Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 122

Monday Morning Humor

There are few things quite so funny as watching people who can’t stop a laugh when they really ought to.

It’s funny in German too.

Striving After Godliness Should Not Be So Controversial: Responding to the CT Reviews

I was surprised to learn on Monday that Christianity Today was running four reviews of my new book The Hole in Our Holiness. I consider it a sign of respect that they think the book deserving of this kind of analysis. I’m grateful too for the invitation to round out this week of reviews with a response of my own. Though I’m hesitant to respond—because rejoinders often appear (or are!) defensive and thin-skinned—I’ll venture a few thoughts on each review.

Erik Raymond has written the sort of review every author enjoys. He understands the book, appreciates the book, and recommends the book. I’m particularly grateful that Raymond sees, and agrees with, my emphasis on grace-based effort and my use of various confessions. Since both of these points were criticized by others in this series, it’s good to see not everyone considered these elements to be mistaken. I’m thankful for Raymond’s kind, encouraging review.

Mark Labberton and Tyler Braun hit on different themes, but both have written the same sort of review. They like a lot about the book, but would have said more or less in some areas. Since the book was short, 146 under-sized pages, there is certainly more that could have been said about a number of important issues. Labberton wishes I would have said more about what lies beneath the biblical call to holiness (and our dismissal of it) and the public implications of a holy life. It’s hard to know how to respond to this criticism except to say I addressed some of both, but could have done more. I could have talked more about consumerism and social justice and (especially) the kingdom, as Labberton suggests. I also could have talked more about abortion, statism, and religious liberty. Holiness touches on all of life, so almost any topic would have been fair game. As a pastor, I addressed the sorts of issues I see people struggling with most and the issues talked about most directly and most frequently in the New Testament. That leads us to recurring concerns with sexual immorality, relational sins, and vices associated with the breaking of the Ten Commandments.

Braun’s concern is that The Hole in Our Holiness may be too much like “a seminary textbook” and not do enough to reach out to those far from Christ or falling away from God. He fears I may be too entrenched in a Reformed Christian subculture to relate to outsiders. I suppose all those critiques will hit the mark with some readers. Some people will think the book is too heady. Some people will think it references the Reformed confessions too often. Some people won’t feel comfortable handing it out as an evangelistic tool. On the other hand, some people will think I’ve only skimmed the surface of a very deep topic. Some people in the Reformed community will think I haven’t engaged the confessions enough. Some people will consider the book ideal for struggling sinners. It depends on your expectations. I’m not meaning to dismiss Braun’s concerns, except to suggest that they strike me as largely personal preferences. He would have liked less interaction with the Reformed tradition and more emphasis on drawing “back to Christ those who are too lost in their own sin and shame to see beyond it.” Not surprisingly, the latter is precisely what Braun sets out to do in his own book on holiness. The main critique with my books seems to be that I wrote the book I did instead of the book he did.

A Puzzling Take

Mark Galli’s review is the most puzzling. While he thinks the book is helpful and nuanced, he also concludes that it is “best forgotten as soon as possible.” Galli acknowledges that holiness, like his favored pastime of golf, requires a certain type of effort. You do have to practice different elements of your swing, even if concentrating too hard ends up ruining your timing. But otherwise, he urges us to stop looking at ourselves, stop examining ourselves, and stop trying to be holy. Instead, we should start looking for the neighbor and move toward him with the “rhythm of grace.” He contends that the conscious pursuit of a righteous life leads inevitably (his emphasis) to judgmentalism and arrogance. The proof is in the Puritan pudding—”their passion for holiness led inevitably to self-righteousness.” In short, Galli believes “a conscious and purposeful pursuit of holiness is about the worst way to go about it.”

I find Galli’s review puzzling because I wonder if it really means what he says. Either he is speaking with a lot of hyperbole, or we have two completely different ideas of what it means to pursue holiness. If I wake up in the morning, give myself a holiness score of 6, and then commit myself to get to 6.5 by the end of the day, that would be disastrous and silly. But what if I am struggling with lust and pray for God’s help that I might fight the urge to click where I shouldn’t click, and embrace my identity in Christ as chosen and beloved, and believe God’s promises about the pure in heart—is that also the “worst way” to go about holiness? I never describe holiness as a scorecard. In fact, though Galli says I provide no definition of holiness, I describe it chiefly as the pursuit of Christ himself. Is it really a dreadful thing for Christians to be intentional about wanting to be more like Jesus? I know that’s not where the gospel starts, but haven’t a myriad of Christians through the ages considered that at the heart of discipleship?

The language of inevitability also strikes me as misplaced. Is it really the case that everyone who has ever aspired to holiness ends up suffering from spiritual pride? To be sure, we all continue to sin, and pride is one of the ways we do. But Galli seems to be saying more than this. To simply point out that those who pursue holiness still have pride is a truism. We all still suffer from pride. Galli suggests, however, that pride is most prevalent in those who most consciously pursue holiness. Really? Is this always the case? Every Methodist, every pietist, everyone from the Dutch Second Reformation, everyone in every religious order, everyone in our churches deliberately trying to kill sin in their lives—all of them are essentially self-righteous hypocrites? Galli must be thinking of the pursuit of holiness in the worst possible caricature. Are Jerry Bridges and J. I. Packer—two men who have written extensively about the pursuit of holiness—especially judgmental and arrogant? The men and women at my church who strive each day to wage war against the flesh and grow in grace do not fit Galli’s description.

And the Puritans? Galli’s comment is either overstated or unfair. Besides the historical presumption of making such a sweeping claim against “the Puritans” (as if their theology and behaviors were monolithic), it is terrifically uncharitable to suggest, without naming a single example, that as a group they were especially marked by censoriousness. As in any church or any tradition, some who went by the name Puritan were no doubt arrogant and proud. But some lived lives of which the world is not worthy. We do ourselves no favors when we tear down all our heroes because they walked the earth on clay feet.

Most damaging to Galli’s thesis is the record of Scripture itself. If the call to pursue holiness is best forgotten, why does the Bible remind us of it so often? What do we do with Hebrews 12:14 and its language of “striving” for holiness? What do we do with Paul’s language of “fighting” and “toiling” and “pressing on”, or Peter’s language of “making every effort,” or Jesus’ language of “striving” to enter the narrow gate? And what about the exhortation in Philippians 4 to “think about these things” and “practice these things”? None of these descriptions envision a morbid navel-gazing. But they all envision that the Christian life involves the conscious and purposeful putting off of sin and putting on of holiness. Of course, we never achieve this perfectly or without the presence of indwelling sin, but that doesn’t lead the biblical writers to reject the conscious pursuit of holiness or the possibility of living a holy life pleasing to God and worthy of emulation.

In the Lord’s Prayer Jesus assumes that asking for forgiveness would be a daily occurrence, as would praying that we might be delivered from evil and led not into temptation. The mystery of the Christian life is that Christ expects us flee sin and the devil, but does not expect us to rid ourselves of either on this side of glory. Repentance is a way of life and so is the pursuit of godliness. I wish every Christian could be reminded of these two things. And I wish they were less controversial than they have become in our day.

This article also appeared online at Christianity Today.

Do You Actually Read Your Reports?

This anecdote from Eugene Peterson in Under the Unpredictable Plant is a classic (or at least it should be). I promise you’ll be amused (maybe appalled) by this story. It’s a picture of institutionalism and bureaucracy at its worst. It’s also a reminder to read the reports of those who report to us.

One of the duties I had as the organizing pastor of a new church was to prepare a monthly report on my work and send it to a denominational executive in New York City. It was not a difficult task, but it did take a day’s work. The first page was statistical: how many calls I made, how many people attended worship, a financial report of offerings, progress on building plans, committee activities. This was followed by several pages of reflectional on my pastoral ministry: what I understood of God’s presence in my work, theological ruminations on the church, my understanding of mission, areas of inadequacy that were showing up in my ministry, strengths and skills that seemed to be emerging. After a few months of doing this, I got the impression that my superiors were not reading the second part. I thought I would test out my impression and have a little fun on the side.

So the next month, after dutifully compiling the statistical data, I turned to page two and described as best I could an imagined long, slow slide into depression. I wrote that I had difficulty sleeping. I couldn’t pray. I was getting the work done at a maintenance level but it was a robotic kind of thing with no spirit, no zest. Having feelings and thoughts like this I was seriously questioning whether I should be a pastor at all. Could they recommend a counselor for me?

Getting no response, I upped the ante. The next month I developed a drinking problem which became evident one Sunday in the pulpit. Everybody was very nice about it, but one of the Elders had to complete the sermon. I felt that I was at the point where I needed treatment. How should I go about getting it?

Still no response. I got bolder. The next month I cooked up an affair. It started out innocently enough as I was attempting to comfort a woman through an abusive marriage, but something happened in the middle of it, and we ended up in bed together, only it wasn’t a bed but one of the pews in the church where we were discovered when the ladies arranging flowers for Sunday worship walked in on us. I thought it was all over for my ministry at that point, but it turned out that in this community swingers are very much admired, and on the next day, Sunday, attendance doubled.

This was turning into a gala event one day each month in our house. I would go to my study and write these wonderful fictions and then bring them out and read them to my wife. We would laugh and laugh, collaborating by embellishing details.

Next I reported some innovations I was making in the liturgy. This was the sixties, an era of liturgical reform and experimentation. Our worship, I wrote to my supervisors, was about as dull as it could get. I had read some scholarly guesses about a mushroom cult in Palestine in the first century in which Jesus must have been involved. I thought it was worth a try. I arranged for the purchase of some mushroom caps, peyote it was, and introduced them at our next celebration of the eucharist. It was the most terrific experience anybody had ever had in worship, absolutely dazzling. But I didn’t want to do anything that was in violation of our church constitution, and finding nothing in our Book of Order on this, could they please advise me on whether I was permitted to proceed along these lines.

These report-writing days were getting to be a lot of fun. Month after month I sent the stories to the men and women who were overseeing the health of my spirituality and the integrity of my ministry. Never did I get a response.

At the end of the three years I was released from their supervision. As pastor and congregation, we were now more or less on our own—developed, organized, and on our way. I went for a debriefing to the denominational office in New York City under which I had worked. They asked me to evaluate their supervision through the three years. I told them I appreciated their help. The checks arrived on time each month. I was treated courteously at all times. But there was one minor area of disappointment: they had never read past that first page of statistical reporting that I had sent in each month. “Oh, but we did,” they said. “We read those reports carefully; we take them very seriously.” “How can that be,” I said. “That time I asked for help with my drinking problem and you didn’t respond. That time I got involved in a sexual adventure and you didn’t intervene. That craziness I reported when I was using peyote in the eucharist and you did nothing.” Their faces were blank, and then confused—followed by a splendid vaudeville slapstick of buck-passing and excuse-making. It was a wonderful moment. I had them dead to rights. I replay the scene in my imagination a couple of times a year, the way some people watch old Abbot and Costello movies.

Why You Should Consider a Social Media Fast

I’m coming off two weeks of study leave. What a treat. I spent more time with my family, watched a few football games, wrote several chapters, and made it through most of the Lord of the Rings (the movies).

I also took a break from blogging and tweeting. Now, I have to be honest. I still checked email and tried to take care of the most pressing emails every few days, but it was nice to feel like I could let them sit around. I still checked twitter occasionally and read a few blogs now and then. But my online reading habit was greatly curtailed. More importantly, I didn’t write a single tweet or post an article on my blog for two weeks. I’m not going to lie, it was nice.

Don’t worry. There’s no guilt trip coming for checking Facebook and Twitter or surfing the blogs. The Holy Spirit can convict if necessary. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with social media, and plenty that’s good. At least I hope so (I am coming back to twitter and my blog after all). I won’t even suggest you must take a break from social media for a week or two. Maybe your consumption and production is under control.

But I think you should consider a fast periodically—for a few days, a week, or maybe longer. Here’s how I benefited from being away (more or less) for two weeks.

1. I checked the internet less. I hate to say it, but I find the web less fascinating when I’m not on it! For two weeks I didn’t need to read any blog comments. I didn’t check my “mentions” or my “likes.” And because I wasn’t swimming in the virtual deeps, I wasn’t distracted by what others might be saying about me. All in all, it meant less time roaming around with no particular purpose.

2. I thought about myself less. I wasn’t a “player” in the blog world for two weeks. I wasn’t ruffling anyone’s feathers. I wasn’t hitting anyone’s sweet spot. I just wasn’t around (virtually speaking). Consequently, I didn’t need to think about how I was being received or what response I was getting. I think I’ve grown in this area a lot in the past couple years, but the break was still refreshing.

3. I read more books. True, I didn’t have meetings at night or church pressures on the weekend. That was a big part of it. But without as much time online I found myself with more time to read books after the kids were in bed. As I heard recently, there are two types of people in the world: those who read blogs and those who read books. An exaggeration to be sure, but with a bit of truth.

4. I felt free to keep my opinions unstated. Novel thought I know, but easier said than done for some of us. During my break I saw little skirmishes in the twitterverse or blogosphere come and go. I heard things in the news that I might want to comment on or had thoughts I wanted to share. But for two weeks it was freeing to think, “I won’t weigh in on any of it.” Obviously, I’m blogging again so I think there is value in “weighing in.” But cutting yourself from the urge to endless commentary is extremely healthy.

5. Social media drives us–relentlessly, punishingly, inexorably–to the now. It gives us the illusion of being up to date, current, relevant. And it shames us when we don’t know the newest meme and this week’s viral video. The medium does not encourage slow reflection or push us to the wisdom of the past. We need to fast from the information feast, lest we gorge ourselves on trivialities.

6. It’s good to remember that the world goes on fine without us. Sure, we have people out there that genuinely care for us and (hopefully) benefit from our social media output. But sometimes we act like caged hamsters running in the social media wheel, just hoping we provide enough content and witticism to keep the world going. We’re not that important.

7. Social media takes time. Taking a break gives you more time to do something you’re not currently doing, like watching Lord of the Rings, reading a book, running a 5k, paying attention at the dinner table, or saying your prayers.

8. If you can’t stop, you might be addicted.

It was good to be away. I’m glad to be back. I look forward to being gone and back more regularly.

Secondary Doctrines

Guest Blogger: Jason Helopoulos

I am thankful for the current emphasis in our Reformed Evangelical world upon the Gospel, justification by faith, and the substitutionary atonement of our Lord. It is a blessing that our community is emphasizing “the main thing.” However, I hope that as we give emphasis to these tenants of our faith we don’t somehow minimize other important doctrines of the Scripture or even disregard them as unimportant (i.e. ecclesiology, the sacraments, sanctification, etc.).

Thomas Witherow, a Scottish Presbyterian, had this same concern when he wrote along these lines in his little tract, “The Apostolic Church: Which Is It?” (1851):

To say that, because a fact of Divine revelation is not essential to salvation, it must of necessity be unimportant, and may or may not be received by us, is to assert a principle, the application of which would make havoc of our Christianity. For, what are the truths essential to salvation? Are they not these: That there is a God; that all men are sinners; that the Son of God died upon the cross to make atonement for the guilty; and that whosoever believes on the Lord Jesus Christ will be saved?…But if all the other truths of revelation are unimportant, because they happen to be non-essentials, it follows that the Word of God itself is in the main unimportant…

As Witherow makes clear, if this is the argument we choose to make then we are pulling the rug out from under our own feet . For we are robbing the vast majority of the Scriptures’ teaching and pages from having any influence, relevance, or importance for our Christian lives:

Let a man once persuade himself that importance attaches only to what he is pleased to call essentials, whatever their number, and he will, no doubt, shorten his creed and cut away the foundation of many controversies; but he will practically set aside all except a very small part of the Scriptures. If such a principle does not mutilate the Bible, it stigmatizes much of it as trivial. Revelation is all gold for preciousness and purity, but the very touch of such a principle would transmute the most of it into dross.

Let us unite around the Gospel. Let us be clear in emphasizing and proclaiming it. Let us underscore the importance of justification by faith alone. Let us continually point ourselves and others to the substitutionary atonement of Christ.

But as we do this, let us never say or act as though the other doctrines and teachings of the Scripture are unimportant. “All Scripture is God-breathed and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Tim. 3:16). We can continue to uphold that which is at the heart of our faith and all the while not neglect or relegate the “secondary” doctrines to that of unimportance.

Monday Morning Humor

The kids write the scripts and do the voices. The adults acts out the story. Enjoy.

The Thanksgiving That Wasn’t

Happy Thanksgiving

Pain & Christian Marriage

Guest Blogger: Jason Helopoulos

Marriage is hard work and can be painful. And being a Christian couple does not somehow make it easy or take away the prospect of hurt. Whether we are atheists or Christians, we are still sinners living under the same roof and that can make for tight quarters. It is a reality that those we love the most have often caused us the greatest amount of pain and we them. This is just the reality of love and families. The greater our love the greater the possibility there is to hurt one another. While being a Christian couple does not make marriage easy or pain-free, we do have some great advantages that should make it easier and healing. These are just a few of the things that come to mind:

We know that our battle is not against flesh and blood, so marital conflict can become us against it rather than me against you (Eph. 6:12)
We know forgiveness that overcomes any offense , so we can extend forgiveness for any injury our spouse can inflict (1 John 1:9)
We know that we are sinners, so we can respond with grace when our spouse calls us out for being hurtful (Rom. 310; 1 John 1:9)
We know the need to repent from sin, so we can be quick to respond when we see our fault (Col. 3:1-17)
We have experienced love that surpasses what we deserve, so we can be emboldened to love beyond what our spouse deserves (Eph. 3:17-21; John 15:12)
We have a bridge-groom who loves us completely though knowing us intimately, so we can love our spouse unreservedly though they have many faults (Col. 3:13; 1 John 4:10)
We have been given the greatest of gifts , so we know that we can continue to give to our spouse and never exceed what we have already received (Eph. 2:8-9)
We know that self-sacrifice merits blessing, so we are able to give of ourselves  in a way that is uncommon (Is. 53:5; John 15:13; Eph. 5:25-33)
We have benefited from suffering, so we can be comforted in knowing that suffering, even in marriage, is and will be for ultimate good (Rom. 5:3-5; Rom. 8:28)
We know the well-spring and fountain of all love, so we know from where we can draw when we seem empty (1 John 4:8; 1 John 4:28)
We know peace which surpasses understanding, so even when a marriage is facing troubled times we know that we can enjoy an inner peace (Is. 26:3; Eph. 2:14; Phil. 4:7)
We know that our God is the God of all grace, so we can hope and persevere in the face of circumstances in which others might fold (Rom. 5:4; 1 Pet. 5:10)

Dear Christian couples, remember all this and more. But above all, remember that God is good and your spouse is a gift! Persevere in hope, struggle together, love deeply, forgive often, repent quickly, and rejoice in the little things. Love the wife/husband of your youth (Prov. 5:18).

Preachers for Preachers

Guest Blogger: Jason Helopoulos

Every preacher should be growing in their preaching ability. It is a gift that is to be nurtured. And there are able teachers available. One of the great benefits we have in our age, which did not exist in previous ages, is our ability to hear men from far away at the touch of a button. A good preacher will willing listen to other preachers and seek to nurture the gift given to him.

I have no doubt that some of the most gifted preachers in our time, as in every other age, are unknown outside their local congregations and immediate context. And because I don’t know them, I can’t point to them. Therefore, when I think of some of the gifted expository preachers of our day, the men below are those who come to mind. They all preach according to their own personality and makeup. And this is part of what makes them effective, so preachers don’t try to imitate some of the things they do. However, there are things that a preacher, who is always trying to grow in preaching can learn from them. (And every Christian seeking to grow in the faith would benefit from having these preachers on their iPods and iPads for regular listening).

Their sermons are all marked by the following qualities: attention to the text, it is clearly drawn from the passage they are proclaiming,  hard theological wrestling in the background, they do not shy away from hard teachings, are Christ focused, God-exalting, and usually excellent in application. I appreciate all of them as preachers for these reasons. These are qualities that we should all seek in our preaching. And yet what sets these preachers apart is not only these qualities, but what they each uniquely excel in. And it is these qualities that I want to draw our attention to. What they uniquely excel at are areas that all preachers would benefit from encouraging in their own preaching:

Derek Thomas–Dr. Thomas’ sermons do that which is seemingly difficult, but essential–his sermons tend to send the listener walking away contemplating God and focused upon Him. (Thomas sermons)

John Piper–When one thinks of Piper’s preaching, passion and sincerity have to be two of the first thoughts. His biblical preaching is always filled with energy and you know he believes what he is preaching. (Piper sermons)

Tim Keller–His sermons excel at clarity and engaging people in our current western culture. Many preachers are good exegetes of culture. Many are good exegetes of the text. It is not easy to be both, but Keller makes it look easy. (Keller sermons)

CJ Mahaney–There are few better at having sermons anchored with affection-stirring illustrations and pleading that is appropriate in calling lost sinners. (Mahaney sermons)

Sinclair Ferguson–The Scottish accent helps. Who doesn’t like a good Scottish accent? But a few minutes into the sermon you won’t find yourself thinking about Scotland. Ferguson’s sermons drip with theological richness, are always profound, and yet are simple to understand. That is a rare gift indeed! (Ferguson sermons)

Load up your iPod, take a walk, learn, and be blessed. And be a blessing to your people.