leaving a hospital knowing that was my final conversation. I do not like late-night messages from a young couple saying they lost the baby. I do not like sitting in a cold, stale office holding my wife’s shaking hand while we wait for another ultrasound to hear “no heartbeat.”

I hate it—because death is not right.

Genesis 3 explains every cemetery. Hebrews 9 reminds us death is tied to judgment. John 11 shows us that Jesus wept at Lazarus’s tomb.

Yet this is exactly where pastors are called.

Part of our calling is to stand where people most need a shepherd. We are called to confidently stand at hospital bedsides, in living rooms, and beside open graves just as confidently as we stand behind the pulpit. We will say words no one else in the room knows how to say.

Basil Manly, Jr. wrote in a hymn, “we meet to part, but part to meet.” Funerals place a pastor in that doorway of grief—but always with the hope of reunion.

Preach to Everyone

A funeral is not merely therapeutic—it is truthful. The most loving thing you can do is speak honestly about death and clearly about Christ.

First Corinthians 15 must become familiar territory. Paul says the body is sown perishable and raised imperishable, sown in weakness and raised in power. Christianity does not merely promise that souls survive—it promises resurrection.

The empty tomb of Jesus is not only His victory, but the believer’s future. We hold this in faith now, trusting it will one day become sight.

The woman confined to a wheelchair for years—will she run? The middle-aged mother whose cancer reduced her to frailty—will she be restored with strength and color? The children my wife and I buried—will they know us?

Scripture gives certainty without exhaustive detail. Enough to anchor hope, not enough to eliminate faith.

Your task is not to solve every mystery. Your task is to point people to Christ.

The Honor Hidden Inside the Grief

You will never enjoy coordinating funerals. You will schedule volunteers, organize meals, contact the funeral home, arrange music, and confirm seating. Much of it will feel administrative.

But do not miss what you are actually doing. You are honoring the sending off of an image bearer.

For most of church history, Christians buried their own near the church’s building. Believers worshiped within sight of tombstones because they believed in bodily resurrection. Even mowing grass between graves becomes a quiet confession that death is temporary.

This is one of the most honorable acts of pastoral care you will ever perform.

You accompany someone to the final step of earthly discipleship and publicly entrust them to the promises of Christ. You help a family grieve with hope. You stand where theology becomes tangible—you get to be the messenger of that message.

The Grief Comes with a Destination

Paul says Christians grieve differently. Our tears have a destination. Because Christ has been raised, death is not a wall but a used doorway. One day God will wipe away these tears—not metaphorically, but personally.

And even with all this, I am still waiting for another funeral.

My dad has stage four cancer.

My parents are members of my church. It amazes me that I get to be my dad’s final pastor, since he was the first to tell me about Christ’s gospel. Though I dread the impending day of his funeral, I am grateful to speak when it comes.

I will walk my mom down the aisle and seat my wife and my sister’s family. Then I will go to the pulpit and preach—an honor I never expected a decade ago, but a delight I know my dad has as the day approaches. Because we all know that moment, and all of grief’s moments, are temporary.

Because Jesus Christ died, was buried, and rose again, I can stand beside any grave and say something true. I’ll never forget my seminary professor’s words: “When you’re at that pulpit, at that funeral, you point at that casket and say to everyone ‘this is not the end for this person.’”

Remember that every funeral is a loss for someone and a sacred moment entrusted to you. You are caring for souls at their most fragile moment and commending a believer to the promises of God.

Few acts in ministry are heavier. Few feel more holy.

And one day, faith will become sight.

Until then, we testify—one funeral at a time.

Too often, maturing as a Christian is framed as a process to be completed: steps to finish, stages to pass through, or courses to graduate from. You might even see this baked into a church’s tagline—something like, “Belong, Worship, Grow, Go.” In reality, Christian growth doesn’t work that way. Growing as a disciple of Jesus is less like completing a program and more like adopting a healthy lifestyle—a set of ordinary practices embraced together and sustained over time. No one ever “finishes” healthy eating or “graduates” from exercise. Physical health is cultivated through ordinary habits practiced consistently: eating right, exercising regularly, and resting appropriately. Progress is usually slow and sustained by making healthy choices over and over again.

Christian growth follows a similar pattern. Believers don’t complete worship and move on to discipleship, or finish discipleship before beginning service. From the beginning of the Christian life, believers are called to practice all the ordinary means of grace—imperfectly but persistently—within the life of the local church. Elders best serve the flock when they frame growing in Christ as a sustainable rhythm of faithfulness, not a sequence of milestones.

Elders as Trainers, Not Performers

A good personal trainer does not exercise for someone else. If the trainer did all the work, it would defeat the purpose. Instead, the trainer defines what health looks like, identifies the most beneficial exercises, models them as an example to be emulated, and creates an environment where consistency is possible. The trainer walks you over to a machine, shows you how to use it correctly, and spots you as you exercise.

Similarly, pastors do not produce maturity in others. Growth is the work of the Spirit. But elders are responsible to clearly define spiritual health and organize church life around the practices God uses to produce it. Elders must carefully consider the “diet” and “training” the church regularly receives—not in terms of novelty, but in terms of sufficiency, clarity, and achievability.

Paul tells the church in Ephesus that they have been given leaders to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ (Eph. 4:12). Pastors exist to show the church exactly how that work is to be done. Congregations need pastors who will not only preach clear application in their sermons but design activities and ministries around the ordinary practices that facilitate growth, inviting church members to begin doing these disciplines alongside them.

The Ordinary Diet of the Church

Healthy bodies require regular nourishment. Christians likewise require steady spiritual nourishment, and the primary place this occurs is corporate worship.

The gathered church—where God’s Word is preached, prayers are offered, ordinances observed, and members mutually exhort one another—is not an optional supplement to the Christian life. It is the central meal. Everything else in the church’s discipleship strategy should support, reinforce, and flow from this weekly gathering. Elders serve the church well when corporate worship is presented not as one activity among many, but as the non-negotiable center of Christian health.

Training That Reinforces Health

Nutrition alone is not enough for physical health; bodies are strengthened through use. In the same way, the Christian life involves practices that exercise faith, love, endurance, and obedience, including:

• One-on-one discipleship
• Sacrificial giving
• Evangelism
• Sunday school
• Men’s and women’s ministry

None of these practices are meant to be pursued in isolation or mastered and left behind. Together, they form a pattern of ordinary obedience that strengthens believers’ spiritual muscles over time. Elders function like trainers: not inventing new exercises, but directing members toward the practices that actually promote growth and helping them engage those practices rightly. This often requires pastors to lead by example, practicing these disciplines in their own lives.

Creating an Environment for Consistency

One of the most important contributions a trainer makes is not motivation but structure—scheduled sessions, appropriate expectations, and a sustainable pace.

Similarly, elders serve the church not merely by exhorting faithfulness, but by creating clear and achievable opportunities for members to practice the Christian life together. When expectations are unclear, many believers quietly disengage—not out of defiance, but out of uncertainty. Responsible pastors create structures that facilitate obvious means of obedience.

Elders help remove uncertainty by answering practical questions:

• Where will I be taught the Word?
• How can I serve?
• How do I learn to disciple others?
• What does generosity look like here?
• How can I get started in evangelism?

When these avenues are clear, growth becomes ordinary rather than exceptional.

Practical steps include meeting with godly men in your church to read the Bible together, modeling evangelism through organized outreach, and teaching members how to pray through public settings like a prayer service. Pastors provide entry points and handholding when needed so members can begin practicing challenging disciplines confidently.

Consistency Over Intensity

Good trainers continually remind people that health comes from consistency, not intensity. Overexertion often leads to burnout, which leads to neglect, which leads to weakness. Sustainable progress comes from showing up again and again. Elders must reinforce the same truth in the church. Faithfulness is not measured by spiritual overachievement or by prioritizing special events, but by steady participation in the ordinary life of the body.

Serving the Church by Ordering Its Life

Elders do not best serve the church by merely telling people to grow. Ministry does not happen merely by instructing members to minister. Pastors serve the church by ordering its life according to healthy practices, week after week, year after year, and practically showing members how to do the work.

When corporate worship is central, ordinary disciplines are clearly taught, expectations are simple and obvious, and opportunities are readily accessible, believers are freed to pursue maturity without confusion or despair. Christian discipleship is not a program to complete, but a life to be lived. Elders, like specialized trainers, help the church adopt patterns of faithfulness that can be sustained for the long haul, trusting that God, in His time, will give the growth.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/1Hpf4OxoRxY

The Bible teaches clearly that we are to seek God through the Spirit (1 Cor. 12:3; Matt. 6:33), live in obedience (John 14:15), and run to Jesus as we fix our focus on Him (Heb. 12:1–2). The Spirit also helps and strengthens us during this process (Rom. 8:26). In this sense, our faith must be living and active (Heb. 4:12), yet faith is not about how well we are following or pursuing God. At its core, faith isn’t even about “holding on” to God.

Learning from Asaph in Psalm 73

One of my most treasured passages is Psalm 73. In the first part of the psalm, Asaph looks at the prosperity of the wicked and became jealous and angry. He isn’t just angry at the wicked—he’s angry at God Himself: “When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you” (vv. 21–22).

For a moment, Asaph thought his pursuit of holiness was in vain (v. 13). He was embittered and brutish toward God. In his moral failing and distorted view of God, he certainly felt distant from Him. Yet in his repentance, he gives one of the richest confessions of God’s faithfulness to His people: “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will receive me to glory” (vv. 23–24).

Notice verse 23: in the midst of failure, Asaph reminds himself of his hope—not in his works, feelings, or ability to hold on, but in the fact that God is holding on to him. Asaph’s faith was trusting that God held his hand, guided him with His counsel, and that He will one day bring him into His glory.

Faith Is Being Held, Not Just Holding

In John 10:28–29, Jesus tells us that no one can snatch us out of His hand. God Himself will keep us from stumbling (Jude 24). What an incredible reminder: Faith is not about how strong we can hold on to God—it’s believing that God is holding on to us, even when we are weakest.

We must guard against putting our faith in our own works or feelings. Our works will fail us and our feelings will betray us. But when we place our faith in God and His Word, trusting that He saves those who call on Him (Rom. 10:13) and works in us as we pursue Him (Phil. 2:12–13), we can echo Asaph’s song of hope: “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Ps. 73:25–26).

Faith is not clinging harder; faith is trusting the hand that will never let go.

However, in my tradition—the Southern Baptist tradition—there is no single prescribed model for church structure. Some churches are led by staff, deacons, committees, leadership teams, councils, influential families, single elders, or a plurality of elders.

I want to highlight several reasons why utilizing a plurality of elders in congregational leadership creates a healthy environment for disciple-making to flourish. While historical and biblical support for plural eldership in SBC churches is available elsewhere, my focus here is practical: how disciple-making and plural eldership naturally support one another.

1. Remind Pastors of Their First Calling

Many pastors remember two callings: their call to come to Christ in salvation and their calling into ministry. For some, these callings happened in a moment. For others, their calling comes over a season. A call to ministry often connects closely with a desire to preach—to share God’s Word in a way they have seen and experienced themselves. They want to share the good news of Jesus with a church, youth group, circle of kids, or anyone who will listen! This desire is good and necessary for ministers in the local church.

But I have often seen pastors let their call to preach supersede their first calling—to intentionally make disciples (Matt. 28:18–20; 2 Tim. 2:2). Preaching serves disciple making, but it alone cannot disciple others deeply. In Matthew 4, Jesus tells His disciples that if they follow Him, they will “fish for men.” Preaching is part of that process, but Jesus’ preparation in Matthew 28 shows that intentional, personal investment is essential.

When a church utilizes a plurality of elders, the pastors understand that more elders will not emerge through preaching alone. They must discern men who might aspire to be an elder, invest in developing them, and deploy them into ministry and leadership in the church. In doing so, pastors are reminded of their calling to fish for men, build relationships, and intentionally invest in others, helping form them into the image of Christ.

2. Develop Pastors and Ministers

Many churches today struggle to find qualified candidates to fill ministry positions. The days of posting a position online and receiving hundreds of resumes are largely gone. Many churches have been looking for pastoral roles to lead their church for quite some time. This will likely continue to be a problem. One solution many churches have utilized is the development of their own staff and pastors from within their own church. Sometimes this is an intentional process where the current pastor or ministry leader has created a development and succession plan. In other situations, the lack of a leader brings forth the emergence of a new leader within the church.

A plurality of elders supports this by creating a continual process of leadership development. Men exposed to the office of elder have a role to aspire to and a framework for growth. As current elders discern who aspires to lead, they can invest time and energy to develop their character and competencies. Over time, some of these men may feel called to vocational ministry.

In this way, a church with a plurality of elders creates a pipeline of leaders—both for its own ministries and potentially for other churches in need of qualified pastors.

3. Set Disciple-Making Expectations

The pulpit safeguards theological fidelity. The preaching ministry of a church has been likened to a rudder that directs the church. As the pulpit goes, so goes the church. In the same way, as the elders go, so goes the church. A plurality of elders demonstrates what it looks like to walk with Jesus and help others follow Him.

If each elder assumes the responsibility of discerning and developing new elders, the church will have a disciple-making culture. While not every believer is charged with developing new elders, every believer is commissioned to make disciples (Matt. 28:18–20). As elders in your church disciple and develop men to serve as elders, the church becomes a place where intentional disciple-making becomes the norm, not the exception.

These three elements—reminding pastors of their first calling, developing leaders, and setting disciple-making expectations—can happen in churches without a plurality of elders. But a healthy plural-elder structure supports intentional disciple-making rather than stifling it. It encourages pastors to invest in disciples, provides a pipeline for leadership development, and lays a foundation for a church culture where disciple-making thrives.

Much of the Lord’s work happens quietly. Long before a sermon is preached or a song is sung, someone has already prepared a place for God’s people to gather. Spaces are opened, checked, repaired, and made ready—often with little recognition, yet with a faithfulness that reflects the heart of Christ Himself.

Over the last decade, the phrase facility stewardship has become a helpful way to describe this calling. The term encourages churches to view the care of their buildings not as maintenance alone, but as an expression of discipleship and responsibility before God. This framing reminds church leaders that tending to the physical spaces of ministry is, in its own way, spiritual work.

Paul writes, “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men…” (Col. 3:23–24). These words remind us that God assigns dignity to every act done unto Him, especially the ones that receive the least attention. When service is hidden, it is tempting to believe it matters less, but Scripture consistently teaches the opposite: unseen work is honorable in the Lord’s sight.

Facility stewardship is one of those quiet callings. Early mornings, last-minute fixes, interruptions, and diligence in small tasks all help create an environment where the Word can be heard and God’s people can be strengthened. Even when others overlook this service, the Lord does not. He sees, He remembers, and He delights in the faithfulness of His servants.

Your labor may not always be mentioned, but it is never wasted. God uses it to uphold the ministry of His church in ways that are often unnoticed yet deeply significant in His Kingdom.

A Biblical Vision of Stewardship

Scripture speaks often about stewardship—not merely in terms of resources, but of the heart. Jesus teaches, “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much…” (Luke 16:10). This simple statement reframes the way we think about ordinary work. Faithfulness is not measured by visibility or scale, but by obedience. God cares about the posture of the servant long before He cares about the size of the task.

In the life of the church, work that feels small often becomes the work God uses to accomplish much: a tightened bolt, a cleared hallway, a prepared classroom, a repaired leak. These may not draw attention, yet they protect the ministry unfolding within those walls. They allow others to gather without distraction, hear the Word without hindrance, and worship in an environment marked by care.

The call to stewardship is not primarily about efficiency or orderliness—it’s about offering our labor to the Lord with a willing heart. The God who entrusted His people to shepherds and teachers has also entrusted His spaces to those who maintain them. Both are acts of service meant to glorify Him.

When facility stewards carry out their responsibilities with quiet diligence, they reflect the character of a faithful God—One who pays attention to details, cares for His people, and works in ways often unseen. In that sense, facility work is not peripheral to the church’s mission; it is part of the faithful stewardship God calls His people to embody.

Honoring God Through Excellence

Paul writes, “And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him” (Col. 3:17).

This verse carries particular weight for those whose work is quiet, repetitive, or physically demanding. Excellence is not a pursuit of perfection—Scripture never calls us to flawless performance or endless striving. Instead, excellence in the biblical sense is about orientation: doing what we do “in the name of the Lord Jesus” with a heart that desires to honor Him. It is offering our labor not to impress others, but to express gratitude to the One who redeemed us.

There is something profoundly Christlike about serving in ways few will ever notice. Jesus Himself spent much of His earthly life doing ordinary work with extraordinary faithfulness. He hammered nails, carried beams, shaped wood, and worked with His hands long before He preached a sermon. His everyday labor was no less holy than His public ministry because He did all of it in obedience to His Father.

So it is with facility stewards. Excellence becomes a form of worship when done with gratitude. Tasks like aligning chairs, maintaining equipment, preparing rooms, or tending to maintenance needs may seem small—but each act is a quiet way of saying, “Lord, this is for You.”

When that mindset governs our work, the mundane becomes meaningful, the small becomes sacred, and the unseen becomes a testimony of devotion. In a world that often measures value by visibility, this kind of excellence stands out—not because it demands attention, but because it reflects the character of God: ordered, intentional, faithful, and full of care.

Your excellence in the hidden corners of the church is not wasted. It is worship.

Going Deeper in Your Service

For many who serve in facility roles, devotional rhythms can be hard to maintain. Early mornings, unexpected needs, and long stretches of quiet work often leave little room for reflection. Yet week after week, the Lord continues to shape His people through small reminders of His presence: a Scripture that lingers, a word of encouragement from a colleague, or a moment of calm in a demanding day.

Some facility stewards find it helpful to follow a devotional pattern designed specifically for the kind of work they do—something simple, Scripture-centered, and written with their daily responsibilities in mind. One resource for this is the Facility Management Devotional, a year-long collection of short weekly reflections. Its themes—quiet faithfulness, perseverance, gratitude, excellence, and joy in unseen service—echo those shared here.

Encouragement for the Week Ahead

Wherever the Lord has placed you, and whatever responsibilities await in the coming days, remember: your service is never small in His sight. The tasks you complete, the problems you solve, the care you give to the church’s physical spaces—all of it becomes an offering when done unto Christ.

Excellence is not merely about the quality of the work, but the posture of the heart. It is the quiet decision, made again and again, to serve with gratitude rather than resignation, diligence rather than indifference, and hope rather than weariness. When that becomes difficult, as it often does, the Lord is faithful to strengthen His people.

May you enter this week with renewed confidence that God delights in the faithfulness of His servants. May your work be shaped by the joy of knowing He is near. And may every unseen act of care become another way of saying, with your hands as much as your voice, “Lord, this is for You.”

Here are four common barriers new leaders must overcome to lead effectively and faithfully:

1. Lack of Personal Discipline

New leaders are often energized by big ideas, but they underestimate the small habits that sustain quality leadership. Without personal discipline—managing time wisely, sticking to commitments, and cultivating spiritual habits—a leader’s influence erodes quickly. While discipline isn’t glamorous, it is foundational in the life of any Christian leader. The daily disciplines of prayer, planning, preparation, and follow-through build the credibility and character required for long-term leadership success.

2. Perpetual People-Pleasing

The desire to be liked is natural—especially for new leaders trying to earn trust and build relational capital with those they lead. But when pleasing people becomes more important than pleasing God, compromise sets in. People-pleasing leads to watered-down convictions, delayed decisions, and burnout. New leaders must learn to speak truth in love, risk disapproval, and prioritize obedience to Christ over applause from the crowd. Leadership isn’t about being popular—it’s about being faithful.

3. Chronic Conflict-Avoidance

Conflict is an inevitable feature of leadership—there is simply no way to avoid it. Often, however, new leaders assume that avoiding conflict at all costs will preserve peace. The opposite is usually true. Ignoring necessary conflict breeds resentment, gossip, and division among the people you lead. Healthy leadership means addressing issues early and directly, with humility and grace. Leadership requires the courage to have hard conversations, pursue reconciliation, and lead others through discomfort for the sake of unity and growth.

4. Debilitating Indecisiveness

Uncertainty is part of leadership, but indecisiveness stalls progress. New leaders often feel paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong choice, but indecision is a decision in itself—and usually the worst one. Leaders grow by making the best decisions they can with the information they have, then adjusting as needed, trusting God with the outcomes. Leadership requires prayerful courage, not perfect clarity.

Every leader faces internal barriers, but new leaders often feel them most acutely. By naming these four challenges—lack of discipline, people-pleasing, conflict-avoidance, and indecision—leaders can confront them with intentionality and grow into the faithful, courageous leaders God is calling them to be, relying on His strength and guidance along the way.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/SQmm-h7IABg

Amplify Your Quiet Time

Years ago, I was introduced to the concept of a “quiet time.” The phrase never fully resonated with me. I come from a Christian tradition that considers volume a pleasing and acceptable offering to the Lord. The phrase “quiet time” made me wonder: Is reverence chained to silence? Has someone implicitly decided that noise is unholy?

What about the documented moments of Jesus with the Father? Jesus withdrew and prayed, which we can assume was not quiet (Luke 5:16; Mark 1:35). Consider the garden of Gethsemane and how the disciples could hear Jesus’ sorrowful prayers to the Father (Matt. 26:36–46). The writer of Hebrews indicates Jesus was noisy and reverent (Heb. 5:7). Jesus had some loud times with the Father, so we can, too.

After you feasted on the Word, what if you allowed unrefined, sincere praise to rise from your lips? When the pen retreats from the page of your journal, what if you made a joyful noise to the Lord? I encourage you to sing not only in public worship but also in your private time with the Lord. Sing the songs often reserved for the shower. Let your songs resound in your hallways. Keep a melody in your heart and don’t be afraid to let others hear it.

Melodies in the Maladies

In this life, woes and worries plague us until the Savior returns. Too often, we resort to our own will, ways, and wisdom to fix our afflictions. But what if we followed the path of the psalmists and sang in our affliction?

David sang in Psalm 3 when thousands of people were pursuing his life. He sang when he felt forgotten by God (Ps. 13). After grievous sin and deep repentance, he gave us Psalm 51—a song born from brokenness. Scripture shows us again and again that God’s people sing and pray in dire situations.

What about you? Does work place a heavy yoke on your shoulders? Has the brokenness of those you serve burdened your soul? What about your children who constantly remind you of their sinful nature? What do you do when death and disease continue to greet you at the house of the Lord?

I encourage you to sing. Singing is not a magical incantation that removes the woes and worries, but it does lift the soul. In my apartment, the hymns didn’t remove the pandemic, but they quieted the pandemonium within.

Keep Singing

“I have a bone to pick with you,” she said while towering over me. I looked up at her in anticipation of being reprimanded. She continued by saying, “I can’t hear you sing anymore.”

On a typical Sunday morning, she sat two rows in front of us and once told me she enjoyed hearing me sing. That day, she urged me to sing louder. After our conversation, my mind drifted to Ephesians 5:19 and the call to address one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. We are meant to hear one another sing.

What if, on Sunday morning, we put away the worshipful whispers and hushed hymns? Beloved, shout to the Lord so the words of your unrefined praise might encourage the souls of those around you. Turn the volume up so those watching might ask about what keeps you singing. Let the joyful noise echo through the sanctuary, because God is worthy of it all. Brothers and sisters, we need to sing more—and sing louder.

As the final days of pregnancy have dragged on, I’ve looked at Matthew 6:34 many times. What was first intended to comfort me has instead made me ponder how it can be comforting that tomorrow has anxieties of its own.

For the last three weeks, I’ve found myself praying, “Lord, I know tomorrow will be anxious for itself. I know tomorrow contains its own anxieties. How is that supposed to comfort me? I’m becoming anxious about anxiousness!” I’m certain this is not how Christ intended His comforting words about God’s tender care to be interpreted. That’s likely why Scripture is meant to be read in context, not in small snippets. What I intended to encourage me about fighting anxiety actually took on the opposite meaning when isolated from the rest of Jesus’ words.

If we go back just a few verses, Jesus tells His disciples all the things they do not need to fear regarding their livelihood—food, drink, clothing, shelter. He points out the fruitlessness of anxiety and how it produces nothing but internal turmoil. We cannot add anything to our lives through anxiousness. His point wasn’t that we should be anxious today and anxious tomorrow for tomorrow. His point is that we shouldn’t be anxious at all. In fact, He says in verse 25, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life…”

But Jesus doesn’t tell us not to worry merely because it’s fruitless—He tells us not to worry because we have a loving Father who cares for our needs, a Father who is trustworthy.

My hyper-focus on the pain to come or the fears surrounding the birthing process is rooted in a lack of faith. Just like Jesus’ listeners worried about what they would eat or drink, I worry about my ability to endure what tomorrow holds. From a human perspective, their fears were legitimate: What would they eat? Where would they sleep? You may resonate with the fears I hold. How will labor go? Will my baby be okay? You likely have your own questions about tomorrow’s anxieties as well.

Despite these concerns, Jesus calls us to observe the simplest of creatures: the lilies of the field and the birds of the air. These creatures are not made in God’s image. God cares for them—feeding, clothing, and loving them—yet He tells us we are far more valuable than any plant or animal. The question we are really asking is not what we will eat or drink, but something far greater: Will God take care of me? According to Jesus, the answer is a resounding yes.

Christ knows our tendency to worry about things we cannot control. Eating and drinking are essential, and Jesus isn’t saying they are insignificant. He’s pointing us to the fact that God will provide for our every need. A few verses later, He emphasizes that we are not fleeting like the birds and lilies, but eternal beings. Whether we eat or drink—or even pass from this life—the Lord never leaves or forsakes us (Heb. 13:5–6). Even when physical needs are unmet, our infinite value to God means all our spiritual needs have been provided for through Christ. We have no reason to worry. God is in control and loves us abundantly, far beyond our physical needs.

So why are today’s troubles sufficient? Because the Lord holds our entire lives in His hands. He does not leave us to toil fruitlessly in fear of what’s to come. He has promised eternity to believers through the death of His Son. Tomorrow’s concerns are for the Lord, not for us.

As I read Matthew 6:34 on my wall today—and hope to during the birth of my baby—I will look to my Father, who has graciously provided all things (Rom. 8:31–33). Today is sufficient for its own trouble. Tomorrow will have enough trouble for itself. But I have no reason to fear, because the Lord has me secure.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/9MQq32y2Byc

Just a few verses later Paul seems to double down on his singular focus on the cross: “I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2). This seems rather exclusive. Earlier Paul even insists that “the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing” (1 Cor. 1:18). Again, he doesn’t include the resurrection. To the Christians in Galatia, Paul likewise says that the cross is an “offense” (Gal. 5:11) and that he boasts only in the cross (6:14). To believers in Rome, Ephesus, and Colossae, Paul writes that we have been reconciled to God through Jesus’s death on the cross (Rom. 5:10; Eph. 2:16; Col. 1:22). He says that “we have redemption through his blood ” (Eph. 1:7) and that Jesus has made “peace by the blood of his cross” (Col. 1:20). It seems like Paul emphasizes the cross more than the resurrection.

Nevertheless, a more careful look at these texts reveals that Paul saw the cross and resurrection as intricately connected. The cross without the resurrection would be like a bird without wings, for the resurrection discloses the significance of the cross. When Paul spoke of one, he implied the other. Only when we see to the other side of the cross does it begin to make sense (see John 12:16). The New Testament never speaks of the crucifixion as an isolated event but speaks of it from the perspective of the victory of Jesus’s life. Jesus’s death and resurrection have a cosmic and scriptural unity.

This can be seen in that the Scriptures describe both Jesus’s death and resurrection as not only being “raised up” but also being “glorified” (for the latter, see John 12:23; 13:31). Additionally, although Paul claims that he only preaches Christ crucified (1 Cor. 1:23), in the next verse he affirms that Christ is “the power of God” (1 Cor. 1:24). Paul elsewhere says that Jesus “was declared to be the Son of God in power . . . by his resurrection from the dead” (Rom. 1:4). The cross wasn’t the power of God until it was transformed by the resurrection.

When Paul says that he knew nothing but Christ crucified, this was shorthand for the complete work of Christ more generally. A little later in the same letter, Paul indicates that he imparts a secret and hidden wisdom of God (1 Cor. 2:7).

This wisdom of God implies that Jesus’s death was not final. It was through Jesus’s death that he was able to offer life. Paul even concludes the letter with his longest reflection on the resurrection in all his correspondences (1 Cor. 15). Paul knew nothing but Christ crucified, but paradoxically this included his resurrection from the dead.

Reconciliation and peace come through the cross and the resurrection. Paul proclaims that “Jesus died and rose again” (1 Thess. 4:14). Paul’s gospel can be summarized in this way: “Christ died for our sins . . . he was buried . . . he was raised on the third day” and “he appeared” to many (1 Cor. 15:3–8). Paul affirms that these realities—all of them—are of “first importance” (1 Cor. 15:3). These four realities are really two realities with confirmations. Jesus died, and this is proved by his burial. Jesus was raised, and this is proved by his appearance to many witnesses.

As one author has said, Christian theology has mostly shined a spotlight on the cross with occasional light aimed toward the incarnation. What we need instead is to shine a floodlight on the total event of Christ’s life, including the resurrection.^[2] It is not that the resurrection is more important than the incarnation or the cross; rather, the incarnation and the cross are incomplete without the resurrection. Apart from the resurrection, the death of Christ is void of power.

A gospel message that does not include the resurrection of Jesus from the dead is no gospel at all. To quote another author, “At the heart of Christianity is a cross; and one of the most significant things about it is that it is an empty cross.”^[3]

Raised for Our Justification

Most people connect the term justification to Jesus’s death. Justification is a law court term communicating that someone has been declared to be in the right. If you are guilty, a judge can declare you to be righteous. By the judge’s declaration, you are no longer under a sentence, nor must you pay a penalty. Paul, surprisingly, connects our justification not only to the cross but also to Jesus’s resurrection. In Romans 4:25 Paul says that Jesus “was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.” The text can be visualized like this:

Jesus was delivered for our trespasses 

Jesus was raised for our justification 

According to Paul, Jesus’s resurrection is for justification. We have to think carefully about what for means here. It could mean that Jesus was raised because we had been justified. In this case, justification should be tied more closely to the cross and not the resurrection. Some translations even say we have been “raised to life because we were now justified” (NEB marginal note). This is possible but not likely.

I think it means that Jesus was raised in order that we might be justified. In this case, Jesus’s resurrection was not only his vindication but also the vindication of all who believe in him. Jesus was handed over to death because all people have trespassed the law of God, but Jesus was raised to life so that people might be declared righteous. The goal of salvation was not simply to save us from sin but to unite our humanity to God. John Calvin puts the point well: “Through his death, sin was wiped out and death extinguished; through his resurrection, righteousness was restored and life raised up.”[4]

Martyn Lloyd-Jones agrees: “If it is not a fact that Christ literally rose from the grave, then you are still guilty before God. Your punishment has not been borne, your sins have not been dealt with, you are yet in your sins. It matters that much: without the resurrection you have no standing at all.”[5]

In short, Christ’s resurrection is both “part of the atonement as well as being the seal of what happened on the cross.”[6] The resurrection is the decisive deed of justification, the actualization of what is declared.[7] Jesus’s death alone does not secure our justification. He had to be raised from the dead to declare us righteous. God justifies believers by not counting our sins against us and by clothing us with life and righteousness. Spurgeon rightly says,

When our Lord rose from the dead, it was certified that the righteousness,  which he came to work out, was finished. For what remained to be done?  All was accomplished, and therefore he went up unto his Father’s side. Is  he toiling there to finish a half-accomplished enterprise? Nay, “This man,  after he had offered one sacrifice for sins for ever, sat down on the right  hand of God.” Our righteousness is a finished one, for Jesus quits the place of humiliation, and rises to his reward.[8]

Our justification hangs as much on the resurrection as it does on the cross. The resurrection guarantees our salvation and, therefore, is good.

Editors Note: Content taken from The Hope of the Resurrection by Patrick Schreiner ©2026. Used by permission of Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers, Wheaton, Il 60187, www.crossway.org.

[1] Adrian Warnock, Raised with Christ: How the Resurrection Changes Everything (Crossway, 2009), 71–72.

[2] Theodore B. Clark, Saved by His Life (Macmillan, 1959), 70. Quoted in Thomas S. Kepler, The Meaning and Mystery of the Resurrection (Association Press, 1963), 84.

[3] Michael Green in his preface to George Eldon Ladd, I Believe in the Resurrection of Jesus (Hodder and Stoughton, 1975), 5.

[4] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, ed. John T. McNeill, trans. Ford Lewis Battles (Westminster, 1960), 1:521 (2.16.13).

[5] Martyn Lloyd Jones, The Assurance of Our Salvation (Crossway, 2000), 492.

[6] W. Ross Hastings, The Resurrection of Jesus Christ: Exploring Its Theological Significance and Ongoing Relevance (Baker Academic,2022), 25.

[7] Thomas F. Torrance, Space, Time and Resurrection (T&T Clark, 2019), 62.

[8] Charles Haddon Spurgeon, “The Power of His Resurrection,” April 21, 1889, The Spurgeon Center, https://www.spurgeon.org/.

This may be you right now—slapped about in the middle of a storm.

Splashed, soaked, tossed, beaten, clinging with cold fingers to the boat while the violent turbulence makes us sick and our strength wanes.

When this is your experience, what can you do? How do you anchor your heart when the storm rages? How do you keep hold of hope so that you might find your way through?

It has brought me comfort to return again and again to the storm stories of the Bible. I encourage you to do the same and to keep your Bible open there for as long as this season lasts. In these passages, God gives us both comfort for our hearts and guidance for our endurance.

Comfort from the Storm Stories in the Gospels

In three of the Gospels, God inspired the record of storm stories through the Apostles (Matt. 8:23–27; 14:22–33; Mark 4:35–41; Luke 8:22–25). These accounts are a gift to us. They orient us in the raging waves and give language to our experience.

We read of an occasion when Jesus sent His disciples into a storm (Matt. 14:22–23). Sometimes storms are aroused by Satan (Job 1). Sometimes they are provoked by our sin (Jonah 1). But sometimes storms come because, in His wisdom, Jesus sends our boat straight into them.

We also discover that Jesus did not help His disciples immediately (Matt. 14:24–25; Luke 8:23). In fact, in the thrice-repeated storm stories, He was asleep. Yet at the end of every storm account, Jesus demonstrates His authority over the waves. He speaks, and they obey.

Lastly, Jesus reveals what His disciples lacked in the storm: faith. They needed greater trust in Him. Though Jesus sent them into the storm, His intent was not to destroy them. Though He slept through the storm, He was not indifferent to their struggle. Though He desired the strengthening of their faith, He did not condemn them for their fear.

Even knowing these truths, when the storm crashes over us, aren’t we just like the disciples—crying through wind and spray, “Jesus, wake up!” Or asking with trembling hearts, “Teacher, don’t you care?” (Mark 4:38).

Despite how absent God’s presence may feel in suffering, we know we have a God who never sleeps and is always with us (Ps. 121:4; Matt. 28:20). We cling to that truth—but how do we do so when we are disoriented and worn down?

Because these truths are easy to forget in the middle of suffering, God gives us practical ways to cling to them.

1. Keep Reading Your Bible

This may sound obvious, but those most battered by the storm often feel their faith fraying. When God seems distant, opening the Scriptures is itself an act of faith.

Even if your heart feels cold, your mind unfocused, or the words fall flat, open the Book. Turn the page the next morning. Read a paragraph before bed. Read the next psalm. God’s Word is “alive and powerful,” and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we have hope (Heb. 4:12; Rom. 15:4).

2. Keep Crying Out to God in Prayer

No, you may not be able to pray for all 18 of your neighbors this season—and that’s okay. Your prayers may feel broken, inarticulate, or reduced to tears.

Persevere in prayer, friend. Run to Jesus with your words and heart. Tell Him everything. Draw near (Jas. 4:8). Cry in faith. Call His name in the rain.

Pray the kind of prayers Scripture invites—honest, simple, without insecurity (Matt. 6:7; Ps. 62:8). And when you finish, thank God for this promise: that the Holy Spirit and Jesus Himself are interceding for you (Rom. 8:26–27, 34). You are not praying alone.

3. Keep Resting in Jesus’ Love for You

Remember the disciples’ question when Jesus slept in the storm: “Don’t you care?” (Mark 4:38). When relief does not come, when the body weakens under pressure, when the waves surge like an oncoming army and no “Peace, be still” is heard, another voice may whisper: God must not love you. He isn’t hearing you. How could He let this happen?

When that voice joins your suffering, look to the cross. And over the roar of the wind you can say, “That cross is proof enough to me that I am loved.”

Storms do not determine whether God loves us. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8). “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us” (1 John 3:16).

Jesus—the one who first said “Peace, be still” to terrified disciples—allowed the storm of God’s wrath to fall fully upon Himself so that you would never face it. He did this so that even in your darkest days, you might know the love of God.

God loves you. He has proven it in the giving of His Son (John 3:16). Jesus loves you and has proven it in the giving of His life (1 John 3:16). And your Captain is committed to sailing with you until you reach the shores of heaven.

Find Strength in the Love of Christ

If you are storm-tossed right now, I hope this has given you a place to go in God’s Word—the storm stories. I hope you are encouraged to keep trusting the Lord by opening the Scriptures, crying out in prayer, and resting in the love he has for you.

As you do, may your heart grow strong in the confidence that nothing—not even the distress of your present suffering—can separate you from the love of Christ (Rom. 8:38–39).

For all the bad associated with this church, and for all the heartache they caused Paul, this was one of the most loved churches in the New Testament. Why?

The answer is simple: Paul never gave up on them. He continued to write, wrestle, confront, restore, and lead them toward obedience. As much personal pain as they caused him—slandering his name, denouncing his reputation, questioning his ministry, accusing him of wrongdoing (2 Cor. 10–12)—he didn’t quit. Rather, he poured out effort to instruct them in righteousness.

The Power of Christlike Love

Paul does not seem to regret this effort. At the end of 2 Corinthians, after a lengthy section defending himself, he writes these remarkable words: “I will most gladly spend and be spent for your souls” (12:15).

This is an emphatic statement. Paul’s desire for them is such that he will exhaust himself—depleting all his energy and strength—for the sake of their souls.

What motivates him? There are two inseparable answers. He offers himself this way because of the Lord and because of love. The Lord has called him to this ministry, so he will obey (Acts 18:9–10). Because of his love for Christ, he is filled with love for them (1 Cor. 1:4–9). He loves them like Christ loves us—like a father loves a prodigal child (Luke 15:11–24).

Paul’s love was not abstract—it was personal. He knew these people. These were the people God called him to reach. He spent a year and six months (Acts 18:11) with them because God came to him in a vision saying, “Do not be afraid, but go on speaking and do not be silent, for I am with you, and no one will attack you to harm you, for I have many in this city who are my people” (18:9–10). Paul had been rejected by the Jews and was determined to go to the Gentiles with the gospel (18:6). In the face of this rejection, the Corinthians emerge as the people God had destined to hear the gospel. Because they received that gospel, they were worth the pain and toil of correction as well as repeated visits (2 Cor. 12:14) and the multiple letters. God loves them, so Paul loves them.

This example shows the power of Christ’s love when it takes up residence in our hearts. We are enabled to sincerely love others even when they are messy, broken, sinful, and personally offensive. We love them here and now for who they are, not for who they might be. We hope they will grow in the Lord and we work toward that end, but we love them no matter what.

God Uses Imperfect Churches to Refine Us

Recently I read an encouraging article written by Bobby Jamieson in 2014 entitled Nobody Gets the Church They Want. Jamieson reminded readers that every church is broken and falls short of its goals. Every church is full of people still in the middle of their sanctification. Therefore, our relationships are challenging, our ministries are limited, and our holiness is a slow progression. Jamieson went on to say that perhaps God has us in these challenging situations for our own spiritual growth. Maybe God is teaching us patience, compassion, resolve, service, and kindness. Maybe God is refining our faith, teaching us to love like Christ—even teaching us to fight against our own pride. Too often we think we are in broken churches to make them better, but maybe God is using them to make us holy. Either way, God has us in imperfect churches because we are imperfect people, and these situations have a way of sanctifying both parties to be more like Christ.

So, what do we do when we find ourselves in difficult churches? Do we leave in search of a better church? That journey would never end. Do we wreak havoc and blow everything up, hoping the church will put itself back together better? That is both harmful and ungodly.

Instead, let me suggest that we live in the church with the same attitude Paul had toward the Corinthians: to gladly spend and be spent for their souls.

What if we had experienced the love of Christ with such potent force that we could learn to love even the most broken church? Surely Christ’s love enables us to sincerely love those who have different political views, have committed sexual immorality, caused divisions, struggle with drunkenness, mistreat the church, or are biblically illiterate and unrefined—to love the ones He loves. Surely Christ is giving us eyes to see the people of a local congregation as the ones for whom He died (1 Cor. 8:11). What if this radical kind of love was the key to showing off the glory, power, and beauty of the gospel of Jesus Christ (John 13:34–35)?

Such love does not absolve accountability. It is because of love that Paul encouraged the Corinthians to practice church discipline (1 Cor. 5:1–13). He is not advocating that the church, in the name of love, put up with those who continue in unrepentant sin. Instead, he is saying that as long as they struggle and repent, we should bear with our brothers and sisters by spending ourselves for their well-being (Matt. 18:21–22).

It is easy to complain, get angry, give up, or believe things will be better somewhere else. It is easy to accuse, despise, and ignore those who are difficult to deal with. Paul could have given up on the Corinthians because they were exhausting. Christ could have given up on us because we are worse than exhausting! But Paul, and even more so our Lord Jesus, spent themselves for the good of God’s people.

When Leaving Is Necessary

Unfortunately, not every church is worth staying in. Some compromise the gospel. Some twist God’s Word. Some permit all sorts of ungodliness. Sometimes the best course of action is to leave a church, to shake the dust off your garments (Acts 18:6). That is what led Paul to preach to the Corinthians in the first place.

But if a congregation, though woefully imperfect and chaotically organized, still loves Jesus, guards the gospel, and reveres God’s Word, then there is more than enough reason to stay, spend, and be spent for the sake of Christ.

What is Biblical Theology?

Though definitions vary, biblical theology is the discipline of understanding how an author of Scripture has purposed a particular text to be understood in light of the whole Bible. More than simply seeking to understand the meaning of individual words, biblical theology pays attention to motifs, literary devices, and structure. One of the great benefits of a unified canon is that Scripture interprets Scripture, so if you’re paying close attention, the biblical authors may tell you how to interpret something being said or taking place.

With this being said, let’s look at an example from Luke’s Gospel, focusing on how biblical theology might impact a sermon you would preach on Sunday.

An Example from Luke the Physician

“Jesus Feeds the Five Thousand,” “Peter Confesses Jesus as the Christ,” and “Take Up Your Cross and Follow Jesus” may be three distinct sermon titles—after all, they are the ESV’s subheadings in Luke 9. Certainly, it is not wrong to preach these texts independently. However, Luke has woven these episodes together so that the disciples might gain a clearer picture of who Jesus is and what it means to be His disciple.

Jesus Feeds the Five Thousand

In Luke 9:10–17 Jesus feeds the multitudes in a “desolate place.” Paying attention to language here, Luke uses the Greek noun for “wilderness” to describe the setting. Elsewhere in Luke, John the Baptist is said to be in the “wilderness” until his public appearance (1:80). Luke 4:1 then also records that Jesus was led by the Spirit into the “wilderness.”

Thus, in the context of the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus is located in a “wilderness” setting and performs a miracle by feeding the multitudes. This invites a question: Where else have we seen the multitudes fed in the wilderness? Exodus 16 recounts Israel’s hunger and God’s provision of bread from heaven. Luke uses the wilderness setting and Jesus’ miraculous feeding to highlight Jesus’ divine power to provide for the multitudes—just as God did in Exodus 16.

Peter Confesses Jesus as the Christ

The narrative seems to jump to the next pericope in Luke 9:18–22. Jesus is alone praying. Upon returning, Jesus asks his disciples, “But who do you say that I am?” This question marks the crescendo of a theme that has been building in Luke’s Gospel: Who is Jesus? This question appears repeatedly (Luke 4:36; 5:21; 7:20; 7:49; 8:25; 9:9).

Peter, as the spokesman, answers, “The Christ of God.” Immediately after this confession, Jesus refers to Himself as “the Son of Man,” calling to mind Daniel 7:13–14, where the Son of Man receives an everlasting kingdom and dominion. While Peter may understand Jesus has been sent from God to deliver His people, Jesus clarifies that it will not come as he expects. Jesus capitalizes on the Son of Man motif to explain that He must suffer, be rejected, be killed, and be raised. Jesus’s teaching slowly straightens out Peter and the disciples’ understanding of who He is.

Take Up Your Cross and Follow Jesus

In the final episode, Jesus does not allow His disciples to stand on the sidelines and watch, but they too must take part in Jesus’ path of suffering. Luke strategically knits together the previous passages to arrive at this moment, revealing both the magnitude of who Jesus is and the cost of discipleship.

Who is Jesus? He is not simply like Moses, who witnessed bread coming down from heaven in Exodus 16. Jesus is the Bread who has come down from heaven (John 6). He is not like Elisha, who relied on God to feed a hundred men (2 Kgs. 4:43–44). Jesus is the divine Son of God who Himself works miracles. He is not like the other kings of the world. He is the King who establishes His rule and reign by dying for the sinners and rising again to life.

In Luke 9:23–27, the disciples must recognize that there is none like Jesus. To follow Him is to cast off the present evil age and to long for His kingdom, “when he comes in his glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.”

Recovering Biblical Theology in the Pulpit

Careful attention to how Luke has composed these episodes reveals his intended meaning: to display the greatness of Jesus and to clarify what it means to be His disciple. Rightly bringing themes, motifs, and literary devices into the pulpit exposes God’s people to the grandeur of the whole canon, strengthens assurance in the unified story of redemption, and grounds the preacher in what is truly present in the text.

Pastors, we do not have to reinvent the text, be abstract, or function as content creators. We must be miners—excavating the text, its themes, constructions, placement, wording, and literary devices—so that when Sunday comes, we enter the pulpit confident not in ourselves, but in the unfolding wisdom of God revealed in His Word. Biblical theology helps us do just that.

The Danger of Passion Without Prudence

Church life cycles are akin to the development of a child. There is an infant stage, and then they hit a teenager stage where they have big vision but very little brain development to support it. Churches want to have great worship gatherings, build a kids ministry, do mercy ministry, and reach the lost—and it’s beautiful. I have served on staff at a church like this. Yet they don’t have the wisdom to accomplish what they actually want to accomplish. Their passion has exceeded their prudence.

And what are the consequences of this?

• We overpromise and underdeliver, and our people learn not to count on us.
• We spend money we don’t have because we haven’t built financial systems to keep track of our resources.
• We have staff who micromanage everything because delegation is inefficient.
• We lose great staff members because they are tired of leading through dopamine rushes.
• We lose members because they begin to see that Sunday mornings aren’t enough.

How many of our church plants or replants are in buildings with stories related to poor leadership decisions or financial negligence?

The early church had this same problem. Luke says, “Now in these days when the disciples were increasing in number, a complaint by the Hellenists arose against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution” (Acts 6:1).

What happened? The church was growing, but needs were being neglected. Jethro’s charge to Moses was similar: “Moses’ father-in-law said to him, ‘What you are doing is not good. You and the people with you will certainly wear yourselves out, for the thing is too heavy for you. You are not able to do it alone.… So it will be easier for you, and they will bear the burden with you. If you do this, God will direct you, you will be able to endure, and all this people also will go to their place in peace’” (Exod. 18:17–18, 22–23).

Passion and white-knuckling our way through ministry can be fun, but it is often not wise. Like the church in early Acts and Moses coming out of Egypt, we often do what we think is best in our own eyes, not what is best for the whole.

A Prudent Way Forward

So how can churches be more prudent?

1. Adopt Plurality

Wisdom often comes in a multitude of counselors. I am not arguing for a particular model of elders, deacons, or committees—I would just urge you toward bringing multiple people to the table of decisions who are marked by wisdom. Who are the people in your congregation that others go to for advice? Find them, buy them coffee, and ask for wisdom.

2. Audit Procedures

Take an examination of how you do things. Review your bylaws and personnel procedures to ensure you are practicing in accordance with them and with governing laws. How does your church make decisions? Does it welcome wisdom? Is it ethical? Write down the last 10 decisions your church has had to make and review how you could have used wisdom better and sought more input—input that generates more trust.

3. Slow Down

Passion often wants to go fast. Fast is fun. Yet, what is more inspiring: a teenage date to the movies, or a 75-year anniversary date at 4:00 p.m. at Cracker Barrel? In our zeal to reach people, we often go so fast that we miss what truly matters—and in particular, we miss people. Going slow in your processes and decision-making over the long haul is likely the most efficient and effective way to go about it. You will have fewer mistakes to clean up, fewer follow-up meetings, and less guilt about who you’ve hurt. So in your next big decision, ask: What if we prayed, sought wisdom, and considered this over the next three months?

4. Seek Help

My best volunteers in youth ministry were the ones who were burdened to help students avoid the same folly they had gone after. These youth workers would step into students’ lives and say, “Hey, I’ve been there—it doesn’t work out the way you think it will.” There are pastors and churches that have traveled the road ahead of you who can say the same thing. Find a local pastor in your region and ask, “Can I pick your brain about some of the things going on in my church?” They often say yes.

The greatest fruit of youth ministry was seeing your students grow older. They go to college, get jobs, get married, have a family, and create beautiful things. It wasn’t because their passion died—it’s because they learned wisdom. Like teenagers, our passion for God’s glory shouldn’t die—we just need to aim that zeal through the conduit of prudence. If our churches do this, we do more than pop up for a few years; we establish a faithful presence that lasts decades.

Where would my family and I go to church?

For about a decade, I served on church staff, so this decision was simply part of the job—a choice made through an interview process. When you work vocationally at a church, you don’t wake up on Sundays wondering which faith family you’ll join for worship that morning.

In the last year, I transitioned from local church vocational ministry to state convention ministry. My current role serves churches all over the state, so as long as we attend a Southern Baptist church within a reasonable distance of the convention office, we could live and attend church anywhere we wanted. Suddenly, we were faced with finding a new physical home for our family and a new spiritual home—a new faith family.

Options for housing were endless and included multiple considerations: availability, price, safety of the neighborhood, school district, distance to work, shopping, grocery stores, restaurants, number of bedrooms and bathrooms, garage, yard size—the list could go on and on. Buying a house can be overwhelming. One way to simplify the process is by choosing your church before choosing your address.

This might sound unusual, but for many believers, the decision is made in reverse: you pick a house first, then hope there’s a good church nearby. Some other criteria are used to choose a neighborhood, and then you hope you stumble onto the right faith community afterward.

Instead of asking, “Where will I live?” we should ask, “Who will be my community?” Believers are given a community in the spiritual brothers and sisters found in their local church. To be connected to that community in a healthy way, it needs to be local.

Having folks over for a meal, hosting a small group in your living room, leading a Bible study around your kitchen table, or responding quickly to a crisis is much harder when your commute to church is longer than your commute to work or school. The community—this family—that God graciously gives us in the local church is for our formation. Along with His Word and Spirit, His people are the elements that shape us into the image of His Son.

If this community plays a major role in our formation into Christlikeness, choosing where we go to church is of utmost importance. It’s a choice that can guide where we buy a house, which college to attend, or when to take a new job.

Followers of Jesus were never meant to follow alone. Discipleship does not happen in isolation. The depth of connection in your community is directly linked to your proximity to them. Before you pick a house, pick a church.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/f88-2wtx7uM

I tried to calculate what lay ahead.

One emergency surgery. One tumor removed, along with part of my colon. An ileostomy bag. Six months of chemotherapy. An ileostomy reversal. Five weeks of recovery. Another month and a half of radiation. When I added it all together, the result came to nearly three-fourths of 2025.

I ran those numbers one night while trying to fall asleep. Instead of resting, I drifted into worry. My mind raced ahead, tallying the burdens those nearly 275 days might carry—every procedure, each side effect, all the needles. I was attempting to shoulder tomorrow’s troubles all at once. Eventually, I remembered to pray, and the Lord graciously brought to mind verses I have often shared with others in seasons of suffering: “Blessed be the Lord who daily bears us up. God is our salvation. Our God is a God of salvation, and to God, the Lord, belong deliverances from death.” (Ps. 68:19–20)

Grace for One Day at a Time

The Lord daily bears us up—day by day, one day at a time.

Jesus said it this way: “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt. 6:34). Each day’s shelves are stocked with plenty of burdens, Jesus says. No wonder I couldn’t sleep.

Through Psalm 68:19, Jesus has ministered to me with a precious truth, “Leave tomorrow’s burdens there; I will bear you up under them tomorrow. Leave every procedure, each side effect, and all those needles right where they are, on their own appointed days. I will bear you up when we get to them. I bear you up under your real burdens when they show up in real time, no matter what or how many they are.”

“But Jesus,” I argue, “there are so many real burdens coming my way. Will Your bearing match my burdens?”

In Hebrew, the first line of Psalm 68:20 literally reads, “Our God is a God of salvations.” Salvations, plural. Our God has an endless supply of salvations. The next line says it another way: “To God, the Lord, belong deliverances from death.” While there are many ways to die, both literally and figuratively, our God has many more ways of escape. He has stocked His shelves with an endless supply of rescues from daily deaths.

That’s how Jesus can bear us up daily. The storehouses of His heart are fuller of salvations and deliverances than our days are filled with troubles and deaths. Jesus said it this way to the suffering apostle Paul: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).

It’s enough. Whatever this day’s burden, thorn, loss, or pain, the strong grace of the resurrected Jesus is enough. And as the weeping prophet Jeremiah experienced, “His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning” (Lam. 3:22–23). Your troubles can never drain Jesus dry. His supply of mercy and grace is fresh every morning and sufficient for every day.

Proof of His Burden-Bearing

So how can I know that Jesus is qualified to bear me up daily? The proof of His promise is found both in His character and in the burden He has already carried.

Psalm 68 crescendos with praise for the character of this burden-bearing God: “Awesome is God from his sanctuary; the God of Israel—he is the one who gives power and strength to his people. Blessed be God!” (Ps. 68:35). The Apostle Paul later quotes verse 18 and reveals that Psalm 68 ultimately points to Jesus (see Eph. 4:8). Jesus is the conquering King who has defeated Satan, sin, and death and now reigns in power with His Father by His Spirit. Our Jesus is the one who “gives power and strength to His people” to bear them up day by day.

Our hope in each day’s suffering is this: Jesus already carried our heaviest burdens, so He is uniquely qualified to bear us up under our comparatively “light and momentary afflictions” today (2 Cor. 4:17).

Jesus was grieved, stricken, smitten, afflicted, pierced, crushed, chastised, and wounded—all to bear us up under our greatest burden: the soul-crushing weight of guilt and the penalty of the never-ending death our sin deserves (Isa. 53:4–5). On the cross, Jesus bore the heaviest burden, the sharpest thorn, and the most excruciating relational loss there is to bear. His blood-stained cross and empty tomb are the proof we need to trust that He has already taken our greatest burden upon Himself.

If Jesus already bore our biggest burden, how will He not also be with us to bear us up under every smaller burden we will ever carry (see Rom. 8:31–32)? In his final sermon, Charles Spurgeon put it this way: “The heaviest end of the cross is ever on His shoulders. If He bids us carry a burden, He carries it also.”

Day by Day with Jesus

My heart’s desire is to turn each page of my appointed cancer calendar one day at a time—one procedure, side effect, and needle at a time—and to lean on Jesus as He bears me up under each one. “Day by day with Jesus” has become my prayer.

What can you do today when tomorrow’s worries weigh heavy on your heart? I have found the following practices helpful:

• Bless Jesus for being your burden-bearing God. That is what Psalm 68:19 calls us to do. Praying this prayer has sustained me: “Jesus, thank You for freeing me from my biggest burden by bearing the guilt of my sin on the cross. I trust that You will bear me up under every smaller burden I carry.”
• Ask Jesus to bear you up today: “Jesus, please bear me up through today’s pains, procedures, or problems.”
• Reach out to your community of burden-bearers. Be willing to be weak and ask for help and prayer. God’s people will answer His call to “bear one another’s burdens” (Gal. 6:2). Their practical love will be an in-the-flesh reminder of the tender, strong, daily love of Jesus.

Day by day with Jesus—this is how the One who cares for us promises to carry us.

We can see this kind of boldness on full display in his first letter to the Corinthians, where Paul publicly rebuked the church for their tolerance of “a man… sleeping with his father’s wife” (1 Cor. 5:1). Paul knew that this kind of flagrant sexual immorality must not be tolerated in the church, so he pressed past any awkwardness he may have felt while writing about sex. He had to call the church to holiness.

Unfortunately, many pastors today feel uncomfortable preaching about sex from the pulpit. We often hide behind pseudo-modesty, unwilling to shepherd this area of their lives while our churches have “sexual immorality among [them]” (1 Cor. 5:1).

I’m not saying that pastors should have a lustful urge to preach graphic, nearly-pornographic sermons, but I am saying that we need to stop shrinking back from declaring the whole counsel of God.

The task couldn’t be more urgent:

• More than half of practicing Christians use porn regularly.[1] In your church on any given Sunday, half of the men and women present have likely sought out pornography.
• More than half of Christian marriages have one-sided sex. One survey of 22,000 Christian marriages found that while 95% of husbands say they reached a climax in most sexual encounters with their wives, only 48% of women said they reached a climax most of the time. In other words, in a majority of Christian marriages, husbands aren’t serving their wives in bed.[2]

In a world as sexually confused as ours, we can’t leave our people like sheep without a shepherd. We need to speak up.

Here are five guidelines to consider how to address sex from the pulpit.

1. Preach Biblically About Sex

The Bible talks about sex. A lot.

From Adam and Eve’s “naked and unashamed” life in the Garden, the exhortations to become so intoxicated with your wife that you end up “lost in her love forever” (Prov. 5:19), Paul’s candor about sex and sexual sin mentioned above, and so many other examples—the Bible doesn’t shy away from speaking about sex.

You don’t need to force the topic of sex into a Scripture passage where it isn’t, but you do need to be ready when sex comes up to address it in an intentional way.

2. Preach Soberly About Sex

Sexual sin is deadly. The Bible doesn’t hold back and we shouldn’t either. The sexually immoral will not inherit the kingdom of God (1 Cor. 6:9–10).

This needs to be said. But if you stop here, you haven’t preached the whole counsel of God.

3. Preach Joyfully About Sex

The people in your church—married or not—should know that sex is a wonderful gift of God.

The Bible makes clear that sex is meant to be pleasurable. While Scripture clearly presents procreation as a central purpose of sex, it also devotes significant attention to sexual pleasure and mutual delight within marriage. Our preaching should reflect that reality too. When preaching about sexual sin, don’t just warn about the consequences of the counterfeit. Invite your church to the joys of the real deal.

However, sex is wonderful, not just because of this physical pleasure it can bring, but because it reflects profound spiritual realities about marriage. In the vulnerabilities of sex, we have an opportunity to serve one another with an intimacy not available in any other sphere of life.

The unmarried in your church need to hear this. Teach so that young people in your church one day enter marriage (if the Lord wills) with a holy excitement about sex, not lustful craving or legalistic trembling.

This is equally important for the married people in your church to hear. It’s easy for spouses to become roommates without regular, intentional effort. Set a beautiful vision of marriage before your church to give every couple something to aspire to in their own homes.

4. Preach Mutually About Sex

Remember the above statistic about half of Christian marriages having one-sided sex? That’s not going to fix itself. The sheep aren’t going to get out of the valley of the shadow of death without a shepherd. This issue is too deeply entrenched in the church and reinforced by the culture.

The men in your church need to be clearly called to serve their wives in bed. This should be included in the application any time that we call husbands to “man up” at home (because, statistically, most of them are failing in this area). This should be a topic of men’s retreats and marriage seminars. This should be called out from the pulpit with the same clarity that Paul called out the Corinthian man who was sleeping with his father’s wife.

Husbands need to be told that sex should be wonderful and pleasurable for their wives.

Husbands need to be told that the cultural lies about men having a “higher sex drive” than women are myths.

Husbands need to be told that their selfishness in bed is sinful and they need to cultivate real, honest conversation about sex with their wives.

5. Preach Carefully About Sex

We preach to sexual sinners, but we also preach to sexual sufferers. Sexual abuse has, almost certainly, wreaked havoc on the lives of men and women in your church. When we preach about sex, we’re entering a vulnerable space, so we must proceed with caution.

Make a plan with your elders about how to speak carefully about sex from the pulpit. What words are acceptable and what aren’t? For example, should we say “orgasm,” stick to the more generic, “climax,” or should we avoid both of these words altogether? Would the church be comfortable with “sex,” or is the vaguer “marriage bed” to be preferred?

If you think you may feel uncomfortable preaching about sex, send a draft to godly men and women in your congregation and ask for feedback ahead of time. Their careful eyes can’t control what you preach, but they can give you helpful feedback about how something might be perceived. Again, this is a vulnerable area to discuss, so we need to proceed with caution.

Talking about sex is hard. It has been ever since the fall, when Adam and Eve realized they were naked and covered themselves up. But Jesus restores the broken things. He is a redeemer and we look forward to the day when he makes all things new.

Author’s Note: If talking about sex seems overwhelming, I wrote a book to help. Sex and Self-Forgetfulness is a 30-day devotional for married couples. It unpacks God’s design for pure, pleasurable, unifying sex and helps couples live that design out by having honest, careful conversations with one another. I hope this is a resource that can equip you to preach and counsel with confidence. I also hope it’s a book you can put in the hands of people in your church.

[1] https://www.barna.com/trends/over-half-of-practicing-christians-admit-they-use-pornography/

[2] https://greatsexrescue.com/gsr-survey/

There’s something about groups of women that can be incredibly empowering, but on the other side, deeply destructive. I’ve experienced both. Some groups are healthy and life-giving; others are toxic and draining. And for women, I think this issue begins young. The stereotype of the “mean girl” didn’t appear out of nowhere—cultural pressures and psychological factors shape how girls, and later women, relate to one another. Exploring all of that would take a collaborative effort far bigger than one woman can unpack alone.

What I do know is this: women can be unbelievably nurturing, but we can also be competitive, insecure, and judgmental. Women’s church groups aren’t magically exempt from that—we’re human, after all. Being Christians doesn’t erase the cultural patterns that shaped us; it simply exposes how deeply those patterns run. So here’s the real question: can we step outside what has formed us culturally and intentionally step into what Christ offers? Not by “trying harder” or checking off a spiritual to-do list, but by living from a new identity, not just performing new behaviors.

I’ve spent time in many different groups—some filled with mean girls, others genuinely loving. Even in the loving ones, judgment can be silent, but still present. How can we be truly loving and not unhealthy? Like many things I read, I ask: what does that actually look like in real life? Strangely, my first exploration of this didn’t come from a Christian book or Bible study, but from a very secular context. Maybe that’s not surprising—God undergirds the systems of life and extends common grace to all people.

This thought process began when we lived abroad. My husband speaks and teaches German, so experiencing different cultures became normal for us—beautiful at times, hard at times, always stretching. Here’s what I noticed: When I spent time with people from different cultures and languages, I felt more comfortable. Even if I was quiet or reserved, I didn’t feel the judgment I might normally feel in my circles at home. I chalked it up to the lack of cultural standards—there was nothing to compare against. We met each other purely as people. All the unspoken rules, silent hierarchies, and subtle judgments dissolved. Even if judgment existed, it didn’t land. I couldn’t take it seriously because there was no standard by which to measure me.

Years later, I began to see these experiences through a biblical lens. As people poured the gospel into me through action, I wrestled with a practical question: where can we help women? Can we take our God-given capacity to nurture and actually extend it to one another, instead of tearing each other down?

The Paradox of Community and Distinctiveness

I’ve heard it repeatedly: women should build each other up; we should be each other’s biggest cheerleaders. And while I agree, I often ask, how? What does that actually look like? We say it, but nothing seems to change. We claim to build each other up, yet behind the scenes, we still tear each other down, creating the illusion of growth without real transformation. Outward behavior may shift, but the underlying instinct is muffled, not transformed.

God created us for community, to feel loved, seen, and valued. He has written that longing on our hearts. Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 says, “Two are better than one … if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” Yet in our human way, we mismanage this longing. One common misstep is believing that acceptance requires us to emulate the people in the group we want to belong to. That inevitably leads to comparison—and we all know what comparison does: it steals joy and fosters unhealthy competition. 2 Corinthians 10:12 warns, “Not that we dare to classify or compare ourselves with some of those who are commending themselves. But when they measure themselves by one another and compare themselves with one another, they are without understanding.”

On the other hand, if we refuse comparison entirely and focus only on celebrating our differences, we risk isolation. To emphasize uniqueness, we must set ourselves apart, becoming “different, but alone.” Scripture warns against this as well: God created us for community, not solitude (Gen. 2:18).

Here lies the paradox: we’re called to live in community, yet we’re built to be different from each other. In such paradoxes, I find Jesus waiting, ready to reveal purpose. The gospel reconciles what seems irreconcilable. So how does this look in women’s ministry? How can we be part of a community while recognizing our differences?

Transformation Through Christ

The solution is not outward conformity but inward transformation. We must surrender the part of us that strives to emulate and invite Christ to take up residence within. Only then can we live in community freely, celebrating differences not as threats or trophies, but as reflections of the life He pours into each of us. Galatians 2:20 says it well: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.”

My cultural experience abroad mirrored this truth in a small way. We were living life, but it was as if all the unspoken rules, silent hierarchies, and subtle judgments had dissolved. When I realize Christ lives in me, there is nothing left to judge. Every talent, every skill, every insight is given by Him. How, then, could I compare myself or judge others? United in Christ, it becomes clearer how to love one another. Even between believers and unbelievers, we are all image-bearers of God.

As women, we can come together in our differences and participate in community if our inward life reflects Christ—not just in actions, but in identity. The gospel shapes who we are. Are we boasting in gifts and talents that foster comparison, or in who Christ is in us, allowing Him to shape our true identity?

My experience of different cultures coming together, where judgment seemed to dissolve, felt like a signpost from God. But this glimpse is incomplete without the full gospel. Cultural differences may remove some standards we use to judge one another and temporarily reduce comparison, but the gospel goes deeper. Through Christ’s blood, we are united in an eternal bond, empowered not only to live without judgment but to love one another with His love. As Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).

There’s a larger cultural shift to be explored, and I pray for the days of the “mean girl” to be behind us. Yet even in the brokenness of this world, we can trust a God who reveals His sufficiency.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/hX7Ab0xJNG0

“Those” are the days in which our compassion is tested the most. Those are the days we realize just how different we are from the Chief Shepherd. I trust you have had a day like mine. I trust you have had a reaction like mine. We might summarize it this way: I was not compassionate toward my member. As I continued preaching through the gospel of Matthew, I learned a few lessons on compassion from the Chief Shepherd.

Compassion with the Masses

Jesus had hard days of ministry. With the crowds, we see just how different and sinless our Lord is. He models the perfect compassion of a shepherd. Matthew 9:36 says, “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (emphasis added).

Jesus had compassion on them, and yet I have no doubt this crowd had a lot of baggage. Many came to Him not knowing who He was. I venture to guess that the majority of this crowd did not have their theological ducks in a row. They probably asked Jesus, from time to time, to cut the Sermon on the Mount down by a few minutes.

Yet Jesus had compassion on them. He didn’t deride them. He wasn’t frustrated by them. Pastors, we would do well to learn from Jesus’ example with the crowds. He had compassion on the masses during the hard days—despite their peculiarities—and desired to shepherd them.

Compassion After a Long Day

If anyone knew about long, taxing days of ministry, it was Jesus. In Matthew 14, after hearing of John the Baptist’s death, Jesus withdrew from Nazareth to a desolate place. Matthew 14:13–14 says: “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a desolate place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Emphasis added).

Jesus wanted a moment to retreat and pray—to rest and commune with His Father. But the crowds didn’t take the hint. And yet, when He saw them, He had compassion and healed their sick.

Here I see my own shortcoming. After all of the Lord’s Day events, I am tired. Yet even on my busiest Sundays, I haven’t experienced half of what Jesus did. That phone call I received doesn’t compare to a massive crowd following Him to a place of retreat. I didn’t have compassion on my church member that day. But Jesus has compassion upon compassion. Our own compassion after long days of ministry can learn much from His example. When we want to quit or when our patience runs thin, we should look to the Chief Shepherd.

Compassion for the Embodied

We are tired, weak, and worn out after long days of ministry. We pastors feel the weight of being embodied souls in time, space, and fallen bodies. But we often forget that we share this reality with our people.

Jesus had compassion on the crowds in Matthew 15:22 for this very reason: “Then Jesus called his disciples to him and said, ‘I have compassion on the crowd because they have been with me now three days and have nothing to eat. And I am unwilling to send them away hungry, lest they faint on the way’” (Emphasis added).

Jesus tells the disciples that He has compassion because they are hungry—it’s been three days! Our typical Sunday morning may only be a few hours, yet even our harshest critics would have to admit the crowds’ needs were far greater. Our people are tired, hungry, and ready to rest. We should not forget that we are tired come Sunday afternoon, and so are they. The sheep get tired and may act grumpy. We can bear with them patiently, remembering that our embodied souls need care just as theirs do.

The Good, Compassionate Shepherd

Brothers, we are not as compassionate as our Lord. If our people’s righteousness depended on our perfect compassion, we would all be in trouble. But we have the gospel of Christ’s righteousness.

We have a perfectly compassionate Lord. The Good Shepherd teaches under-shepherds how to care for wounded sheep, stubborn sheep, needy sheep, and wandering sheep. May He help us to be so compassionate.

Yet in the wake of Covid, many pastors have anecdotally noticed an increase in the practice of deferring the funeral altogether. Some attribute this trend to factors such as the rise of cremation, while others point to cultural shifts that downplay social connection and acknowledge that the “beliefs and values of the organizers” often do not align with the ethos of traditional funeral services.

From the other side of the pulpit, I can relate. It is not uncommon for me to perform a Christian funeral that would have made sense to the deceased, but which feels quite alien to many of those in attendance. We can expect this dynamic in a quickly secularizing culture, but it remains true that many who find themselves in charge of a loved one’s arrangements attempt to discharge that duty as theological outsiders. The talk of eternity is unfamiliar. And as for the talk of the exclusivity of Christ, which is subject to contemplation in Bible-believing churches, well, that’s just a bridge too far.

In the midst of all this, committed Christians need to reckon with the reality that, because our churches have long neglected a theology of mourning, we find ourselves prone to rather utilitarian and therapeutic approaches to the funeral. We shirk language of loss in favor of “celebrations of life.” We tend toward eulogies that rely heavily on funny stories and anecdotes and rarely ponder the eternal. These factors, both within the church and without, have conspired to create an environment in which funerals are renamed, recast, or altogether relegated to the past: a vaguely understood tradition that may no longer serve our enlightened needs or dignify our postmodern sensibilities.

These realities communicate to the Christian conscience something more salient than mere statistical patterns or offended sensibilities. In fact, when the formal funeral is neglected, something deeply Christian is obscured. We are, after all, a people with a message of hope beyond the grave. Moreover, we are those encouraged to grieve temporary losses in service to reminding our fickle hearts of the comfort only eternity in Christ brings.

Jesus rather confounds us when He claimed, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matt. 5:4).

Yet I submit that this ethic could be said to comprise a vast portion of the Christian worldview. The Cross and the empty tomb make present mourning and pain bearable. In view of Christ’s victory over death, we of all people should be able to understand a funeral. It is where we go to remember that this world could never deliver on its promises in the first place. It is where we go to make sense of Jesus’ Beatitude of mourning, knowing that those who have thrown out all hope of lasting comfort in this life will be eternally comforted in Jesus in the next.

And lest we think Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount was the only place this theme surfaces, we are reminded of the reflections of Solomon in Ecclesiastes: “It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad” (Ecc. 7:2–3).

That’s right: it is better to go to a funeral than to a party. And for Christians seeking to calibrate their consciences aright, we can also say that it is better to have a funeral that mourns than a funeral that ignores life-giving eternal truth.

We live in a culture that seeks to push thoughts of death to the periphery of our consciousness. Whether this is done in service to limiting “negative emotions,” “living one’s best life,” or some other therapeutic justification, the Creator of the universe has built us to utilize mourning for our spiritual good.

Christians: let’s keep the funeral alive. It is not only the occasion during which we can prompt our unbelieving or nominally Christian neighbors to consider again the end toward which we are all walking, but it is also a visceral reminder to our own souls that we will not live forever. A funeral is a sanctifying rehearsal of our own future: one that calls us deeper to Christ and asks us to contemplate what portion of our present way of living will be judged as eternally significant by the only One whose evaluation really matters.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/KDS3-wVDbFY

This is the reality of life beyond the confines of the Garden of Eden in which you and I fall prey to the schemes of pot-stirrers.

What is a Pot-Stirrer?

A pot-stirrer is simply someone who causes unrest. Some stir directly, through insults, criticism, or gossip. Others stir indirectly, drawing us into conflicts by complaining about or criticizing others in our hearing. Either way, pot-stirrers drag us into disputes we were never meant to carry.

Instead of cultivating the fruit of the Spirit, such as peace (Gal. 5:22), pot-stirrers often provoke the works of the flesh: enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, and envy (5:20–21).

So how can Christians experience peace in a world full of pot-stirrers?

Psalm 11: A Refuge in the Midst of Conflict

As David penned Psalm 11, he was clearly tempted to be stirred up by others and against others. “The wicked bend the bow,” he wrote (v. 2). “They have fitted their arrow to the string to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart.” Yet as David remembered the One who was in control of everything, he felt peace regarding circumstances beyond his control.

In verse 4, David proclaimed, “The Lord is in his holy temple; the Lord’s throne is in heaven; his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man.” By describing the heavenly throne room, David confessed the Lord’s sovereignty over all human dealings. Nothing takes Him by surprise. Nothing escapes His notice.

Not only is the Lord sovereign, but He is also righteous. Verse 5 says, “His soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence,” with verse 6 describing the consequences for those who act unjustly: fire, sulfur, and a scorching wind. The Lord is not neutral toward those who cause harm, nor will He abandon His people. As verse 7 says, “The upright shall behold his face.”

Psalm 11 is David’s confession that the Lord sees all things, works through all things, and will one day bring justice. When the wicked or unjust attempted to disturb his peace, these truths gave David confidence to take refuge in the Lord rather than fleeing in fear (v. 1).

Stability in a World of Conflict

The Lord does not change (Mal. 3:6). Christians can draw peace from Psalm 11, just as David did. We can remain steady when tensions arise, remembering that God remains on His throne, sees all things, works through all things, and promises to bring justice in His time.

The gospel strengthens this peace. Jesus left heaven’s throne to enter a world full of tension and provocation. The devil tempted Him to doubt the Father (Matt. 4:3, 6). The disciples tried to provoke Him to react against Samaritans (Luke 9:54). The high priest sought to unsettle Him with false accusations (Mark 14:60). Yet Jesus remained confident in the Father, secure in His identity, and faithful to the work to which He had been called.

Jesus’ righteousness covers us, both for when we are tempted to react and for when others create tension around us. His death assures us that those who act unjustly will ultimately face God’s justice (Col. 2:15), and His resurrection gives the Holy Spirit to cultivate peace in our hearts (John 14:26).

The gospel gives us peace in a world where tensions and conflicts are inevitable.

How to Respond to Those Who Cause Conflict

When others try to involve us in disputes, Psalm 11 reminds us that God sees all things and will judge all things. We can embrace God’s sovereignty and pray for His will to be done, trusting that we are not responsible for resolving every conflict ourselves. We can be concerned. We can pray. But in most cases, we don’t have to carry someone else’s emotional chaos as our own.

When someone challenges or criticizes us directly, we can follow David’s example and take refuge in the Lord. If their words are true, we can respond in repentance, knowing that Christ has already paid the penalty for our sin. If their words are false, we can trust God to uphold us and vindicate us: “For the Lord is righteous; he loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold his face” (Ps. 11:7).

In all situations, we can entrust those who cause conflict to God’s judgment. He is not neutral toward wrongdoing, yet He remains stable and faithful.

Guided by Psalm 11, may we live likewise: secure in God’s sovereignty and peace, even in the midst of conflict.

I was in my early twenties when we buried my aunt. She had been the bright center of our family—the one with the booming laugh and lipstick kisses, the woman who never had daughters but poured every ounce of girl-mom love into her nieces. She taught us how to be sophisticated in a fun yet modest way. She spoiled us rotten.

Then cancer struck—quick and merciless. My faith at that moment felt too weak even to whisper a prayer. Nonetheless, while we declared aloud, “God is going to heal her,” inside, we were terrified. We stuffed the fear so deep it never saw the light of day. We smiled bravely and kept hope alive, as if our positivity could influence God’s hand.

The night she died, the hospital hallway swallowed my mother’s scream. A few days later, her casket disappeared into soft Florida dirt, and something in me snapped shut. I didn’t rage at God; I just quietly concluded that my faith wasn’t strong enough. Our prayers weren’t enough.

I decided some graves stay closed because the people praying over them simply don’t have what it takes.

That day became my pattern. Every later disappointment got the same verdict: buried fast, labeled “I’m not enough,” and guarded by shame.

A dream that died—my fault.

A relationship that ended—my prayers too weak.

A sin I couldn’t shake—proof I’ll never measure up.

I became an expert at sealing tombs and then standing watch so no one, especially Jesus, would come near with any wild talk of resurrection.

We all do this, don’t we? We pronounce things dead, blame our own insufficient faith, and bolt the door.

But Jesus has never once waited for our faith to be big enough before He starts kicking stones away.

Look at Lazarus. Four days dead, body decaying. Martha greets Jesus with the same verdict I carried: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (John 11:21). And when He says, “Roll the stone away,” she objects, “Lord, there will be an odor.” In other words: It’s too late. The faith window closed. Jesus doesn’t lecture her on belief levels. He doesn’t measure the size of anyone’s mustard seed. He simply calls the dead man by name and death is no more.

Or the two disciples on the Emmaus Road, trudging away with hearts in the grave. They confess their disappointment in the past tense: “We had hoped…” (Luke 24:21). Their faith is ashes. The Risen One doesn’t wait for them to muster hope. He walks beside their unbelief, opens Scripture, breaks bread—and suddenly the dead Man is the living Host.

Even Ezekiel in the valley of bones isn’t asked to produce faith first. “Can these bones live?” God asks. Ezekiel’s honest answer is the only one any of us ever has when standing over real graves: “O Lord God, only you know.” To God be the glory, the Spirit breathes life back into those bones anyway. Because the quality of our believing has never powered resurrection; it is powered by the relentless love of the One who believes for us when we cannot.

I finally quit standing guard over my aunt’s grave. That moment was a defining one for our family (and not in a good way). I presented my case: “God, I don’t have enough faith to roll any stone. I still think You said no because we weren’t enough. I’m mad and tired and done pretending. Do whatever You want, but I’m out of hope.” I expected silence. Instead, slowly, gently, and over a long period of time, Jesus met me in my unbelief—not with rebuke, but with Himself.

He is the one who was buried so that no grave, not even the ones we lock with shame and small faith, could ever hold final authority.

So bring Him your grave today, no matter how you feel—faithless, furious, or just numb. You don’t have to feel hopeful. You don’t have to manufacture belief. Just whisper the smallest, most honest version of “Lord God, only You know.”

Tell one safe person who will remind you that resurrection never depended on you in the first place. Then let Ephesians 3:20–21 be the truth that prays for you when you can’t: He is able to do far more than all we ask or even think—especially when we have stopped asking and thinking altogether.

Jesus still crashes funerals. He doesn’t stand outside waiting for us to get our faith act together. He walks straight through the door we bolted and calls our names anyway.

And to Him—the One who refused to stay dead and who refuses to let our weak faith have the final word—be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

1. Repent of the Sin of Anxiety 

Three times in Matthew 6:25–34, Jesus commands us not to be anxious: “Do not be anxious about your life” (v. 25), “Therefore do not be anxious” (v. 31), and “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow” (v. 34). Anxiety has become an accepted sin in our day. It is often treated as a purely physical condition rather than a spiritual issue. But humans are a composite of body and soul. Our physical bodies affect our spiritual well-being, and our spiritual well-being affects our bodies. Sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is eat, drink, rest, or sleep (see 1 Kgs. 19:4–8). Alongside these practical steps, we are called to trust God and turn from the worry that displaces faith in Him.

2. Rely on God’s Loving Provision 

In verse 25, Jesus asks, “Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” He argues from the greater to the lesser: if God has given you life and a body (the greater), He is certainly capable of providing food and clothing (the lesser).

In verse 26, He points to nature: “Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Birds wake up each day with enough to eat. If God cares for the birds (the lesser), He will certainly care for us (the greater).

In verses 28–30, Jesus gives a second illustration about clothing: “Consider the lilies of the field… even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field… will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” If God adorns the grass and flowers with beauty (the lesser), He will surely clothe us (the greater).

3. Realize Anxiety’s Ineffectiveness 

In verse 27, Jesus asks, “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” The answer is obvious: nobody. Anxiety accomplishes nothing; in fact, it is counterproductive. Psalm 139:16 reminds us, “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” The Lord has sovereignly ordained the number of our days before we were even born. Worrying about our life will not extend it beyond the days that God has given us.

4. Remember God’s Omniscience

In verses 31–32, Jesus says, “Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ Or ‘What shall we drink?’ Or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.” God knows and provides for our needs. While we may think we understand what we need, He sees the full picture far better than we ever could.

5. Rank Spiritual Needs Over Physical Needs 

Verses 31–32 show that the Gentiles prioritize food, drink, and clothing. Secular people are often preoccupied with their physical needs at the expense of their spiritual wellbeing. It is no accident that Jesus taught about storing treasure in heaven rather than on earth just before addressing anxiety. The more we accumulate earthly treasures, the more tempted we are to worry about protecting, increasing, and holding onto them. As Jesus said in Matthew 6:21, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”?

But what does Jesus call us to do instead? In verse 33, He says, “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” To seek the kingdom of God is to submit to Christ’s rule and reign in our hearts. It means turning in repentance and faith to King Jesus and pursuing the practical righteousness of God—bringing every aspect of our lives under His will. Seeking the kingdom means prioritizing His rule over building our own, trusting that God will provide for our needs as we faithfully follow Him.

6. Refocus on the Present 

In verse 34, Jesus says, “Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” Here, He highlights that anxiety is often future-focused. Instead of worrying about what is ahead, we are called to focus on the present, because God has given us enough grace for today’s challenges. Just as the Israelites collected manna daily, and as Jesus teaches us in the Lord’s Prayer—“Give us this day our daily bread”—God provides for each day in its time. He desires a daily, trusting relationship with us. We are to live fully in today, not wishing it away for tomorrow, and be content with what the Lord has graciously given.

I don’t know about you, but I relate to my boss very differently than I relate to my father. When we operate out of a “report-driven” prayer life, we offer up the church’s metrics and the stressors of the budget, but we rarely offer up ourselves. We begin to mimic the religious leaders Jesus warned against in Matthew 6:5—those who “love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others.” For them, prayer was a public performance, a professional requirement.

To break this cycle, we must prioritize how we engage in disciplines that stir our affections for Christ. We need a framework that shifts our posture from giving God a status report to simply abiding in His presence.

The Goal: Life with God

We need a framework for prayer that is rooted in the biblical story. If we were to trace the narrative of Scripture from beginning to end, we find a singular, driving theme: The good news that life with God is available to all who put their faith in Jesus.

Consider this “one-minute biblical theology”:

• Adam and Eve living with God in the garden.
• Abraham trusting God for a family.
• Moses enjoying friendship with God.
• Israel with God in the wilderness, the kingdom, and the temple.
• The Prophets hearing directly from God’s voice.
• Jesus entering our world to dwell—to tabernacle.

Jesus’ first message was that the Kingdom of God is here. John tells us that Jesus offers us eternal life. The Holy Spirit descends to dwell in us and build His church. Finally, the story ends with Jesus returning so that man and God can dwell together on earth forever.

Life with God, now and forever, is the goal of the gospel. Therefore, prayer is fundamentally about life with God. He has wired us in His image as relational beings; therefore, we must relate to Him in a relational way. The goal of prayer is connection to God and opening our hearts to Him, not simply requesting what we want.

Intimacy requires communication. Years ago, on my first date with my wife, we ordered our food and she began to ask me questions about my life. Imagine if I had said, “Nope! Not here to talk. I just want to eat.” The relationship wouldn’t have lasted. Why? Because intimacy requires communication. Communion with God requires conversation with God.

The Practice: Sitting with the Father

In the Gospel of Luke, we see that for Jesus, prayer was the source of His endurance. He frequently withdrew to lonely places—not as an escape, but as an essential withdrawal into the presence of His Father. The disciples saw the miracles, but they didn’t ask for a “how-to” on walking on water; they asked, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). Jesus responded by directing them to the Father.

I want to invite you to step away from your desk and practice this specific rhythm. Find a quiet corner of your campus, a hallway, a bench, or a spot in the back of the room. For the next fifteen minutes, sit in the silence.

This is where we engage a sanctified imagination. This isn’t about “making things up” or escaping into fantasy; it is the act of using our minds to lay hold of the spiritual reality Scripture declares to be true.

Our theology tells us that because of the work of Christ, we have bold access to the throne of grace. The imagination simply allows us to believe that the Father is as present with us in this room as He was with the Son in the wilderness.

Acknowledge that you are in the presence of your Heavenly Father. He isn’t asking for your quarterly report; He is looking at you, His child, with favor because of Christ. In this space of presence, listen as He speaks to you, inviting you to hear His questions and reflect on His heart:

1. How are you doing?

Ignore the ministry stats for a moment. Look deeper than the “success” or “failure” of the church. How is your soul? Are you weary, joyful, or numb? How is your body—are you carrying tension, lacking sleep, or feeling the weight of the week? Speak to Him about the whole of your life, not just your professional heart.

2. Where have you noticed me at work recently?

Where have you seen His grace in the small, unscripted moments? Perhaps it was a conversation in the grocery store, a moment of peace during a hectic morning, or a specific verse that stuck with you. Look for the fingerprints of the Father in the ordinary.

3. What do you need from me?

Admit your needs without the filter of “pastoral strength.” Do you need wisdom for a specific conflict? Do you need the courage to rest? Do you simply need to feel the assurance of His love? Be specific about the areas where you are at the end of your own resources.

4. What do you want from me?

What are the honest desires of your heart? We often suppress our “wants” in the name of ministry, but the Father cares about the longings too. What are you hoping for? What are you dreaming about? Bring these desires into the light of His presence.

5. What do you need to trust me with?

What burden are you carrying today that actually belongs to Him? Is it the spiritual growth of a certain member? The future of the building project? The health of your own family? Identify the weight you were never meant to carry and consciously hand it over to the One who sustains all things.

I am convinced that prayer is the power of our endurance. When the weight of the ministry feels heavy, remember that the King of the universe is not waiting for your results; He is inviting you into His presence.

Step out of the office and back into the relationship. You don’t have to be a “professional” in the presence of the Father; you only have to be a son. Let the work of the Gospel wait for fifteen minutes while you enjoy the God of the Gospel. He is there, He is kind, and He is enough.

A beautiful woman with perfectly windswept hair holds the hand of a tan, pudgy toddler. On the beach in swimsuit bottoms, with cellulite-free legs and a sweatshirt that looks effortless yet classic all at once, the mother looks on adoringly as the sun sets slowly behind her. The toddler has salty curls and a gap-tooth smile, in a diaper that somehow has not absorbed any sea water. It’s a photo unlike any beach day I’ve had with my children.

I stumbled upon this photo on Pinterest today. The algorithm has me absolutely pegged. I stared at the picture for a long while, pondering what it might be like to be her. The photo itself is stunning, but what I gathered from it is much more than beauty. I saw a mother, carefree at the beach. Despite sand and the possibility of her toddler drowning, she looked more at ease than I have in years. Despite having birthed a child not even a year prior, what’s represented of her body is flawless. The sweatshirt hangs at just the right angle, her leg muscles clearly toned. Where in the world did she find the time to have such a figure? The beach looks foreign and expensive. I’m not sure how you make a beach look expensive, but this photographer has done it.

More than the envy I stuff down at the sight of her, I also admire her. She must be a mom who values fun for her child over sand in the carpet of her minivan. I’ll bet she doesn’t even own a minivan—clearly not one concerned too much with convenience. She looks like a mom who doesn’t stay up worried about the cough her baby has. She probably lets people wear shoes in her house. A picture of ease and serenity, right down to the perfect smile plastered on her face.

This fictitious mother of my Pinterest dreams represents all the things I am not. She represents one of the mothers I want to be. I’m drawn to the beauty of these photos depicting motherhood, but I stay for what I can see underneath. Even if it’s a facade, I still re-pin the mirage of mothers I long to emulate.

Pin This: Flour and Laughter in the Kitchen

A disheveled kitchen, a toddler, a baby, and a mother laugh at the flour on the counter. Her apron is linen, of course, and her hair is pulled back in a claw clip hairstyle that must have taken years to perfect. The toddler has flour in her hair and on her hands, dressed in a neutral outfit that, despite the mess, still looks cute. The baby is diaper-clad, perfect little rolls even more delicious than the cookies they’ve baked. The kitchen is my dream: perfect backsplash, quartz countertops. It’s a photo of fun, wealth, and style—ideal motherhood.

But what really catches my eye is the way the mother looks at her children. She seems to have time for them, enough to make a big mess in the kitchen and not worry about having to clean it up. She’s the mom who helps her kids learn valuable skills like cooking and cleaning. I bet she doesn’t mind cleaning up twice to teach them. She’s talented in the kitchen, that much is clear.

These moms have strengths where my biggest insecurities lie: too much focus on keeping things clean, too much focus on convenience, the fact that my daughter wears mismatched clothing every single day.

Pin This: Crying, Yet Clinging to God

A mother in a booger-smeared shirt, her hair hasn’t been washed in… how many days? Who knows at this point. She’s holding a baby who is crying. The toddler next to her on the couch is also crying. And guess what she’s doing? Crying, too. The couch she’s sitting on has piles of laundry half folded; she’s barefoot in an old wrestling shirt from her husband’s drawer. The toddler is still in pajamas despite it being 2 p.m. Their leftover breakfast sits in the background. It’s probably lunch time, but she still hasn’t mustered up the energy to make it. Next to the breakfast is an open Bible, marked with pen and weathered by many spills of sippy cups. If you could hear this photo, you’d hear hymns playing in the background.

What you can’t see is a mother doing her very best. Yes, she’s crying because this whole motherhood thing is harder than she ever thought possible. Yet her heart clings to the Lord in moments of intense emotion, toddler tantrums, and infant sleeplessness. You can’t see the quiet work God is doing in the heart of this mother. You can’t see the men and women her babies will grow up to be, having seen an imperfect yet forgiven mother who cultivated a home of joy, hard work, discipleship, and love.

We can make many assumptions about the photos we see. We can long for the perfection depicted in tiny boxes on a glowing screen. Yet what truly matters in the eyes of the Lord, the hearts of our children, and in our souls, is the glorious work God is doing through the holy and hard moments of mothering. For every Pinterest mother we crave to be, God is molding in us a beauty that cannot be captured in photos. Just as the photos we see cannot paint the whole picture, moments of our motherhood cannot be displayed in snapshots. Our mothering is so much more than a clean home or messy baking in the kitchen. The best mothers are those who have their eyes fixed on Christ and who, by His Spirit, are growing alongside their children.

Pin This: A Mom Devoted to God’s Glory

A mother joyous and hopeful as she gently stewards her children, her home, and her days for God’s glory.

That’s a picture I’d gladly add to my Pinterest board. Not because it’s perfect, styled, or staged, but because it’s real. It’s a mother whose worth isn’t measured by sand-free feet, flourless counters, or a flawless smile—it’s measured by faithfulness, love, and by the quiet, unseen work God is doing in her heart and in the hearts of her children. That is the kind of motherhood worth admiring, aspiring to, and celebrating.

Arguably, there is a more dangerous silent killer than high blood pressure—especially for Christians. That killer is comfort. Christians must be on guard against comfort, since it can quietly erode spiritual health.

Not all comfort is wrong. One of the roles of the Holy Spirit is to bring comfort to believers (John 14:16; 15:26; 16:7). Receiving comfort from the Spirit is not wrong, nor is comforting others; in fact, we should (2 Cor. 13:11; 1 Thess. 4:18; 5:11; Heb. 3:13).

The danger lies in making comfort a priority—living an easy, carefree life that avoids stress, grief, or restriction. No rational person seeks hardship intentionally, but we can wrongly prioritize comfort. We may convince ourselves that God wants us at ease in this life, so we pursue comfortable careers, homes, amenities, and retirements. When comfort becomes our aim, we lose sight of the fact that the Christian life is often marked by disciplined effort, not stress-free living.

Comfort is a silent killer because, if left unchecked, it erodes discipline, which leads to both physical and spiritual consequences. Discipline helps us set goals, stay focused, and do the hard work necessary to achieve them. Seeking comfort, by contrast, encourages laziness and undermines progress.

Seeking comfort is antithetical to achieving hard-won goals. A person desiring to be physically fit needs discipline to maintain a healthy diet and exercise regimen. Athletes who wish to improve at their sport must train consistently. A student desiring a 4.0 GPA must study and put in the necessary work. Growing spiritually is no different.

Paul wrote to the Thessalonians—and, by extension, to all Christians—that “this is the will of God, your sanctification” (1 Thess. 4:3). Sanctification means becoming holy, overcoming sin, and dedicating ourselves to God. We grow in sanctification by pursuing godliness—earnest devotion to God that fosters holiness and pleases Him.

Paul instructed Timothy to avoid “pointless and irreverent myths” and instead “train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Tim. 4:7b–8). The Greek behind “train” implies athletic-style, disciplined effort. Some translations render it “discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness.” Like Timothy, all Christians are commanded to exercise discipline continually to grow in godliness and sanctification.

Comfort is dangerous because it quietly opposes this discipline and promotes spiritual laziness. In his book, Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life, Donald Whitney notes that growing in godliness requires actively engaging in Bible intake, prayer, worship, evangelism, service, stewardship, fasting, journaling, and learning. Each requires intentional effort—none happens automatically.

Without discipline, a Christian cannot grow in godliness, and spiritual growth stalls; a stalled Christian is an ineffective Christian. Christians are not called to pursue comfort, but Christlikeness and godliness. Christians must prioritize discipline over comfort.

Prioritizing discipline means setting appropriate spiritual goals, engaging in spiritual disciplines, actively seeking to kill sin, and serving the Lord with our gifts and talents. Achieving growth in godliness, sanctification, and service requires discipline to stay on task and do the hard work.

We must self-assess to ensure we have not fallen into the silent trap of comfort: What have you prioritized in your life? An easy, stress-free life? A comfort-bringing career? A comfortable retirement? We must live responsibly—careers and saving are necessary and wise—but we must guard against prioritizing a comfortable life at the expense of discipline, godliness, and service to the Lord.

Dear Christian, we are called to a life of discipline and labor for our Lord Jesus and His Kingdom. We are not called to seek an easy or comfortable life with all the amenities we want. Let us prioritize discipline, not comfort, so that we may grow in godliness, sanctification, and service. If you let comfort replace discipline in your life, there will be unhealthy physical and spiritual consequences.

Christians, beware of comfort—the silent spiritual growth killer.

[1] Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “Hypertension,” Health, United States, National Center for Health Statistics, https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/hus/topics/hypertension.htm.

Our Father and our God, we come before you today to ask for your blessing on these students and the semester ahead. I pray for our students that you grant them the joy of discovery in their classes, that some lesson or significant nuance from your Word would fascinate and captivate each of their minds. Indeed, your Word says that it is the glory of God to conceal a matter and it is the glory of kings to search out a matter. May that be true of our students this semester as they read, research, write, preach, and present in their classes and seminars.

But even above learning, O God, bless these students with progress in sanctification this semester. I pray they would put to death the old man with all its sinful desires and put on the new man created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness. When tempted to sin against you, may they choose you and the pleasures that are at your right hand forevermore.

Finally, I pray, O Lord, that you would continue to use this faculty and staff in significantly instrumental ways in the lives of these students as this institution continues to train and fashion ministers of Christ for service in the church and in the marketplace. Without you energizing our work, O Lord, we know that we work in vain. So, God, bless our efforts and establish the work of our hands in 2026.

Thank you for your faithfulness to us, O Lord, and it is in the matchless name of Christ Jesus, we pray. Amen.

Often, this becomes our perfect picture: find a group of friends, grow in depth, share life together… and never have to do it again. But a close circle quickly becomes a closed circle. This may be community, but it is not Christian community. One distinctive of Christian community is that it eagerly welcomes new people.

The Challenge of Christian Community

Jesus’ disciples knew what it meant to have a close circle. For three years they walked with Him, ministering side by side, building the kind of community most of us dream of. After His resurrection, they might have thought their group was safe again. But then Jesus said, “I’m leaving, and I want you to leave too. Go to the ends of the earth” (Matt. 28:18–20). The circle wasn’t meant to stay sealed; it was meant to break open.

The book of Acts describes this new reality: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and to prayer… Every day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved” (Acts 2:42, 47). Historian Rodney Stark observes that Christianity created a culture that offered, “to cities filled with newcomers and strangers…an immediate basis for attachments.”[1]

No longer a small, tight group—new people were added every day. That can sound exciting: revival, growth, answered prayers. But imagine if that happened in your church or small group. A group of 12 gains a new person on Monday, but by the end of the week, dynamics have shifted. It doesn’t even feel like the same group anymore.

This tension presses on every church. Do we really want the 40 million people who have stopped coming to church to return? Would we welcome them—not just through our doors, but into our lives? If this is our calling, a distinctive mark of Christian community, what can help us become this kind of people?

Remember God’s Heart

Paul exhorts, “Welcome one another, just as Christ also welcomed you, to the glory of God” (Rom. 15:7). God’s heart is not for an exclusive club. Jesus came “to seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10). He has always been gathering a people to Himself, a Father eager to expand His family.

Think of parents who long to grow their family. When they learn of a new pregnancy, they rejoice, announce it, celebrate with gifts and photos. That desire and joy, multiplied infinitely, reflects God’s heart for adding people to His family—our neighbors, co-workers, cities, and families. The question for us is simple: Do I share God’s heart?

Remember How God Welcomed Us

Paul says:

Brothers and sisters, consider your calling: Not many were wise from a human perspective, not many powerful, not many of noble birth. Instead, God has chosen what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen what is weak in the world to shame the strong. God has chosen what is insignificant and despised in the world—what is viewed as nothing—to bring to nothing what is viewed as something, so that no one may boast in His presence. It is from Him that you are in Christ Jesus, who became wisdom from God for us—our righteousness, sanctification, and redemption (1 Cor. 1:26–30).

He’s saying, “I want you to think about how God saved you and let that affect how you relate with others.” So let’s consider some of the ways God has welcomed us.

1. Without Distinction

I remember talking to someone once who said, “I know there must be something so awesome about me that Jesus would die for me.” It’s actually the reverse. There’s something so bad about us that Jesus had to die for us. The point isn’t to be impressed with ourselves that God would pick us—it’s to be impressed with God.

God didn’t welcome us based on our intelligence, success, or family pedigree. He welcomed the overlooked, weak, and ordinary. He welcomed people from broken families, poverty, or scandal. He welcomed sinners of every stripe.

This means we don’t unite with others because we are alike. We unite because we share one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and Father of all (Eph. 4:5–6).

2. Deeply

God didn’t just forgive us; He adopts us. Paul says we are brothers and sisters and that we are “in Christ Jesus”.

He doesn’t just give you a second chance or wipe the slate clean; He brings us deeply into life with Him.

I tell our church all the time, “nobody is looking for a friendly church, but they are looking for friends.” If people want friendly, they can talk to the greeter at Walmart. We don’t just want to be friendly; we want to actually extend friendship.

That means inviting people into our lives: inviting people to your small group, meals after church, coffee on a Tuesday, playdates at the park, dinner, camping, etc. Think: when’s the last time you invited someone new into your life?

3. Pursuit

God didn’t sit back and wait. He pursued us. The Spirit convicts not to condemn, but to draw us back. We have the same calling: to “pursue hospitality” (Rom. 12:13). Hospitality is not just hosting friends; it is the love of strangers. Pursuit requires intentionality, planning, and effort. It’s not optional or only for those “gifted with hospitality.” It’s a command and a continual pattern meant to shape our lives as a community. Are you actively pursuing others outside your circle?

Hard, but Beautiful

Open-circle community is beautiful, but not easy. Adding new people changes dynamics, complicates life, and challenges comfort and security. That’s why the epistles are filled with commands to be patient, make peace, love, forgive, and bear with one another. Welcoming others carries a cost—time, money, energy—but that cost reflects the gospel itself. Jesus bore the cost of welcoming us into God’s family. When we extend that welcome, we display His glory and reflect the good, gracious Father he is.

Let’s not let our desire for a perfect picture of community distract us from God’s heart. We are called to something distinct, reflecting not the images from sitcoms or stock photos, but the God who has welcomed each of us.

[1] Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity: A Sociologist Reconsiders History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), 161.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/P8EFSN04VrU

Believers were not created in Christ for this weariness, but to find rest—rest grounded in what God has given us through faith in Christ. In Him, we are justified, redeemed, and sanctified by His life, death, and resurrection—not by our efforts or fleeting human wisdom. Only Christ, and what He has accomplished on our behalf, grants us favor before God.

This rest is not the absence of a yoke, but an exchange of our heavy yoke for Christ’s light and easy yoke (v. 30). In this light yoke, we find the peace to live an abundant life in Christ—a life that rests in His sufficient work, His final work, and His everlasting work.

Rest in His Sufficient, Final, and Everlasting Work

Christ’s sacrifice at the cross is sufficient, meaning it is complete and nothing needs to be added (Heb. 10:12–14). This is good news for us. It proclaims that we do not earn God’s favor through our works, but that true rest flows from Christ’s finished work at the cross and His pierced hands for you and me.

Christ’s work is final (John 19:28–30). It does not need to be repeated for every sin. The curse of sin and death has been defeated once and for all (Heb. 9:26), and our souls can find rest in Christ’s victory, which is now ours.

Christ’s work at the cross is everlasting (Rom. 6:23); it will never change. Our redemption is permanently secured for all ages, so people from every nation, tribe, and tongue can come to Him in repentance and faith and receive the same salvation.

Christ’s sufficient, final, and everlasting work should shape how we approach our relationship with Him. Yet we are easily swayed to believe that His work and gift of salvation come with strings attached—that we must continue to earn His favor by our own efforts. This should not be so. We have been raised to an eternal hope (1 Pet. 1:3–5), given through faith in Christ (Eph. 2:8–9), and the Father delights to give us the joy of being part of His Kingdom (Luke 12:31–32).

Augustine’s words echo the rest Christ offers to us in Matthew 11:28–30: “Our hearts are restless till they find their rest in Thee.”[1] How fitting of Augustine to remind us that any fleeting moment, brief pleasure, or empty sense of achievement will never bring the rest our souls truly long for. Restlessness is a downward spiral we enter when we believe that our works can gain salvation. Yet God, who made us for Himself, was pleased to dwell in human form for our sake—for our true rest. Our sufficient, final, and everlasting rest is found in Christ and in Him alone, not in our strivings.

If you find yourself weary and heavy-laden, this is news of joy. Come to Christ. You don’t need to “fix” your life to be acceptable in His sight. Not even our greatest efforts can atone for our sins. Christ came to do that for us, even when we didn’t deserve it. His favor and grace remain wholly and securely in Him. Come to Him. Take up His yoke and learn from Him. Remember the work of Christ that leads you to His rest, where His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. A fruitful and flourishing Christian life stems from a heart that finds rest in the complete work of Christ.

Christ calls us to rest, not in our merit, but in His. Will you answer His call?

[1] Augustine, Confessions 1.1.1.

I’m not sure I’ll ever stop asking where I’m meant to go or what purpose I’m called to serve. Over the years, I’ve learned it’s best to view a calling as content-specific rather than location-specific. For me, it’s never been about the age group I teach, the city I live in, or the role I hold—it’s about serving others with Christlike compassion. Whether I’m working with children, adults, or immigrants, the core of my purpose remains the same: helping people feel welcomed, valued, and heard. This perspective has guided my choices in both life and work.

Today, I serve in kids ministry at my church. Cue the chaotic scene of energetic children—freeze frame: “Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up here.” Though I had worked with children before, I never imagined stepping into this role. When I was first approached, I paused, unsure. Yet a gentle push inside me encouraged me to step in—and I was shaken when I realized the gravity of kids ministry and the misconceptions surrounding it.

By nature, I thrive with a clear, mission-oriented direction. Without it, I feel adrift. Stepping into this role granted me a deeper understanding of kids ministry and how calling relates to it: It is not merely childcare or programming—it is the future of the Church. It’s where discipleship begins, where seeds of faith are planted and nurtured. The work may seem small or unseen, but it carries eternal significance. It’s not just cute; it’s critical.

In reassessing kids ministry, it became clear that my mission is to further God’s Kingdom. That calling isn’t confined by location or age group, but kids ministry is one of the most potent places to live it out. In the quiet corners of the church, amid glue sticks and goldfish, eternal things are being formed. Yet if we fail to grasp the weight of this work, we may blink and miss it altogether.

Misconceptions About Kids Ministry

One major misconception is that kids ministry is “practice church.” These are real, eternal souls. Every moment is an opportunity to lead someone toward Christ. We equip them to withstand struggle, lean into hardship, and dig deep into God rather than the world. These aren’t just “kid problems.” They are life problems that start young and carry into adulthood. kids ministry is beautiful and weighty, playful and powerful. It’s not just preparing kids for the church of tomorrow; it’s building the church of today.

Another misconception is that you must start with a deep passion for kids. You need a passion for God’s Kingdom. Caring about its future naturally grows love for the children who embody it. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is immediately “good with kids.” Skills develop through showing up, being present, and doing the work. Scripture is full of examples—Moses, Joseph, Peter, Paul—ordinary people called into extraordinary roles. We all have a head start: We were kids once! Skills and passions grow, and God meets us in that growth.

Our broader aim should be the Kingdom and its future. Too often we see only cuteness and miss the seriousness. kids ministry is a battleground for souls, where eternal seeds are planted.

The beauty of kids ministry is that it ministers back to us. Breaking things down to a child’s level, answering questions, and watching understanding grow are glimpses of God’s transforming power. Even the mundane carries purpose. As the old Greek quote says, “A society becomes great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they will never sit.” That’s kids ministry. We may never see the full fruit, but that’s not the point. It’s about Jesus.

Don’t let fear or discomfort hold you back. Step into His Kingdom and trust He will use it for His greater purpose. When you care for God’s Kingdom, you care for its future. And these kids are part of that future. Love for them flows naturally from love for Christ’s mission. The bigger picture has always been His Kingdom, and He invites us to help build it, one child at a time. Let’s not blink and miss it.

In Mark 10, the rich young ruler comes to Jesus sincerely, respectfully, and with remarkable confidence in his own obedience. “All these [laws] I have kept from my youth,” he says. It’s a striking moment of self-righteousness.

And right after the man lays out what he believes is his impeccable spiritual résumé, Mark makes a comment that reshaped my entire view of grace: “And Jesus, looking at him, loved him” (Mark 10:21).

Jesus loved him.

I didn’t have a category for Jesus’ heart beating tenderly for a man who believed he could keep the law. But there it was, right in the text. Jesus loved him—the self-righteous and spiritually self-deceived.

Most of us are comfortable with a Jesus who loves the prodigal, but less comfortable with one who loves the self-righteous. Yet if we let Scripture shape our understanding of Christ’s love, we see that Jesus is not only kind to the hurting but also to the proud. Consider Luke 15. In one of Jesus’ most famous stories, a father runs to embrace his rebellious son after he returns broken and ruined by sin. But that’s not where the story ends. The older brother—the hard-working, well-behaved son—refuses to join in the celebration of his lost brother now found, resentful and convinced of his own moral superiority.

How does the father respond? He doesn’t scold or belittle. He entreats: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (v. 31).

It’s a moving scene that communicates a gospel truth: our Heavenly Father does not love one kind of sinner more than another. He loves both sons, pursuing them equally. One needs to be brought home from a faraway country, the other from his own self-righteousness. Both are lost, but both are loved.

When you put Mark 10 and Luke 15 together, you begin to see that Jesus is not repelled by the self-righteous. The rich young ruler walks away sorrowful, but not because Jesus withheld His love. The older brother remains outside the feast, but not for lack of invitation. And this brings a needed word for the church today.

Some of us feel remarkably free to judge the self-righteous. We spot their faults easily but fail to recognize the same impulses in ourselves. We talk about “older brothers” with casual disdain, as if their sin places them beyond grace. But Jesus doesn’t treat them that way. He doesn’t despise self-righteous sinners; He seeks them. He looks at them—and loves them.

If that describes you—if your confidence has been in your own obedience, your own righteousness, your own moral effort—hear this clearly: You are in sin, but Jesus loves you. He is gently and lovingly inviting you to join the great celebration of grace. Will you join the party, or stand outside in a huff? Will you receive grace, or walk away sad?

Jesus does not love the rebel more than the rule-keeper. He loves them both—and He invites all to come home and join the feast.

Doctoral studies is a journey, one which only a small percentage of the world completes. In America alone, census data shows that only 2% of the country holds a doctorate degree.[1] By the numbers, it is hard to complete a doctorate. Most people do not have the time, smarts, or resources to get it done. Having said that, I regularly speak with Midwestern Seminary doctoral students at the beginning of their journey, and I encourage them to squeeze themselves into that 2% of the population. Here’s how I encourage them from Matthew 22.

Love the Lord Your God with All Your Mind.

The Midwestern Seminary doctoral program is explicitly for the Church. We want all our graduates to angle their studies and formation for the benefit of Bob and Sue in the fifth row on Sunday morning. Naturally, this vision for doctoral studies attracts leaders who are already serving in ministerial roles. But that comes with a challenge. If you are not careful, you will arrive at your first seminar with a paper in hand that sounds more like a sermon than an essay. Doctoral work requires a mental gear shift. Students must learn to marshal arguments rather than make assertions, use reason over rhetoric, and learn to cite 16^th century sources, not merely 21^st century sages. This kind of shift requires time, effort, and renewed focus.

Doctoral work requires love for God with one’s mind. It will require deeper thinking, broader thinking, and more creative thinking than previously imagined. You must explore, be challenged, and wrestle with the truth. You might leave with a broken hip, but you will be blessed. Your new scholarly eye for truth and detail will enrich your church later, but it requires mental wrestling now.

Love the Lord Your God with All Your Heart.

Imposter syndrome is a real thing. Every new doctoral student feels it, every new graduate feels it, and even old scholars feel it. The truth is, we are all imposters at some level. It does no good to claim, “I’m not an imposter, now let me go prove it.” No, the pursuit of scholarship—by necessity—is a venture into thoughts unknown that we might acquire more of the truth.

Settle it in your heart to make scholarship about the pursuit of truth, not proving yourself. When pursued in a spirit of self-justification, your heart is in the wrong place. This warped spirit stunts love of God and promotes love of self. Even the language of “defending your thesis” can set you up for failure. Your chief aim when writing and presenting papers is to grow. If you present a good paper—praise God, it grew you! If you present a paper that gets torn to shreds—praise God, it grew you! Win-win.

Learn to love God first with your heart. In so doing, you will be well-positioned to receive critiques of your work. You will welcome it, for that critique is helping you contend for the truth once for all delivered to the saints.

Love the Lord Your God with All Your Soul.

Simply put, you will not finish a doctoral degree unless you put your soul in it. Your time, your sweat, your tears, your sleep—they will all be thrown into the refining fire. You will question your abilities. You will sacrifice your comforts. You will defer other noble pursuits. Because of such losses, you will want to quit multiple times over. Settle it in your soul: I will not quit.

This commitment requires a team of people around you—your spouse first and foremost. Your spouse must embrace the struggle with you. Your co-workers must know the sacrifices you are making. Your church must stand ready to pray for you. Your kids must know that your work is worth it. When you are questioning your decisions, these co-laborers need to preach to you, “Over my dead body, you will not quit.”

The truth is: you do not need a top 2% IQ score to earn a doctorate. You just have to be in the top 2% of perseverance. I compare it to Major League Baseball. Though hitting a major league pitch is considered the hardest skill in sports (much like the challenge of marshaling a clear, cogent, and convincing argument), it is not even the hardest part of MLB baseball. The hardest part is managing your own failure and enduring anyway. MLB hitters fail at the plate three-quarters of the time for a 162-game season spread out over six months. That is grueling. Like an MLB hitter, doctoral students need unwavering resolve. Will you keep going back for more? Can you keep your head in it? Can your body, your mind, and your very soul endure the slow erosion of pride?

The answer is “yes” if you love the Lord your God first with all your soul. He is the reward and the reason for your work. Put your soul into your studies as an act of suffering sacrifice for his kingdom. If you can love the Lord your God above all else, you will earn a great reward far greater than three more initials behind your name.

[1] https://www.census.gov/data/tables/2022/demo/educational-attainment/cps-detailed-tables.html

Over time, that passion faded quietly into the background—buried beneath the good work of life: serving in the church, raising six children, doing the next faithful thing.

Recently, I reread that missions classic, and it stirred something I hadn’t realized had faded: a joyful, wide-eyed awe at God’s redemptive plan unfolding across the globe. It reawakened a part of me that had once burned brightly but had grown quiet.

As I reflected on how far I’d drifted, I began praying—praying that God would reignite my passion and shape my children’s desires too. I want them to be thrilled that God is saving souls all over the world—and even be eager to join His global mission, however He leads.

With this renewed excitement, here are four simple ways we’re seeking to pass on a heart for God’s global glory.

Four Ways to Pass on a Heart for Missions

1. Wow Your Kids with the Vision

Our God is worthy of worship from every tribe, tongue, and nation. Missions begins not with strategies, but with wonder: “All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, O Lord, and shall glorify your name” (Ps. 86:9).

Help your kids see the big picture. Trace the storyline. Let them feel the weight and wonder of what God is doing—and where history is headed. Explore missions together in practical ways: learn about churches around the world, find out where unreached people groups live, talk about places where Christianity is illegal, and read stories of faithful missionaries and martyrs. Leave inspiring resources around your home for them to encounter.

2. Make Missions Personal

Missions becomes most real when it has a name and a face. Get to know the missionaries your church supports. Read their updates, watch their videos, and share their stories over dinner.

When your kids see that missions matters to you, it begins to matter to them. Help them understand that missions isn’t only for a select few—every Christian is called to join what God is doing.

3. Pray with a Global Focus

Make space in your family’s prayer life for the world. Pray for missionaries by name. Intercede for unreached people groups. Remember the persecuted church.

You might set aside one night a week for focused prayer or weave these requests into your regular rhythms. A prayer guide or missionary update sheet can give children something tangible to use in their own time with the Lord.

And don’t forget to pray for your own family. Let your kids hear you asking God to make your home more captivated by Christ than by the world, and to help you be ready to serve anywhere for the sake of the gospel.

4. Give Joyfully and Generously

We spend money on what we value. If missions matters, and you want your kids to see that it matters, show it through the way you give.

Bring your kids into the process. Talk about who you support and why. Let them hear you say no to certain purchases because you chose to give instead.

Share your joy in seeing God’s Kingdom advance—even when it requires sacrifice.

A Family That Longs for His Glory

Few things matter more than helping ourselves—and our children—rise above the noise of daily life to see God’s eternal work unfolding across the world. And few things are more exciting.

Praise God that it’s never too late to be more wrapped up in His global cause. But let’s do more than admire the vision; let’s be shaped by it. May our hearts, homes, and habits center on the greatness of God and His global glory.

Let’s pass on not just awareness, but awe. Not just information, but worship. Let’s raise kids who rejoice that the good news is reaching the nations and who long to be part of this great work.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/q_pJmO57SNQ

This gym, like many, has mirrors. I understand what they’re for, but I hesitate to look at myself. I don’t want a view of fat spilling over my sports bra, the new lumps and bumps that weren’t there before having kids, or my legs shaking after a few squats. The last view I saw in this mirror was of a newly retired college athlete with no children and a lot of free time—no stretch marks, no cellulite, no double chin.

Four years and three children later, I turn my back to the mirror so I don’t have to watch a body unfamiliar to me struggle to do things I’ve always done. If I thanked my body for its work in bearing children, would that make me feel better? If I practiced the self-love people rave about, would the sight of myself in the mirror no longer sadden me? Compliments and “You’re doing great!” plastered on cellulite won’t make me hate it less. Thinking or convincing my way out of poor body image is behavior modification, and it offers little long-term hope.

But I am a Christian. I believe God’s Word is true. Every worldly idea about how I should feel about my body—positive or negative—comes under His scrutiny. Here are four foundational points to start building a theology of body image.

1. God Owns Our Bodies (1 Cor. 6:19–20; Ps. 100:3).

God did not create us and then leave us to our own devices. He created us and therefore owns our bodies. Whatever we do with them is subject to His judgment and His Word. My body has value simply because it belongs to the Lord.

2. Our Bodies Are for God’s Glory (1 Cor. 6:20)

Because God owns our bodies, we should use them for His glory. Whether fighting temptation or viewing our bodies as vessels for His purposes, all we do should honor Him, not ourselves. My body image struggles often stem from self-glorification. When I look in the mirror, I focus on looking like I’ve never had a baby, not on glorifying God. I want toned arms because I want to enjoy the way I look in tank tops, not because I want to lift my children with greater ease. My desires are rooted in beauty standards, not in honoring Christ.

3. Our Outward Appearance Should Reflect the Heart (1 Tim. 4:8; 1 Pet. 3:3–4).

If I managed to get washboard abs, you could guarantee that would come at the expense of the duties God has given me to prioritize. The reason I don’t have a perfect stomach is partially because of genetics and mostly because of the lack of time spent pursuing that physique. My outward appearance bears the mark of childbearing, eating in fellowship with friends, and time spent studying Scripture and caring for my home. There’s nothing wrong with having washboard abs. For me personally, though, that wouldn’t be the best use of my time given what God has placed before me. Physical fitness has benefits, but godliness is profitable for all things. Pursuing the Lord through what He has entrusted to me is far more valuable than perfect abs. My outward appearance is far less important than my heart. My outward appearance is so much less important than my heart. Nitpicking my body shows where I’ve neglected adorning my heart with the gospel. Worrying about arm fat reveals a heart far from cultivating a gentle and quiet spirit (1 Pet. 3:1–3).

4. This Body Is Marred by a Broken World, but One Day It Will Be Restored (Phil. 3:21).

We struggle with body image because our world—and our bodies—are fallen. Eve likely never had stretch marks in the perfection of the Garden. Our body image can point us toward our true longing: a world no longer distorted by misplaced desires and sin-cursed bodies. What we really want when we look in the mirror likely cannot be attained in this lifetime. No matter how fit we become, we can never stop our bodies from aging. One day, we will return to the dust (Gen. 3:19), but even this is not the end for us! Our bodies will still matter in eternity when we are resurrected to a glorious and perfect body. Even when our bodies fail us, more than jiggly thighs and the “mom pooch,” Christ gives us a future hope that is secure. We will have our glorified body for far longer than we have this broken one now.

Because of these truths, I don’t have to focus on my body’s appearance, what it can or cannot do, or how much space I take up. When I see my imperfect reflection, I can think of the ways God has called me to use my body. I can thank Him for a vessel that does His will. I can look forward to a perfect body that will worship Him fully in Heaven. A biblical view of my body moves me from slavery to an idealized appearance to freedom to enjoy and steward the body I actually have. By seeing my body rightly, I have the opportunity for self-forgetfulness and to exalt Christ with a body that was once my enemy.

And inevitably, at the root of all their why questions is just one answer.

Think about it: The question, “Why are we having pizza?” will eventually lead to “Because God is a good God who loves to give good gifts.” (What other answer could there be when pizza is on the table.) And if you give a few more mice some cookies[1] (let the reader understand), eventually you end up with the answer: Because God loves you and wants you to glorify Him for His goodness.[2]

Now at this point, the parent (me in this scenario) is about to face the ultimate question of reality. Yes, the original topic was pizza—but since theology is “the study of God and all things in relation to God,” as the great and late theologian John Webster said, the possibility of pizza leading to thoughts about God is certainly not off the table.

Here’s the ultimate question: Why should I seek to glorify God?

The catechumen responds: “Because it’s our chief end!” A great response, truly. And just as any parent is technically in the right to tell their kids to obey “because I said so,” this reason is sufficient for us in relation to God as well. We should praise God because it’s why He created us—it’s what He told us to do.

But, biblically speaking, and what I find to be immensely devotional, is one additional thing that can be said. Behind the call to glorify God because it’s our purpose lies an even more relational motivation to glorify Him.

Here it is: We should seek to glorify God because we want to please Him.

 Focusing our attention on the pleasures of God reframes the whole pursuit! We don’t praise God merely because He told us to. We praise Him because in Christ God has become our Father and we love to see our Father rejoicing.

As with any affectionate language about God, though, we must distinguish what we do and don’t mean by pleasing God.

The Eternally Happy God

Before anyone might think that pleasing God means trying to appease an otherwise upset deity or tiptoe around a sleeping bear, let me remind you: Our aim in seeking God’s pleasure is to seek the pleasure of our Father, who is eternally pleased with us in Christ!

God does not and cannot change. He is eternally turned toward His people in Christ. That is a fixed truth.

We seek to glorify God—to bring Him good—not because He needs some good that He doesn’t already possess or that anyone could contribute to the fullness of His goodness, but because our hearts desire the things which He rejoices in.

His desires, His will, His pleasure becomes our purpose. And in our very pursuit of God’s pleasure, God rejoices. He has actually told us so!

Why else would He say to us in His Word: “The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love” (Ps. 147:11), and, “Whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him” (2 Cor. 5:9). These verses and countless others remind us of what God delights in, for the expressed purpose of us seeking to please Him!

His very nature is to be the eternally happy God.[3] When we walk in the path of obedience, we are wading in the streams of His delights. The streams exist whether we walk in them or not; again, you cannot change God. But when we walk in His ways and seek His ways carried out in the world, we get to enjoy the streams of delight and participate in His unchanging joy.

The reason we obey, the reason we praise and glorify God, the reason we do all things is because He is our friend—and we long for Him to delight in His creation, in His people.

Pleasing God as Participation in His Delight

“Pleasing God” is accommodated language. It is to help us understand, from a creaturely perspective, how we relate to God. When we act in ways that are pleasing to God, we are not changing God—we are living in accordance with His will and desires.

Just as pleasing a friend here on earth would mean that we’re living in ways that are in accordance with the friendship and not contrary to it, so pleasing God is living in a way that accords with His desires.

So, while God does not change, we see the invitations throughout Scripture for us to walk in the pathways of His delight. God truly relates to His children in ways that they experience as pleasure and delight. The Christian whose heart has been transformed by the goodness and grace of God seeks nothing less than to live in the light of his Father’s smile.

To please God, then, is not to earn His favor, but to live in the good of a friendship He has already established. Friendship delights in the other’s good, and true friendship requires participation in the good of the friend. We don’t contribute to His goodness or happiness; He is goodness and happiness itself! Yet, we can participate in it. As we walk in accordance with His will, we participate in His delight, seeing His name and His fame extend to the ends of the earth—because He has become our joy.

Glorifying God through obedience does not increase God’s pleasure; it deepens our experience of God’s already-settled pleasure. We can feel God’s pleasure through obedience.

God does not stand by, cold and distant, waiting to see if we will earn His favor. His heart is eternally turned toward mercy, and His delight is to communicate Himself ever more fully to those who walk according to His will (John 14:21, 23).

So, in whatever you find yourself doing today—eating pizza, answering a child’s endless questions, laboring unseen—do you know that your Father delights in you already? Do you walk in the paths of His pleasure? Or are you seeking to appease a God who you mistakenly believe is otherwise distant from you?

[1] Our kiddos are toddlers if you didn’t pick up on it yet.

[2] Not every good gift leads naturally to worship—even pizza believe it or not. But Scripture insists it ought to (Ps. 145).

[3] 1 Tim. 1:11

1. Remain Diligent to the Priorities of Pastoral Ministry. Nothing shatters joy faster than becoming disqualified during the church search. Hold fast to what Paul told Timothy: “Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching” (1 Tim. 4:16). This requires spiritual discipline in your personal life, including regular rhythms of prayer, meditation on Scripture, and faithful participation in your local church.

This verse also calls you to pay attention to teaching; both to the act of teaching itself and to the content of the teaching. In other words, stay prepared. Stay fresh. Continue reviewing what you believe, why you believe it, and where you source your beliefs scripturally. Continue exercising your ability to teach. Of this, Pastor Albert Martin says, “God is not going to send down a sheet of paper on the day of our ordination which says, ‘My son and my servant, here is your job description.’ It does not work that way. It does not come automatically.”^[1] One must stay ready for the moment God has prepared for him, else he may find himself not qualified to teach, and therefore not qualified to pastor (1 Tim 3:2).

2. Remain Secure in Jesus’ Timing. Your desired timeline rarely aligns perfectly with the Lord’s. While this may be theologically obvious, it can feel far less obvious when glancing at a dry inbox, sifting through job boards, reading rejection letters, or visiting churches that do not lead anywhere. Remember that Jesus “upholds all things by the word of His power” (Heb. 1:3) and that He is sovereign over the building of His church (Matt. 16:18).

Practically, this means avoiding the temptation to accept a call out of desperation, to embellish yourself on applications or interviews, or to try to preach “knockout” sermons designed to impress. Attempts to control the process reveal a heart that forgets Christ’s sovereignty. Letting go of control releases anxiety and exalts Christ. There is joy in that freedom.

3. Remain aware of grace. Thinking ahead is wise, but the present reminds us, “From His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:16). You have not received anything that was not given to you already (1 Cor. 4:7). Your time, talents, and treasures are from God and belong to God. Your ability to use those resources is a gracious gift from God, who has withheld nothing good from you, for He has given His own Son for you.

It can be tempting to grow impatient or despondent after a long season of fruitless searching. However, God has supplied you with enough to sufficiently glorify Him (Phil. 4:19), which is where He calls us daily. To know and follow God’s will is the greatest joy.

If you love Christ, you will love His Church. If you love His Church, your joy will be found in the knowledge that you were saved from ruin, resourced with grace, and being sanctified for the situation Christ Himself chooses for you. In the meantime, remain prepared, trust in Jesus, and remind yourself of His sufficiency each day.

^[1] Albert N. Martin The Man of God: His Calling and Godly Life, vol. 1, Pastoral Theology (Montville, NJ: Trinity Pulpit Press, 2018), 401.

Psalm 96:1–3 will serve as a sturdy foundation for us to build on.

1 Oh sing to the LORD a new song;
sing to the LORD, all the earth!
2 Sing to the LORD, bless his name;
tell of his salvation from day to day.
3 Declare his glory among the nations,
his marvelous works among all the peoples!

An Act of Worship

The first truth we come to is that singing is an act of worship (Psalm 96:1). For the Christian, singing is not merely singing, but is something so much more. It is an expression of worship unto God. Of course worship is more than singing, but as we lift our voices in song it is certainly not less than an act of worship. Whether we sing alone, at home with our family, or in a chapel with our church, our singing should be seen first and foremost as an offering unto God.

Our song involves a divine audience. Not once, not twice, but three times the Psalmist calls us to sing to the Lord in this opening verse. Implicit in this passage and explicit in others (Psalm 40:1) is the stunning reality that the Lord of All Creation condescends to hear our song. What a profound thought that he would receive our songs. So we worship God not only with narrative and prose, but also with music and poetry, melody and harmony, rhythm and rhyme, notes and hearts joined together.

Let’s ask a few questions of these opening two verses to help highlight some important aspects to worshiping through song.

A New Song

First, let’s explore, “What kind of song is called for?” You will notice first that it is a new song. In the same way that God’s mercies are new every morning, each day brings new reasons for praise.

This new song is a “fresh song responding to a freshly received, fresh experience.” There is something about singing new texts and tunes of praise that causes us to pay attention in a fresh way. Crisp expressions allow our hearts to experience the same unchanging truths in brand-new ways.

Each published hymnal has a beginning and an end. However, the hymnal of the church has no back cover. The reason for this is clear. New songs will continue to be written as the Lord continually gives his people reasons to sing.

At the time this psalm was written, David could not have imagined the ways that new songs would be birthed in the millennia that followed. New songs of God’s praise expanded far beyond the border of Israel to include a diversity of developing styles and genres, many multicultural and musical expressions: the talking drum of West Africa, the high-church hymn of London, the buzzing sitar of northern India, the Gaelic psalm singing of the Hebrides, and the blues guitar of Muscle Shoals. Just as God’s new mercies visit us daily, new songs should be a welcomed addition to our ever- expanding hymnals.

Does this mean old hymns should be boxed up and stored in the church attic never to be hummed again? Not so fast! Old songs are also a meaningful part of Christian worship. With equal zeal to sing new songs, let us sing the old ones too. Scripture is replete with timeless songs which are meant to be sung through the ages. Church history contains a repository of riches that we should continue to sing. Historic hymns of our faith remind us that we are not the first generation who have wrestled, prayed, lamented, and praised through life. Many of us remember particular songs from our past that carried us through specific seasons of our lives. So, we continue to bring out the old songs while gladly welcoming the new.

A Congregational Song

The next question we ask of this text is, “Who is summoned to sing?” Here is where a particular choir takes the stage to lift their voices together—a congregation composed of every tribe, every tongue, and every nation. All the peoples of the earth are summoned to join in the chorus. The ancient Israelites would have understood this phrase to anticipate the day when Gentiles joined their song of praise to the Lord Almighty who is “great and greatly to be praised” (96:4), the One True God who is to be “feared above all gods” (96:4). This is a bidding for people to leave behind the worthless things they have worshiped in the past (96:5) and bring their collective worship to God alone. Though individual praise has its place, the singing called for here is not a solo performance but a congregational song.

We will return to this thought again, but for now let this pebble roll around in the shoe of your thoughts: if Scripture envisions people singing together, how well does your church sing together? When you think about the sound of your church’s music, do you first think about electric guitars and drums, keyboards and a choir, or does the sound of the whole congregation singing come to mind? Each person has been welcomed to come and sing praise to the King!

One of the results of the Reformation was that congregational singing was given back to the people of God. For too long, Christians gathered for worship as a choir of church leaders sang praise while the congregation simply watched the performance. The reformers sought to return the practice of singing to the church with songs in their own language. This allowed the people to participate once again in worship. If we are not intentional in our day about involving the whole church in singing, I fear we may retreat to having professionals lead worship under the lights while the congregation silently disappears in the dark. Let us see that the songs of Scripture are largely meant to include the whole congregation.

A Commanded Song

The final question I’d like us to ask is, “Why do Christians sing?” I realize this might seem like a silly question at face value, but have you ever stopped and thought about it? Of course, there are untold reasons that believers sing. We sing as a practice of prayer, to express emotion, to communicate creatively, the list goes on. But the ultimate reason that Christians sing is because we are commanded to. Singing is not a divine suggestion but a holy commandment from the Almighty God. Yet, like all the words of God, this command is not a burden to bear us down but a law to lift us up. The command to sing to the Lord sends our thoughts and hearts Godward understanding that each member of Triune God is worthy to be praised.

Paired with this commandment to sing to the Lord is the admonition to bless his name. Singing for the people of God is more than just melody making and lyric reciting. Singing is an act of worship by which we bless the Lord. To bless the Lord means to praise and adore him. So, how can we summarize an answer to the question: why do we sing as Christians? We sing to the Lord as an act of worship, together with the people of God, because we are commanded to.

A Delightful Command

Christian singing is a harmony of duty and delight. It is a delightful command. God delights in our singing, and singing fuels our delight in God. I had become a Christian some years before, but at the age of 15, the Lord gripped my heart with his grace in such a profound way that the only thing I knew to do in response was to sing. I started writing songs about who God is, what God had done, and what he was doing in my life. I had something to sing about. God’s love causes the silent heart to sing.

When we truly enjoy God our hearts are compelled to praise him and in the act of praise our joy is made complete. C.S. Lewis drew a straight line between these themes when he wrote, “I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation.” If your heart has been remade, reformed, and recalibrated by the love of God in Christ, the deepest part of you can’t help but sing in response to what God has done.

Think carefully and you will realize that you have 10,000 reasons to lift your voice. As you consider the privilege of singing—the who, the what, and the why of it all—you understand from Scripture that congregational singing is more than an arrangement of melody and lyrics performed by a group of strangers. Congregational singing is an act of worship offered to the Living God by a group of fellow believers who have participated together in Christ.

The next time a service begins, try not to see the songs as a prelude to preaching, or think of them as a warm-up exercise before an exposition of Scripture. Treat singing seriously, like something you have been commanded to do before the Lord. Join your voice with those around you with whom you share a great salvation. Sing as an expression of worship with your heart full of this divine mixture of faith and song.

Editor’s Note: Excerpted with permission from What if I Don’t Like My Church’s Music? by Matt Boswell. Copyright by 9Marks, published by Crossway.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/vlmX7ltT7vo

The Christian life is learned in community. We need models of godliness in action. But what kind of examples should we look for, and what kind of example should we aim to be? Here are four traits of ordinary godliness worth noticing and imitating.

Joyful Obedience to God 

Not all obedience is the same. Jesus warns in Matthew 6 against obedience that seeks attention: “Whenever you give to the poor, don’t sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do” (Matt. 6:2). Others obey the way children sometimes obey their parents—grudgingly, simply to avoid punishment.

The examples we imitate should be marked by joyful obedience. Attitude matters. Look for people who serve quietly, put chairs away without being asked, and do so with glad hearts. Scripture says, “Happy are those who keep his decrees and seek him with all their heart” (Ps. 119:2). Godliness is not merely compliance; it is delight.

Fierce Commitment to Orthodoxy

Orthodoxy means right belief, and right belief matters. A church filled with kind people but deliberately corrupted theology is not a godly church. Truth and godliness always belong together.

Paul is clear about this as he entrusts ministry to Timothy: “Hold on to the pattern of sound teaching that you have heard from me… Guard the good deposit through the Holy Spirit who lives in us” (2 Tim. 1:13–14). Godly examples are people who know their Bibles, love sound doctrine, and resolve to hold fast to the gospel.

Love for the Local Church 

Jesus loves the church, and his disciples share that love. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).

Every church is imperfect. Jesus knows this—and still loves his bride. If He can love our churches, then so can we. We should be wary of those who speak constantly and exclusively about their church’s flaws. That posture breeds pride and bitterness. Paul provides a better model. His letters to Corinth contain strong rebuke, yet they are framed by gratitude and affection: “I always thank my God for you” (1 Cor. 1:4), and “My love be with all of you in Christ Jesus” (1 Cor. 16:24). People who love the church help us love Jesus.

Humbly Receiving Correction 

How we receive correction reveals much about our character. Even faithful Christians can drift out of step with the gospel, as Peter did in Antioch (Gal. 2:11–14). God graciously uses correction to restore us.

Sometimes that correction comes through reading our Bible or hearing a sermon. Sometimes over coffee with a friend, or even an innocent conversation with your son. However it comes, receive it with gratitude because it shows that God is caring for me like a father for a son (Heb. 12:7).

I once watched my pastor receive unsolicited feedback between services from a visiting attendee. His sermon—prepared with prayer and care—was being critiqued. A pastor’s sermon is precious to him. He spends all week prayerfully putting it together and now a random visitor was offering correction.

How my pastor responded was a model of receiving correction with humility. He didn’t get defensive or dismissive—he listened well. Even though he didn’t agree with every point, he thanked the visitor for his insight and acknowledged this conversation with gratitude.

Godly people don’t have everything figured out. They are teachable.

Ordinary Godliness, Together

Apart from Jesus, no one is the perfect example. Thankfully, we don’t need perfect models. As others watch us follow Christ in our brokenness, they learn how to follow him in theirs.

This collage of imperfect yet faithful believers—pursuing Christ together—is where ordinary godliness is most clearly seen. Pay attention. Learn from them. And follow Jesus.

How do I care for my husband when he is sick more than he is well?

I asked myself this question as I sat beside my husband in his hospital room, feeling the weight of living in a sin-cursed world press down on both of us.

Three years into our marriage, this wasn’t what I imagined our life together would look like. On our wedding day, at twenty and twenty-one, the words “in sickness and in health” didn’t feel heavy or serious. They sounded more like promises to fetch cold medicine for sniffles or hand over Tums for an upset stomach.

Most young, healthy couples don’t imagine that these words will be tested in a hospital room just a few years into marriage. Yet there we were, staring at the fleeting reality of life, and I realized I had promised to love and care for my husband “in sickness and in health”—and I had no idea how to do the former.

Facing the Unknown

I had seen my husband sick quite a few times as we served overseas as missionaries in a third-world country. I heard him giving up the entire contents of his stomach on various occasions, and I felt the fever on his forehead as his body fought off a variety of illnesses. Those moments of sickness felt like just that—moments. They passed with the help of antibiotics, fluids, and naps. We were young and living in a third-world country where that kind of sickness was normal. I knew what to do in those moments: give him plenty of water, take him to get more antibiotics, make some light-hearted jokes, and move on.

But when my husband was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease after months of sickness and a week-long hospital stay, I found myself at a loss. This was not a stomach bug or the common cold. This had no easy fix—and still has no easy fix. This was night after night of vomiting, weeks of losing blood and increasing weakness, and waking up in the middle of the night to a pain-ridden, feverish, shaking husband, feeling helpless and afraid. This was spending a week in the hospital trying to figure out why his body was failing him.

Yet I was confronted and comforted by the truths of Isaiah 26:3: “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.”

During my husband’s week-long hospital stay, I repeatedly thought, “This isn’t how it was meant to be.” Our hearts felt drawn to despair as we sat in that hospital room, but thankfully, years of hearing and learning the truth about God, his sovereignty, and his promises were in our hearts. Scripture passages about suffering and pain that had been tucked away for a rainy day became real, and we clung to them. God’s Word became a refuge as we faced the unknown.

Steadfastness in Trials

As we faced the unknown, the words of James shone true: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (Jas. 1:2–4).

Steadfastness. Endurance. The Lord gave it in abundance. We made it through days of physical pain and the spiritual pain that comes with watching your best friend suffer. We weren’t expecting my husband to die that week in the hospital, but not knowing what his diagnosis was at the time brought forth a conversation I didn’t think we would have in our twenties. The unknowns were looming over us: How serious is this? Is it curable, or is it terminal?

We were heading for despair, but again, the Lord was kind as years of abiding in his Word bore the fruit of hope. We both knew that even if the worst happened, our hope was secure in Christ. He would faithfully carry us through whatever lay ahead. He did—and he continues to—as we face a future battling a chronic illness.

As my husband and I have been faced with the harsh reality of our finiteness, Paul’s words have been a comfort: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” (2 Cor. 4:16–17).

Grieving Properly with Bright Hope for Tomorrow

I just finished reading the Wingfeather Saga for the second time and love how stories we’ve read before can give us fresh insights and emotions during different seasons of life. The youngest character in the story, Leeli, is confronted with the death of her beloved dog, Nugget, and the brokenness of their overall situation. Her brother observes her in her grief and notes, “She seemed older, no longer shocked that such a thing could happen in the world, but heartbroken because it had. Her tears struck Janner as the right kind of tears.”

Later, he notices how their current sufferings were already shaping something good in his sister: “Podo and Leeli finally came back to where the others rested, and though her face still bore the weight of her sorrow, Janner could see that his sister was present. Her eyes didn’t stare into nothing. They saw the situation, grieved for it, and faced it.”

Her tears were right and good. It’s not wrong to grieve what ought to be grieved! Death and suffering were not a part of God’s original design and good creation. Sin brought pain, suffering, and death. So we grieve what God does not call good, but we don’t become stuck in our grief. Like Leeli, we shed the right kind of tears. We grieve, but we face it. And thankfully, as believers, we do not grieve like the world does because we have hope that one day all will be made right. One day, my husband, Brett, will be in eternity with a body that is no longer broken and no longer causes pain and suffering, because his body will be like God intended it to be.

This side of eternity, I seek to care for Brett in sickness by relying on the grace of God to give me the strength to be compassionate and servant-hearted toward him on the hard days. I grieve the loss of health and take that grief before the Lord, knowing that he is the God of all comfort. However, I don’t remain in that grief because the hope of eternity is in my heart. Saying our vows almost nine years ago, I did not think this would be my lot. Even so, it is well with my soul.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/6PSsmIeFkoQ

My son said this to me as he jumped into my arms when we were walking through a neighborhood full of shockingly creepy Halloween decorations. There was a robotic werewolf wrestling against the bars of a cage, shrouded in haze and flashing lights.

“That’s okay, my son. I’ve still got you.” It warmed my heart; my son is still small enough for me to carry him even though he’s freshly smart enough to articulate his inner life.

Insecurity grasping for security isn’t an emotional experience that we ever truly outgrow. Many experienced followers of Jesus, at every age, grapple with a sense of self that is fractured, unstable, and too easily subjected to circumstances. The stress that ensues steals our sleep, interrupts our relationships, and leads to both over-functioning (anxiety) and under-functioning (depression).

We often try to treat the symptoms without dealing with the root of the issue: our lack of secure connection to our Father in heaven. The insecurity that haunts our psyches is something we ought to seek to repent of—not necessarily the feeling itself, but the underlying unbelief that creates it—rather than make peace with it, treat it as normal or inevitable. Attacking insecurity involves three things: submitting to our status as the Father’s adopted children, operating in integrity in relationship with our siblings, and fighting our fear of man with the fear of the Lord.

Our Status as Adopted Children

Our feelings tell us the truth about how we’re making sense of the world around us. When our house is built on a poor foundation and we see the floods rising, our heart rate spikes, worry pours forth, and panic tears through our once-quiet mind. This disorienting and uncomfortable experience can revel the sad fact that we’ve built our lives not upon Christ, but sinking sands—things like money, the approval of peers, and self-righteousness.

These moments should trigger reflection: upon what—or whom—have I built my life? Where have I placed my confidence? I was feeling secure, but that source of security is now under siege, proving itself to be an illusion. This newfound fragility is, in that sense, sober disillusionment.

Do I believe my Father in Heaven owns the cattle on a thousand hills? Do I really believe I am His irrevocable heir? Do I sincerely believe I’ve been made a child of God by sheer grace? Do I functionally place my hope in the finished work of Jesus and his coming new creation?

I have a friend whose Father is incredibly wealthy. On the one hand, my friend is comforted by this; on the other hand, he hates this. He likes knowing he has no reason to be afraid of financial ruin, but he doesn’t like that he can’t take credit for being a self-made man. There is a holy swagger that looks like a paradox of fearlessness and humility that emerges when we submit to the status our Father has assigned to us as his children. We have everything we need, so we’re secure; and we know we’ve earned none of it, so we’re grateful.

Our insecurity reveals the truth about how secure we are in Christ.

Operating in Integrity

It is one thing to think and believe rightly about our Father in Heaven. It is another to live out that truth in our relationships with our brothers and sisters. Often, insecurity is downstream from a fractured sense of self. We behave one way in public, another in private—acting out one identity at home, another at work, another online, another at the gym, and yet another in the group chat. This fractured and disintegrated self creates anxiety because there is a chronic fear that worlds will collide and embarrassment will ensue.

One of the overlooked “survival response” mechanisms is fawn. We may be familiar with fight, flight, and freeze, but fawn is acting in such a way that we earn the approval of the person who we are looking to for security—especially when we compromise our integrity in doing so. We act out a false self to please others, because our sense of worth depends on theirs. We lie about ourselves with our words and actions to take hold of momentary relief from awkwardness, fear of abandonment, and disapproval.

Stepping towards integration—being an authentic, congruent self in every environment—is painful because it requires confessing our lack of integrity. This is partly why confessing your sin is healing (Jas. 5:16): it bridges separated relational realties and brings what is in the dark into the light. It’s rejecting the temptation to have multiple identities in favor of having one identity, rooted and grounded in love. This is a risk because we might be rejected. But the reward is integrity and the possibility of a genuine relationship in which we’re known and loved, not falsely known and loved. Therein legitimate security is found.

Fighting Fear with Fear

There is much we can fear. Fear is opposed to security because it signals that something we love is being threatened. The solution to fears that create insecurity is not merely to become less fearful, but to fear rightly. “Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28). This fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, the starting point for living God’s Word with skill and balance.

When we fear the Lord, we’re aware of his presence and authority. When we learn about the One whom we fear, we find that He is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” (Exod. 34:6–7). When we are attuned to the opinions of the gracious and merciful Triune Godhead above all other perspectives, we find that security naturally emerges, because the One who does not change has bestowed on us a dignity, purpose, and value that cannot be shaken.

Jump In

Insecurity isn’t itself sinful, but it is downstream from sin: from living a fractured life, resisting our adopted status given by the Father, and from allowing disordered fears to supersede our fear of God. When we labor to repent of the causes of our insecurity, our sense of self comes into alignment with reality as we embrace a sober, Spirit-filled, and truly integrated identity.

As securely attached children jump into the arms of their fathers when fears arise, so also we lean into the arms of God Most High, whose Spirit assures us of His presence and reminds us not just of who we are, but of whose we are: “That’s okay, my son. I’ve still got you.”

Pastors, as platitudinous as this sounds—we were made for this moment. We are pastoring in one of the most seismic socio-cultural shifts at scale that the world has ever seen. We are guiding souls across the “new Roman roads” of a global age. Yes, it’s complex, confusing, and exhausting, but the essence of our job description remains, transcending the shifting sands of time—shepherding and feeding the flock, connecting with and confronting cultural narratives, and fulfilling the longings of an unsatisfied age. So it should be impossible to hear this encouragement as overly simplistic, arrogant, or even ignorant. Pastors, we were made for this moment. Let us now consider for a moment how we are to respond.

At the beginning of his letter to Titus, Paul gives a sweeping declaration of who he is and what the Lord has called him to do. He was set to live and lead into his moment in redemptive history. Now pastor, a great confidence should arise from Paul’s words, “before the ages began.” This changes everything about what we do, because it means that our work is woven into a timeless covenant propelled forward by a sending God—three in one—with a plan, an eternal plan to redeem. A missionary God coming to a people, His church, to bring them into His work. And we, pastors, like Paul, get to do what the entire cosmos hangs in the balance upon—preach His Word, “entrusted by command of God our Savior,” with the “grace and peace” given to us in Christ.

Paul goes on in his letter to exhort Titus to teach new believers “to adorn the doctrine of God our Savior” (Titus 2:10). But can something so grand and glorious as the gospel be improved? What does it mean to adorn it? Charles Spurgeon helped get at the question when he said that, “The gospel is best adorned when most unadorned.”^[1] We need a little bit more, so maybe a picture from home will illustrate.

My wife has a knack for “urban treasure hunting.” Step into the dim, golden glow of our living room—books and trinkets from around the world—yet nothing stands out more vibrantly than a 19th-century Victorian painting. Meet Bianca, an elegant woman complete in form, substance, and beauty. Yet what allows Bianca’s Victorian majesty to shine is actually the frame: gilded, regal, floral in pattern, perfectly complementary.

The frame doesn’t steal from the glory of the painting; it adorns it.

As we read on we see that this is Paul’s point. Believers are to display its beauty through the way that they live. It is this witness that makes the gospel truly shine. Pastor, let us consider our work of adorning the gospel in three movements—training, waiting, and declaring. And I want to give you a glimpse of how each one of these is at work in a part of the world renowned for its grandeur and indescribable beauty. A place that is spilling over with common grace, set within a meticulously crafted, Baroque-lined frame. Can the doctrine of God our Savior really be adorned in a place like this?

Grace Trains Us

“For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions” (Titus 2:11–12).

Grace has appeared. Grace is a person—Grace is Jesus, who pitched His tent and tabernacled among us (John 1:14).

Grace isn’t a detached gift given by God; grace is personified and He has come to us. This changes everything about our ministry—our preaching, our care of souls, our equipping of the saints. And it is through His training that He is bringing salvation for all people. To put it simply, our work is about displaying His rescue plan by our conduct. And as we labor, emitting the aroma of His love through our joy, mercy toward enemies, integrity, patience, and forgiveness, we show our people that adorning the doctrine of God our Savior is worth giving our lives to. Grace trains.

One living example of grace training a people appears in the 5th Arrondissement of Paris—one of the most consequential neighborhoods in the post-Christian West. A collision course of culture and history—Roman ruins, Baroque-lined streets, an influential university shaping Western thought. A place where the beating drum of expressive individualism finds some of its earliest articulations, where the mantras of our age were formed: “live your truth,” “you do you.” But its allure cannot satisfy.

In 2025, people are tired, lonely, and parched from moral disarray. They need to encounter grace that trains. This is exactly God’s plan for the 5th through the birth of a new evangelical church: L’Eglise de la Montagne. Housed in an old cinema, the training begins on Launch Sunday in full and glorious display. Pastor Philip Moore stands at the entrance, black-rimmed spectacles and warm grin, welcoming guests into a lobby permeated with the sweet smell of pastries and coffee. The theater fills. Praises ascend in French. A handshake between the sending pastor and Philip becomes a vivid reminder that churches plant churches, and that meaningful partnership—sending and receiving—is still the way of mission.

Grace is training a people in Paris. Grace is training a people in your city.

Grace Helps Us Wait

“… waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ” (Titus 2:13).

As Grace trains us and others in godliness, He also helps us wait for our blessed hope. Have you ever considered the divine hardwiring of human beings to long for something beyond this life? Whether we are in Atlanta or Wichita, Phnom Penh, or Cairo, notice how everyone is living toward an end, a telos. Really, it is that everyone is eschatological, yet this longing for final resolve can only be fulfilled in the gospel.

As that old cinema fills up for the first time on launch Sunday in Paris’ famous 5th, Philip preaches to these very longings. A context far and distinct from ours, yet also so near and relatable. The ‘religious anatomy’^[2] of humanity expressing the common insatiable search for meaning in this life—all needing to hear how truth, goodness, and beauty, each finds its fullest expression in God through Christ.

In Paris, on this very Sunday, many who have never heard the gospel listen intently as this news begins to shape their imagination with an invitation to enter His story through repentance and faith. They can now know what they are waiting for: the blessed hope of their salvation, Jesus.

There is a hopeful sense that a new day is dawning for the advance of the gospel in Paris. Protestants of old were persecuted nearly to extinction on these very streets. Calvin’s unrealized vision for France to be flooded with new churches comes to mind.^[3] A small, yet resilient community of pastors and their churches waiting in hopeful anticipation that the beauty of Christ will soon burst forth from arrondissement to arrondissement, and even better, He will appear again.

Pastors worldwide, we all know this waiting—this longing for Christ to come again, for His glory to renew our cities, and for His hope to strengthen our people. Grace helps us to wait with hope. The kind of waiting we are called to is proactive. It is individual and corporate; it is patient and urgent. It adorns the gospel in visible display as we gather and scatter.

Grace Authorizes Our Declaration

Paul says the gospel was “manifested in His word through the preaching with which I have been entrusted” (Titus 1:3). He instructs believers to adorn the doctrine (2:10) and Titus, a pastor, to declare the gospel (2:15). Declaring Christ also adorns the doctrine.

In Paris, the declaration looks like a cinema transformed into a sanctuary. Music begins, and praises rise in French. Philip’s sermon on truth, goodness, and beauty declares Christ’s supremacy.^[4] The people of Paris hear the good news echo into their historic streets. Pastor, whether you are in a traditional sanctuary on Sunday morning, gathering at a storefront, meeting in a living room, a school, or an old warehouse, you get to declare that He “gave Himself for us to redeem us… and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good works” (2:14).

Pastor, we were made for this moment. Adorning the doctrine of God our Savior is the mission. Grace appeared, grace trains, grace helps us to wait with hope until Christ appears again, and grace empowers us to declare. That means that there is hope for Paris, our town, and our city.

May we adorn the doctrine of God our Savior until that day.

The work of adorning the gospel continues in cities around the world. See it in action in this documentary: Watch now.

^[1] Spurgeon, Charles H. “Adorning the Gospel.” Sermons vol. 18 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1872), 377.

^[2] Strange, Making Faith Magnetic, p. 27.

^[3] Michael A. G. Haykin, “John Calvin’s Missionary Influence in France,” Reformation and Revival 10, no. 4 (2001): 41–42. Haykin notes that by 1562 more than 2,000 Protestant churches had been planted in France, many through the efforts of Geneva trained missionaries under Calvin’s global vision of gospel advance.

^[4] From his launch sermon at L’Église de la Montagne, Philip Moore described the church’s vision this way: “We want to be … a church in the 5th arrondissement, for the 5th arrondissement; a church where everyone can encounter God through Jesus Christ; a church where we live out the three values we have chosen for our church: truth, beauty, and goodness. We believe that when we understand the truth about God, we see him as he is—perfect beauty and goodness—and that this experience allows us to live out truth, beauty, and goodness in our everyday lives.”

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/ZfGXdC8P86I

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/0SNopQVqk3E

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/P_h1N_4MCS8

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/KyaPRkx2WvA

Congratulations to this year’s winners of the 2025 For the Church Book Awards!

Dr. Jason K. Allen, President of Midwestern Seminary and FTC Editor-in-Chief

Winner: A Light on the Hill: The Surprising Story of How a Local Church in the Nation’s Capital Influenced Evangelicalism by Caleb Morell (Crossway)

“Admittedly, I have a bias towards local-church histories, finding each and every local-church’s story fascinating. But Caleb Morell’s A Light on the Hill: The Surprising Story of How a Local Church in the Nation’s Capital Influenced Evangelicalism proved especially gripping to me, and will prove encouraging for every minister who reads it.  Morell details the 150-year story of Capitol Hill Baptist Church in well researched but easy-to-read prose, grippingly telling the story of one of America’s most influential churches. The attentive reader will find lessons for local-church ministry sprinkled throughout but will also find the culminating chapters, which focus on the long, fruitful tenure of pastor Mark Dever, particularly of interest. The book is a reminder of how influential one church, strategically placed and biblically led, can be and how impactful one pastor, through one church, can impact multiple generations of ministers.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: 40 Questions About the Trinity by Matthew Emerson and Lucas Stamps (Kregel)

“The past decade has witnessed non-stop Trinity dialogue and debate in much of evangelicalism. Much of that discussion has trickled down to the local church level, prompting church members to rediscover ancient, essential doctrines. Along these lines, the 40 Questions Series, capably edited by Benjamin Merkle, has served the church well by answering commonly asked questions in well informed, yet understandable terms. Matthew Emerson and Lucas Stamps’ 40 Questions about the Trinity is a helpful contribution and a welcome addition to the 40 Questions Series. All trying to sort out the contemporary Trinity conversations—or just those needing a refresher on theology proper—will be well served by Emerson and Stamps’ work.”

Get the book here.

Dr. Jason G. Duesing, Provost of Midwestern Seminary and FTC Editorial Council Member

Winner: Meet the Puritans: Revised and Expanded Editionby Joel Beeke, Randall Pederson, and Fraser Jones (Reformation Heritage Books)

“As a perennially misunderstood group, the Puritans are in regular need of definition and introduction. The first edition of this book in 2006 served that purpose well, but when I learned the second edition contained 40% new material I knew this revised and expanded edition of Meet the Puritans would serve now as the standard resource for its intended reading audiences of pew, pulpit, and podium. The authors are like informed and enthusiastic docents greeting you at the entrance of a large museum—eager to tell you where to start and happy to share their own favorite galleries to help you make the most of your visit. Meet the Puritans is very much worth the price of admission.”
Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Prioritizing the Church in Missions by John Folmar and Scott Logsdon (Crossway)

“Churches are the Bible’s missions strategy. This simple premise rings throughout this book as both a head-nodding reminder and as a chin-scratching epiphany. Written by two seasoned missionaries who pastor international, English-speaking churches in Muslim countries, Prioritizing the Church in Missions rehearses for the reader the centrality of the local church in God’s plan while also explaining why this idea is needed to bring clarity for 21st missiological practice. For anyone or any church who loves the nations, this book will prove helpful.”

Get the book here.

Camden Pulliam, Senior Vice President for Institutional Relations at Midwestern Seminary and FTC Editorial Council Member

Winner: Managing Your Households Well by Chap Bettis (P&R)

“This book is neither complicated nor clever, but its thrust is utterly consequential. The church does not need more hired-hands or professionalized parrots. No, the church needs paternal pastors. Having written my dissertation on 1 Timothy 3:4-5, I was supremely curious to read Chap Bettis’s practical exposition of these verses, and he did not disappoint. From exegetical insights to relational wisdom and experiential guidance, this book outlines how the weight of fatherhood trains men for the work of ministry. Numerous sections within the book reveal Bettis’ acquaintance with the gritty questions of daily parenting and daily pastoring – each of which are answered (or navigated) with skill and grace. I encourage any father, pastor, or man aspiring to be such to read this book, and then internalize it. May we raise more fathers who feel like a pastor, and pastors who feel like a father.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Lest We Drift: Five Departures from the One True Gospel by Jared C. Wilson (Zondervan)

“We all have turned to look for something in the back seat while driving down the highway, only to look up again and realize the car has veered off course into danger. Dr. Jared Wilson warns of this drift in ministry too: “The moment we take our eyes off the center is when we begin to move away from it” (9). Partially a post-op on the gospel-centered movement of the past 20 years, and partially a prophetic plea with the church’s leaders of the next 20 years, Wilson exposes the dangers of drifting into victimhood, dryness, superficiality, pragmatism, and legalism. We must return, again and again, to gospel-centrality. Yes, indeed, “we must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it” (Heb. 2:1). ”

Get the book here.

Jared Wilson, Assistant Professor of Pastoral Ministry, Spurgeon College; Author in Residence, and FTC Editorial Council Member

Winner: Good News at Rock Bottom: Finding God When the Pain Goes Deep and Hope Seems Lost by Ray Ortlund (Crossway)

“Nobody today speaks to the heart with such pastoral grace as Ray Ortlund, and this book, while short and sweet, is nevertheless a loving stare at a deep, deep well of God’s mercy. With a scholar’s resource and a father’s tone, Ortlund guides the reader through the pains of betrayal, loss, death, and the entrapment of his or her own sins to see that the Lord who abides high on his holy hill is also down in the smoking crater, abiding with the lowly and brokenhearted. Especially for those whose life has bottomed out — but not just for them — Good News at Rock Bottom ministered to me unlike any other 2025 book I read.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Drawn by Beauty: Awe and Wonder in the Christian Life by Matthew Z. Capps (B&H Academic)

“For believers living in an age drowning in entertainment but still diminished in wonder, Matthew Capps’s Drawn to Beauty is a course corrective with deep discernment and a keen understanding of Christianity’s theological heritage of aesthetics. This book is as challenging as it is compelling, and it will draw readers into a more resonant faith, one that more gloriously adorns our glorious God.”

Get the book here.

Brett Fredenberg, Director of Marketing and Content Strategy and Managing Editor of For the Church

Winner: Union with Christ and the Life of Faith by Fred Sanders (Baker Academic)

“Fred Sanders has long helped the church recover the beauty and centrality of Trinitarian theology, and in Union with Christ and the Life of Faith he offers one of his most pastorally valuable works yet. With precision and warmth, Sanders shows that union with Christ is not a niche doctrine; it is the unshakable foundation of the Christian life. He writes with a rare blend of academic clarity and everyday accessibility, inviting readers to marvel at what it means to belong to Jesus, to participate in His life, and to walk by faith in the power of the Spirit. Every chapter reminds believers that the Christian life is not grounded in self-effort but in the finished work of Christ applied to us. This book strengthens weary saints, steadies young believers, and deepens the roots of any disciple hungry to grow in grace.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: How to Lead Your Family by Joel Beeke  (Reformation Heritage Books)

“Joel Beeke’s How to Lead Your Family is a deeply needed word for a cultural moment marked by distraction and drift. Drawing from decades of pastoral ministry and a lifetime of devotional wisdom, Beeke offers a vision of family leadership that is both countercultural and wonderfully ordinary. He refuses to reduce spiritual leadership to technique; instead, he calls parents to a life of repentance, prayer, Scripture, and intentional discipleship. With clarity and gentleness, Beeke shepherds readers toward cultivating a home shaped by grace, where parents model what they teach, where worship becomes a pattern of life, and where children are invited into the rhythms of the Christian life. This book is both convicting and hope-giving, offering practical steps without ever losing sight of the gospel that empowers them. It is a resource every Christian parent, pastor, and church leader should keep close at hand.”

Get the book here.

Jonathan Lumley, Associate Editor at For the Church

Winner: Numbers 20–36 by L. Michael Morales (Apollos)

“The second volume of Morales’ commentary on Numbers brings readers into Israel’s wilderness journey with clarity and insight. Morales carefully unpacks the Hebrew text and the book’s structure while highlighting moments of challenge, faithfulness, and God’s guidance that speak directly to life today. His exposition is both thorough and approachable, making this a resource that pastors, students, and everyday readers can use to engage the text thoughtfully and faithfully.”

Get the book here.

Runner-up: Prioritizing Missions in the Church by Aaron Menikoff and Harshit Singh (Crossway)

“This book is the counterpart to Prioritizing the Church in Missions, providing a helpful, much-needed guide for making missions central to your church’s culture. Menikoff and Singh show how practices like preaching, prayer, discipleship, and community can naturally support sending and sustaining missionaries. Grounded in Scripture and pastoral experience, it argues that missions isn’t just a program or parachurch work but should be woven into the heartbeat of every congregation. Whether you are a missionary, pastor, leader, or member, this book offers practical, biblical guidance for aligning your church with God’s heart for the nations.”

Get the book here.

Levi Moore, Manager, Sword & Trowel Bookstore and Tomlinson Cafe

Winner: A Heart Aflame for God: A Reformed Approach to Spiritual Formation by Matthew Bingham (Crossway)

“Never has it been easier for the glint and glimmer of this world to steal our gaze from the God who redeemed us. Our natural inclination in fighting this distraction is to try harder, as if doing more will rekindle a heart grown cold. Matthew Bingham reminds us otherwise: only the Holy Spirit, through reading, praying, and pondering the illuminated Word, can set us ablaze from within. This formation from within is critical for the local church as we are “living stones…being built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood” (1 Pet. 2:5). A heart kept aflame for God during the week stokes the flames of corporate worship, offering a pleasing aroma to the Lord.”

Get the book here.

Runner-Up: Remember Heaven: Meditations on the World to Come for Life in the Meantime by Matthew McCullough (Crossway)

“Only the hope of heaven is big enough for a world that never will be. Yet we have become masters of drowning our aches and longings for more in vain and unfulfilling distractions. It is with forceful tenderness that Matthew McCullough presses the hope of heaven into our wounded longings and shows that the new creation is the only answer big enough for hearts that were made for eternity. A church that truly remembers heaven will live differently now and preach a gospel that finally feels like Good News.”

Get the book here.

Once again, we would like to extend a congratulations to the authors and publishers represented in the 2025 For the Church Book Awards. You can view previous winners of the FTC Book Awards here: 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017.

Nevertheless, it was God’s kind providence that led to the phone call that all foster parents dread but expect: they were coming to pick her up to take her to be with family.

The grief was immediate and deep. How do you just let a child you have grown to love go? Regardless of our desires, the time came, the social worker arrived, and against every fiber in us, we put that little girl in a car seat, never to be seen by us again.

And we wept—we wept long, and we wept hard. To this day, when I think of her, it moves me deeply.

When the soul is drowning, to what can it cling that is buoyant enough to keep it afloat? In those days of darkness, I found myself reflecting on the Preacher’s words in Ecclesiastes 11:7–8. They have held my hand as my wife and I have learned what it means to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10) in the wake of our first child’s departure.

These verses invite us to look honestly and soberly at both the sweetness of life’s light and the certainty of its darkness. I invite you to reflect with me on what it means to bathe in the light as the sun dips below the horizon and the shadows of evening begin to gather:

“Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun. For if a person lives many years, let him rejoice in them all; but let him remember that the days of darkness will be many” (Ecc. 11:7–8).[1]

1. Bathe in the Light

It’s a beautiful verse, but what does it mean that light is sweet? In Ecclesiastes, light is the gracious revelation and manifestation of God’s goodness in a dark and broken world (2:13–14; 11:7–8). “Light” is not something meant to remain abstract—it is the very grace of God that warms the heaven-bound soul as they undoubtedly trek through many long, cold, and lonely evenings. It is something that can be held onto, whether physically or spiritually—it can be noticed, received, and remembered.

The light for my wife and me are the evenings of cuddles as we watched Bluey with our little girl and our shared laughter as she would get the “zoomies” before bed. The light was watching this child from an unbelieving family learn the rhythms of song and prayer.

There is much light elsewhere in my life. My wedding day. Reconciling with family members after years of relational tension. Brunch dates. Time in the Word and prayer where I feel intimate with the Lord and on fire for his mission.

Cling to the days of light, friends, and call them to mind often. Cling to the days where you can grab God’s goodness, receive its warmth and comfort, and go to bed with a smile and a happy heart. For as God gifts days of light, he also gifts another type of day in his providence: “the days of darkness will be many.”

2. Accept the Night

The night is often long and cold. However, one of the first truths I had to learn to stomach before feeling the light again is that the night is not necessarily a bad thing. Notice that the Preacher does not condemn the days of darkness; he simply states, “the days of darkness will be many,” and this is something you should remember when experiencing the light.

The events that bring “the days of darkness” certainly can be caused by sinful origins, and that should not be ignored, but that does not mean everything about it is to be despised.

Rather, it is essential that we learn from the great sufferers of the faith who are able to say things like, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD” (Job 1:21), and, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good…” (Gen. 50:20).

Such is the wisdom of the Preacher, and such should be the disposition of the sufferer. The darkness is often painful, but when the righteous sufferer resigns himself or herself to the sovereign goodness of our God in all things, a context is created wherein light can be felt again—and the darkness becomes the backdrop that magnifies the great graces and gifts of our good God.

3. Rejoice in the Light Amid the Night

Light is not only a blessing in the day; it becomes essential when night falls.

Following the opening declaration that light is sweet, the Preacher provides a foundational reason—signaled by the word “for” (rendered in the ESV as “so”)—why the light is sweet. Light is sweet precisely because life contains both stretches of joy and many days of darkness, and the ability to delight in the light is grounded in holding the two together—not their separation.

The Preacher is not offering a simple cause-and-effect: “Light is sweet… so rejoice!” That would treat joy as automatic and ignore the reality of darkness. Rather, he explains, “Light is sweet… for God gives years worth rejoicing in even though many dark ones will come.” The sweetness of light is meaningful because it exists alongside the days of darkness, and rejoicing is grounded in God’s providence of both days, not just in the days of light.

The sweetness of light is not naïve of life’s brutal realities, nor is rejoicing dependent on days of light; the tension between the sweetness of light and pain of darkness is meant to be held together for the explicit purpose that the days of darkness highlight the sweetness of the light.

You are right to rejoice in every day and year that God gives—for he really does give many good ones, even though darkness is a part of the package.

So when the sun drops beneath the horizon and the bitter cold of night begins to bite at you, hold the moments of light near, for these are the very means and graces of God ordained to sustain you and provide warmth when you can no longer see.

The evenings of laughter are not meant to make you collapse when they end—they are meant to remind you that God is good all the time, even when it doesn’t feel like it. They remind you that night is temporary. The same sun that sank beneath the horizon will rise again—dawn is as certain as dusk.

Cling to the days of health, joy, and intimacy with God, fellow church members, your children, and any other that God might bring across your path, for seasons of sickness, sadness, and loneliness will surely come. When they come, remember the graces and gifts of the past—for their sweetness will return again. It may not be tomorrow, but if you are in Christ, his light will dawn on you for an eternity. Therefore, we hope and do not despair.

[1] Most English translations render the Hebrew particle, ki, in v. 8 as “so,” but the word more commonly introduces an explanation or grounding (“for”). The Preacher is not drawing a conclusion (“so rejoice”) but giving the reason why light is sweet (“for God gives many good years even though dark ones will come”).

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/IYtrbOg38B8

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/5ICC3KIaaMw

In 1944, C.S. Lewis delivered a lecture at King’s College, University of London. The talk he delivered to a group of young college students has become a famous address entitled “The Inner Ring.” In it Lewis states:

“I believe that in all men’s lives at certain periods, and in many men’s lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside.”

In a stroke of religious and psychological brilliance, Lewis unpacks with arresting clarity the deep desires of the human heart to be loved, included, regarded, listened to, and accepted into the various “inner rings” of our lives—from friends, to co-workers, to politics, and even church. The temptation to live life striving to be accepted by our peers or our community can become an all-controlling feature of life. The desire for the inner ring is real. So, what does Lewis propose as an answer? Wisdom and work.

“The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters. You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it.”

Lewis here describes work done with skill and focus. This is not the path of self-promotion or maneuvering, but of wisdom and skill that warrants praise. The death of the desire to be in the inner circle is to pursue skill and wisdom with diligence, and Ecclesiastes 9–10 help us see why this is necessary: wisdom rarely makes a person famous.

Wisdom is Greater than Might

Ecclesiastes 9:13–18 tells a fascinating—albeit commonly overlooked—little story about a poor, wise man who delivered a city through his wisdom. This little story is one of my favorites in the book. There is something profound and strikingly realistic about the poetic justice of a great king with great siege-works being overtaken by the skill of a poor man in a little town by his wisdom. There is really no way to know what historical event the Teacher is describing, nor does it really matter. The point here is that wisdom has the power to protect and deliver. And this is a point for us to reflect upon: Do we believe true wisdom can protect and deliver? We live in a culture full of “shouting fools” (9:17), but do we believe that wisdom is greater than volume? Wisdom does not believe that the end justifies the means, but that the way we live shapes the end—the path of wisdom leads to life and deliverance.

The old man in the story is not celebrated or remembered (apart from this account in Ecclesiastes). He did not become the ruler, his name was not passed along, and he did not get a statue commemorating his accomplishment. One of the main ideas in these verses is that in a fallen world, we should not expect wisdom to be celebrated. But does this lack of recognition make his efforts in vain? No, he delivered the city! But he did not receive praise, glory, or honor. We live in a culture that sees shows of power and aggression as supreme, and wisdom as a waste of time. Wisdom is indeed greater than might, but don’t expect the mighty to admit it. The subtlety of wisdom is its own reward, and the wise know it.

Foolishness is Powerful

The Teacher of Ecclesiastes instructs us that another reason wisdom does not always get the recognition it deserves is because foolishness can reside in high places (10:5). In 10:1–11, the Teacher argues that while wisdom can deliver and is truly more powerful than weapons of war, foolishness also has its own ability to spoil things—like a dead fly in perfume!

This is true, right? How many headlines have we read where a life of good deeds was destroyed by a few moments of folly? Forty years of a virtuous career can be ended by one illegal decision. Foolish decisions have powerful consequences.

But folly not only has power because of its consequences; it is also powerful because of its ability to deceive. Ecclesiastes 10:3 describes an individual walking, lacking sense, and saying to everyone he is a fool. The passage is a bit ambiguous, but the idea is that either through his own words or actions he reveals he is a fool to all around him. The great power and irony of foolishness is that it is most often unobserved by those who display it most proudly.

In our current culture that values power, strength, shock value, and control, do not think that because folly hangs out in high places it is permissible—or benign. The Teacher explains that it will destroy a life… and a little goes a long way. There is no sin beyond the grace and forgiving power of the gospel, but talk to any longtime Christian, and they’ll tell you that being forgiven doesn’t mean that the consequences and memories of sin disappear. Wisdom recognizes the power of foolishness and counters it with a deep desire to walk in the paths of wisdom.

Go After Jesus, not the Inner Ring

In an Ecclesiastes-like fashion, Lewis warns of the vanity in pursuing the recognition of the inner ring:

As long as you are governed by that desire you will never get what you want. You are trying to peel an onion: if you succeed there will be nothing left. Until you conquer the fear of being an outsider, an outsider you will remain.

In Ecclesiastes, fools desire what they cannot have. Refusing to recognize the temporariness of this world, they seek ultimate fulfillment in things that cannot give it. In Lewis’s analogy, fools spend their lives peeling onions, only to find themselves empty-handed in the end.

Wisdom does not live for the inner ring, but for something more substantial. Ecclesiastes explains to us the power of wisdom and the disproportionate praise it receives in this world. But, like the Teacher of Old Testament wisdom, our Lord Jesus also calls us to a path of wisdom and virtue that is often not celebrated in this life. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us:

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it. (Matt. 7:24–27)

It is amazing how difficult and strange Ecclesiastes can feel at times, and yet how similar the message is to Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. The first temptation of the serpent in the Garden of Eden was, “Did God really say….” The temptation to stray from God’s word continues through every generation. Wisdom is not crowd-sourcing. Wisdom is not trying to guess what the next big thing will be before everyone else. Wisdom begins with the fear of the Lord and building our lives upon his words. Wisdom believes that God’s instructions are good and life-giving, even though wisdom rarely gets a trophy.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/AOSZg4_pKgs

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Two years later, my wife and I moved to Kansas City for seminary. I was twenty-six, sitting in class with many young twenty-somethings, and I felt behind in ministry because I had never served in a vocational church role.

As a twenty-six-year-old, I noticed friends starting families, purchasing their first homes, or beginning their first pastorates—and I felt left behind. Being in a seminary bubble, you see God work in individuals’ lives, calling them to serve churches at a young age or in ministry contexts immediately after graduation. I was thankful for my role in our church, even though it was only part-time. It was a paid ministry position, but before long, I found myself dwelling on the fact that I was not a pastor. In my selfish, fleshly mind, I thought God was behind—that He was not doing for me what He was doing for others, and they were much younger than I was.

Friends, whether you are in ministry or not, we can be tempted to think our sovereign, all-knowing, governing Lord is behind in placing us where we want to be. Here are three encouragements for those who struggle with contentment in the here and now.

Remember: God Is Always at Work

In a viral tweet, John Piper stated, “God is always doing 10,000 things in your life, and you may be aware of three of them.” For those in Christ, knowing that God governs your life should be the most peaceful news. Jeremiah 10:23 says, “LORD, I know that people’s lives are not their own; it is not for them to direct their steps.” God is always at work in our lives, guiding and directing our steps. Most of the time this is a mystery we spend long periods worrying about, but we are told in Matthew 6:34, “Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

People often say hindsight is 20/20—and providence proves this to be true. There are ways God is working for my good that I am completely unaware of. My knowledge is limited because I do not stand outside of time, but God does, and I take comfort in this. While here on earth, God may seem behind according to the timeline we want. We have ideas of what our life will be like in five years, but God alone has true and complete knowledge of this. That is why we can trust His timing and be content where He has given us opportunities to serve Him, whether in a local church or a nine-to-five job.

I worked many odd-and-end jobs that God used to provide for the next steps He had for me. We may never understand the purpose of God’s present placement in our lives. I never understood why I worked at a pantyhose factory while taking seminary courses online. Looking back, God was shaping me for service in His church. Human beings are meant to have limited knowledge, and that limitation should direct our gaze to the One who knows all things.

Trust: His Timing Is Not a Mistake

I can’t help but think of John 11 and the two grieving sisters who were convinced Jesus was behind. When Lazarus grew ill, they sent word to Jesus—yet He stayed two days longer. By the time He arrived in Bethany, Lazarus was dead, and both Martha and Mary said the same thing: “Lord, if you had been here…” To them, Jesus was late, operating on His own timeline instead of theirs.

But Jesus knew exactly what He was doing. Martha’s faith is shown in her words, “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.” Yet even she didn’t grasp that the One standing before her was “the resurrection and the life.” They were not prepared for the glory He was about to reveal.

Jesus didn’t send a messenger ahead to reassure them. He didn’t heal Lazarus instantly from a distance, as He had done for others. He waited. Why? Belief. He delayed so that His disciples—and these beloved sisters—would see more clearly who He is. His apparent slowness was actually purposeful love.

And isn’t that our struggle? We often assume God is behind on the healing, behind on the provision, behind on the rescue. But what if He is holding back because we are not yet ready for what He intends to show us? What if, like the father in Mark 9, we are meant to cry out, “I believe; help my unbelief”?

What would it do to our faith if God revealed everything He was doing in our lives?

Rest: Trusting in God’s Timing

Throughout my path to pastoral ministry, these Scriptures on waiting have steadied my heart:

• Psalm 27:14 – “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
• Psalm 37:7 – “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices!”
• Psalm 130:5 – “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope…”
• Proverbs 20:22 – “Do not say, ‘I will repay evil’; wait for the Lord, and he will deliver you.”
• Isaiah 8:17 – “I will wait for the Lord… and I will hope in him.”
• Isaiah 30:18 – “The Lord waits to be gracious to you… blessed are all those who wait for him.”

Now, at thirty-three, serving as an Associate Pastor in Arkansas, married nine years with three little girls who fill our home with life, I look back and see the Lord’s fingerprints all over my story. Every challenge, obstacle, and unexpected turn was preparing me for what He had called me to. I’m still on that journey, but one truth has become unmistakably clear: trusting His providence always leads to good—even when the road feels slow.

Lamentations 3:25 declares, “The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.” That is my counsel to the aspiring pastor, to the single young man longing for a wife, to the college student eager for the mission field.

God is not behind. Wait for Him.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/Pq6X9J_DKWQ

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“No one is good but God.” Perhaps you can even hear that answer. It’s how we tend to respond to this question, isn’t it? We point to Jesus, the perfect God-man who died for our sins, reiterating that there are no good people and that all of us deserve the judgment of God.

And this is correct. Paul tells us in Romans 3 that no one is righteous. Everyone has sinned. Sin incurs the wrath of God, and if everyone has sinned, then we all deserve the judgment of God.

People die because of sin. Judgment happens because of evil. Bad things happen because God is just.

And yet, even as I affirm this answer in its entirety, two passages in the Bible have reshaped how I view this question.

The Mystery of Justice

The first passage is Genesis 18. In this passage, God promises to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah for their wickedness. Abraham, knowing that his nephew Lot lives in Sodom, intercedes with God.

“Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” he opens (18:23).

What could perhaps be taken as innocent curiosity soon begins to show its true colors: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city. Will you then sweep away the place and not spare it for the fifty righteous who are in it?” (18:24).

Abraham believes that the entire city of wickedness should be spared on account of a few righteous. His question borders on assuming the answer: “Of course God would spare the whole city on behalf of the righteous.” The next verse tells us why.

Abraham continues in 18:25, “Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?”

Abraham isn’t accusing God of being unjust. He’s saying that because God is just, he can’t wipe away the righteous with the wicked. It would be unjust to do so, and this is why Abraham seemingly assumes the answer in his question. But, of course, Abraham is merely a man, and we see examples throughout Scripture of people who have skewed perspectives.

Yet, I don’t think Abraham has a skewed perspective here. For one, far from rebuking Abraham for his strong words, God promises that he will not destroy the whole city if he finds fifty righteous, seemingly indicating his agreement with Abraham (18:26). Additionally, Lot—whom Peter calls righteous (2 Pet. 2:7)—is indeed saved by God from the destruction of Sodom. Finally, Abraham never repents, nor does the narrative ever seem to critique Abraham’s words. By all accounts, Abraham’s words seem to be true: the righteous should not be punished alongside the wicked.

The passage leaves Abraham ignorant of the outcome. God’s departing promise is that he will not destroy the city if ten righteous people are present in it. The next time we see Abraham is in Genesis 19:27, where he goes up the mountain to speak with God and watches smoke rise from the ashes of Sodom. We have no record in Scripture of him meeting Lot again, no promise from God that Lot would be spared. Amid the mystery, Abraham is left with his faith in a just God. Abraham may not know that Lot survived. He may not know why God chose to destroy the city even with Lot there. But he does know that God is just and faithful, even when it seems like bad things might happen to good people.

The Mystery of Death

The second passage that speaks to this question is Ecclesiastes 8:14, where Solomon writes, “There is an enigma[1] that takes place on earth, that there are righteous people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the wicked, and there are wicked people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the righteous. I said that this also is enigma.”

The context reveals that Solomon is speaking of death. Here, like Abraham, Solomon wrestles with the mystery of the death of the righteous. How can this happen? How can the wicked survive in all their sin while the righteous die what seems to be the sinner’s death, despite their righteousness? How can bad things happen to righteous people?

Solomon doesn’t give us answers. Quite the opposite, in fact. He tells us that regardless of how hard we try, we will not find out all that God is doing in the world (8:17). We know he is still talking about the death of the righteous because he returns to this subject in 9:2, telling us again that “the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil,” that is, death. He doubles down, saying, “This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all” (9:3).

Solomon, writing inspired words of Scripture, tells us that the same death happening to both the righteous and the wicked is not only mysterious, but evil.

Assurance Greater Than Answers

When people come to us with questions of theodicy, seeking to understand how a good God could allow bad things to happen to people he saved, we can tend to be dismissive. We rightly cast focus onto Christ who, though innocent, suffered on our behalf, all the while unintentionally dodging the very question Scripture itself asks.

But when we come to Scripture with this question, it doesn’t blink. “You are asking the right question,” comes the reply from its pages. It gives us some answers—enabling salvation, producing holiness, refining faith—but much is left a mystery. It is a mystery why God causes bad and good to fall both on the righteous and unrighteous, but it is not a mystery that God does it.

Perhaps that’s scary for you. You know God as a comforter, not a pain-giver, and the thought of him knowingly causing bad things to happen is uncomfortable. But to you, my friend, I say this: God is a good God. He is sovereign and in control, and that’s a very good thing. We don’t always know why God brings bad upon the good, but we know that he is always just, and he will ultimately more than make up for anything we’ve lost or any pain we’ve felt.

This makes all the difference.

So often when bad things happen, we turn to Scripture with our questions. We want answers, but instead we find promises. Promises of eternal life, of pain becoming a thing of the past, of wrongs made right, and of justice that will be done. And this means that even in the enigma of pain and suffering, even in the mystery of bad things happening to righteous people, we don’t have to fear.

You don’t always know what God is doing in your life. But he does. So you can trust him.

[1] I understand the Hebrew term hebel, often translated “vanity,” to refer more accurately to “mystery.” See Jason S. DeRouchie, “Shepherding Wind and One Wise Shepherd: Grasping for Breath in Ecclesiastes,” The Southern Baptist Journal of Theology 15.3 (2011): 4–25.

You Are What You Eat

No doubt you have heard this expression before. It is used to encourage healthy eating so as to make one healthy. This is also true for the local church: the church will become what it “eats.” What does your church consume the most? The sermon? Missionary testimonies? Culture-warrior diatribes? Political debate?

If we audited the average church’s ministries and services, we might be surprised to find that what they “eat” is mostly sides and desserts. Imagine Thanksgiving dinner. I love mac and cheese, dressing, and mashed potatoes as much as the next guy. But isn’t the turkey what makes Thanksgiving special?

Sides shouldn’t overshadow the entrée at Thanksgiving. Sunday morning, like Thanksgiving, is special in large part because of the entrée—the Word. When we prioritize the sides and desserts, which aren’t bad in themselves, we miss out on what makes the meal truly substantive. A church is what it eats, and if we want the church to be special, we ought to prioritize consuming that which makes it special.

You Are What You Celebrate

I have heard the essence of this expression a number of times. “Celebration” doesn’t necessarily mean cheering or giving a standing ovation for a particular topic. It can simply mean what is most positively talked about in your church. Your church will become what you celebrate.

It is easy to become the church that celebrates ________. What dominates your announcements time? What is most discussed at the church business meeting? What are the “wins” mentioned in staff meetings—attendance, giving, visitors, community outreach events, baptisms, new discipleship groups?

Many churches celebrate the “sides” mentioned earlier, and their culture begins to reflect it. They become the church of missions, or young people, or amazing kids’ programs, and so on. Churches that celebrate the ministries God has given them are in no way wrong, but how does that same church speak about the Word? Is time in the Word spoken of positively?

You Are What You’re Intentional About

I first heard this expression spoken of in reference to the University of Texas football team. Over the last few seasons, they had been known for losing close games late in the fourth quarter. So, they became very intentional in practice about making the last 30 minutes or so the most intense and focused part of the entire session. They focused specifically on late-game situations, and it paid dividends.

This principle is no less true of churches. Perhaps the most obvious example is the common Wednesday night prayer meeting. After a potluck dinner, those gathered sit down to hear a 15 to 20-minute sermon, followed by prayer requests.

Of the requests, 95% are for health-related concerns. Of the praise reports, another 95% focus on positive health updates. Whether by conviction or coincidence, many churches are intentional about praying for health-related concerns, and it shows during their prayer meetings.

Praying for health-related concerns is not bad in itself. At my own church’s prayer meeting, we regularly pray for physical ailments. But we also want to be intentional about praying for the many other things that God cares about, particularly the Word. So, we intentionally pray for the preaching of the Word at our church and other sister churches, as well as for our own desire to hear the Word. Intentionality goes a long way.

Changing a Culture

Many churches and pastors wonder how they can change their church’s culture or reputation. Surface-level changes may occur with a new logo or an influx of young people who prefer a certain style of music. A critical way to change a church’s culture from unhealthy to healthy is by changing what they eat, celebrate, and are intentional about.

1. Feed Your People God’s Word

How can a church eat God’s Word? Change your diet. Add in fruits and vegetables and remove the extra calories. Ensure your services are filled with God’s Word so that your people leave full and satisfied. Many people leave church “full” the same way they leave a plate of cookies—they are stuffed, but quickly realize they are uncomfortably full. Fill your service with God’s Word so that your people leave full, and because it isn’t junk food, they will leave satisfied.

2. Celebrate God’s Word

How can a church celebrate God’s Word? Simply put, make sure time in God’s Word is positively spoken about. I have seen churches that, despite having a dedicated sermon time (perhaps even a whole hour!), don’t celebrate that moment. Talk to members, and you can quickly discover whether they celebrate God’s Word or merely tolerate it until they move on to things they like more. Pastors have a tremendous ability to teach the church how to celebrate God’s Word. Speak positively about the preaching moment before your sermon. Speak positively about it even when you’re not scheduled to preach. Model what it looks like to sit under a sermon with a positive attitude.

3. Be Intentional About God’s Word

How can a church be intentional about God’s Word? A dedicated sermon time with little to no other mention of God’s Word will work against intentionality. The healthy churches I’ve had the privilege of being part of intentionally placed scripture readings throughout the worship service. Beyond Sunday gatherings, they were intentional about keeping the Word at the center of lunch tables, staff meetings, discipleship groups, men’s ministry, mom’s Bible study, and so on. Churches that are intentional about the Word become centered on the Word.

A church that is serious about eating, celebrating, and being intentional about God’s Word will become a Word-centered church. If you want to change the culture of your church, consider intentionally changing both their diet and their celebrations.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/i6hmU_wJNIg

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Delivering a sermon is an aspect of preaching that often receives insufficient attention. Much of this stems from the reality that pastors rightly do not wish to focus on entertaining their congregation. Rather, a pastor seeks to glorify the Lord, who uses the “foolishness of preaching” (1 Cor. 1:21) to spiritually nourish his people. Yet, effective sermon delivery can enhance this impact. Most people can learn to speak dynamically, but doing so on the Lord’s Day without theologically sound or edifying content is a mistake preachers must avoid.

No matter how much importance one places on compelling sermon delivery, failing to maintain a congregation’s interest—or speaking primarily to entertain—poses significant problems. Unfortunately, too often, pastors give little thought to delivery until they step into the pulpit. How, then, should a pastor approach improving delivery, and how can he balance content with the act of delivering it effectively?

Not every pastor is a dynamic or gifted orator. But, as Spurgeon noted, “It is not the work of a shepherd to strike his sheep, but to feed them.”[1] Pastors are called to be attentive to how the Word is exposited and proclaimed so that a sermon spiritually nourishes the congregation. Elements of delivery—emphasis, rate, volume, tone, and non-verbal cues—reveal the pastor’s heart and are essential to an impactful sermon. These concepts can, however, be overlooked because a pastor doesn’t want to appear all show and no substance. What, then, are some faithful reasons for considering improvements in delivery?

1. Poor Delivery Distracts a Congregation

Everyone has heard preaching that could be delivered more effectively. This is not always a result of poor exegesis. Sometimes, a preacher’s communication habits distract, bore, or detract from the message of God’s Word—and no pastor wants that.

2. Every Sermon Is a Matter of Life or Death

A faithful pastor preaches Christ and Christ crucified—the message that saves souls—and learning to convey this truth is worthy of every pastor’s effort. Preaching God’s Word well is essential (2 Tim. 4:2), and effectively communicating the Word is a central element of the gathering on the Lord’s Day. A pastor must engage his congregation in a way that keeps them attentive to God’s Spirit—something that is strengthened by dynamic delivery. When a pastor proclaims God’s Word with clear and compelling delivery, the gospel  is more likely to resonate in the hearts of the congregation.

3. Delivery Demonstrates the Word at Work in the Preacher

The weight of preaching led Spurgeon to observe, “Preaching has often driven me to my knees, and chained me to my Bible.”[2] Compelling delivery helps a congregation perceive the pastor’s sincerity, while the pastor’s ethos connects him with the congregation and the congregation with God. When a pastor has internalized the sermon’s content and written God’s Word on his heart, the congregation can see this and be moved by it—an effect often achieved through sermon delivery.

4. God’s Word Deserves Powerful Delivery.

Powerful delivery reminds a congregation of the power of God in His word. Yet effective delivery begins with a pastor internalizing a passage and guiding the congregation to think deeply about the God of the Word. Because the gospel has impacted the pastor personally, the pathos of the sermon is conveyed with the conviction of one transformed by God’s Word. Rather than drawing attention to the sermon itself, compelling delivery displays the saving power of Christ.

How to Improve Sermon Delivery

So, how can a pastor improve delivery in a way that allows the congregation to focus on God’s Word?

1. Practice the Sermon

Be thoroughly familiar with your manuscript or outline, and ensure the sermon is carefully planned and rehearsed.

2. Preach to Yourself

Enter the sanctuary before Sunday, stand behind the pulpit, and preach either the introduction or the entire sermon. This practice encourages reflection on how God’s Word resonates in your own heart. In this act, God often works uniquely and powerfully within the pastor’s heart. And one never knows who might be present in the audience, even when it seems the sanctuary is empty.

3. Invite Feedback

Invite a young aspiring pastor or a retired pastor from the congregation to listen to part of a sermon rehearsal or provide feedback on a section of the manuscript. This creates an opportunity to mentor—or be mentored. Every pastor can use sermon rehearsal time as a moment for discipleship. Moreover, the person invited will sense the significance of their role, recognizing this as a chance to contribute to ministry on the Lord’s Day by helping enhance the sermon’s impact.

4. Watch or Listen to Your Sermon

It is difficult for most pastors to listen to or watch their own sermons, yet doing so is highly beneficial. Every preacher needs an honest critic, and as the adage goes, “You are your own worst critic.” By observing a sermon they have delivered, a preacher can notice elements that others might miss. Both effective and ineffective practices can be identified by watching a video of—or listening to—one’s own sermon.

5. Revisit Public Speaking Basics

Review the primary components of effective public speaking. Look through an old textbook or notes for the essential elements of strong delivery, considering aspects such as volume, pace, eye contact, hand gestures, tone, poise, and skills learned in a Public Speaking class that may have been forgotten. A pastor can gain valuable insight into improving sermon delivery by reflecting on how one enhances public speaking. While a speech and a sermon are different, many of the same principles apply.

6. Learn from Other Preachers

Spurgeon noted, “Study successful models. I made Whitefield my model years ago. Buy his sermons.”[3] Even the Prince of Preachers studied diligently to improve his sermon delivery—not to gain an audience, but to magnify Christ. Few things speak to a congregation as powerfully as a pastor’s love for God’s Word, expressed with passion and conviction.

[1] W.Y. Fullerton, Charles Haddon Spurgeon: A Biography (Chicago: Moody Press, 1996), 221.

[2] Ibid., 220.

[3] Ibid., 221.

That old well comes to mind when I think about our spiritual lives. God’s people are not hoarders of spiritual blessing—if we can pour ourselves out, we will. Paul says as much when he is summarizing his ministry to Timothy at the end of his life: “For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come (2 Tim. 4:6).” We pour ourselves out in service, teaching, care for others, good works, and in a number of other ways. Pouring ourselves out is a good, Christlike thing to do, but we must be careful lest we fail to pay attention to what pours into us and we become contaminated like that old well.

Like that old well, if we aren’t careful about what we put into our hearts and minds, we might find that our well is contaminated. Contaminated water is as useless as having no water at all. Likewise, our spiritual outpouring is useless if it is mixed with worldliness or falsehood. Thus, we must be diligent, discerning, and intentional about how we refresh ourselves when running low.

What You Are Filled with Matters

If you take the deepest well and begin to pump water out of it at the highest possible volume without ceasing, you will eventually exhaust that well’s resources. It may recover, but it will take time, and the following output levels will be much lower than they originally were. In fact, serious damage may be done, and the well may never return to what it once was. It is the same with our own spiritual output. We must pour ourselves out, but we must also fill ourselves up with what is honoring to God. If we pour ourselves out but never fill ourselves up, then severe damage can be done.

Continual ministry without refilling leads to consequences like burnout, half-hearted service, tainted care, and sin. Though called to pour ourselves out for Christ’s sake, we are not infinite creatures. We are finite, dependent creatures in need of recharging. We are reminded of our limited output every time we require sleep, water, and food; therefore, we need to be constantly recharged. So how can we be recharged?

Sources of Water for the Thirsty Soul

We can’t be filled by just anything—what you are filled by is equally important. We must be recharged by spending time with Christ. Below are three ways that we can be filled in a way that honors Christ:

1. We Must Fill Ourselves with the Word (1 Peter 2:2).

We must not wait until we have run dry before we seek to be refilled. Every day, we must continually replenish ourselves with God’s Word. We must let it encourage us, strengthen us, guide us, and mold us. Then, when we pour ourselves out in service to Christ, what will come out will be the pure water of the Word.

2. We Must Cultivate Our Relationship with Jesus Through Genuine Prayer.

Reading the Bible for the sake of intellect will not replenish a thirsty soul. However, Bible intake paired with genuine, relational prayer will fill up a parched soul with eternal springs of water (John 4:13–14). If we are walking with Jesus, the source of eternal life, we will be satisfied by his water. We must be connected to the Lord’s supply. We will be of minimal use if we are ministering from something other than a thriving relationship with Jesus.

3. We Must Be Replenished in the Context of the Local Church.

Our own personal Bible reading and prayer life can be a source of constant fruit and energy, but our efforts of walking with Jesus are incomplete apart from walking with a congregation of believers. This is by God’s design. Therefore, the local church is the final piece of the puzzle—the icing on the cake—to a full and abundant life of enjoying the treasures of Jesus and pouring them out in service to his name. Every time the church meets together, there is opportunity to be filled up, encouraged, strengthened, enabled, and sent back out to serve the mission of Christ.

Dear Christian, you are called to spend all your resources for the sake of Christ’s glory. But if you do not digest the Word of God regularly, have a vibrant walk with Christ, or be regularly filled in a local church, then your well will run dry. If your heart dries up, then bad things may happen. But Christ is an endless source of life. He can enable us to continue in our service to him. Let us remain connected to him that we may be useful in the King’s service!

On this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz break down the implications of gospel-centrality beyond the buzzword.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/vuvYp-HqkF0

It’s not all bad. Secret crushes, prayers, wishes, hopes, and ambitions are all normal for young people with optimism about the future and an appropriate desire to become their own person.

However, some secrets should be revealed, not concealed.

• They may have secret insecurities, like questioning their salvation.
• They may have secret doubts about issues like the authority of Scripture.
• They may have secret disciplers—social media influencers who demean women and celebrate greed.
• They may have secret relationships—friends you would not approve of, or a boyfriend you have forbidden.
• They may have secret sins, like pornography or eating disorders.

Why Satan Likes Secrets

It’s easy to see why Satan would want your teenager to keep these struggles a secret. Throughout history, he has always schemed new ways to separate the immature from godly authority. That’s why the enemy of your children’s souls wants them to keep turning to TikTok and Quora for wisdom and counsel, rather than going to their own parents or youth pastor.

But these secrets come with a cost: “Whoever conceals his transgressions will not prosper, but he who confesses and forsakes them will obtain mercy” (Prov. 28:13).

So how do you crack open the secret life of your teenager? Ultimately it must be a work of the Lord.

Helping Teenagers Bring Secrets Into the Light

While my wife and I have made plenty of missteps in this stage of parenting, here are a few strategies we found especially effective in moving our teenagers from concealing to revealing their shameful secrets.

1. 1. Encourage Confession. Starting around age 11, I took each of my boys out for weekly “Bible Time.” We would grab a cheap breakfast or coffee treat, go through a book, and ask some accountability questions. And here was the key: I promised my boys that anything they confessed during Bible Time would receive amnesty. Sure, we may implement some common-sense changes to help them with their struggles, but there was no punishment for anything they voluntarily confessed. The message was clear: Confession will be met with grace.
   2. Establish Barriers. Pornography will find your children whether they’re looking for it or not. We put several layers of filtering on all our devices (Canopy being the best), and our only regret is that we didn’t do it earlier—really, as soon as our children were using any internet-capable device. It is important to know that filters need to be monitored carefully because—be warned—they don’t solve the problem of temptation. Some teenagers get an added thrill from getting around the filter and “outsmarting their parents.” Such is the nature of the sinful heart.
   3. Partner with your church. Your children keep secrets from you for two reasons: one, they love you deeply and crave your approval; and two, they fear the consequences of their sin being discovered. This is why I am so thankful for our church. The youth staff see a side of our children that we don’t see. Sometimes we get reports of how they welcome the newcomer and show deep spiritual earnestness, and we rejoice! Other times we are told that our child has been confronted for being a bully or a flirt—and this is where our response is key. If we rally to our teenager’s side and defend them from the youth staff—often with indignant phrases like “My son would never…” or “You don’t know him like I do”—we are stepping between our teenager and the people God is using to help him. We need to remember that adults don’t join youth staff so they can arbitrarily correct kids they don’t like. They join youth staff because they love these kids and want them to follow the Lord. If you receive a bad report about your child, take it seriously. Encourage them to listen to life-giving reproof so they may be wise (Prov. 15:31). If you privately believe the staff to be in error, support them in front of your children, and then address your concerns in private because they may know something you don’t know. Instead of standing with your teenager against the youth pastor, stand with the youth pastor against your teenager’s sin.
   4. Have the Courage to Confront. There is something “off” about your son—he’s always tired, he zones out at church, and he gets angry when you ask him to do anything. You sense something is wrong, and a quick look at his internet history confirms the worst. What to do? You know that if you talk to him about what you found, he’ll lash out and make your home miserable with his surliness. But this is where you need to love your son more than you love your own peace and comfort. When Paul confronted the church of Corinth about their sin, he insisted that he did so “not to cause you pain, but to let you know the abundant love that I have for you” (2 Cor. 2:4). Confrontation is an act of love. No matter how they respond in the moment, forcing their secret life into the light is absolutely necessary for the good of their souls.
   5. Rejoice in Repentance. When your child comes forward, their revelations can be painful—shocking, even. You may weep over the severity of their sin. It may change the way you look at them. You may feel betrayed by their deception and wonder whether you have failed as a parent. But there is rejoicing in heaven over every sinner who repents, and it should be our goal to join in that joy. Realize that it took tremendous courage for your teenager to reveal his secret and bring his dark deeds to light. He now stands before you naked and very much ashamed, and in this moment you have an opportunity to demonstrate your Father’s love by running to him, hugging him, placing your own robe on his shoulders, and slaying the fatted calf to celebrate that what was lost has now been found! Your joyful, gracious response may be the most tangible expression of the hope of the gospel your child has ever experienced.

Ultimately, it is always the kindness of God that leads us to repentance, and I pray that these steps will help you to offer your children God’s own kindness.

The tongue is indeed a fire. In this episode of the FTC Podcast, Jared Wilson and Ronni Kurtz discuss the danger of church gossip.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/NUUVzGBT4eQ

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The purpose of this article is to offer a brief theology of preaching. Undoubtedly, much more could be said! But I will attempt to offer a brief theology of preaching by answering the following questions: What is preaching? Who is preaching for? How is preaching different from teaching? What is expository preaching? And why is it preferred? I agree with Lloyd Jones’ sentiments that preaching is the primary task of both the church and the minister. I hope that after reading this short article, you will too.

What Is Preaching?

Preaching is the authoritative proclamation of the Word of God. A preacher or “kerux” (Greek transliteration of κηρυξ) in biblical times was a herald or messenger bestowed with authority on behalf of kings, magistrates, or public officials to speak their message. We see Paul call himself a kerux in 1 Timothy 2:7, where he says, “For this I was appointed a preacher (kerux) and an apostle,” and again in 2 Timothy, where he says, “For which I was appointed a preacher (kerux) and an apostle and a teacher.” Therefore, a preacher, in biblical terms, is one who heralds or proclaims God’s message with God’s authority. The preacher does not have authority in his own right, but his authority is derived from the message he proclaims, namely, God’s Word.

Who Is Preaching for?

This question could be answered in different ways based on different situations in which preaching occurs. Some preaching is primarily focused on non-believers. We see Paul doing this at Mars Hill in Acts 17. In our modern context, this type of preaching happens at evangelistic rallies, youth events, Sunday evening services, and in unhealthy churches, where the primary audience is the unbeliever on Sunday mornings. Most preaching, however, is focused upon edifying and equipping believers (Eph. 4:11-16), and this largely occurs during the Sunday morning gathering. In short, preaching is for all people, but the primary recipients will be those already following Christ at a local church.

How Is Preaching Different from Teaching?

There are sundry answers given to try and answer this question. Some have said that preaching is fiery and passionate, whereas teaching is calm and explanatory. Others have said that preaching is simpler, whereas teaching is more complex. Other unhelpful explanations could be mentioned, but the difference between the two is not as complicated as one might think. All preaching must include teaching. If one simply works up meaningless emotion not built on truth, then nothing substantial will ever be accomplished. However, if preaching includes teaching, then what is the difference? If teaching is explaining or illuminating a text or truth, then preaching is explaining or illuminating a text or truth in a proclamatory manner with an attempt to move or persuade the listener. In other words, teaching is explanation, while preaching is explanation coupled with persuasion.

What Is Expository Preaching?

Expository preaching is explaining the original meaning of a text of Scripture and applying that text appropriately to the lives of the modern audience. As Jason Allen has said, “[Expository preaching is] to rightly interpret and explain the text, in its context, and to bring the text to bear on the lives of the congregants.”²

Expository preaching differs from topical preaching in that topical preaching starts with a topic, and then finds a text or several texts that support that topic. Expository preaching starts with a text and then seeks to explain and apply that text. Topical preaching from multiple texts is hard to do well because when one begins to bounce around from text to text in hopes to confirm what they are wanting to say, it is more probable that the texts will be misinterpreted outside of their original context. However, it should be said that a helpful way to preach topical sermons is to preach them expositionally, meaning choose one text where the main point of the text is what you are trying to address, and then preach that text faithfully from its original context.

Why Is Expository Preaching Preferred?

Here are at least 8 reasons expository preaching is the preferable form of preaching:

1. Expository preaching affirms a high view of Scripture. If we truly believe that the Bible is the divinely inspired Word of God, then our primary task should be to walk through the text explaining every part and how it applies to our listener’s lives.
2. Expository preaching matures a congregation most. There is a trickle-down effect from the pulpit to the pew. A church that has a pulpit that honors the text will lead to a people that honor the text. It lets the people see the many facets of Scripture, and it brings all aspects of Scripture to bear on the hearers.
3. Expository preaching teaches the congregation how to read and study their Bible. Faithful expository preaching should leave the listener thinking, “I see exactly how my preacher came to that conclusion. It makes perfect sense considering the context…” This type of preaching breeds confidence that the person in the pew can read their Bible on their own.
4. Expository preaching ensures the sermon’s relevance. Contrary to popular opinion, relevant sermons fall out of date extremely fast. Life and cultural events change in the blink of an eye. Therefore, sermons should not be from the culture but from the text. The more textual sermons are the more perennial the sermon is. In other words, sermons should not have a sell-by date.
5. Expository preaching most matures the preacher as a man of God. Accurate Biblical exposition isn’t easy. It takes time to build the outline, craft the sermon, and apply it to the congregation. This rigorous study has (or at least should have!) an effect on the preacher. It is hard to walk in disobedience when constantly pouring over the text of Scripture.
6. Expository preaching most optimally stewards the preacher’s time. The preacher doesn’t have to spend any unnecessary time searching for a text. The preaching text is largely preset. So, the pastor can pick up where he left off and immediately begin work on the next sermon.
7. Expository preaching displays balance in the pulpit. In other words, expository preaching keeps the preacher from “hobbyhorse” preaching. If done well, the preacher will be forced to “take the text as it lies,” and it will make it harder for him to make every sermon sound the same.
8. Expository preaching forces the preacher to preach on difficult issues that he could normally avoid in topical preaching. All of God’s Word is inspired and should be proclaimed from the pulpit. Expository preaching forces the preacher to be faithful to handle all texts, not just the “feel good” ones.

Conclusion

If preaching is the primary task of the church and the minister, as Lloyd-Jones said, then we must take it seriously. It will not be sufficient for the church to flounder on any of the above questions. Therefore, we must know what preaching is, who it is for, how it is to be faithfully done, etc. Finally, after all these questions are answered (even if briefly!), the final question is “Will there be faithful men to put in the hard work to do it well?”

¹ D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Preaching and Preachers (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011), 26.
² Jason K. Allen, Letters to My Students: Preaching, Vol. 1 (Nashville: B&H Publishing, 2019), 38.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/0fjQCqhcTo8

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There’s an epidemic in our churches, and it seems to be true across evangelical, charismatic, mainline Protestant, and Catholic churches. Like most epidemics, it’s invisible but widespread. It’s an epidemic of insecurity. We believers are remarkably insecure. Before you take that as an insult, let me explain. It might just be the key to discovering a freshness, depth, and secure love you’ve never known before.

Insecurity is a state of life where we are not safe and sheltered in someone or something’s strength and affection. Many places are quite unsafe: prison, an open body of water, middle school. And Christianity can also be a deeply insecure place, that is, if we haven’t fully grasped the good news of our union with Christ and adoption.

This is the good news of Christianity: when we put our faith in Jesus, turning from our sins and following him, we are joined to him as one. The Father accepts the Son’s death in our place—the payment for a penalty that our sin has created. We are restored to the Father; he forgives our sins and receives us into his vast and unending love. Like the father in the parable of the prodigal son, he welcomes us gladly and calls for a celebration. Even more, we have inexhaustible spiritual riches in Christ, we are given the Holy Spirit, and, one day, we will be raised with renewed, resurrected bodies to live with God for all eternity in the new creation. Good news, right?

So why then do so many of us struggle to grasp this remarkable life with God? Why do so many Christians believe in Jesus, get their salvation secured, and then go on living a generally unchanged life? Why are so many of us still so timid toward God and others?

I believe it has to do with a limited understanding of God’s love for us, a failure to fully grasp the beauty, power, and security that comes with being a beloved child of God.

Recognizing Insecure Spirituality

Richard Lovelace, a church historian and theologian I have spent the past decade reading and re-reading, put it like this:

Christians who are no longer sure that God loves and accepts them in Jesus, apart from their present spiritual achievements, are subconsciously radically insecure persons—much less secure than non-Christians, because they have too much light to rest easily under the constant bulletins they receive from their Christian environment about the holiness of God and the righteousness they are supposed to have.

Consider what Lovelace is saying. If we believe our standing before God depends on our spiritual achievements (that is, our obedience, our recent Bible reading, our service to the church, tithing, and so on), then we will be radically insecure. In fact, we will be more insecure than even non-Christians, whose conscience doesn’t continually convict them of sin and who aren’t regularly reminded of their need of the gospel.

If this is true (and I believe it is), just think of the way it will shape our lives. A spirituality uncertain of God’s love will always have to perform. It will always have to prove. It will always have to defend. It will always be scheming and striving, and it will never be at rest. An insecure spirituality is a brutal type of life.

Insecure Spirituality Is Always Performing

In our church, we use the phrase “performative spirituality” to describe the default position of our hearts toward God and prayer. I’m not exactly sure where this phrase originates, but I’ve heard it from New York City pastors Jon Tyson and John Starke. Most simply, performative spirituality is performance-based religion. It’s living to get God’s approval and affection. It’s an act to convince yourself you’re becoming a better Christian and more useful to God and others.

Let me be clear: performative spirituality comes straight from the pit of hell. Nothing robs us of more joy. Nothing is more assured to give us either religious pride (if we’re performing well) or spiritual despair (if we’re performing poorly). Nothing is better at producing superficial, impersonal, and powerless prayers.

Why? Because the performance-based approach to Christianity puts us on a stage to earn God’s acceptance and approval. That’s the extent of our relationship with him. That’s the best we get with this spiritual posture. It’s an exhausting posture, and Scripture says nothing good of it.

Diagnosing Our Own Hearts

Have you been living by the wrong posture? Have you been prevented from receiving the embrace of the Father because you’re too busy trying to impress him and others? Have you been held back from a deeper life with God by your ownincessant need to strive, hide, and try every possible path of self-improvement?

Millions of believers read their Bibles, (sort of) pray, and go to church with decent regularity, and yet they are simultaneouslydry spiritually and unchanged in their Christlikeness. They may read of God’s power and love every day. They may hear the gospel week after week. But none of it seems to make a practical difference. They are still insecure, day after day. Despite all they know and do, their natural posture in life looks like this:

Posture
​​God is my boss, I am his servant;
God is the critic, I am the performer

Default mode
​I’m on my own;
nothing good happens unless I make it happen

God’s view of me​
God wants me to do better;
he’s a bit disappointed, or He is distant and busy;
he’s not actively engaged in my life, or
God is fine with things as long as I perform decently enough

Toward others​
I live to be seen by others, craves their approval
I greatly fear being exposed as a fraud
I tend to be critical, comparative, competitive, easily angered, easily hurt
I often see others as a threat or a burden

Present to others​
I am conditional and distant
I am always comparing—constantly aware of where I (and others) rank

Finds comfort
​​I find comfort in busyness, addiction, distraction, and empty religious activity—whatever makes me look good or feel appreciated

Toward time
​​I am typically in a hurry, I struggle to slow down and rest

In the church​
I seek positions of honor, power, and influence

Prayer​​
My prayers are sporadic, scattered, and distracted
I often feel guilty: “I should pray more”

Suffering
​I am non-resilient, unable to handle challenges and trials of life without bitterness
​​​I view suffering as a sign that God is not with me or against me

Unfortunately, this chart wasn’t difficult for me to create. I am so familiar with the orphan’s heart that it’s still so regularly my default mode. I’ve been grinding all my life. I’ve been working and scheming and defending and protecting and projecting. Why? Because I assume everything depends on me. Even when I say otherwise, my actions and stress level suggest it. And from my years of pastoring, I know that I’m not alone in this struggle.

So, what can we do?

Releasing and Replacing Insecure Spirituality

If I remember anything from my infectious disease studies in college, in an epidemic, we must notice common symptoms, identify the cause, and find a cure for the infection.

Lucky for us, we’re two-thirds of the way through. We’ve already listed the common symptoms above (insecure spirituality list), and we’ve already identified the cause (performance-based living). What’s left is to embrace the cure: putting off the orphan’s heart and regaining our child’s heart – one trained in receiving the love of our Father.

Said another way, the cure is to release insecure spirituality and replace it with something much better. After all, the orphan’s heart will never be satisfied. It’s looking for its Father all along. Nothing else will do. Getting the love of the Father deep into our hearts is the only way.

At this point, we might see the presence of insecure spirituality in our hearts and turn to guilt and obedience. “Don’t be insecure!” we tell ourselves. Sadly, many sermons and counseling sessions can do the same: “Stop worrying!” The subtle message we can turn to is just another version of performance-based religion—“Just try harder.” But this is not a work of willpower; it’s a gift of the Holy Spirit, one that we participate in by God’s grace, releasing and replacing insecurity spirituality.

The gospel reminds us we already have everything we need—and we have it in abundance in Christ!

Once we recognize our insecurity, then, we can also release and replace. We can release insecurity and replace it with the Father’s love. While it sounds too simple to be true, it is a pattern that will be fruitful over and over again as we walk in the childlike faith that Jesus commends.

In other words, another kind of life is available to us. Once we have identified the source of our insecurity, and traced how it shows up in a performance-based lifestyle, we’ll be able to pull it up from the roots.

This lie from the pit of hell can be dragged out into the light and left to suffocate and die in the light of God’s love. And instead, a different type of life can take root in the good soil of Jesus’s life.

And once we’ve identified, broken, and released this insecure, performative spirituality, a confident new life of prayer can be opened to us.

As my mentor-friend Scotty Smith likes to say, “You can hear the lyric of the gospel and still not feel the music.” This is what performative spirituality does best; it robs our lives of its rhythm and dance. But if we can identify and uproot this performance-based mentality, we can break the cycle and be renewed in our minds.

This, then, is God’s invitation for you and for me: Release your insecure spirituality and enjoy life as a beloved child!

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/kkODyylmR10

As a football fan, you’re immediately interested and begin to ask him questions. “Really,” you say. “Who do you play for?”

“Oh, I’m not on a team,” he responds.

“Well, who did you play for in college?”

Again, Rico answers, “I didn’t play on my college team.”

“How about high school?”

“No, I didn’t play on my high school team.”

At this point, you’re a little puzzled and ask, “So, what team do you or did you play quarterback for?”

“I’ve played quarterback my whole life, but I’ve never been on a football team. Teams are full of hypocrites. I don’t need a team to play.”

“Help me understand. If you’re not on a team, how do you play quarterback, Rico?” you ask.

“While they’re at the stadium playing games, I usually go out in the woods by myself and throw the football through a tire swing. It clears my mind. I feel like I’m connecting to the essence of football. It’s more authentic than those quarterbacks who play on teams.”

The quarterback in this story sounds delusional, doesn’t he? After all, a self-proclaimed quarterback who never joins a team and only plays alone isn’t really a quarterback at all, is he? The lone woodsman claiming to be a quarterback makes about as much sense as a Christian who never attends a church service but only worships alone.

Now, you may be thinking, “Worship is much broader than gathering with God’s people on Sunday.” In one sense, that’s true. All of life should be lived in worshipful response to God’s goodness and grace. The Apostle Paul urges believers to offer their whole life to God as spiritual worship and to do everything including eating and drinking for God’s glory. However, Scripture holds forth a clear expectation for all Christians: God expects His people to worship with His people.

When we say that “every member is a worshipper,” we mean that every Christian should be committed to attending the weekly gathering in order to listen to the Word of Christ with one another, sing with gratitude together, and then walk in wisdom alongside their fellow church members. This is the pattern of the first Christians, who gathered regularly for worship.

A holistic life of Christian worship is only possible within a local church because the church is not “simply a bunch of individual worshippers who happen to be in the same place and time. Individual worship is a subset that flows out of corporate worship,” as David A. Currie writes in “The Big Idea of Biblical Worship.” You can’t offer all of your life to God as worship if you refuse to offer Him Sunday morning to worship with the church.

Editor’s note: This post is excerpted with permission from Every Member Matters, by Joshua Wredburg and Matthew Capps. Copyright 2025, B&H Publishing.

Preaching and Teaching

Preaching is, perhaps, the most vital element of a Gospel-centered church. Mark Dever says in his book The Church, “God’s people in Scripture are created by God’s revelation of himself. His Spirit accompanies his Word and brings life.”¹ If this is true, then the most important thing for churches to do is to proclaim the Word of life. Each church’s growth and godliness depend upon it, hence Paul’s charge to Timothy, “I solemnly charge you before God and Christ Jesus, who is going to judge the living and the dead, and because of his appearing and his kingdom: Preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; correct, rebuke, and encourage with great patience and teaching” (2 Tim. 4:1-2).

It should go without saying that preaching the Word entails clearly preaching the Gospel. Every sermon or teaching expounded from the Scriptures should find its terminus in the Gospel of Jesus Christ because it is by the Gospel that nonbelievers are saved and believers are sanctified. But I don’t simply mean that every sermon must conclude with a Gospel presentation; rather, the entire sermon is crafted through the lens of the finished work of Christ on our behalf. How one presents the Gospel or shapes a Gospel-centered sermon can vary depending upon the specific passage and context of the preacher.

Thus, the most foundational aspect of a Gospel-centered church is that it is Gospel-centered in its preaching and teaching.

Membership and Discipline

The Gospel creates a people set apart for God. Within the body of Christ, there should be a clear line between those who are “in” and those who are “out.” The “in” aspect represents church membership, and the “out” aspect represents the lost world or those who are undergoing church discipline as a result of living like a non-believer. We see this very clearly in 1 Corinthians 5, where Paul charges the church to ex-fellowship a man who was unrepentant concerning gross sin. Paul writes, “Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside. ‘Purge the evil person from among you’” (1 Cor. 5:12-13). The important question this text raises is, “How can churches judge those on the inside if they don’t know who is on the inside?” Therefore, for the church to be able to practice church discipline as it is biblically mandated to do, it is fundamental for church membership to be taken seriously. Church membership protects and marks off those who have been saved by the glorious Gospel of God, and church discipline warns and rebukes those who profess faith but who are not living in accord with the Gospel. The church cannot have one without the other, and a church that doesn’t take church membership and church discipline seriously is a church that doesn’t take the Gospel seriously. They may profess to, but if they don’t honor the clear distinctions that the Gospel makes by separating the church from the world, then their profession falls flat. It would be like someone saying they take their health seriously while simultaneously eating nothing but junk food and never exercising. Thus, a Gospel-centered church takes church membership and church discipline seriously.

Worship and Liturgy

Gospel-centered churches should structure their weekly services to display the Gospel. When the body comes together, the order of service should not be haphazard. There is a way to structure the service that continually points the members of the body to the Gospel. This is primarily demonstrated by having a Gospel-centered liturgy. For example, a typical liturgy should feature the following: a call to worship, which represents the fact that God has called us and that He is worthy of our worship and adoration; a confession of sin, which reminds us of our continual need to repent and to turn from our sin and shame to embrace the sanctifying work of the Gospel; an assurance of pardon, which reminds us of the true forgiveness we have found in the blood of Christ; and hearing the preached Word so that we can grow in Christlikeness and obedience.

In addition to the service structure, the content of the service should be driven by the Bible. Ligon Duncan has helpfully pointed out that churches that follow the teaching of the New Testament “Read the Bible, preach the Bible, pray the Bible, sing the Bible, and see the Bible.”² If we have a gospel-centered church, then our service structure and content will readily reflect the Bible.

Why Do We Need a Gospel-Centered Church?

If everything that has been stated so far is true, then the answer to the question “Why do we need a Gospel-centered church?” is not complicated. First, the Gospel is “the power of God for salvation” (Rom. 1:16). Churches can be built upon gimmicks, personalities, entertainment, relationships, and much more, but these things, in and of themselves, have no power. The power that creates a true church is the Gospel.

Second, the Gospel not only creates the church, but it also sustains the church. Oftentimes, churches can look to everything but the Gospel to sustain its people. They try a smorgasbord of options, from the latest church growth techniques to secular relationship advice. This stems from thinking that the Gospel is elementary and that it is something from which you graduate. In reality, the church needs a constant flow of the Gospel as a sick patient needs to be sustained with a constant flow of medicine. Thus, when a church begins to think that it can be sustained by anything but the Gospel, that is the moment the church begins to die.

Third and finally, a church that is not centered upon the Gospel is of no real use, humanly speaking. Sure, it may be temporally encouraging for people to gather once a week and associate with people of whom they are fond, but if the Gospel is absent, then there is not much separating them from the group of atheists gathering down the road for the same purposes. God, through the Gospel, produces eternal change. If we want our churches to have eternal ramifications for both ourselves and our communities, then we must be centered upon the means by which God brings about this change, namely, the good news of His Son, Jesus Christ.

¹ Mark Dever, The Church: The Gospel Made Visible (Nashville: B&H, 2012), 22.

² Ligon Duncan, Foundations for Biblically Directed Worship. 65-68.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/CXehp6ar_Ng

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/zGO1_NLTQcs

Gates, the tech giant, famously takes one or two weeks a year to retreat to his secluded cabin on a lake and read as much as possible — no phone, no meetings, no distractions, just a towering stack of books.

Reeves, the theologian, once shared his rhythm of deep reading: one hour a week, one day a month, one week a year. Both men, in their own fields, had seen the fruit of setting aside time for slow, undistracted, focused reading.

That vision stuck with me.

So now, as a pastor, I take what I cautiously call “reading dayz” each year — usually two to three weeks in the summer. It’s not a formal sabbatical, and I try to communicate that clearly to both my family and my church. But it is carved out, protected time to read deeply, think theologically and let the Lord recalibrate my heart through uninterrupted, aggressive study.

The Shape of the Days

Each year, I choose one doctrine or theological theme — justification, the Holy Spirit, Lloyd-Jones’ sermons on Ephesians, etc. — and build a reading plan three to six months in advance. My days typically follow a rhythm: intermediate-level material in the morning, heavier or more intensive works over lunch into the afternoon and conclude the day with beginner-level material.

During those reading days, I cancel or delegate my usual pastoral responsibilities, including counseling, sermon prep, formal and informal meetings, adult Sunday school and even preaching. Trusted men from within our church step into the pulpit. I still lead the liturgical elements of the service, but I’m not carrying the sermon. I work 8 a.m. to 5 p.m., either in my office or in a quiet space at a friend’s house. Evenings are reserved for family, journaling, the gym or phone calls with friends.

Thanks to the generosity of a friend, my family and I usually schedule a one- to three-day retreat in the middle of my overall reading days period. We’ll stay at someone’s home, where I keep reading during the day while the rest of the family rests and plays. In the evenings, we regroup for dinner, do bedtime with the kids and enjoy late-night gospel conversations with friends. It’s both restful and rich.

The Fruit It Bears

These reading days sharpen me, but more than that, they shape our church. Hopefully, over time, the congregation will see that the study of theology isn’t just for the pastor’s time in seminary or for the professor in an ivory tower. It’s for both pastors and the church today. It’s certainly helpful for preaching. But it’s also for life, like in sports, where athletes devote weeks of intense practice, drills and workouts before entering the stretch of a long season.

Reading days remind our members that a pastor should be theologically sharp, biblically astute and spiritually renewed. It creates space for other men to teach and grow as they preach. It gives me a break from preaching — but not from ministry. If anything, it deepens my commitment to it.

Most importantly, it fills me with gratitude — grateful to the God I’m reading about, and grateful for the people I’m reading for. I’m thankful for a church that values study and depth, my elders who champion and defend the time, and a wife who believes it’s good. I’m thankful for a rhythm that keeps me from running on fumes. And I’m grateful for a God who forms pastors not only through preaching, but also in the quiet corners of a study.

What It’s Not

These aren’t vacation days. I gently remind my wife (and myself) that when I hole up with Edwards or Kuyper or Smeaton, I’m not “off.” Our church has entrusted me with time to work differently — but still diligently.

And I don’t read for anyone but my church. I’m not building a platform, prepping for publishing or expanding my ministry. I get to read as a pastor of my local church — for the people I know, love and shepherd week after week. 

Final Word

You don’t need an official policy to start dedicated reading days. Just start small. Block out a few days. Or a week. Or even one afternoon. If there’s no one else yet in your church to take the pulpit, swap with a like-minded brother across town. Find a space. Make a plan. And open the books.

Deep reading isn’t a detour from ministry — it serves to sustain it. Reading days may not be flashy, but they are fruitful. They can be a hidden yet profound way God uses to make your calling more thoughtful and joyful.

“Give yourself unto reading. … You need to read.”
— Charles Spurgeon, Lectures to My Students, “The Minister’s Self-Watch”

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/Pz2zH5b9OeY

__________
By: Jason G. Duesing

Why am I a Southern Baptist?

This is one question I ask students taking the required Baptist history class I teach. I ask it because every generation of Baptist seminary students asks it, or will ask it, or needs to ask it, and I want them to know how I answer it and have arrived at my answer with cheerful conviction.

While it is true that there are many Protestant and Evangelical churches who are like-minded and share the same core convictions about doctrine and missions as the Baptists, for those preparing to serve and lead Baptist churches, my course is designed to help them understand, develop, and defend their convictions about the ecclesial tradition to which their church is connected.¹

A High View of a Low and Free Church

Like a coin with two sides, the Baptist tradition is a story that must be told in both history and theology. To look only at the historical development minimizes the theological foundation of important pre-Baptist influences. To look only at theological connections minimizes the actual events and people in history who referred to themselves as Baptist by name. As such, it is right to see the theological start of Baptist churches as rooted in the Protestant Reformation, even while the chronicling of churches named Baptist does not appear in history until a century later in England.²

Keeping both history and theology in view is what I call a “symphonious approach” to assessing movements in history.³ Just like with a symphony of music, history and theology represent diverse and complementary components; each play an overlapping part that, when examined together, produces a comprehensive piece. For example, while it is helpful to determine who were the first people in history to name something or start something, it is also necessary to understand what thoughts influenced their actions and how those thoughts fit into the development of those people and those around them.

In the same way, where it is helpful to examine why churches first adopted the practice of believer’s baptism—what they were thinking and how they made their theological argument—it is needed to understand who these people were, how they arrived at their conclusions, and the cultural circumstances that influenced their thinking and actions. A symphonious approach allows the movements of both history and theology to play together and presents both well-ordered history and well-reasoned theology without the distractions of prioritized chronology or doctrine separated from people and churches.

As my class tracks the symphony of both Baptist theology and history, I summarize the theological distinctives that grew throughout the history of the Baptist tradition this way:

(1) A people of the Bible who preach the gospel and have found it helpful to summarize what the Bible says about the Christian life in confessions of faith. (2) The practice of believer’s baptism by immersion as the entrance to a (3) believer’s church that is (4) free and separate from the state and thus advocates religious freedom for all in society while (5) seeking to share the gospel with all in society and to the ends of the earth in an intentional and organized Great Commission focus on evangelism and missions, all done through (6) biblical cooperation among churches.⁴

I like to condense all these distinctives into the two categories of church health and religious liberty, advocated by and from the Gospel. Or to put it another way, Baptists have a high view of a low and free church.

Why Baptists first became Baptist

Next in my class, I pair this understanding of what Baptists believe with how they developed those beliefs in history. The Baptist Tradition’s connection to the Reformation is like that of a tree to its roots. What connects later Baptist churches in England to 16th century doctrinal renewal in Europe is rooted in the Reformation’s recovery of the Gospel as expressed in the five solas: Scripture alone, faith alone, grace alone, Christ alone, to the glory of God alone. Later Baptists demonstrate this connection through their confessions of faith, which sought to maintain connectivity both to the core doctrines of the Christian tradition, as well as those renewed during the Reformation. The doctrine of the church is where they branched from those roots, following the path started by the Anabaptists—a pre-Baptist wing of the Reformation who championed the separation of church and state as marked by the practice of believer’s baptism.⁵

The story of Baptist cooperation in England in the 17th century is one of survival. Rooted in the English Reformation, these early Baptists were the heirs of a renewal movement that was fueled by access to the Bible in English. This led them to pursue their convictions to form separate self-governed churches. Yet, this early movement was illegal, and their existence was threatened by the state Church of England that forbade participation in other worship services.

At this point in my class, I tell my students that I love evangelical Anglicans and the wider evangelical tradition. I’ve been helped theologically and in my own spiritual formation by the Puritans, C. S. Lewis, and J. I. Packer. In fact, as all believers who read the Bible in English are, in some sense, heirs of the English Reformation, it is my favorite era in church history to teach.6

Yet, though a friend of evangelical Anglicans, like the earliest Baptists, I do not hold to their doctrine of the church. As I grew up in the Episcopalian-Anglican church, I was asked years ago to write an essay in which I aimed to evaluate Anglican ecclesiology historically and theologically.⁷ Here are my conclusions:

First, even though Anglicanism is officially separate from Roman Catholicism politically and otherwise, there remains an inherent connection through their polity and specifically through their continued use of the hierarchical system of church leadership. As Anglican historian Diarmaid MacCulloch states, “[T]he story of Anglicanism, and the story of the discomfiture of Elizabeth’s first bishops, is the result of the fact that this tension between Catholic structure and Protestant theology was never resolved.”⁸ Without this connection there would not be the reoccurring talks of the Church of England returning to the “Mother Church.”⁹ A cousin once removed from Roman Catholicism, the Church of England still bears a family resemblance.

Second, in the history of the Church of England there are very few who attempt to make a biblical case for their offices of church leadership. Even if one appeals to the secondary nature of these doctrines, the New Testament is not silent about the matter and the biblical evidence leans strongly in favor of the argument that the terms for bishop and elder are used interchangeably.¹⁰

Third, while an appeal to Scripture is lacking, the overwhelming reliance upon tradition is the very thing that causes the complexity and confusion within the Anglican Communion when seeking to understand church leadership. The use of tradition is a helpful tool but in the end, remains a record of the activities and constructions of failed men and women. Tradition is needed and helpful, but it is not Scripture.¹¹

To tie everything together in my class, I underscore that the Baptist movement began in England as small groups of men and women met to establish themselves in churches, separated from the state Church of England, and then sought fellowship with other churches around common beliefs and practice. This early confessional cooperation grew out of, and centered around, the Reformation program of doctrinal renewal which led to the recovery of the biblical Gospel message. Baptists, then, first became Baptist following this pattern and emerged from the study of what they understood the Bible to say about the local church.

A Fleet Sailing Together

As these Baptist churches gained strength, they crossed to the New World and grew into a fleet of churches sailing together, united in doctrine and headed in Great Commission direction. By the start of the 19th century, Baptist churches determined that the primary reason for cooperating as a national denomination of churches was simple: global missions.

The picture of churches as ships sailing is fitting for understanding where one fits in relationship to Southern Baptist churches as it conveys, first, that they are not the only ships at sea. There are many churches, of course, but not all have set sail, and not all are headed in the direction of global evangelism. Thus, it is helpful for believers, and believers together in churches, to find partners who not only agree with their design and beliefs, but also with their shared trajectory. Not all churches aiming to fulfill the Great Commission are Baptist churches, and wherever possible Baptist churches can and should sail with those with whom they can unite in evangelism and missions. Likewise, as Baptist churches seek to start new churches to add to their fleet, they will find safe harbor and maximized mission when they work with other Baptist churches who not only are sailing in the same direction, but also are united on what kinds of churches they are seeking to fund and start together at the ends of the earth.

Second, the picture conveys that these ships do need to tend to their own vessels to maximize speed and stay on course. To stay afloat in the world for Gospel proclamation, Baptist churches have found the need to prioritize their own doctrinal and congregational health. These ships will, no doubt, encounter storms without and conflict within. A church who has lost its first love may also lose the Spirit’s enabling wind-power behind it. Baptist churches at sea need to minimize any hindrance that would pull them off course.

Third, this picture conveys that individuals can serve and live on one ship at a time. While circumstance may dictate the need for believers to change churches, for most the norm is continuing to serve on the ship where one is placed. When a sailor is counting on the buoyancy of his ship for his life and safe travel, he is far more likely to look after the health and heading of the ship. It is a picture of foolishness to see sailors lounging on the top deck complaining about their ship, or envying another ship nearby, when their own is languishing due to their lack of effort. Thus, Baptist churches are more likely to be strengthened, revitalized, and steered back on course when their members are focused on thankfulness for the ship on which they have been placed, the fleet in which they are a part, and using their gifts to help keep that ship, and fleet, on course.

Why I am a Southern Baptist

When I complete my lectures on Baptist church history in seminary classes, I end by reminding them that the Baptist cooperative fleet of ships is not alone. There are many other ships from other corners of the Christian tradition committed to the Gospel and sailing in a Great Commission direction. What I mean to acknowledge is that no one is required to be a Southern Baptist to be a faithful Christian.

So, then, why am I committed to the churches of the Southern Baptist Convention?

I remind the students that for me, as much as it is a matter of joyful conviction about what I understand as biblical ecclesiology, it is also a matter of personal stewardship and testimony. I share with them how God, in his kindness during my college years, called out and saved a spiritually lost, Christian-in-name-only-Episcopalian and placed me in a Baptist church sailing with other churches in the Southern Baptist Convention. On that ship, I was discipled, baptized, and loved by a genuine New Testament community of believers.

Over time, that church recognized God’s work in my life and sent me to seminary. They, along with thousands of other churches, gave sacrificially in cooperative effort to fund my theological education and, more than that, ensured that the seminary they funded maintained doctrinal integrity. Through that same inter-congregational cooperative work, I have visited the mission fields of the world and have seen and contributed to the work of these churches at the ends of the earth. Seeing the end goal of the Great Commission bearing fruit as the result of churches working together has long been what has made me thankful for the Southern Baptist ship on which I first set sail.

To be consistent with my students, I am honest about the sins, faults, and distractions that have beset this Convention of churches and hindered their progress at various points in history. However, I gladly tell them that the end goal is still worthy of pursuit and worth the effort to help all the ships of churches sail in that Great Commission direction. From small groups in 17th century England, Baptist churches have persevered to hold inter-congregational cooperation in doctrinal confession and missionary endeavor as a key distinctive. As I love to tell my students, this story is worthy of retelling to inspire ongoing renewal of Baptist churches of the present and future as they carry out the same mission.

In every sense, I hope my students see that I am like the earliest Baptists: thankful for where I have been placed and what I have received, now serving with joy in confessional cooperation, joining with others in Southern Baptist churches to reach the nations for Christ and for the glory of God.

Footnotes:
¹ For more on how these theological distinctives formed in history and an expanded version of this article see my chapter “Cooperation in Baptist Beginnings, 1609-1845” in A Unity of Purpose, Tony Wolfe and W. Madison Grace II, eds. (B&H, 2025).
² Baptist historians have long debated Baptist beginnings. For a survey of views see James M. Stayer, Werner Packull, and Klaus Deppermann, “From Monogenesis to Polygenesis: The Historical Discussion of Anabaptist Origins,” Mennonite Quarterly Review 49:2 (Apr 1975): 83-121; William H. Brackney, A Genetic History of Baptist Thought (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2004); Timothy George, “Dogma Beyond Anathema: Historical Theology in Service of the Church,” in Review and Expositor 84:4 (Fall 1987): 691-713.
³ Jason G. Duesing, “Pre-beginnings,” in John D. Massey, Mike Morris, and W. Madison Grace II, Make Disciples of All Nations: A History of Southern Baptist International Missions (Kregel Academic, 2021),37.
⁴ Jason G. Duesing, “Baptist Contributions to the Christian Tradition,” in Christopher W. Morgan, Matthew Y. Emerson, R. Lucas Stamps, eds., Baptists and the Christian Tradition (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2020), 339.
⁵ For more see my article, “Preaching Against the State: The Persecution of the Anabaptists as an Example for 21st Century Evangelicals,” 14:2 (2015):54-82.
⁶ A portion of this appreciation can be seen in this essay I wrote for Themelios that surveys 500 years of evangelical preaching in Oxford. “Beacons from the Spire: Evangelical Theology and History in Oxford’s University Church,” (2024).
⁷ See my chapter “A Wrinkle on Catholicism: The Anglican Understanding of Church Government,” in Thomas R. Schreiner and Benjamin L. Merkle, eds. Shepherding God’s Flock: Church Leadership in the New Testament and Beyond (Kregel, 2014).
⁸ Diarmaid MacCulloch, The Later Reformation in England, 1547-1603 (New York: Palgrave, 2001), 29.
⁹ Madeleine Teagan, “Historic Mass celebrated by papal nuncio at Anglican cathedral in rare event,” Catholic News Agency, July 9, 2025.
¹⁰ See Gregg R. Allison, Sojourners and Strangers: The Doctrine of the Church (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), 260, and Benjamin L. Merkle, The Elder and Overseer: One Office in the Early Church (New York: Peter Lang, 2003).
¹¹ For more on the role of tradition see my chapter “Baptist Contributions to the Christian Tradition,” in Christopher W. Morgan, Matthew Y. Emerson, R. Lucas Stamps, eds., Baptist and the Christian Tradition (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2020).

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/d7K78bcfIsc

It seems like everyone today is talking about “identity” and discovering Who am I? Discovering your identity helps you know what you want your life to represent. It gives you direction for decision-making and helps you find a like-minded community of people who share your values and purpose. But most of these conversations about identity overlook the foundation of who we are: our humanity. How in the world can we answer Who am I? if we never answer What am I? Understanding our identity as human beings is foundational for understanding our identity as individuals. That’s why I’ve written this book: I want to help you discover what it means that you are created in the image of God so you can live an iconic life that represents him faithfully in your world.

It’s easy to curate your social media profile to make yourself look however you want, even if it’s not an honest representation of who you really are. A selfie here, a collaboration there, and carefully selecting your likes can portray you to be whomever you want to be. You get to craft your own image. But that only changes people’s perception of you, not your actual identity. This is why so many of your peers look like they’re living their best lives even though they’re struggling with insecurity or loneliness or fear. They are so focused on how they appear that they don’t really know who they are.

The Bible tells us that God created people in his image. The Greek word that’s used for image in the New Testament is the word eikon, which is where we get the English word icon. People are living “icons” of God in this world. That leads us to a helpful and understandable way to think about what it means to be created in the image of God: We are iconic of God. We are living icons, pointing to the greater reality of who God is and what he’s like. This book will lead you through Scripture to explore and apply what that means for you and me.

In short, the question this book seeks to address is this: What does it mean to live as icons of Christ in this world?

What Is the Image of God Anyway?
The Bible teaches that God created people “in the image of God.” Genesis 1:26–27 says, “Then God said, ‘Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness.’ . . . So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”

One of the most foundational ways we bear God’s image is through the attributes we share with him. We are like God in many ways. God is the Creator, and so we create. God exists in eternal community within himself, and we crave community with one another. Chapter 8 will explore the “communicable attributes” in further detail. They are traits that every person shares, to some degree, with God: love, knowledge, wisdom, goodness, etc. In this way, we bear God’s image within our humanity, even though many take these traits for granted as evolutionary survival skills. In this regard, bearing God’s image means that every person is actually like God because he created us with some of his own attributes embedded into our human nature. This God-given dignity has led some to believe people are divine themselves, with no need for God at all. As ironic as that is, even this false view of humanity displays that the innate glory and honor God has given to his image-bearers is obvious to all, even those who may deny his existence. In this sense, we don’t simply bear God’s image—we are his image in this world.¹ This is an irremovable characteristic of what it means to be human.

The book of Genesis was originally written in Hebrew. Two Hebrew words in Genesis 1:26–27 point to two sides of the same truth about how and why God created humanity: tzelem, meaning “image” and demuth, meaning “likeness.” A tzelem was a physical representation that a king would set up to remind people about his power and authority (see Daniel 3:1). Being made in God’s image and likeness means men and women were created as God’s representatives to uniquely carry out his ongoing work in creation. Our very existence is a living reminder of God’s reign and glory and provision.

Every person bears the image of God. The “image of God” is both what we are and what we do. It’s embedded within what it means to be a human being. God created us to be and to bear his image in a way that lifts others’ eyes to behold his character and goodness in us. Sin has affected our ability to do this, but it hasn’t removed the God-given dignity he wove into our humanity. The worst sinner remains God’s tzelem in this world, in the sense that what they are is a living reminder of his divine nature and goodness in this world. Everyone bears God’s image, but sin has corrupted the way we bear it, so we seek our own glory and build our own kingdoms. Through the gospel, God’s image-bearers are forgiven of their sin and conformed into the image of God through faith in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Christians bear God’s glory according to God’s good design in order that all creation would see our good works and give glory to our Father in heaven (Matthew 5:16).

Why the Image of God Matters for You
Nearly every controversial issue in our culture today finds its resolution in the image of God. If the Bible’s message is true and God created humans in his image, then it radically transforms the way Christians approach issues like racism, gender and sexuality, abortion, mental health, injustice, disability, and euthanasia, among others. This biblical foundation shifts the conversation away from a matter of opinion and toward what human flourishing (for individuals and cultures to be healthy and full of joy) looks like according to our Creator’s good design. For example, racism is sinful and wrong because of the way it fundamentally undermines what it means to be a human being, not merely because of the harm it causes to individuals. The same principle applies to gender identity and abortion and a host of other issues. This isn’t an attempt to provide a simplistic answer to complicated issues. But without understanding the biblical message about men and women as image-bearers, we’re left without a firm foundation for these important issues.

Understanding the image of God is the missing link in the many conversations about identity. It’s like we’re trying to figure out our individual stories without realizing that we’re characters in a bigger story that’s being told. God’s story for humanity begins in creation, has important chapters throughout that helps us understand what’s gone wrong, and it gives us hope to endure because the story ends in glory. God created people to enjoy perfect intimacy with him and with one another as his image-bearers in this world.

Sin has twisted us so we’re divided—against God and one another—and tempts us to take the glory of God’s image and claim it as our own, trying to exert our power to establish our own kingdoms. But instead of giving up on us or abandoning us, God promised a Savior who came to restore the intimacy between God and people so that we would bear God’s image well and be restored into relationship with each other too. One day, sin and the corruption it has introduced into the world will be wiped away, and we will live for all eternity in God’s presence with perfect intimacy as his image-bearers. This is the bigger story that your identity fits into. Without it, you’re left on your own to define your own reality and to choose your own adventure. Although this might sound like freedom, this mindset confines you to a life that’s limited by your own wisdom, whereas embracing your God-given calling leads you into a life that is filled with God’s steadfast love.

It’s common to hear people talk about how iconic superstars like LeBron James or Taylor Swift represent the best in their respective fields. We, as God’s image-bearers, are living icons of God in this world. People are God’s living tzelem in his kingdom. We are living displays of God’s glory and reign in his creation. This is why God commanded Israel, “You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them” (Exodus 20:4–5).² Israel didn’t need to create an image for God to remind them of his glory and presence because God had already placed his image among them!

It’s so common to talk about identity in terms of Who am I?, but I want to encourage you to consider the question of identity through the question What am I? Until we ask that question, we’ll continue to struggle to understand our identity. So many of the challenges we face today, as individuals and as a broader culture, flow from the reality that we’ve forgotten what it means to be a human being. The image of God doesn’t merely inform how we are to act and treat others; it’s an aspect of what we are as humans. As men and women who were created in God’s image, you and I have God-given dignity and value that has nothing to do with what we do. Our dignity and value isn’t determined by our GPA or resume; it’s built into us as icons of the living God who is King over creation. The way God created us as his image-bearers has a direct impact on our relationships.

Questions for Reflection

1. Have you ever thought about what it means for humans to be created in God’s image? What does that phrase mean to you?
2. What do we lose when we forget that we are cre­ated in God’s image? Why is this biblical message so important?
3. What does the author mean by “living an iconic life”? How does this flow from being created in God’s image?

Footnotes

¹For more on this emphasis, see Carmen Joy Imes, Being God’s Image: Why Creation Still Matters (InterVarsity, 2023).

²A different Hebrew word is used in this passage for image because it’s a specific word for an idol (an image that you worship).

Excerpted from Iconic: Being God’s Image in Your World © 2025 by Mike McGarry. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission.

There was a season when my spiritual life felt suspended between routine and emptiness. I read my Bible faithfully, yet the words felt flat; I prayed, but my voice seemed swallowed by silence. The rhythms of grace remained, yet the fire of transformation felt distant.

Nothing was broken, and yet it seemed as if nothing was growing.

But in time, I began to see the stillness not as absence but as preparation. Beneath the quiet surface, a hidden work was unfolding. It is the work that only God perceives, the silent shaping of the soul.

This is how God often moves: slowly, patiently, invisibly, crafting growth while our eyes are elsewhere. Until, one day, we realize we have grown.

Scriptural Patterns of Patient Formation

The Bible is filled with stories of faithful waiting and unseen growth.

Moses shepherded sheep in Midian for decades before leading God’s people. David tended flocks in obscurity long before the throne. Ruth gleaned quietly in foreign fields before redemption found her. And Jesus Himself lived thirty years in hidden obedience before stepping into public ministry.

These are not mere backstories. They are the very foundation of God’s redemptive pattern—a divine preference for depth over speed.

Charles Spurgeon captured this well when he wrote, “By perseverance the snail reached the ark.” The pace may be slow, but the promise remains sure.

Jesus said the Kingdom of God is like a seed growing silently (Mark 4:26–29), sprouting even when no one watches, blooming in God’s perfect timing. There is grace in this quiet process—growth we cannot force but only trust.

Fruitfulness Beyond Visibility

Perhaps you find yourself in such a season now. Where the disciplines of faith feel heavy. Where you show up to prayer and Scripture, wondering if your efforts mean anything.

Know this: You are not behind. You are not forgotten. You are being formed in ways that matter most.

God calls us to faithfulness, not flashiness. Paul speaks of transformation “from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18)—a steady, sacred progression.

Robert Murray M’Cheyne reminds us, “It is not great talents God blesses so much as great likeness to Jesus.” Often, this likeness is sewn in the quiet moments unseen by others.

Growth in Christ is rarely glamorous, but it is always good.

The Long View of Grace

The patient work of God in the hidden places points to a greater purpose: His glory and our good. Every quiet season, every moment of waiting, contributes to a story far larger than immediate circumstances.

As Philippians 1:6 assures, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion.” The unseen shaping of character and faith is a testament to God’s steadfast love and power.

This truth invites us to trust not in fleeting feelings or rapid results, but in the eternal promises of the One who holds time and growth in His hands. The slow, steady work of grace is God’s faithful artistry, creating beauty for His glory and our deepest flourishing.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/V7dBxF5nxTc

Hang on, who is this fast-talking, lie-spitting snake?! Aren’t Adam and Eve supposed to have dominion of the beasts of the field? Aren’t they supposed to “work and keep” this garden by protecting it from harmful enemies like this?

We trust God’s wisdom in revealing precisely what he reveals and withholding precisely what he withholds. There’s so much we don’t know about the “how” and the “why” of Genesis 3. But there’s absolutely zero ambiguity about the “what.” The seed of doubt that the serpent plants in Eve’s mind blooms into a blasphemous weed that chokes out the bliss of human experience. In short, Adam and Eve sinned.

Sin. That’s one of those words that different people use in wildly different ways. When Person A talks about “sin,” they’re talking about a bug in the system, a snag in the fabric, something regrettable and unavoidable in an otherwise worthy whole. When Person B talks about sin, they’re talking about a terminal diagnosis, a bone-deep rebellion, a carried-on constitution that forever pits humanity against themselves and their Creator. Sin isn’t merely a defect that makes us imperfect; it’s a rebellion that dooms us—that breaks the fabric of who we are.

When the serpent urges Eve (and Adam) to sin, he’s not merely urging them to break their divinely mandated diet. He’s urging them to turn on their Lord, to try to take authority into their own hands and be gods. He’s urging them to upend God’s design for creation. Instead of having dominion over the animals, instead of working and keep the garden, Adam and Eve buy into the lie that they know better than God and that God doesn’t have their best interests at heart. This is cosmic rebellion.

Curses for Rebels

Once we understand what sin really is, the way God responds begins to make a bit more sense. He curses all the guilty parties. Let’s look at what he says, first to the serpent:

The Lord God said to the serpent,
“Because you have done this,
cursed are you above all livestock
and above all beasts of the field;
on your belly you shall go,
and dust you shall eat
all the days of your life.
I will put enmity between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and her offspring;
he shall bruise your head,
and you shall bruise his heel.”

(Genesis 3:14–15)

That last verse reverberates throughout the entire Bible. Basically, it says, “One day your head’s gonna get crushed by a son of Eve.” But for now, let’s move on to God’s curses to Adam and Eve:

To the woman he said,
“I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;
in pain you shall bring forth children.
Your desire shall be contrary to your husband,
but he shall rule over you.”

And to Adam he said,
“Because you have listened to the voice of your wife
and have eaten of the tree
of which I commanded you,
‘You shall not eat of it,’
cursed is the ground because of you;
in pain you shall eat of it all the days of your life;
thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you;
and you shall eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your face you shall eat bread,
till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken;
for you are dust,
and to dust you shall return.”

(Genesis 3:16–19)

The Crime, the Verdict, and the Sentencing

There’s a lot we could say here, but for now let’s observe three things: first the crime, then verdict, and then the sentencing. The crime is disobeying God’s Word (Genesis 3:17).

The verdict, of course, is guilty.

But what about the sentencing? Hopefully you noticed that God’s curses aren’t random or haphazard. God’s initial blessings now have an element of curse attached to them. Called to be fruitful and multiply, the woman is now sentenced to have her pain multiplied alongside her fruitfulness (3:16). Called to subdue the earth, the man is now sentenced to subdue an earth that fights back with thorns and thistles (3:18).

Is that it? No. Moses keeps going, and ends Genesis 3 with key information. The Lord’s sentencing concludes, “Therefore the Lord God sent him out from the garden of Eden to work the ground from which he was taken. He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life” (3:23–24).

Once blessed, now banished. That’s the conflict at the center of this book—and it will take the rest of the Bible to fully and finally resolve it. We once dwelled in God’s presence naked and without shame. (Notice that in Genesis 3:21, God covers their shame with clothing. He didn’t have to do that. What mercy. He blesses the blasphemers.) We were safe at home with the Creator of the universe, so long as we continued to trust him and listen to his word.

And then our rebellion wrecked the world. It ruined our relationship with the Lord. It cut us off and he drove us out—rightly so! More than that, he placed a sword-wielding sentinel to guard the entrance to his presence. We cannot get back through our own efforts, and if we try—we’ll die. The wages of sin has always been death.

We were made to live alongside our Creator, to hear his footsteps as he walked beside us in the cool of the day, recognize his voice as he spoke to us. But Adam and Eve’s rebellion has changed everything. Their sin paved the way for our own. No matter how big or small they feel, our sins are the same crime as Adam and Eve’s in the garden. They are rebellion.

As a result, whatever sinlessness Adam and Eve enjoyed has never been ours. They once lived at home with God. Not us. We were born “alienated” from God (Colossians 1:21).

In other words, since Genesis 3, we’re all nomads—uprooted, trying to recapture the sense of home, seeking the fellowship and belonging we lost. Everything has changed.

Questions for Reflection

1. How do you see your sin in light of God’s holiness?
2. At what points of your life have you felt most separated from God? How was close fellowship with him restored?

Excerpted from Nomad: A Short Story of Our Long Journey Home © 2025 by Alex Duke. Used with permission of New Growth Press. May not be reproduced without prior written permission.

Recently, however, we were determined to be there. And it was a blessing—but I found myself not able to listen to some of the lesson (and my wife, Shale, wasn’t really able to listen at all) because of the kids. Now, kids are kids. They were restless. When we weren’t having to quiet them down, Shale was having to take our youngest to the bathroom, or something else.

When that happens, what’s the point of even showing up? What purpose is there in going to church when you aren’t able to listen to the sermon or lesson? Why even bother?

• Your Presence Is a Blessing | There have been moments when I am sitting in the pew before service begins and notice a family whom I haven’t seen in a while walking through the doors. Their mere presence is a blessing to see, because it shows they prioritize coming to church. The same applies to you. Simply showing up to church or a mid-week Bible study is going to bless others in attendance. They will be encouraged by seeing you show up even amid busyness, exhaustion, and frustration.
• Focus on Fellowship | Even if you can’t focus on the sermon because of factors like caring for your kids, you can focus on fellowship before and after. Our children are generally good during Bible study, but every now and then they hinder us from truly getting much from the lesson. Therefore, we make the effort to stay for a little bit after the service to mingle with others (even if it means a later bedtime for everyone involved). We’re not perfect at this, but there’s deep value in simply talking with other Christians after service. Catch up with the person you haven’t spoken with in a while. Check in on the person you’re discipling. Invite someone over for dinner. Share your heart with someone.
• Set an Example | If you have kids, they will notice what takes priority in your family’s life. Though you can’t get through the sermon or Bible study without taking care of them, they will see the example you’re setting and follow it in the future. It’s the little things here and there that children will notice and that will make an impact later in their lives.
• Obey the Lord | Perhaps this is an obvious one, but it bears mentioning. We should still go to church even if we can’t listen to the sermon, because we must obey the Lord. It can be discouraging to attend service and not be able to listen because of various factors, certainly including your kids. This might cause you to feel like just not going. I’ve been there. But we can’t allow that feeling to become the norm; we can’t let that take hold in our hearts. Even if it’s hard, we must still go.
• Bits and Pieces Matter | As distracted as we can be at times during a service, there will always be moments—even small ones—where we hear the preaching of God’s Word or perhaps are blessed by a particular song lyric during worship. God can take the tiniest information and use it to sanctify you. Don’t lose heart.
• Encourage Your Pastor(s) | Your pastors will appreciate you showing up. They will be encouraged by your faithfulness to attend service even when you are too distracted with caring for your kids to listen. You’re there, and that means the world to your pastor. We need to remember ways to intentionally encourage our pastors—the ones keeping watch over our souls (Heb. 13:17)—and this is one of them.

If it seems like a waste of time to venture out to church when you are certain that distractions will hinder you from listening, don’t let that stop you. Satan wants nothing more than for you not to attend service. We have to make the point to go to church even when it’s hard, even if it feels like we’re getting nothing out of it. God is working amidst that.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/Ou9ytBCJIjs

*This article was featured in the issue 44 of Midwestern Magazine.

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By: Jared C. Wilson

It’s my great privilege to serve as the General Editor of For The Church, which is the result of years of praying, planning, and faithful contributions from some great writers. The opportunity to serve the Church through the gospel-centered resources you find at ftc.co was a huge part of the draw for me to relocate to Kansas City and join the team at Midwestern Seminary. Our hope has always been that what we provide through the site will benefit the institution, sure, but more than that, we honestly and humbly hope to simply nourish those who visit these pages—whether as part of their regular web surfing or through individual clicks on articles that intrigue them via social media—with the incomparable encouragement of the finished work of Christ.

At the FTC site, one can find fresh content daily from some very talented writers from all over the world, all aimed at helping pastors and lay leaders press the gospel into every corner of the room, so to speak. While we hope to explore how the good news of Jesus applies to all of life—because it does!—we are more primarily aiming at ministry leaders and influencers, whether you’re a senior pastor or a youth pastor, a Sunday School teacher or a stay-at-home mom. For The Church is for you.

There are lots of Christian websites out there vying for your valuable attention, including a growing number of gospel-centered resource sites (thank God!). You will notice that there is a lot about our site that is similar to others you already enjoy, and we look forward to joining them in your daily work of edification online. But we hope you will also notice a few things that make For The Church unique. We have put a lot of thought into how we might complement what is already valuable in the evangelical blogosphere. And while the following four aims are not exclusive to our site, we nevertheless make these commitments to you. Please know that, for us, being for the Church means being:

For the Truth

We affirm the sufficiency and the authority of the Bible. We certainly do affirm the oft-repeated dictum that “all truth is God’s truth,” but we more strongly affirm Paul’s word that “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Tim. 3:16-17). Since you cannot improve upon “complete,” we will stick with the only truth that is power to change and sustain hearts in Christ Jesus—the inerrant, infallible Word of God.

In these days of increasingly murky cultural waters, we know there can be a greater temptation for the Church to argue on the world’s terms, to debate according to the logic of the spirit of the age, and to fall into so-called culture wars and the like. We believe the gospel has implications and applications for every calling and vocation, so of course Christ the King is King over things like politics and culture. But when For The Church speaks into those arenas, it will do so with the unchanging Scriptures. By holding firmly to the biblical truth, we maintain the great strength and advantage of clarity in dark days.

And ultimately, to be for the truth is to be for the glory of Christ, who is the Truth.

For the Sheep

You may notice that we spend quite a bit of time on the devotional side of things. This is an intentional effort on our part to speak as much to the hearts of our readers as to their minds and hands. We are making a significant commitment to exulting in the grace of God in our daily offerings. We believe that by focusing on devotional pieces, we can daily nourish our readers with the truths of God’s Word and help them exult in Christ. But we also want to feature practical articles as well. Even these, however, will not be purely “how to” exercises, but “why to” pieces—meaning, we will do our best to root our exhortations and instructions in the finished work of Christ and the good news of His perfect obedience imputed to us by faith. For this reason, we work to be practical, not pragmatic. To be practical is to help you flesh the faith out. To be pragmatic is to make the faith formulaic. We do not believe the latter serves Christ’s sheep well. We want them to be well-fed with the grace of God.

For the Shepherds

We make no apology about emphasizing resources aimed at those in ministry or aspiring to ministry. You will see that most of the posts appearing here are written with pastors, pastors-in-training, and mature lay leaders in mind. We do this because we believe that whatever a church’s leaders are, the church becomes. So we will help shape churches by shaping their leaders. To be for shepherds is to be for the sheep, actually. And by speaking to pastoral hearts with the gospel and strengthening their minds and hands with helpful content aimed at fulfilling their calling to equip the saints for ministry, we will honor the Good Shepherd by honoring His undershepherds.

For the Gospel

In all that we do, we seek the magnification of Christ in the Church and in the world through the Church. This means we must lash ourselves to the mast of the ship of the gospel. Where it goes, we will go. We will not depart from Christ’s good news, because the Spirit working in and through the gospel is what has made the Church in the first place. To be for the Church means being intently, persistently, stubbornly, and eternally for the gospel, because the Spirit working in and through the gospel is what sustains and sanctifies the Church.

The gospel is the only power stewarded to the Church and it is the only hope for a lost and dying world. So that’s For The Church. We’re unapologetically for the gospel, because we will be celebrating the gospel well into eternity’s endless days, for the expansion of the glory of the Lamb who was slain.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/44a16npvEEI

The following article was originally published at ftc.co on August 23, 2021.

__________

And Jesus said to them, “The sons of this age marry and are given in marriage, but those who are considered worthy to attain to that age and to the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage, for they cannot die anymore, because they are equal to angels and are sons of God, being sons of the resurrection.” —Luke 20:34-36

Jesus knows that the Sadducees he’s speaking to do not believe in a resurrection, and in a way, their very misunderstanding of what Jesus believes about marriage betrays their disbelief. The Sadducees, like so many others then and today who don’t believe in Jesus, think this is all there is. Nothing comes after death. You die and that’s it. They do not think on the scale of eternity, that God is endless and therefore life is endless. That when God created the world, not even the fall of mankind, and the sin unleashed into the world through it, and the brokenness of the earth contracted by it, can thwart God’s purposes. Sin will not have the last word when it comes even to creation. What God made good and man trashed, God is going to remake.

This means that everything created good is only a pale glimmer of what it will be in the time when heaven crashes into earth fully and God restores it all.

So Jesus sets up the contrast between the here and now with the sweet bye and bye.

Now, when he says resurrected believers are “equal to angels” he doesn’t mean that when good people die they become angels. That’s been a very popular misunderstanding throughout the church age. I mean, I don’t know if you get your theology of the afterlife from Tom and Jerry cartoons, but when we die we don’t spend the rest of eternity up in the clouds playing harps and wearing diapers.

Jesus simply means that we will be glorified in such a way that we will be along the order of angels—enjoying the paradise of God under a new order.

The thrust of this is in the contrast. Notice the difference he presents between “this age” (v. 34) and “that age” (v. 35).

What Jesus is telling them—and us—is that the gifts we enjoy in this age are meant to be signposts to the Giver himself and the everlasting enjoyment in the age to come. He uses the example they’ve brought him: They’ve brought up the topic of marriage, so that’s how he answers them. In this age, men and women are gifted the covenant of marriage. But in that age, like the angels, we won’t need the covenant of marriage.

What Jesus is saying is that marriage is meant for this age to point us to the reality of that age. How does it do that? There are so many broken marriages and always have been since the fall, but it wasn’t originally like that. And even the best marriages, even the ones that last “until death do them part,” are often fraught with conflict or hurts or just disappointments. But that wasn’t the original design. The original design—that man would leave his parents and cleave to his wife and become “one flesh” with her—was meant to be a reflection of God’s loving commitment to mankind.

Even after sin entered the world through the acts of that first married couple, marriage points to the gospel, because a husband and wife are meant to live in a gracious covenant with each other—forgiving each other, nurturing each other, caring for each other—as a picture of what Christ has done out of sheer grace to show his love for his Church. In Ephesians 5, Paul calls marriage “a profound mystery,” and he says it refers to Christ and his Church.

This is why marriage is both beautiful and temporary. It’s beautiful because it is a signpost pointing to Christ and his Bride, the Church. And it’s temporary, because when Christ returns to consummate his Kingdom, the thing to which the sign points will finally have arrived. We won’t need the signs any more—because we will have the reality forever.

Sons of the resurrection we will be. And so Jesus is showing how the reality of the resurrection to come provides a new perspective on how we think about things like marriage today. Looking to the day of the new heavens and new earth gives clarity to our vision for the things around us.

What would it look like to treat each other, married or not, not as objects for our own use and pleasure today, but as opportunities to affirm the image of God and show that we believe there is a new day coming?

*This article was featured in the issue 44 of Midwestern Magazine.

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By Jason K. Allen

We believe that Midwestern Seminary’s right to exist is directly tethered to our faithfulness to the local church. I believe that any parachurch organization or ministry should be evaluated primarily based upon its faithfulness to serve, support, and strengthen the local church. Christ has promised to build His church, not His seminary. But as we are faithful to His Church, doubtlessly He will build this seminary.

Over the past decade, we’ve trumpeted our for the Church mission as loudly as we can. It’s been implemented across every square inch of the campus, embedded into every aspect of our institutional programming and curriculum, and embraced by every member of the team.

Moreover, for the church has given us institutional momentum.

It’s been an igniter, a propellant moving us forward, and it’s galvanized our constituency to support us. It’s been a cohesive, binding us together. We are for the church.

Articulating the Mission

Ordinarily a mission statement should not change with a new leader. Perhaps it’s tweaked or reapplied, but it ought not be reinvented with each leadership change. In a sense, I was blessed because Midwestern Seminary had already been serving the church, but it had not expressed that mission in a clear, cogent way. I had the opportunity to clarify, to convey, and every day since, to champion that mission.
When Winston Churchill was heralded as the lionhearted leader of wartime Great Britain, he famously said, “It was a nation and a race dwelling all around the globe that had the lion heart. I had the luck to be called upon to give the roar.” [1]

I feel the same way toward Midwestern Seminary’s for the Church mission. Before me were faithful men and women already serving for the church. Yet, like Churchill, I’ve had the pleasure of articulating that mission and leveraging all the seminary’s resources for the church in a way that hadn’t been done before.

At the personal level, for the Church had been building in my life for years. I had twin loves, the local church and theological education. In fact, that’s why I’d been dually engaged in institutional and local-church ministry settings for almost my entire adult life.

But the for the church mission is so much bigger and better than I am. It’s not just autobiographical; it’s biblical.

The Unchanging Mission

Over the past ten years, I’ve watched with pleasure as for the church has gone from being my mission statement for Midwestern Seminary, to our mission statement for Midwestern Seminary, to the mission statement of Midwestern Seminary.

There is a symbiotic relationship between the church and the seminary; they are to serve, strengthen, and support one another. With the previous generation of pastors retiring, churches are asking, “From whence will a new generation come?” Midwestern Seminary must be ready to respond to that question every year going forward by supplying a new generation of pastors, missionaries, and ministers to serve our churches.

This is precisely why for the Church still matters. Our mission has not changed. Our constituency has not changed. Our directive from the Lord has not changed. Therefore, we will continue to be for the church because our calling is clear, and the need is great.

For the Church animates our team, represents our institution, and inspires our constituency. Together, we are for the church, and we always will be.

*This article is an excerpt from Turnaround: The Remarkable Story of an Institutional Transformation and the 10 Essential Principles and Practices that Made It Happen. To purchase the book, please visit: jasonkallen.com.

[1] This line was said in a speech of thanks given at the House of Commons on Churchill’s eightieth birthday on November 30, 1954. See Geoffrey Best, Churchill: A Study in Greatness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 183.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/GDUot1uGWIE

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The following article was originally published at ftc.co on March 20, 2023.

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“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself . . . strengthen [you].” —1 Peter 5:10

To suffer with Christ is vastly superior to a life of comfort without him.

And if he has saved you through his death, manifesting all his divine power in his own human weakness unto death, do you not think he can be your power in your suffering?

He will be your strength in the eternal life he gives you. Eternal life means just that—“eternal.” This means however much you suffer, even if it be all of your life, and even if your life is long, it will still be nothing but a blip on the radar of eternity. “After you have suffered a little while,” says Peter. It is the context of eternity, which is the length of our union with Christ and therefore the un-expiring duration of our security, which colors our suffering. Paul could refer to his missional life of suffering as “a light momentary affliction” (2 Cor. 4:17). It’s not even worth comparing to the eternal weight of glory.

It is the sustaining vision of eternal life in Christ that fixes even a lifetime of suffering to a fine point—a fine point that in the last day will be eclipsed by the glory of the radiant Christ, perhaps even distilled down to a jewel placed amidst your treasures, or placed in the crown of Christ himself as we offer our suffering up to him, finally in our fully sanctified state, truly not loving our own lives even unto death.

But the apostle here is not simply promising the escape of suffering—he is promising the sustenance through it.

Christ will be your strength in the midst of your suffering, with sustaining grace to persevere. He is there, with you and around you and beneath you and over you and in you and beside you, and you are in him, and there is no furnace so hot that Christ will not walk into it with you.

I’m reminded of the passage in The Hiding Place, as Corrie ten Boom, with her father, contemplates the prospect of torture and death ahead of her:

I burst into tears, “I need you!” I sobbed. “You can’t die! You can’t!”
“Corrie,” he began gently. “When you and I go to Amsterdam, when do I give you your ticket?”
“Why, just before we get on the train.”
“Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we’re going to need things, too. Don’t run out ahead of him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need—just in time.”

When you must go through the furnace, you will not be alone.

In the weakness of suffering, Christ will be your strength.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/CNPKyNUh0Ok

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The following article was originally published at FTC.co on June 21, 2017.

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Reflections on 10 Years of Church Planting

“I’m just not very good at this whole ‘vision’ thing,” a discouraged pastor shared with me over lunch at Chick-fil-A. He asked, “How do I even cast vision?”

As a church planter getting ready to celebrate my church’s 10-year anniversary, I must have been associated with “vision casting” in this pastor’s mind. But, as I took a breath and prepared to impart all of my apparent wisdom, I froze. What is our vision? I thought immediately. Do we even have one?

I fumbled over my words as my mind went back to a weekend “boot camp” for aspiring church planters. Those of us in attendance spent the majority of our time there talking about vision. We had to craft a vision for our future churches that would correspond with our “mission statement,” by writing clever and catchy sentiments with purple markers on the large tear-off sheets hanging on the wall. I’d had a hard time coming up with something then, and here now at Chick-fil-A, sitting across from a pastor who sought me out to discuss this very topic, I had nothing.

People in our city speak of the “vision” of our church often, and I claim to be the unofficial guardian of that vision as the lead pastor. Yet there I was, unable to cast vision about casting vision. I couldn’t even articulate the vision of our church when asked directly.

So I circled back to the reason I knew I wanted to start a church in the first place.

When I was a twenty-something trying to become an actual church planter, all I knew was that I had a passion for a place and for people. I wasn’t sure how one went about starting a church, but I knew my hometown of Tallahassee needed more gospel-preaching churches, and I wanted to reach my friends for Christ. I wasn’t sure if that counted as a vision, and I had no idea how to make that into a catchy statement. But I had a mission; I knew that for sure.

I remember holding that purple marker in my hand with the “Church Planting Catalyst” looking over my shoulder as he asked, “So, what’s your vision?” and “Do you have a mission statement?” I glanced at the words being written by the guys on my right and left and started to wonder if I was cut out for this. These guys had each written statements that I would need a hired creative wordsmith to craft. I was just standing there with a purple marker, trying to come up with something that would sound okay and not be lame.

. . .

Coming back to the table at Chick-fil-A, I finally formed my thoughts and knew how to encourage this pastor. “What is the Bible’s job description for us as the Church?” I asked. He immediately answered as I’d hoped, and pointed to the Great Commission. In that moment, I began to realize that I actually was cut out to coach someone on vision, and that every Christian is equally qualified to do the same thing. We remind and point people back to the vision Jesus gave His Church. “Don’t worry about vision,” I said. “Your church doesn’t need to be preoccupied with vision; it needs to be serious about the Bible.”

Years ago, with that purple marker in my hand, I wound up with the least cool statement on the big white sheet of paper: “I want to reach Tallahassee and all my friends for Jesus through the local church, and I hope anyone who will ever call our church their home will want to do the same.” The instructor thought I was being sarcastic with such a non-vision-statement-esque vision statement, but I looked at him and simply said, “This is what I’m trying to do, man.” Since then, we’ve summarized this mission as being “for the gospel, for the city.” But the goal hasn’t changed.

The visions of all local churches should sound pretty similar if we are going to be faithful to the mission mandate given to us by our Lord. I am all for creative expressions, ideas, approaches, and manifestations of the mission, but that should spring from a gospel-centrality in our congregations (led by the pastor) more than a super hip marketing campaign (led by a creative team). Branding is great, but the vision should be simple. And the vision-caster is Jesus Himself speaking to us through Scripture.

In my opinion, the aspects of application to get hung up on are ones of strategy, not vision. The vision is laid out already, but how you’re going to carry it out is the conversation you should be having. Every biblical local church has the same message, but working out the calling to make disciples in your specific environment might include:

• Regular reminders of who you are as a church and also who you are not.
• Saying no to certain things so the church can be available to live out the Great Commission in your community and beyond.
• Identifying how you can utilize your assets, human resources, exposure, platforms, etc. to reach your given audience, city, and congregation.
• Equipping your church members to carry out the Great Commission in their personal lives, not only relying on the church as an entity to reach the city.

Pastor, you can rest knowing that the creative vision for your church is laid out. Our job is to lead churches, by the Lord’s help, who are faithful to what Jesus has called us to do for His glory, Kingdom, and Church.

“So, I can be a vision guy simply by keeping the church focused on the Great Commission,” the pastor said back to me at Chick-fil-A. The light bulb went off for my pastor friend. He already had all he needed for vision since Jesus provided it in Scripture. My friend merely needed the courage and resolve to keep his church focused on reaching people and making disciples.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/QHZBceudCcA

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The following article was originally published at JasonKAllen.com and was republished at FTC.co on April 28, 2022.

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Known as the silent killer, each year colon cancer claims close to 50,000 American lives.[1] Though treatable if detected early, colon cancer is known as the silent killer because, if not screened for, it will grow unnoticed, undetected. By the time it is discovered symptomatically, it is often too late to be cured.

Like colon cancer, I’m convinced there is another slow, silent, growing malignancy within the church. The malignancy is particularly catastrophic, bringing with it ruinous consequences.

It hollows out the gospel message, undercuts the Great Commission, and undermines the entire logic of collaborative missions and ministry. The malignancy to which I am referring is the slow, subtle rejection of the exclusivity of the gospel.

By the Numbers

Recent research conducted jointly by Ligonier Ministries and Lifeway Research makes clear this challenge. For example, 45% of Americans think that “there are many ways to get to heaven” and 71% agree that “an individual must contribute his/her own effort for personal salvation.”[2]

Defining Exclusivity

Historic Christianity, throughout its creedal formulations, has affirmed the exclusivity of the gospel. In fact, this was Jesus’s self-assessment when he unequivocally asserted, “’I am the way, the truth, and the life, no man comes to the father but through me.’”[3]

By exclusivity of the gospel, we mean that only those who personally, consciously, explicitly, and singularly confess Jesus Christ as Lord can possess eternal life. Let’s consider these qualifiers more closely.

Personally: Salvation comes to us individually, when one follows Christ. No one gains eternal life because of someone else’s faith, or by his or her affiliation with a family, church, or ethnic or national group. Each sinner must come to repent of his or her sins and believe the gospel personally.

Consciously: To inherit the Kingdom one must do more than reflect the ethic of Christ; one must consciously embrace him, knowingly and intentionally following Jesus. There are no anonymous Christians, regardless of Karl Rahner’s assertion otherwise. Authentic believers know whom they are following.

Explicitly: One’s faith must be placed in God’s Son, Jesus Christ, not just generically in God. As Peter declared in Acts 4:12, “’There is salvation in no one else; for there is no other name under heaven that has been given among men by which we must be saved.’”

Singularly: Faith in Jesus alone saves, and saving faith must be placed in him alone. The singularity of Christ as one’s faith object is especially important on the mission field, where missionaries encounter religions, such as Hinduism, where they are happy to add Jesus to their pantheon of gods. We do not add Jesus to our portfolio of faith objects. Christianity is not a both-and proposition; it is either-or.

Of course, when converted, one is not necessarily thinking through these categories, like boxes to check. Rather, the point is that one cannot reject or negate these gospel distinctives.

Challenges to Exclusivity

Why is the exclusivity of the gospel losing popularity? There seems to be a number of reasons. First, globalization has brought the nations near to us. This nearness should have increased our burden for the lost, but it seems to have done the opposite.

Second, the forward march of postmodernity continues to undermine absolute truth claims, especially one so audacious as the exclusivity of the gospel—that of the 7,000,000,000 inhabitants of Earth, only those that hear and believe the message of Christ can be saved.

Third, political correctness limits our willingness to offend, and asserting the full gospel message is the most offensive of truth claims. Political correctness finds the notion of a literal hell as insufferably backwards, and has re-envisioned it as a mythological—or nearly unoccupied—place.

Alternatives to Exclusivity

While universalism is often contrasted with exclusivity, it is actually not commonly accepted. There is just something disconcerting, even to thoroughgoing secularists, about the possibility of Adolf Hitler and Osama bin Laden spending eternity with Billy Graham. Even our most naturalistic instincts desire some sort of eternal reckoning.

More common alternatives are pluralism and inclusivism. Pluralism argues there are many ways to God, and one should earnestly follow the religious path revealed to you. Inclusivism maintains that Christ is the only Savior, but his provision can be accessed through other religions.

Ron Nash, in his Is Jesus the Only Savior?, helpfully summarizes pluralism, inclusivism, and exclusivity in two questions: Is Jesus the only savior? Must people believe in Jesus Christ to saved? Pluralism answers both questions “no”; inclusivism answers the first “yes” and the second “no.” Historic Christianity answers both “yes.”[4]

For the many who attend evangelical churches yet deny the exclusivity of the gospel, pluralism or inclusivism—though they may not know these terms—is probably their ideological home. While they may not intend to reject historic Christianity, operationally, many of our church members—and our churches—are there.

Conclusion

To be a preacher is to be a decision maker. Each week preachers determine what to include in a sermon and what to leave out. Time simply does not allow one to say everything that could be said about every passage. Preachers intuitively triage their text, their sermon, and their congregation, asking themselves, “What can I assume they know and affirm, and what must I assert and advocate?”

Perhaps this triage has led too many pastors to assume their church members understand and embrace the exclusivity of the gospel. We can no longer assume this. We must assert and advocate the exclusivity of the gospel.

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[1] https://www.cancer.org/cancer/colonandrectumcancer/detailedguide/colorectal-cancer-key-statistics.

[2] Ligonier Ministries, in partnership with LifeWay Research, “The State of Theology: Theological Awareness Benchmark Study,” 4. Available online at https://gpts.edu/resources/documents/TheStateOfTheology-Whitepaper.pdf.

[3] John 14:6.

[4] See Ron Nash, Is Jesus the Only Savior? (Zondervan, 1994).

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/654Od0YLJio

I know God doesn’t make mistakes, but I sometimes wonder if I was supposed to live in the first century, because I love everything about the early church. Apart from the lack of air conditioning, indoor plumbing, and antibiotics, living in those times would have been amazing. Jesus had just spent forty days with the disciples after his resurrection. He went up, and the Spirit came down. Thousands were added to the disciples’ number. They worshiped daily, prayed continually, and shared meals together. They cared for widows and orphans, cast out demons, and healed the sick. Even when they were persecuted, they spread out among the nations and planted churches like it was nothing.

But what was it really like? Was it all that great, or were there significant hardships? What was a typical church gathering like? How did they do church in these wild early years?

In the first thirty years after Jesus’s ascension—the period of the book of Acts—the early church was everything. It was great, and it was awful; it was evangelistic, and it was legalistic; it was hungry, and it was lukewarm. The only thing it wasn’t is nothing. Its influence swept the globe in a way no social or religious movement ever has or ever again will.

Early Christianity scholar Michael Green wrote a book with the perfect title, Thirty Years that Changed the World. Green puts this season in history like this:

Three crucial decades in world history. That is all it took. In the years between AD 33 and 64, a new movement was born. In those thirty years it got sufficient growth and credibility to become the largest religion the world has ever seen and to change the lives of hundreds of millions of people. It has spread into every corner of the globe and has more than two billion adherents. It has had an indelible impact on civilization, on culture, on education, on medicine, on freedom and of course on the lives of countless people worldwide. And the seedbed for all this, the time when it took decisive root, was in these three decades. It all began with a dozen men and a handful of women: and then the Spirit came. (7–8)

Incredible, right? Green goes on to say, “We can and should ask ourselves, ‘If those people then acted in the way they did, what are the implications for disciples today, given all the differences brought about by culture, space and time?’” (8)

Among all the unique features of life in the early church, one thing stands out—prayer. If we compare the lifestyle and activities of the early church to our contemporary churches, the single most stark difference will be in our prayer lives. Green writes, “Prayer, not activism, is what they relied on” (268).

Learning Prayer from the Early Church

In Acts, prayer is the central power and activity of the church. In chapter 1, we see the believers praying before the coming of the Spirit. In chapter two, they’re gathered together again, almost certainly in prayer, when the Spirit falls. At the end of that wild, historic day, the thousands of new converts are joined to the apostles and early believers together in prayer (2:42). As chapter three opens, we find the believers going up to the temple to pray. This pattern goes on throughout the book. As Green summarizes, the early church had “life-changing power. And it only happened because these men and women put prayer at the top of their priorities” (271).

If prayer was a defining mark of the early church—with beautiful and world-changing results—why has it fallen so down the priority list for the church of contemporary America?

I believe the answer lies in our general fear that prayer doesn’t do much at all. We subconsciously believe we can do more by our intellect, strategies, and efforts than God can do in response to our prayers. How did we get here? There are multiple answers, but I believe one key reason is our diminished emphasis and dependence on the Holy Spirit.

In Pour Out Your Heart, I suggest that prayer helps us hold together two beautiful things in tension—gospel and presence. Embracing the gospel without living for the presence of God can lead us into mere head knowledge and sacrificial living. We can believe in the message of the gospel and have impeccable theology and yet barely experience the beauty of Christ. Yet, in the same way, living for the presence of God without remaining centered on the gospel can lead us into error as well. We might become focused on spiritual experience, not on knowing God in Christ. Without a heart full of the gospel, our spiritual life can become focused on personal discipline, moral improvement, and self-fulfillment.

As one of my friends put it: If you have only the gospel, you have the key to the whole house, but you might never go inside. If you have only the presence, you might have the whole house, but no key to get in.

Reading Acts and the New Testament letters, it seems the early church didn’t have this problem. As Paul wrote to the Thessalonians: “For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not simply with words but also with power, with the Holy Spirit and deep conviction” (1 Thess. 1:4–5). Word and power. Truth and Spirit. Gospel and presence.

What, then, would it mean for us to be more mindful of God’s presence in our prayer lives? What would a more Spirit-filled prayer life look like?

Prayer and the Spirit of God

A life of walking by the Spirit is a life of prayer, and a life of prayer is a life of walking by the Spirit. Prayer is a refusal to do life in our own strength and ingenuity. It’s a plea for help from above (and within). Prayer demonstrates a heart that is hungry for God’s presence and intervention in our world. In the same way, walking by the Spirit is a lifestyle of depending on God, not self, for life and breath. The two things are nearly synonymous.

To the Galatians, Paul wrote:

Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh… If you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law… But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit (Gal. 5:16, 18, 22–23).

Paul compels us to become like Christ, developing the same character of Jesus and demonstrating his characteristics. The way we become like Christ is by walking in the Spirit, living by the Spirit, and keeping in step with the Spirit. These three phrases suggest a practical, ongoing, moment-by-moment relationship with the Holy Spirit. It is only through this perpetual dependence on the Spirit that we can uproot the power of sin in our lives and demonstrate Christlikeness.

Dependence is a key word there. As we’ve seen, our human tendency is to rely on ourselves, defend ourselves, and promote ourselves. The Christian philosopher Francis Schaeffer famously wrote:

The central problem of our age is not liberalism or modernism, nor Roman Catholicism, nor the threat of communism, nor even the threat of rationalism, nor, I would add, postmodernism, consumerism, and other more contemporary isms. The real problem is this: the church of the Lord Jesus Christ, individually or corporately, tending to do the Lord’s work in the power of the flesh rather than of the Spirit. The central problem is always in the midst of the people of God, not in the circumstances surrounding them.[1]

This happens both individually and together in the church. Our lives, apart from walking by the Spirit, become an anxious experiment in self-reliance. We become devoted to building and protecting our own little kingdoms. We don’t intend this, but when our old self (what Paul calls the flesh) is more active than our new self (who we are in Christ), we live no different from our non-Christian neighbors.

Our churches and ministries can operate the same way. We drift back into our old self-reliant selves collectively, and we end up busy, distracted, and focused on building a spiritual empire (however big or small) that is not the kingdom of Christ. We ought to honestly ask: If the Holy Spirit suddenly left our ministries, how long would it take us to notice? If our prayers suddenly were ineffective, would our ministries come to a grinding halt? Or would they continue undiminished—because it wasn’t dependent on the Spirit and prayer to begin with?

In Galatians, the old apostle knows this self-assured, fleshy habit within us and wants to sever it. He wants us to replace it with Spirit dependence.

What would such a walking by the Spirit look like? The most practical, moment-by-moment way to keep in step with the Spirit is through an ongoing conversation with the Father.

Through God’s Son, by the power of God’s Spirit who indwells us, we can continually praise our Father God, humble ourselves before him, seek to do his will, and ask for all that we need and want. Prayer is the heart of walking by the Spirit.

Let us follow the pattern of the early church and surrender ourselves daily, in prayer and obedience. Through the power of the Spirit, let’s enjoy the life of prayer and intimacy with God that Jesus died to welcome us into!

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[1] Francis Schaeffer, The Lord’s Work in the Lord’s Way (Crossway, 2022), 36.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/w_UWRAb3nWU

Many pious descriptions of Heaven are simply unappealing—sitting on clouds, strumming harps, endless Sunday school lessons. In contrast, the Bible’s many descriptions of Heaven are exhilarating! The physical nature of Jesus’ Resurrection means believers will enjoy immortality in an embodied existence in a real place, not a ghostly existence in an ephemeral nether sphere. The Bible describes the coming Kingdom of Heaven in concrete terms—but of course, the concrete in Heaven is gold!

Once, when my son was little, he made an inference in line with biblical teaching. He said, “In Heaven, sharks don’t bite; they lick.” His comment is consistent with Isaiah’s prophecy, “The wolf and the lamb will graze together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox” (Isaiah 65:25; NASB). While scholars debate whether or not this prophecy refers to the Millennial Kingdom, we can be confident that such descriptions find perfect consummation in the eternal New Heavens and New Earth.

Let’s encourage our children to look forward to the imminent return of the King of Heaven and to pray, “Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20).

Editor’s note: The above article is an excerpted from “A Word to Parents and Teachers” in Big Thoughts for Little Thinkers: Heaven, by Joey Allen (published 2025 by New Leaf Press). Big Thoughts for Little Thinkers: Heaven, Jesus, and The Church are now available for purchase.

Watch the video here: https://youtu.be/6a-DFOo-bS8

The following article was originally published at ftc.co on March 7, 2022.

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Because Jesus is God, we can know that he is able to save. But we are encouraged not just that Christ is able to save, but in knowing that he has actually exercised his ability to save us.

In other words, to say that God is able to save isn’t exactly the good news, because God is able to do many things that he nevertheless chooses not to do. Whenever he says “no” to one of our prayers, for instance, we should not construe him to mean that he’s saying “I can’t” (unless we’re asking him to sin or otherwise act against his nature).

I’m thinking along the lines of the old Carl Henry saying: “It’s only good news if it gets there in time.”

That Christ is able to save is no benefit to those who do not find themselves taking refuge in him!

Well, Christ is an able Savior, and because he’s always on time—indeed, he has authored time itself—he’s an unconquerable Savior.

Look, for instance, at John 17:9–19, where in his “high priestly prayer,” Jesus turns from praying for himself to praying for his friends. Christ’s interceding on the sinner’s behalf is good news, and here it rises to the surface of his prayer in wonderful relief:

“I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one. While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled. But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth.”

He has given us the only kind of life he has within himself: eternal life.

The primary facet of eternal life on display in verses 9–18 is the eternality of it, the forever protection Christians have by Christ himself. Review from the passage, for instance:

v. 10 = “all mine are yours, and yours are mine,” meaning we belong to God

v. 11 = the Father is keeping us

v. 12 = he has guarded us, and not one of us has been lost

v. 15 = “keep them from the evil one”

vv. 16–17 = “sanctify them” (or set them apart)

All of this points to the safety we have in Jesus!

Even the loss of the “son of destruction,” a reference to Judas, in verse 12 is not an indication of Christ’s conquerability, since he notes that Judas’s destruction was according to the divine plan (“that the Scripture be fulfilled”). In other words, Judas didn’t slip through the cracks. Jesus isn’t a pretty good Savior, about to finish 11 out of 12. No, he kept all that were given to him. None of them was lost. Nobody slips through the cracks. If you are saved, you are unconquerably saved.

The obvious doctrinal connections here are to eternal security and the perseverance of the saints. But there are shades here of what’s more explicit in John 17:21–22, where we get a glimpse into the doctrine of mystical union with Christ.

“…that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them…”

The gospel gem of union with Christ is perhaps the major facet of the gospel uniting the whole of the New Testament. It is implicitly proclaimed every time we see phrases like “in him” or “in Christ” or “with him”—to be found in Christ, to be raised with Christ, to move and live and have our being “in Christ,” to be crucified with Christ and seated with him in the heavenly places, to be hidden with Christ in God.

In John 15, Jesus tells his disciples that they are the branches and he is the vine, and that they must “remain in him” or “abide in him.” This is all doctrine of union talk.

And in John 17, the picture being displayed shows us that Christ doesn’t just advocate for us as a defense attorney—though he does that too—but he actually grafts us into himself. But further: by faith, the sinner saved by grace is spiritually inextricable from Jesus. His Spirit indwells us. And we are said to dwell in him.

How is this—that he would be, spiritually speaking, inside of us? And we would also be, spiritually speaking, inside of him?

Well, think of the temple in the ancient days. The holiest of holies was the place where God’s presence specially dwelled. But it would not be accurate to say God’s wholeness was solely located in that physical space. God is omnipresent. He can’t not be omnipresent. So God was outside the temple and everywhere. But also he dwelled specially in the temple. This is a corollary to the indwelling presence of Christ in believers. We are in him. But he is also specially in us.

Think of a Matryoshka doll. You know, those Russian nesting dolls, where you open it up and there’s an increasingly smaller doll inside? Well, picture just three. The middle one is us. We are inside Christ, so that when you open him up, you find us. And when you open us up, you find him again.

We belong to God. The Father is keeping us. He has guarded us, and not one of us will be lost. He is keeping us from the evil one. He has sanctified us.

Speaking of Russia: Recently, as Russian invaders entered Ukrainian soil, I saw a photo online said to be of a group of Ukrainian Christians in a circle in Kharviv Square joined in prayer. And I was struck by two things in contemplating that photo. The first thing I was struck by was the sheer vulnerability of them. For seven or eight human beings armed with nothing but winter coats are no match for small arms fire, much less heavy artillery. But the second thing I was struck by was the sheer power of them. For Christians, to be found in Christ, to be guarded and kept by him is—in all the ways that ultimately and eternally matter—to be unconquerable.

Richard Sibbes says, “The Christian is an impregnable fortress. The Christian is a man who cannot be conquered.”

Oh, we can be killed. But we cannot be conquered.

As Paul says in Colossians 3:3, “Our life is hidden with Christ in God.” If we are hidden with Christ in God, we are as secure as Christ is. Now, how secure do you think Christ is?

Jesus says, “I have guarded them”! (v. 12)

Now, of course, we need to be sober-minded. We will endure hardship in this life. In verse 15, Jesus plainly says, “I do not ask that you take them out of the world,” only that we be “kept from the evil one.”

Nobody gets out of here alive. Even the Christian must die. But dying isn’t the worst thing that can happen to you. Dying after you die is the worst thing that can happen to you. But for those who are united to Christ by faith—we have unconquerable, eternal life.

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In the Scriptures, God gives his people a surprising and uncomfortable amount of participation in his eternal purposes. He often waits to fulfill his plans until he can fulfill them through us. He waits till we pray.

God is in no discernible hurry. He instead moves in our hearts to seek him, desire his kingdom on earth, and boldly ask for his glory to cover the earth. Our prayers literally do change the world. God has ordained this unexpected and strange pathway to his glory, and indeed, he is the one who gets the glory in the end.

We know Moses as the great leader of Israel, and we know him as one of the Old Testament’s preeminent prophets too. But have we considered the remarkable prayer life of Moses?

Moses’s Bold Request(s)

God would often draw Moses to himself for days at a time, revealing himself and his will to Moses. In Exodus 32, the Israelites get tired of waiting for Moses to come down from the mountain, and they quickly spiral into corruption and make a golden calf out of their gold jewelry. Moses is distraught over their sin, and knowing God to be holy and righteous, fears that Israel might be completely wiped out. Moses goes directly to the Lord in prayer and asks that God forgive their sin (32:32). God responds that he will punish them for their sin but agrees not to totally destroy his people (32:33–35).

God tells Moses he will still give the Israelites the promised land, but he will not personally lead them anymore—the pillar of cloud, representing his presence, would not remain with them. He will instead send an angel to go before them (33:1–3). So, Moses’s first prayer has been granted, but he’s not done yet.

Moses approaches God a second time in the tent of meeting. It’s here that we learn that God would regularly speak to Moses face to face, as one talks with a friend (33:11). In this prayer conversation, Moses makes his second request, citing God’s own character and goodness first. He prays, “Remember that this nation is your people” (33:13). He’s appealing to God’s own faithfulness and steadfast love. Moses continues, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here” (33:15). He’s saying: If you don’t personally come with us, God, what is the point of any of it? It’s not enough to send an angel. We want you, God!

Now, this is a bold second request, and we might fear that God will respond with anger. We might tell Moses he should be content with his first request being answered. But one answered prayer has a way of increasing our faith and boldness. So Moses makes this second request, and it seems to delight God even more. God responds, “I will do the very thing you have asked, because I am pleased with you and I know you by name” (33:17). Prayer number two is also answered.

Now, I played basketball every day through high school and college, and I can tell you this. If I made a three pointer, it made me want to shoot another three. And if I made two threes? You couldn’t stop me from taking a third. I tell my boys the same thing: If you’re hot, it’s no time for meekness; keep shooting! I think Moses is thinking essentially the same thing now. He’s two for two. In the language of NBA Jam, he’s heating up. Why not go for three?

With a preposterous boldness, Moses makes a third request, and it’s the most audacious one yet. “Now show me your glory” (33:18).

Can you believe it? Moses asks to see God in all his glory. But no one can see God and live (33:20)! Has Moses lost his mind? Or is he perhaps as close to the heart of God that he’s ever been? Is he actually asking God for the exact sort of thing that God wants to give?

Indeed, God’s response tells us everything. He will do it. He will allow his goodness to pass in front of Moses, but God will not show his face—because Moses would not survive that one (33:19–23). The following day, Moses prepares himself and returns up the mountain. It says that “the Lord came down in the cloud and stood there with him… And he passed in front of Moses,” proclaiming his name (34:5–6). All because Moses dared to ask.

Boldness, indeed. Moses has moved from intercession to petition with this third request, but he’s not shifting gears too much. He is asking God to be who he is in some particular way. Moses is bringing God’s own character and goodness before him, seeking more of his presence and power. He’s asking God to do the very thing that he wants to do. And God delights to answer each and every request.

Discovering the Power of Intercession

Intercession is the most dynamic and yet most overlooked form of prayer in today’s church. More than just “praying for others,” intercession compels God to be who he is in a particular place and time.

We know that God is faithful; in intercession, we ask him to be faithful to in a certain way to a particular person. We know that God is loving; in intercession, we ask him to reveal his love to our friend or coworker. Intercessory prayer begins with an acknowledgement of God’s greatness and compassion then calls on God to apply his character and power to someone who needs it most. In this way, we’re seeking to compel our good Father to action not by our own credibility but by his.

Here’s what that can look like.

Father, you have promised that your glory will cover the earth (Hab. 2:14); will you reveal yourself now in Columbia, Missouri? Glorify yourself in this particular time and city!

Lord Jesus, you are the friend of sinners (Matt. 11:19); my friend Eric doesn’t know you and is resistant to your good news; will you break through his stubborn heart and reveal your love to him?

Lord, you are the God of healing (Ps. 103:3); will you heal my friend Jamie of her chronic illness? Let yourself be glorified by showing that you still heal the sick and brokenhearted today!

Lord Jesus, there is much spiritual opposition against our church leaders right now, but you came to disarm all rulers and principalities of evil (Col. 2:15). Will you defend and protect us against the attacks of the enemy against us?

Father, you are just and merciful, a God who delights in justice, hates wrongdoing, and loves the stranger (Ps 86:15; Is. 61:8; Lev. 19:34); will you now defend the refugees in our city and overthrow the system of injustice that works against them?

Intercessory prayer is one of the means by which God moves history forward. In his infinite wisdom and patience, he often waits to fulfill his purposes until we pray. He could do everything without us, no doubt. But because he loves us and cherishes relationship with us, he often delays the fulfillment of his promises until we pray specifically and earnestly. He doesn’t need us, but he wants us to be involved.

Intercessory prayer becomes our joy as we experience the thrill of answered prayer. Reading the stories of Moses—not to mention the accounts of Elijah and others—it seems clear that we are not asking God for too much, but too little.

If we’re not asking for much in prayer, we don’t get much from God. Jesus said, “Ask and you shall receive.” James added, “You don’t have because you don’t ask.” Perhaps we’re afraid God won’t answer. Or perhaps we’re more afraid he will answer!

In intercessory prayer, we’re asking God to change the world. We’re asking him to make it a more just, more God-aware, more beautiful place. We’re asking him to change our friends’ hearts and lives. We’re seeking his justice to roll like a river. We’re asking him to be who he is in some particular way. And God delights in these prayers!

“Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16, CSB).

Editor’s note: The following article was adapted by the author from his book Pour Out Your Heart: Discovering Joy, Strength, and Intimacy with God through Prayer (pp. 99, 102–107). Pour Out Your Heart is available now from B&H Publishing and wherever books are sold.

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The following article originally appeared in the May 2013 edition of SBC Life, and was originally published at ftc.co on November 30, 2016.

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“There are two days in my calendar: this day and that day,” quipped Martin Luther in reference to Christ’s second coming. We have come a long way since Luther’s statement, with most believers erring dramatically in one of two directions.

Second coming sensationalists are the most egregious, and widely lamented, offenders. They predict the timing of Jesus’ return; but, of course, they do so in vain. Jesus stated no man knows the day or hour of his return. The most infamous prognosticator in recent years has been Harold Camping, who on multiple occasions has predicted the specific date of Jesus’ return, thus embarrassing himself—and the name of Christ—before a watching world.

As irresponsible as Camping and his ilk are, one can argue the greater danger facing the church is not hyper-expectancy about Jesus’ return, but a slumbering church that acts as though Jesus isn’t returning at all. This seems especially to be the case in the year 2013. Twenty years ago, sermons and literature on the second coming were plentiful, but such interest seems to have gone the way of the el Camino car or the waterbed, an out of style fad from a previous generation.

This ought not be the case, for evangelicals are a second coming people. Though we hold differing positions on both the millennium and on the tribulation, we are unified on the literal and soon-coming return of Christ. For Christians, though, the most important questions to ask are not if Jesus will return—that is settled—and not when he will return, that is unknowable. The most helpful question to ask is: “So what?”

Jesus’ second coming is not an abstract doctrine with no bearing on the Christian life. Rather, the New Testament refers to Jesus’ return with applicability. The Bible is replete with references to Jesus’ second coming. These passages come not as an eschatological data dump, but as a forthcoming event that is to shape a Christian’s life. The Pauline corpus speaks with special relevance. Paul frequently references, and even elaborates on, the timing and circumstances of Christ’s return. In studying Paul’s many references to the second coming, one finds that the Apostle gives special emphasis not only to Jesus’ return, but to the church’s posture as the bride in waiting. What Jesus will do and when he will do it are not unimportant considerations, but they are not the most urgent. The most pressing consideration for believers is how we should live in light of his impending return.