Though it was decades ago, I remember it like it was yesterday. I was a teenager working at fried chicken place in San Antonio. Over in the corner, the assistant manager and manager were talking. “Woo-hoo!”, the manager finally hollered. And with a big grin he slapped the assistant manager on the back and loudly said, “When the cat’s away, the mice will play!” The basic meaning of the expression was self-explanatory, but I still didn’t know what they were talking about specifically. I asked the fry cook next to me and was told that while the assistant manager’s wife was out of town, he had gone on a date with another woman. I was disgusted. To this day, the memory of his unsuspecting wife visiting the restaurant with their children a few weeks later still fills me with a sadness I can’t put into words.

The truth is this: that man was unfaithful to his wife in his heart before he ever acted on it. The fact that he took advantage of the opportunity only shows what was there all along.

It has been said that character is who you are when no one is looking. If you only do what’s right when you are being observed, then your righteousness is a façade. It’s what you do when no one’s watching, when no one will ever know, that reveals who you really are.

That’s a scary thought. Most of us like to think of ourselves as “basically good” even when we do things that are wrong. The truth is that we can deceive ourselves. “The purposes of a man's heart are deep waters, but a man of understanding draws them out. Many a man claims to have unfailing love, but a faithful man who can find?” (Proverbs 20:4-5). “All a man's ways seem right to him, but the LORD weighs the heart. (Proverbs 21:2). “As water reflects a face, so a man's heart reflects the man. Death and Destruction are never satisfied, and neither are the eyes of man” (Proverbs 27:19-20)

Don’t listen to the advice of Hollywood which often says, “Follow your heart.” You cannot trust your own heart. It will deceive you. An old hymn says, “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love; Here's my heart, O take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.”

Unless God himself reaches inside you and changes your heart and its desires, you will keep pursuing things you know you shouldn’t. This is why David, after he sinned with Bathsheba, prayed; “Create in me a pure heart, O God” (Psalm 51:10). He knew that unless God changed his heart he would continue to sin.

If you need someone to talk to, email me at philip.schroeder777 - It's a googlemail email address.

Yesterday at church we had a guest speaker, Dr. Daniel Akin, who delivered a very challenging message on fulfilling the Great Commission. In his message Dr. Akin relayed the following conversation which happens over and over in the life of a Christian college administrator:

Freshman Orientation at a Christian College

Parents (to administrator): Now, I'm expecting you to keep watch over our son. Keep him away from the Big Three [Drugs, Alcohol, Sex], get him in a discipleship group, and make sure he gets plugged into a church.

Administrator: I'll do my best.

Phone Call from Student to Parents, Two Months Later

Student: Mom, Dad, I've decided to switch majors.

Mom and Dad: You have? What to?

Student: I've decided to not get a Business degree anymore. I'm now going to major in Christian Studies. My plan is to do full-time missions-work.

Parents: [stunned silence]

Five Minutes After Aforementioned Phone Call

Christian College Administrator, answering the phone: Hello?

Parents: We asked you to keep our son away from the Big Three, get him into a discipleship group, and get him plugged into a church. We didn't ask you to make him a fanatic!

"Paul was writing his own life story, but Jesus stole his pen."

Love that!

(From this post by our favorite Gospel-wakened Ninja)

Homestead Heritage is an agrarian Christian community a few miles north of Waco built around a fusion of Anabaptist tradition and Pentecostal theology. In 2005 Christian historian and theologian, Roger Olson, characterized the group as “a bold experiment” in intentional Christian community, and, as with any countercultural stream, the group has had its share of proponents and detractors.

For six years I’ve worked among these people for eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. My family and I have visited their craft village several times, dined in some of their homes, welcomed them into our home, and taken part in many of their special activities. We have friends in their community, we have friends who have almost joined their fellowship, and we have friends who have once been a part of their community, but, for whatever reason, decided to part ways. I believe we’ve seen them from just about every angle possible, without actually being part of their congregation.

With that said, this post isn’t about theology (though it will, at times, wax theological), and it’s not about what I disagree with them about, but rather it’s about what I’ve learned through them, and how I believe that my family and I have benefited in so many ways from the good, positive things that have been modeled through their day-to-day lives.

I’d like to also add that it’s not my intent to turn this into a forum for ex-members to discuss problems and disagreements with Homestead Heritage doctrine, practice, or theology. Therefore, please be aware that I will be moderating the comments (assuming this post actually generates comments).

Now, on to the point of my post: What I’ve learned from Homestead Heritage. The list is long and varied (I won’t list everything here), and, in reality, my wife and I have had many similar convictions to Homestead Heritage before we were ever acquainted with them (e.g. homeschooling, complementarianism, et cetera). This list is in no particular order:

Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you believed?

That’s the question that Paul asked John the Baptist's Ephesian disciples in Acts 19:2, and, as one of the Thinklings’ patron saints, John Piper, has said, “Now that is a remarkable question for contemporary American evangelicals who have been taught by and large that the way you know you have received the Holy Spirit is that you are a believer” (see Piper’s sermon, What Does It Mean To Receive The Holy Spirit?). Homestead Heritage has helped me appreciate the fact that the baptism (or filling) of the Holy Spirit is, as Piper also said, “experiential, not just inferential.” When a Christian is filled with the Holy Spirit, he (and others) ought to know it. It’s not merely an inferential, theological position, but a manifested reality.

Like most branches of the Pentecostal tree, Homestead Heritage emphasizes “the Holy Ghost,” and unlike many thinkers from my childhood Baptist heritage (which I’m indebted to), they see the baptism in the Holy Spirit as a distinct, essential component of Christian discipleship that’s manifested in an experiential manner. To once again quote the incomparable Piper:

We scratch our heads and say, "I don't get it, Paul. If you assume we believed, why don't you assume we received the Holy Spirit? We've been taught that all who believe receive the Holy Spirit. We've been taught to just believe that the Spirit is there whether there are any effects or not. But you talk as if there is a way to know we've received the Holy Spirit different from believing. You talk as if we could point to an experience of the Spirit apart from believing in order to answer your question."

And that is in fact the way Paul talks. When he asks, "Did you receive the Spirit when you believed," he expects that a person who has "received the Holy Spirit" knows it, not just because it's an inference from his faith in Christ, but because it is an experience with effects that we can point to.

As Piper infers, it’s important to ask yourself the question Paul asked the Ephesians, and Homestead Heritage has, in many ways, helped me realize that.

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might ...

That’s what the Preacher of Ecclesiastes said, and working (or laboring) with all one’s might is a noble and valuable character trait for any Christian. As another founder of our feast, C.S. Lewis, said in Mere Christianity, “God is no fonder of intellectual slackers than He is of any other slacker.” Lewis’ point, I think, speaks to the idea that a strong work ethic is essential to Christian growth and discipleship, and I’m sure Lewis’ New Man (as described in the same book) would be someone who works for the joy of labor, as a means of communion with the Vinedresser (John 15:1), and not merely as a means to an end.

In other words, Homestead Heritage has taught me that work is a joy -- and, with that in mind, I believe work can be seen as something very similar to a sacrament. God is proactive, He’s creative, and His Gospel advances through the Kingdom of Darkness. God works, and so should we. What's more, we should work with joy. Our culture sees work as a way to get what it wants, and not as a way, as the 17th century monastery kitchen worker, Brother Lawrence, said, to “practice God’s presence.” (Brother Lawrence was continually in the presence of our Lord while doing his job -- washing dishes -- so much so that he said he saw no distinction between that time of work and fixed hours of prayer.)

For in Him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily (Colossians 2:9).

When the great -- though not uncontroversial! -- 20th century theologian Karl Barth visited America in 1962, he was asked to sum up his theology (which had been expressed in his voluminous Church Dogmatics), he responded, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” Homestead Heritage has reaffirmed a simple truth that I believe I have known since I was a child: that JESUS does love me, and that it’s alright -- necessary, even -- to worship Him in all His fullness. While I tend to doubt that Homestead Heritage’s theologians favor the often-misapprehended Barth, I think they’d agree wholeheartedly with his conclusion.

And Yahweh God planted a garden eastward in Eden, and there He put the man whom He had formed (Genesis 2:8).

A little over a year ago my wife and I bought a small 2-acre farm north of Waco. Since then we’ve tilled the ground, raised animals, slaughtered animals, worked the land, and have witnessed the ancient rhythms of life that humanity has been an intricate part of since Yahweh placed Adam in Eden. Out on a farm you feel seasons, you witness the principle of sowing and reaping first-hand, and you find a place of tranquility, being at one with God and His creation. It’s a beautiful life, and we wouldn’t trade it for the world. If we hadn’t met Homestead Heritage, we would have likely never pursued such an existence.

While I could think of many more examples, I won’t belabor the point: I have learned so much from an imperfect community of people who are, in many ways, strangers to me. My wife and I have, to some extent, walked among them, but we are not part of them. By no means do we believe that the fellowship is a panacea, but God has been faithful to allow us to learn from them, and to be all the better for it. We’re thankful. I’m thankful.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit. - 2 Cor 3:17-18

There is a lot of good stuff in 2 Corinthians 3 and 4. In reading this tonight, I began thinking of Paul's description of the great transformation that every believer is going through. We are progressing, from glory to glory, into the image of the Lord. That's our destiny - to be like Jesus, conformed to his image! I love the angle Guzik takes on this:

The work of transformation is a continual progression. It works from glory to glory. It doesn’t have to work from backsliding to glory to backsliding to glory.

Sanctification can be wearisome. It can be a hard slog, but the end result . . . words fail. Praise be to God.

But how is one transformed? Notice how Paul puts it: . . . we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.

There are disciplines we can, and should, build into our lives as we run the race, becoming more and more like Jesus. But I'm learning that the real center of sanctification is beholding the Lord. Following Jesus isn't "learning how to be a better Christian". It's keeping our eyes on our Savior, beholding His glory, and in that beholding, becoming like Him.

Lord, help my eyes maintain their focus on You. There are so many shiny things, including my own "good" works and "progress", that distract me.

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



Beholding is becoming, so as You fill my gaze
I become more like You and my heart is changed
Beholding is becoming, so as you fill my view
Transform me into the likeness of You

I've been waiting to take another run at my series on Christian Defeatism . In particular, I've been meditating and taking notes on the, in my view, neglected concept of Sanctification. Couple that with my teaching assignment tomorrow on Exodus 15 and the five-inch thick Exodus commentary that Stroke loaned me, and out popped this post.

In Exodus, Saved for God's Glory, Philip Graham Ryken calls sanctification "the long, hard, difficult process of being conformed to the holiness of God”. Below is an excerpt from his commentary on the end of Exodus 15:

“The Wilderness is a hard place. It is a place to meet with God, to be sure, and yet it is always a difficult place. It is barren and desolate. Thus the Israelites were setting out on a long and arduous journey. They had seen a great salvation, but for them it would not be “happily ever after.” They still had a pilgrimage to make, a pilgrimage that was both spiritual and physical.”

. . .

All our problems and persecutions are meant to teach us to depend on God alone, to have absolute confidence in his faithfulness. It is important for us to know where we are in the Christian life. We have not yet reached the promised land. We are still in the wilderness, where God is sanctifying us. Knowing this keeps us from having the wrong expectations and also enables us to "consider it pure joy . . . whenever [we] face trials of many kinds, because [we] know that the testing of [our] faith develops perseverance" (Jas. 1:2,3).

Emphasis mine.

This is a good reminder, and it speaks to two equal and opposite errors that we can commit as Christians.

The first error is to assume that sanctification isn't real or, if it is, that it is a rare occurrence for the Christian. This is the equivalent of staying in Egypt, chowing down on those delicious leaks and onions while bemoaning your slave status. I've observed this attitude (particularly in the blogosphere, for some reason) an alarming number of times. It's generally expressed in "I'm not OK, and don't even get me started on you" statements, and the subtext is that we'll never be OK ("at least not in this life" is the adder), so let's all quit pretending.

Look, sanctification is not easy. In fact, it's hard. But you can't read the Bible, and the New Testament in particular, without getting hit in the face by the repeated exhortations to press on, to be transformed, to conform to Jesus, to change. The lives of the writers of the NT were hard - but better! How else could Paul write this?

Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ - Philippians 3:8

I'm not worthy to clean Paul's toilet, but I am, in my bumbling way, heading to the same destiny that Paul was.

About the hard aspects of sanctification: I came to the realization a long time ago that the Christian "desert experience", "season of dryness", or even "dark night of the soul" is not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes God wants us there.

The desert may last a long time. Indeed, the life of a Christian is - the joys and victories we may experience included - a long season of wandering as a stranger and alien in a land that is not our home. Perhaps in your life you haven't seen a lot of evidence of any kind of progress toward Christ-likeness. That, of course, can point to a deeper problem, but it may also just be that the time hasn't come yet for the kind of outward progress that people (or even you) might notice. A plant can spend a lot of time spreading roots under the soil. It's not wasted time. Israel wandered in circles as the older generation died off, but that wandering prepared the younger generation for the Conquest. And in reading the Exodus, you begin to see the progression toward a nation that had the ability to take the Promised Land.

One side-effect of sanctification is perseverance. Don't give up! Your destiny is to become like Jesus. And not just in the sweet by-and-by, but as part of a process, the process of learning to bear fruit, in your life here on earth that is visible and consciously observed and enjoyed. We were made to step into the Jordan at full tide and cross safely over to the other side. It takes a lot of work by the Holy Spirit to get us to the point where taking that step of faith seems the natural thing to do.

So, if you feel like you're in Egypt, that's not a good thing, but it's not a bad thing either, unless you've just decided that that's your (and everyone else's) destiny. It's not.

The second error is to assume that sanctification has already happened, at the moment of salvation. This is what I term the Edlredgian Heresy (tongue in cheek, sort of) that "your heart is already good", just because you're saved.

Heh - good thing he never slapped a heart monitor on my ticker. Some of the things I think and meditate on would make your face melt. I'm not there yet.

But I'm heading there. I press on. The Promised Land is my destination. And, if you're a Christian, it's yours too.

We don't get to go there without changing.

(more coming on this topic in a later post).

In my previous post, (right below this one, just look down) I told you what happened to the mutineers of the H.M.S. Bounty. They took some women from Tahiti and settled on an island in the South Pacific. After all but two of the men had been murdered or killed, only one man remained. He found a Bible, turned his life over to Christ and led the women and children on Pitcairn Island to become a Christian community.

It was originally written as a column for my local paper, and I posted it here at Thinklings at about the same time I submitted it to my editor.

I told my wife the story and she thought it was so cool, that on Thursday morning at Ladies Bible Study at our church, she came to my office and asked me to come tell the ladies the story. They thought it was cool too, as it illustrated what they were studying about reforming Kings who turned their people back to God's law.

I, of course emphasized that the fact that the current residents of Pitcairn Island are still Christians is a testimony to the power of God's word.

Enter Thinklings commenter Jonathan W. In only the second comment by a reader,in which he told me that most of the island's grown men (including the mayor) had been charged with sexual crimes against children going back decades.

You can go see the drama unfold as the truth does under the original post's comment thread. (Of all the articles linked there, this is probably the best one.)

Imagine my shock and dismay to learn something like that after I had written triumphantly about it here, in my local paper and shared it excitedly with a bunch of ladies in a Bible study.

I told everyone that all of the Island’s current inhabitants are Christians. Turns out they weren’t acting like it. The girls on the island were “coming of age” sexually speaking at ages 12-14, at least that’s what the residents of Pitcairn claim. Their argument in court was that because of their inherited Tahitian culture, that it was culturally acceptable. Some of the women who had been victimized for years said differently. (And for those of you who might remind me that Mary was around 14, on Pitcairn Island they weren't necessarily getting married young, grown men were having sex with girls as soon as they hit puberty, and probably some before that.)

What are we to learn from this? Does this horrible new information mean that the point of the previous post is invalid? After all, I was trying to demonstrate how God’s word changes lives, and I pointed to the fact that the island’s current residents are still Christians as evidence of that. Does their rampant immorality disprove that premise?

I don’t think so. Instead, it teaches us another lesson: just because one generation embraces the Gospel, doesn’t mean the next one will. It also shows us that religion can be empty and meaningless if it is missing the most essential ingredient.

The most essential ingredient is knowing and trusting Jesus personally. The Gospel doesn't change your life just because you hear it on Sunday. Your children may continue your religious traditions, but that doesn’t mean that they have what matters. In fact, if religion is all they have, they have nothing.

This important truth is why Moses stood on the banks of the Jordan telling the new generation what God had done in their parents’ generation. (That’s the entire book of Deuteronomy.) He also asked them to renew the covenant with God that their parent’s had made. He knew that if the new generation didn’t deliberately choose to follow God, they wouldn’t.

Again and again we see this pattern repeated in the Bible. For example, the entire book of Judges is about how one generation turns back to God after suffering for their sin, and crying out to him, and then each succeeding generation forgets about God again and “does what is right in their own eyes.” Many generations later, King Josiah rediscovers the book of the Law of God which had been forgotten in a back room of the Temple. (Ironically, that book was probably Deuteronomy, the very book whose whole purpose was to remind the next generation to remember God and to choose him for themselves.) This discovery causes him to lead his people in repenting of their sins and dedicating themselves to the LORD.

There’s a reason that Moses (yes, in the book of Deuteronomy!) says that, you are to teach your children to Love YHWH with mind, passion and action (6:4-7).

4 Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. 5 Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. 6 These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. 7 Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.

And at some point they must make the decision for themselves. Each generation has a choice: whether or not they are going to follow in the footsteps of those who have gone before, for good or evil.

Of course, that lesson here isn't quite so shocking. It's as old as the very first "second generation" --- Cain and Abel.

Heeeeere's Helmut:

‘The conscience is not serene or troubled according to what we have done or not done. Peace of conscience depends solely upon what we are, i.e., on whether we believe – and the extent to which we believe – in the boundless unconditioned mercy of God … It is theologically wrong to try to pacify a conscience-stricken person by talking away his sins. To do so is to try to cure him by means of the “outer tent.” But there is no healing here, and cannot be. In fact the heart of his problem is that he is still loitering in this forecourt. The only way we can help is to point him to the εφαπαξ that which took place once-and-for-all for him in the crucifixion of Jesus Christ’. – Helmut Thielicke, Theological Ethics Volume 1: Foundations (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1979), 310.

There's nothing more to say except, "Amen."

I have a special place in my heart for those who wandered from the faith of their youth.

When I come across such folks, I often wonder if there was anything the parents could have done differently to prevent this. Obviously, I'm not blaming every parent of every prodigal.

However, there are those Christians who are more Pharisee (more elder brother) than anything else, so that they cause their kids to become the younger brother. (i.e. prodigals.)

I recently came across this Mommy blog post:

Crisis of Faith & Salsa
May 29, 2007

We went to Chipotle for lunch on Sunday. Jason stood in line while I snagged an empty table. As I tried to navigate Noah and a high chair across the crowded restaurant, hoping to not whack anybody in the ankles, I felt the weight of the high chair vanish. A young man wordlessly took it from me and carried it to my table, while I thanked him repeatedly, surprised at the unexpected help -- and also at how surprised I was about the unexpected help.

He sat down at his own table, bowed his head and prayed silently over his burrito.

I remember how my family used to pray over meals in restaurants. I remember not caring for a lot of years, and then I remember caring so very much. I remember my face flushing with embarrassment as my parents prayed aloud over burgers and fries at Friendly's, while our waitress hovered nearby, unsure whether placing the ketchup bottle on the table would disturb our communion with the Lord Father in Heaven.

A few minutes later a family asked the man if they could join him at his oversized table since there weren't any other seats. They were obviously eating out post-Church, dressed in their Sunday best, like my family had done almost every Sunday for my entire life. We attended a casual church but dressed up anyway -- it was disrespectful otherwise, although at some point in time I think my mother consented to letting my wear nice pants instead of a dress.

Soon the entire table was engaged in an easy, friendly sort of conversation. I wondered if the family had seen the young man say grace a few minutes earlier, or if they saw his shorts and t-shirt and assumed he needed to be saved. I wondered if they'd try to save his soul right there, like the time I made that little boy ask Jesus into his heart on the playground at McDonald's.

I wondered what they thought of my family, just one table away, all wearing shorts and flip-flops. I wondered if they felt sorry for Noah, like I used to feel sorry for the children at the booth next to us on Sundays, the day it was easiest to tell who went to church and who was a Godless lazy heathen.

I remember stressing about the fate of our fellow restaurant patrons to the point that I was unable to eat -- what if that baby over there never heard about God? Would it be my fault for not talking to her parents today? Would she go to hell because I was too busy enjoying my clown sundae with the M&Ms at the bottom to plant the seed of faith in their hearts and would Jesus look at me sadly one day in heaven because I'd been the crucial part in his plan for that little girl? Would he show me the jewels I could have had in my crown that I'd forfeited because I'd been too embarrassed to close my eyes during grace that day, when that's all it would have taken to be a witness for Christ?

The family asked the young man about where he worked and lived and how long he'd been here in America. They asked him whether the burritos were authentic or not, and whether he liked the hot salsa.

"They're different, but good." he answered with a smile. "And I like the medium."

I thought about how I ended up with a child named for a Bible story but who has never been to church. Who has never been baptized. I thought about the children's Bibles and religious books our families have given us and wondered whether they worry that we'll never tell him about Jesus. Or whether the salvation of his soul is their burden alone. I wondered what in the world I'm supposed to tell him about his Fisher-Price Noah's Ark playset.

I wondered what happened to my faith and my fervor and my absolute belief in the Bible and the existence of God and heaven. I wondered when everything got so messed up for me, and why I have such ambivalence to the idea of putting on some nice pants and going to church on Sunday.

The church family's little boy spilled some rice, and the young man handed them his extra napkins.

I wonder if he'll ever know how much his actions spoke to me this Sunday.

I usually want to grab people like this, and with compassion say, "Please don't blame Jesus for the bad experiences you had. And please know that God is like the Father in the story of the Prodigal Son, not the elder brother.

Reading things like this also make me think carefully about how I am raising my own children "in the Lord." I want them to know the love of God, not legalism. This now grown lady's parents are probably good Bible-believing people who didn't necessarily do anything wrong but raise their child in the faith.

I don't know what to think about her childhood worries about whether the baby at the table next to her would go to hell or not. (Of course, if her parents had just raised her to be a Calvinist maybe she wouldn't have felt so much pressure. :-)

He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.’ - Revelation 2:7

This is the first post of what may end up being a series, but maybe not.

First, two anecdotes, a quote, and a disclaimer.

Anecdote 1: I recently taught a series on the letters to the seven churches of Revelation. I really enjoyed teaching it. I was repeatedly drawn to Christ's exhortation to the members of each church to "overcome" or "conquer".

Anecdote 2: Awhile ago, some older relatives of mine were describing their lives as newlyweds, many years ago. They had very little money and couldn't pay for any kind of entertainment. So they would set up salt shakers on their kitchen floor and together they would go "bowling" with a little rubber ball. They described all this, plus other hardships, with smiles on their faces. At one point my sister exclaimed "didn't you ever just get overwhelmed and break down?"

Confused looks . . . "Why would we have done that?" Then they continued on with their story.

A different, and greater, generation than ours.

Now the quote, excerpted from an otherwise excellent article quoted in a recent post here:

"A new generation who refuse to use the Christian "F word," fine. (How's life? Fine. How's your marriage? Fine.) The days where you could pretend that being a Christian meant you were perfect are numbered."

Finally a disclaimer. I reject any gospel that claims riches and ease for Christians. Christ promised us trouble on this earth.

Now, to my initial point, prompted by that quote (and I'm even going to leave the glaring false dichotomy in it alone). This post will be a short one, but I may well expand on it in other posts or in the comments thread of this one, if this generates any comments.

Christ promised us trouble in life.

He didn't, to use an example, promise us troubled marriages. Granted, your marriage or my marriage may be troubled, and it may be no fault of our own. It may even be a test of some sort.

But if another Christian tells you that their marriage is fine, or that their circumstances currently are pretty good, or whatever, that doesn't mean that they are lying or that they are being "inauthentic".

Consider, with grace, the possibility that they are telling you the truth.

If you drop your cynicism and look deeper, you might even find that they are going through trouble like you've never known. But in that trouble they have found seeds of joy and gems of grace from the Lord, and because of that, they are fine. Maybe they are overcoming. Maybe being a child of God is better than anything this world offers, and so the troubles of this life pale in comparison.

Or maybe they said "fine" because they share their deepest troubles with trusted people who are much closer to them, and who aren't part of the new, authentic, my-life-stinks generation, because, egad, you're discouraging as hades.

Maybe they just need you to give them a break.

Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart. But we have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God's word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled only to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.

- 2 Corinthians 4:1-7

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts . . .

Only God can pierce the darkness with light, where light was not before. Only God can bring the bright, shining light of the knowledge of His glory to shine out of the cold darkness that beforehand filled this clay jar. What was once good for nothing but to sit in the corner, collecting dust, has become a vessel to display the beauty, the light, the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

Thanks be to God!

May I be a light-filled clay jar today.

Have a good Sunday, everyone!

Working on my sermon for Sunday on Luke 12:49-13:9. Found this jewel by Darrell Bock in the NIV Application Commentary:

Much of 12:49-59 raises the issue of judgment and accountability before God. Yet all too often we try to package Jesus for our culture today as if sin were a minor topic on his agenda. This is not only the work of skeptical scholars like those noted above, it is also found in the way we preach Jesus in evangelism. For all the value of seeker-sensitive approaches, if as a result of trying to market Jesus churches soften the message at this point, then they distort the gospel and do not preach the Jesus who offers renewal of life.

To remove accountability to God for sin is to remove one of the realities that make grace so powerful. In the effort to make the gospel palatable, we risk emasculating it of its most precious truth, that God has paid the debt for our failure and has washed it white as snow. Ironically in trying to exalt God's love by ignoring sin, we remove the most powerful evidence of its presence.

"What do you see in Christ’s right hand? Seven stars; yet how insignificant they appear when you get a sight of his face! They are stars, and there are seven of them; but who can see seven stars, or, for the matter of that, seventy thousand stars, when the sun shineth in his strength? How sweet it is, when the Lord himself is so present in a congregation that the preacher, whoever he may be, is altogether forgotten! I pray you, dear friends, when you go to a place of worship, always try to see the Lord’s face rather than the stars in his hand; look at the sun, and you will forget the stars.”

- Charles Spurgeon, quoted in Guzik's commentary on Revelation 1

This is such a great reminder to me, as both a teacher and as a learner.

And to all of us, in our often rock-star church culture.

Now, back to prepping for Revelation 1 . . .

We are not victims of God's will, we are willing participants and grateful recipients.

- Neal McHenry

The words of a young man who just lost his wife, the mother of four young children, to brain cancer.

That's reality, and wisdom born of suffering.

Speechless . . .

A (perhaps oversimplified) definition of postmodernism is this: "It doesn't matter what you believe as long as you believe it sincerely."

Other Presidents have had to mouth these kinds of words acknowledging the value in other religions. But I don't recall any president being so religiously pluralistic in action.

President Obama hosted an Easter breakfast at the White House.

gathering Christian leaders from churches across the country to celebrate the holiday with him.

Speaking briefly to the group assembled in the East Room, Obama discussed his own search for meaning in the holiday and said he is particularly moved by the example of redemption that Christ's story offers.

"As I'm continually learning, we are each of us imperfect. Each of us errs by accident or design," he said.

Obama noted the last words spoken by Christ on the cross: "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

He said those words could just as easily be spoken by the group at the breakfast.

"On this day, let us commit our spirit to pursuit of a life that is true, to act justly and to love mercy and walk humbly with the Lord," Obama said. "When we falter, as we will, let redemption through commitment, through perseverance, through faith be our abiding hope and fervent prayer."

The breakfast was the third religious celebration that Obama has hosted this year at the White House. Last week, he held a Passover seder at the White House. And during Ramadan, Obama held an iftar dinner to break the Muslim fast.

As I read about how he spoke of Easter above, I can imagine him speaking the same sort of "all religions can find value in all other religions" language when he hosted the Jewish and Muslim ceremonies.

And could he have misused Christ's words any more? Is committing ourselves to Micah 6:6-8 really what Jesus meant when he asked God to receive his spirit?

"Redemption through commitment"? If that ain't the Hollywood definition of redemption, I don't know what is. (Except maybe punishing yourself real bad.)

It's like he just strung a bunch of religious words together.

Oh, and what is "each of us errs by accident or design" supposed to mean?

Whose design is he talking about? God's design that we err? Or our own design? And if he's talking about our own design, how do you err by accident, if he's talking about sin, which I assume he is, but is he?

Through hosting these religious ceremonies, he seems to be making an effort to "unify in spirit" major religions. He's also done Diwali.

Mr Obama became the first US president to personally take part in a White House ceremony for the festival of lights, lighting a diya (oil lamp) inside the executive mansion and bowing respectfully before a Hindu priest.

I wonder what religion is next?

Did any other president's host religious ceremonies for other religions?

Is his hosting major holidays for different religions by accident or design?

What do you think?

I think he might be the first postmodern president.

The Saturday before Easter has long been a strange day for me. It is a day of waiting, a day of expectation this side of the resurrection, and, no doubt, it must have been a day of deep depression and terror for Jesus' disciples on the other side. It's a day in which I often don't feel much.

Maundy Thursday has passed, and we remember the Lord's prayer for his disciples, and for us, and the humble, foot-washing servanthood of our King. We remember the broken bread and poured out wine, and the long goodbye said to disciples who didn't yet understand, who were just beginning to realize that He was going away. We remember teardrops of blood in the garden, prayers offered in submission, sorrow and dreadful anticipation.

Good Friday has passed, with its whips and fists and blood and nails, the tortured dignity of our Lord, standing quietly like a criminal before His horribly sin-twisted creation. Heaven stands, angelic legions trembling, awaiting the command, that never comes, to fall in wrath upon the earth and destroy those who would dare harm the Beloved. Good Friday has passed with its cries of despair, scatterings, earthquakes, darkness, torn flesh and torn veils, and, finally . . . silence and, it would seem, defeat.

And now we wait. This is a dismal day, but at its edges can be seen the faintest glimmerings of a triumphant, almost laughing, holy light.

There in the ground
His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain . . .

At first Jesus looked like a failed hero. Many people believed that he was “The Chosen One”, the Christ, who would be Israel’s hero and savior. He rode into Jerusalem, and received not just a king’s welcome, but a welcome worthy only of Israel’s savior. “Hosanna to the Son of David!” the people cried. What they meant was, “Save us, Messiah that we have waited for!” They had been waiting for centuries for someone to come and rescue them from poverty, persecution and enslavement to a foreign pagan power. Could this really be the one who will lead them in victory over their enemies and restore Israel to its former glory?

Less than a week later, Jesus is crucified, just like the many failed messiah’s before him. Jesus wasn’t the first (or the last) to claim that he was the one that we’ve been waiting for. Try to imagine their sadness and disappointment when Jesus was executed as a common rebel.

But Jesus was not a failed hero. The cross was not an accident. It was not even a tragically beautiful ending to a man who came to teach peace and love, as many have portrayed him. It was exactly the end he planned on. Like many of us, people wanted to be rescued from excessive taxes, injustice and the immorality of government. But those aren't our real problems.

Think about it. Imagine the perfect politician and the perfect Government. Every law you think should be on the books is there exactly as you think it ought to be. Every Government agency is run properly. Every politician is honest. And your political ideology reigns in every policy, foreign and domestic. Every politician does what they are supposed to do...

In such a world, you still suffer the consequences of sin. People still get sick. People still commit crimes. People still sin. You still sin. And you still die. In fact, the reason the above political scenario is impossible is because of sin and its consequences.

Do you see the brilliance of what Jesus did? By dying and rising from the dead, Jesus took care of the real enemies first. The death of the only truly innocent man defeated sin. And the resurrection of that same man defeated death.

Sin and death are the biggest enemies. And because he did what he said he would do, we can believe him when he says he’ll take care of the smaller enemies too. It's like this, if I see a guy juggle six flaming swords, he doesn't need to prove that he can juggle three silk scarves. Jesus took care of the giants. Everything else is like squashing bugs.

There's another reason why what he did was so brilliant. What if Jesus had come and ruled and set up his kingship? Would the people have been satisfied? Probably. I think they would have been like some of the rabbits in Richard Adams' brilliant book "Watership Down." Our heroes, rabbits looking for a safe home, find a warren full of fat and happy rabbits. The place is paradise. Then it turns out that the reason food shows up every day, and there are no predators, is because the farmer feeds them and protects them, so that every few days, he can have fresh rabbit for dinner. The rabbits who live there don't talk about it. Because all their creature comforts are met, they choose to live with death.

Would we be the same way if we got everything we thought we wanted?

Jesus defeated your real enemies already. Because he did that, he'll take care of the rest like an elephant stomping on lego men.

"’Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.’ He said to me: ‘It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. He who overcomes will inherit all this, and I will be his God and he will be my son’” (Revelation 21:3-4, 6-7).

What do you think "the point" of this parable is? Biblical Scholars have various opinions.

Matthew 20 - The Parable of the Workers in the Vineyard
1"For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire men to work in his vineyard. 2He agreed to pay them a denarius for the day and sent them into his vineyard. 3"About the third hour he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace doing nothing. 4He told them, 'You also go and work in my vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.' 5So they went. "He went out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour and did the same thing. 6About the eleventh hour he went out and found still others standing around. He asked them, 'Why have you been standing here all day long doing nothing?'

7" 'Because no one has hired us,' they answered. "He said to them, 'You also go and work in my vineyard.'

8"When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, 'Call the workers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last ones hired and going on to the first.' 9"The workers who were hired about the eleventh hour came and each received a denarius. 10So when those came who were hired first, they expected to receive more. But each one of them also received a denarius. 11When they received it, they began to grumble against the landowner. 12'These men who were hired last worked only one hour,' they said, 'and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the work and the heat of the day.'

13"But he answered one of them, 'Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn't you agree to work for a denarius? 14Take your pay and go. I want to give the man who was hired last the same as I gave you. 15Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?'

16"So the last will be first, and the first will be last."

Here are my opinions:

1. The Parable Is About Grace. If anything, it's showing that grace isn't "fair". What we get is undeserved. Grace is the value of the Kingdom.

2. The reaction of those hired first mirrors that of the Elder Brother in the parable of the Prodigal Son. And I think that's an interpretive key. The Elder Brother is jealous of all the grace that gets poured out on his little brother. Do we get jealous of those who "receive more grace" than we do?

3. Question: Is it Biblically and theologically correct to say that some people receive (or require) more grace than others? If so, who would those people be?

What do you think?

I have heard it said, "God didn't die for frogs. So he was responding to our value as humans." This turns grace on its head. We are worse off than frogs. They have not sinned. They have not rebelled and treated God with the contempt of being inconsequential in their lives. God did not have to die for frogs. They aren't bad enough. We are. Our debt is so great, only a divine sacrifice could pay it.

There is only one explanation for God's sacrifice for us. It is not us. It is "the riches of his grace" (Ephesians 1:7). It is all free. It is not a response to our worth. It is the overflow of his infinite worth. In fact, that is what divine love is in the end: a passion to enthrall undeserving sinners, at great cost, with what will make us supremely happy forever, namely, his infinite beauty.

- John Piper, Fifty Reasons Why Jesus Came to Die

At our house, we are running a ministry to single socks. While doing laundry, we had 16 different mateless socks laid out.

Single people are important and useful to God. "It is good for a man not to marry" (I Cor. 7:1).

Single socks? Not so much. They need mates.