Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 130

What Is Forgiveness?

Many Christians, influences by Lewis Smedes and a lot of pop psychology, have a therapeutic understanding of forgiveness. They think of forgiveness as a unilateral, internal effort to get our emotions under control. But if we start with a biblical notion of God’s forgiveness, we see that such a view falls short.

The offer of forgiveness is unconditional (for God, and it should be for us), but forgiveness itself is conditioned upon repentance. We must always be open–and even, in God’s grace, become eager–to extend forgiveness, but we (like God) can only forgive the truly penitent. No bitterness either way. No revenge. But forgiveness, and the reconciliation that should follow, is a commitment to those who repent.

Chris Brauns explains:

This book has argued that forgiveness should be defined as a commitment by the offended to pardon graciously the repentant from moral liability and to be reconciled to that person, although not all consequences are necessarily eliminated.

In contrast to this definition, forgiveness would be alternatively defined according to a therapeutic approach. In the therapeutic line of thinking, forgiveness is a private matter that means shutting down anger, bitterness, and resentment. In other words, Christians should always forgive automatically. Because therapeutic forgiveness is based on feelings, it posits that people may even find it necessary to forgive God.

Ultimately, the question for the reader must be this: which definition do you think is more biblical? This is not a theoretical question that can be avoided. Life is relationships. In a fallen world, relationships get damaged and broken. What we believe about forgiveness will determine whether or not we can move forward for God’s glory and our own joy. (Unpacking Forgiveness, 72-73).

Overcoming anger and resentment is important, but forgiveness is something more, something different, something that involves two parties instead of one.

Pro-Life Resources

We live in a day with many good pro-life resources. I encourage you to mention some of your favorite websites, articles, or ministries in the comments section. I’ll mention two books.

Francis Beckwith’s Defending Life: A Moral and Legal Case Against Abortion Choice is the best scholarly, pro-life defense written in recent years. It’s only 296 pages, but filled with the latest science and devastating logic.

For a more user-friendly book (Beckwith is pretty readable too), I recommend The Case for Life:  Equipping Christians to Engage the Culture by Scott Klusendorf. The book is still dense with arguments, but they are presented with a few less footnotes and a few more illustrations. You can’t go wrong with either book.

There are so many good points in The Case for Life that I can’t repeat (or remember!) them all. But a few points stand out.

It isn’t enough to feel pity for the unborn. We must act on behalf of the unborn. The Good Samaritan was not praised for feeling sorry for the man on the side of the road, but for stopping to help (9).
Simplify the issue. Bring the issue back to the central question: is the fetus a human person? To bring this point home, ask if a particular justification for abortion also works as a justification for killing toddlers (25).
Use the acronym SLED. Size: are big people more human than small people? Level of Development: Does self-awareness make us human? Are older children more valuable than infants? Are those with dementia less valuable? Environment: Do your surroundings determine your humanity? How can a journey eight inches down the birth canal change the essential nature of the child? Degree of Dependency: Does viability make us human? Are newborns or those who need dialysis not deserving of human rights? (28)
Embryology textbooks uniformly state that new human life comes into existence upon completion of fertilization. This is scientific fact, not a theological belief (49).
The claim that 5000-10,000 women died a year from botched abortions prior to Roe is “unmitigated nonsense” (to quote a statistician featured in Planned Parenthood publications in the 60s and 70s). A total of 45,000 American women of reproductive age die each year of all causes. A better estimate is that 500 women died annually from illegal abortions in the years leading up to Roe (160).

Like I said, there are plenty more arguments and responses. In fact, I bet every objection pro-lifers have ever heard (at least in popular discourse) is addressed in this book. Buy it. Underline it. Take it to heart. Communicate its ideas confidently and winsomely.

This is not the time for pro-lifers to slacken in their efforts from fetus fatigue. Between 1973 and 2005 American women procured an estimated 48, 589, 993 abortions. The bloodiest single-day battle in American history was at Antietam in 1862, where 23,000 Americans lost their lives. It was an mind-boggling loss of life. Now imagine another Antietam every five or six days for 32 straight years. That’s how many unborn children died from 1973 to 2005. And they did not die for the abolition of slavery, nor for the preservation of the Union.

Questions for Our Pro-Abortion Friends, Church Leaders, and Politicians

What shall we call the unborn in the womb?

If the entity is a living thing, is it not a life? If your person began as a single cell, how can that fertilized egg be something other than a human being? Isn’t it more accurate to say you were an embryo than that you simply came from one?

So when does a human being have a right to life?

Shall we say size matters? Is the unborn child too small to deserve our protection? Are big people more valuable than little people? Are men more human than woman? Do offensive linemen have more rights than jockeys? Is the life in the womb of no account because you can’t hold him in our arms, or put him in your hands, or only see her on a screen?

Shall we make intellectual development and mental capacity the measure of our worth? Are three year-old children less valuable than thirteen year-olds? Is the unborn child less than fully human because he cannot speak or count or be self-aware? Does the cooing infant in the crib have to smile or shake your hand or recite the alphabet before she deserves another day? If an expression of basic mental acuity is necessary to be a full-fledged member of the human community, what shall do with the comatose, the very old, or the fifty year-old mom with Alzheimer’s? And what about all of us who sleep?

Shall we deny the unborn child’s right to life because of where he lives? Can environment give us value or take it away? Are we worth less inside than outside? Can we be justly killed when we swim under water? Does where we are determine who we are? Does the eight inch journey down the birth canal make us human? Does this change of scenery turn “its” into persons? Is love a condition of location?

Shall we reserve human dignity only for those humans who are not dependent on others? Do we deserve to live only when we can live on our own? Is the four-month old fetus less than human because she needs her mom for life? Is the four-month old infant less than human when she still needs her mom for life? What if you depend on dialysis or insulin or a breathing apparatus? Is value a product of fully-functioning vitality? Is independence a prerequisite for human identity? Are we worth only what we can think, accomplish, and do on our own?

If the unborn life is human life, what can justify snuffing it out? Would it be right to take the life of your child on his first birthday because he came to you through sad and tragic circumstances? Would you push an 18 month old into traffic because she makes our life difficult? Does a three year-old deserve to die because we think we deserve a choice?

What do you deserve now? What are your rights as a human person? Did you have those same rights five years ago? What about before you could drive? Or when you used training wheels? Were you less than fully human when you played in the sandbox? When you wore a bib? When you nursed at your mother’s breast? When your dad cut your cord? When you tumbled in that watery mess and kicked against that funny wall? When your heart pounded on the monitor for the first time? When you grew your first fingernails? When you grew your first cells?

What shall we call the child in the womb? A fetus? A mystery? A mistake? A wedge issue? What if science and Scripture and commonsense would have us call it a person? What if the unborn child, the messy infant, the wobbly toddler, the rambunctious teenager, the college freshman, the blushing bride, the first-time mother, the working woman, the proud grammy, and the demented old friend differ not in kind but only in degree? Where in the progression does our humanity begin and end? Where does life become valuable? When are we worth something? When do human rights become our rights? What if Dr. Seuss was right and a person’s a person no matter how small?

Why celebrate the right to kill what you once were? Why deny the rights of the little one who is what you are?

The Hole In Our Holiness: A Friendly Rejoinder to Gavin Ortlund

Last week TGC posted a review of my Holiness book by Gavin Ortlund. I really like his father and his brother, so I suspect Gavin will be a friend of mine too when we meet someday. Next time he’s in Michigan, the Hot N’ Ready is on me. I am thankful for his articulate, thoughtful review.

After several kind words at the beginning of the article and one paragraph noting various strengths of the book, Ortlund spends most of the review highlighting various concerns. It doesn’t bother me that someone might critique aspects of the book—that’s usually what happens in a book review. But since the bulk of the review is negative, even if graciously and tentatively so, I’d like to briefly respond to his three lines of criticism.

1) Ortlund wonders if my arguments are, at times, directed toward generalized tendencies that have been “slightly exaggerated or caricatured.” He wishes I would have documented my opponents and “locked horns with concrete individuals, books, and statements.” He is right that I do not often footnote the general tendencies I am arguing against. This was by deliberate choice. I never intended for this to be a polemical book like Why We’re Not Emergent or even What Is the Mission of the Church? The impetus for the book was in me long before any of the sanctification debates surfaced on the blogs. I didn’t conceive of the project with any particular authors or movements in mind, other than a general sense that contemporary Christians, myself included, need to take holiness more seriously.

Having said that, it’s certainly true that as the book developed I wrote, in part, to counter what I perceived to be unhelpful tendencies in some of our gospel-centered movement. But even here I did not want the book to become a tit-for-tat exercise where I quoted from different authors in our circles, authors on the whole I deeply like and respect. In other words, I purposely chose not to have a “locked horns” kind of book. Naturally, those wanting that sort of book will be disappointed.

Keeping with this point just a bit further, I can honestly say that I didn’t try to caricature any opposing views. I’ve heard or read all of the sentiments I try to correct-whether those sentiments were by well-known leaders or simply mistaken churchgoers. For example, Ortlund’s one claim of potential exaggeration is my lament that “we remove any notion that we can obey God or that he can delight in our good works.” Ortlund objects, “I cannot personally think of anyone who denies that obedience is possible or that we can please God.” But I can think of one good-spirited, thoughtful conversation I had with a fellow speaker at a conference who-I think I’m being fair here-disagreed with my insistence that pleasing God was a legitimate motivation for holiness. This article on “The Danger of Trying to Please God” shares that speaker’s concerns. I also recall this blog post which criticizes pastors for trying to keep people from sinning. The parable about teaching frogs to fly suggests that instructing people in obedience or growth in godliness is wasted effort to get sinners to do the impossible. There are many Christians out there who believe the only obedience we can really have is the obedience of Christ and that every good deed is nothing but a filthy rag in God’s sight.

2) Ortlund worries that the book may not as adequately challenge the legalist as it does the libertine. He thinks I have overestimated how many people already make the connection between the gospel and personal holiness. He could be right. Every book comes out of a context. Mine is one in a more liberal denomination and, in a different circle, among earnest YRR Christians, where legalism is frequently chastised. No doubt, there are those from severely moralistic backgrounds and those in repressive church environments who don’t need the libertine spooked out of them. Perhaps my book does not do enough to help them.

But if that’s the case, it’s not for want of trying. In many places I explicitly reject and warn against the legalistic tendencies in our hearts (52). “Apart from our union with Christ,” I write,  ”every effort to imitate Christ, no matter how noble and inspired at the outset, inevitably leads to legalism and spiritual defeat” (100). Later in that same paragraph I conclude, “The pursuit of holiness is not a quixotic effort to do just what Jesus did. It’s the fight to live out the life that has already been made alive in Christ.” Elsewhere I warn that “those most eager to be holy are often most susceptible to judgmentalism and arrogance” and that it is “very possible to pursue holiness out of pride” (140). The sections on the Holy Spirit, on faith, on gospel-driven effort, and the entire chapter on union with Christ are meant to counteract any notion that sanctification is a do-it-yourself exercise in self-salvation.

3) Ortlund’s main concern is that I “could have more clearly demonstrated that a failure to pursue holiness is itself a failure to appropriate the gospel.” He acknowledges that the book is “grounded in gospel truth” but argues that I “could more clearly draw out the point that holiness is always…by grace.” He thinks I demonstrate that holiness must accompany grace, but don’t clearly show how holiness comes by grace. The excerpts below suggest this charge is not accurate.

“God expects us to be holy and gives us the grace to be holy” (66).
 ”God not only works obedience in us by his grace, it’s also by his grace that our imperfect obedience is acceptable in his sight” (67-68).
 ”More than that, we cannot produce any righteousness in our own strength. But as born-again believers, it is possible to please God by his grace” (69).
“Sanctification doesn’t just flow from justification, so that one produces the other. Both come from the same Source. Christ justifies no one whom he does not also sanctify” (99).
“‘The beauty of holiness’ is first of all the Lord’s (Ps. 29:2). But by his grace it can also be yours” (146, the last sentence in the book).

Along the same lines, Ortlund worries that I do not make clear the extent to which “the gospel of grace is as equally the answer to antinomianism as it is to legalism.” He cites Romans 6 as evidence that the best way to rebuff antinomianism is to drill down deeper into the Christian’s “grace-established identity.” The primary gap, then, is not between gospel passion and holiness but with our appropriation of the gospel itself. So for “Joe Christian” (the example Ortlund gives of a lazy pursuit of sanctification) the “ultimate need is for the gospel he professes to take root in his heart.” Ortlund commends The Hole in Our Holiness for being “gospel-rich” but also faults it for not showing more clearly that at the root of all our problems is a problem with the gospel.

It’s hard to know how to respond to this criticism. I don’t think Ortlund disagrees with the theology in the book. It just doesn’t say what he would say or in the way he would say it. Four times in this final concern he uses the phrase “more clearly” or “make clearer.” It seems to me the concern is not that I’m wrong but that I’ve not done enough to be thoroughly and explicitly gospel-centered.

This would be a serious deficiency, so it’s worth probing a bit further. Is the deepest problem in every situation and in every sinful struggle our failure to appropriate the gospel? Perhaps—depends on your definitions. I don’t have a problem saying at the root of every problem is a misfiring of the gospel. But neither would I have a problem saying that at its root every sin is a failure to recognize the Lordship of Christ, or to believe the promises of God, or to accept the goodness of God’s commands, or to trust the word of God, or to recognize our union with Christ, or to celebrate the character of God, or to find our satisfaction in Jesus, or to live in the power of the Spirit. I suppose someone may say, “Yes, that’s it exactly. And all of that is a failure to appropriate the gospel.” But then “gospel” has become shorthand for almost any spiritual blessing evidenced in Scripture. And if that’s our working definition of the gospel, I don’t mind, so long as we don’t expect everyone to give a hat-tip to “gospel” before we say anything else.

The gospel is, in one sense, the answer for everything. It unmasks our legalism and our antinomianism. Paul certainly confronts the “let’s continue in sin” attitude in Romans 6 by reminding us that we are dead to sin and alive to righteousness by virtue of our union with Christ. I have a whole section in the book on the glories of Romans 6. But it would be a mistake to think this is the only way to confront sin, or the only truly gospel-centered approach, or the only one that gets to the ultimate problem. In Romans 13 Paul attacks the libertines of his day by warning them of Christ’s return. This is a gracious gospel truth too, though not, I think, what people have in mind when they argue that the antidote for the abuse of grace is more grace.

Augustine was converted by Romans 13:13-14 not because it immediately revealed his failure to be sufficiently gripped by the gospel, but because it convicted him of sin and gave him relief from his wretched way of life. God counsels us in a hundred different ways and exchanges a thousand different truths for our lies. Let’s not think a “failure to believe the gospel” (which usually refers to our acceptance in justification) is the only final diagnosis for every malady. My concern with Ortlund’s concern is that many Christians have become hesitant to employ the full arsenal of Scriptural threats, warnings, promises, examples, and commands for fear that unless we explicitly say something about our deep down gospel issues we aren’t really dealing with the ultimate problem and we aren’t emphasizing grace as clearly as we ought. Surely there is more than one way to skin a sinful cat.

This rejoinder has gone on longer than I expected. I hope this is not evidence of defensiveness in my heart but an indication of how seriously I took Ortlund’s thoughtful review and how important these nuances can be. I imagine everyone reading his review and this response want the same thing: to grow in holiness by the grace of God. I trust that this conversation helps us all in that glorious and necessary pursuit.

Monday Morning Humor

Holiness Is Not the Same as Forced Solemnity

When I was in college I struggled a lot with being holy and being funny. Now, those who know me best may wonder if I’m particularly adroit with either virtue. But stick with me for a minute.

I used to have the notion that holiness meant forced solemnity. I remember as a camp counselor standing in an “affirmation circle” at the end of the summer to receive encourage from our peers. The quiet, reserved people were all dubbed “holy” and “reverent” while the ones that made the kids laugh received kudos like “hilarious” or “crazy.” No one to my knowledge was both crazy and holy.

Granted, I know that my humor has not always been edifying and college craziness can be decidedly unholy. But we must do away with the unspoken assumption that holiness is the province of one personality type. Holiness is not a temperament. It is not a forced seriousness nor a feigned religiosity. You can be funny or dull, quiet or loud, energetic or contemplative, amusing or pensive, and still be full of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness and all the other goodies. Do we really know if Christ was sanguine, melancholy, choleric, or phlegmatic? Maybe the Spirit mercifully kept much of our Lord’s temperament from us. That way we’d deify the Person and not the personality.

The hole in our holiness is not that we are missing pathological seriousness in the church. It’s rather that we are not nearly so serious about the stirring call and joyful possibility of being more like Jesus.

Casual Worship

Guest Blogger: Jason Helopoulos

There are words that just don’t go together. We would never think of describing sandpaper by the adjective “smooth”–it doesn’t work. You will never hear someone call a surgical operation “fun”–it doesn’t exist. No one has ever slept on a “hard” pillow, maybe “firm” (which is the one my wife seems to give me every night), but never “hard.” There are adjectives that should never be used as descriptors for certain nouns.

Maybe I am an old fuddy duddy, but it seems to me that we should never use the word “casual” as an adjective for worship. I know what is meant by it, or at least I think I do. It seems that churches put this descriptor on their lighted marquee sign to announce to the world, “how you are dressed doesn’t matter here.” Or they are trying to convey to a culture that is obsessed with the comfortable that their service isn’t traditional or firm or stiff or joyless. If this is the case, then I say, “Let the sign say that.” I would have no problem with a church announcing on its sign, “Our 10:30 service at Crossroads Presbyterian is a “non-stiff” service.”  Just don’t call it casual.

Why? Because worship may be a lot of things, but it is never casual. Worship is an encounter with the living, true, holy, sovereign God of the universe.  And just think about encounters with God in Scripture that elicit worship: Moses takes off his shoes (Exodus 3), Israel is fearful (Exodus 20), Isaiah quakes (Isaiah 6), Job silences his lips (Job 40), John falls down as though dead (Revelation 1). Even the elders and angels, who are worshipping day in and day out before the throne, aren’t casual in their worship (Isaiah 6; Revelation 4). Casual worship of the living, true, holy, sovereign God of the universe just doesn’t exist!

You may think, “Jason, your nitpicking. It is just a descriptive word. It is what we do and the motive of our heart that matters.” But I want to cry from the rooftops, “Words have meaning.” We of all people must continually emphasize this reality. We are a people of the Word. Words matter. And so calling something casual that should never be considered such has no place in our world and surely not on our marquee signs.

And it is not only what it means, but the influence it has. Eugene Peterson has written multiple times about “subversive spirituality.” There are things we do or say that seem minor and yet have a gradual penetrating affect upon the ministry around us. Peterson uses the example of calling the Pastor’s room in the church a “study” instead of an “office.” It is subtle, but each word conveys something. And that something ingrains itself in the minds of the people and even the pastor himself. If you think or even want your pastor’s primary duties to be prayer and study of the Scriptures, then you call his room a study. If you envision him answering emails, putting together budgets, and organizing agendas with most of his time then you call it an office.

Words matter. They have an altering affect over time. McDonalds understands this–that’s why it is called an Extra Value Meal and not the “Extra 1000 Calorie Option.” Retailers understand this–that’s why it is “refurbished” instead of “previously broken and now we want to sell it to you.” Homosexual activists understand this–that is why they are laboring so hard to do away with the language of “domestic union” in favor of “marriage.”  Words matter and have a gradual influencing affect upon those that use them.

Because of that, let’s abandon the word “casual” as a descriptor of our worship services. Church dinners can be casual. Sunday School classes are casual. Let’s even call the church dress code casual (As many point out to me, I am a work of progress in this regard!). But let’s never call worship casual. Because worshipping God is anything but casual!

An Ear for the Classics

Guest Blogger: Ben Falconer (Associate Pastor, URC)

As a worship leader at University Reformed Church and a vocal performance and opera major in college, one of my loves in life is music. I enjoy many different styles of music, but my taste for the classics developed through years of choral singing and was honed in college while studying music history, theory, and performance. There is a reason the classics have lasted, and I am blessed to take the time to listen to and learn from some of the great composers throughout the past four centuries. It is no wonder why Beethoven, Bach, and Mozart are still household names today.

Being a singer, I have a particular interest in vocal music, in part because of my training, but also because words convey concrete meaning. And there is much in the classical repertoire that brings great honor to the Lord through the Biblical and Christ-centered lyrics that are set to soaring melodies.

The amount of classical music now available to us is wonderfully staggering. So where would I encourage a believer to begin listening? I would start with a genre called oratorio. Oratorio is like an opera without costumes or staging. The music and words contain characters and drama, but the entire piece is delivered like a concert, with the soloists and choir in formal attire, standing in place on the stage as they sing their parts. The reason I am drawn to oratorio is that we have so many to choose from that are explicitly Christian in their lyrics. As I review some of my favorite music, I am again amazed how composers took straight Bible passages and set them to incredible music. Composers like Bach, who made his living as a young man employed by various churches, truly were the worship leaders of their day.

My top 5 favorite oratorios

5.  Joseph Haydn’s The Creation – Of the top 5, this is the only one that is not primarily a biblical text set to music. Instead, Haydn’s libretto is almost entirely an interpretive extrapolation of the brief Scriptural account in Genesis 1. This work can be fun and lighthearted as God calls into existence all of his wondrous creation.

4.  Johannes Brahm’s German Requiem – Brahms departed from the typical Latin requiem text and chose instead passages from Luther’s German Bible as the basis for his glorious funeral work. Brahms is at the top of my list of romantic composers and I love listening to any of his music (my favorite piano piece is his Intermezzo in A Major). His lush harmonies and hauntingly beautiful melodies will stir your soul, especially “Denn alles Fleisch” (“For all flesh”).

3.  Felix Mendelssohn’s Elijah – After preaching through the life of Elijah last summer, I came to love Mendelssohn’s oratorio on the great prophet. The music is not as intricate or interesting as either earlier baroque or later romantic works, but what Elijah lacks in musical depth, it more than makes up for it in terms of conveying the drama of the events in Elijah’s life. The show down between Elijah and the prophets of Baal is worth listening to over and over. It helps that this work is in English, so it is easy to follow.

2.  George Frideric Handel’s Messiah – This is my favorite Christmas album and it becomes sweeter every time I listen to it. The arias are becoming as familiar to me as “Jingle Bells” and “Deck the Halls”, and yet they are infinitely richer and more profound. From the opening tenor recitative “Comfort ye my people” all the way through to the closing chorus “Worthy is the Lamb”, I am taken up in the prophecy, life, death, and resurrection of my Lord. Messiah includes such memorable songs as “And the glory of the Lord”, “For unto us a child is born”, “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion”, “The trumpet shall sound”, and of course “The Halleluiah chorus”.

1.  Johann Sebastian Bach’s St. Matthew Passion – Bach is a musical genius, my favorite composer, and wrote his music for the glory of the Lord. His musical setting of Matthew’s passion account is his masterwork. The recitative text comes straight from the Gospel account and involves mainly the evangelist (narrator) and Jesus. This music is accompanied with minimum instrumentation and moves the drama of Jesus’ last hours along. Bach then inserts solo arias and chorus numbers to comment on the unfolding drama (you will recognize “O sacred head now wounded”). Bach’s music may take a little bit of time to get used to, but the focus on the passion narrative, the weeping arias, and ever-inventive musical lines make this my favorite.

Instilling a love of music for our kids

As a parent of 5 young children, I’ve tried to begin early to instill a love for classical music in our kids. One of our practices we began a number of years ago is to give each child a different classical music CD for Christmas. Our aim is twofold: 1) to expose them to and encourage a love for a variety of different music from a young age, and 2) to give them an assortment of some of the great works of musical art so that by the time they leave our home, their musical collection is stocked with the classics. Thus far, our kids’ favorites have been:

Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf, a playful introduction to a number of key instruments in the orchestra with memorable melodies and a plot the kids all love.
Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, the popular baroque violin concertos are thoroughly entertaining for children and adults alike. It’s no surprise this is a classic!
The Classical Child at the Opera, which has selections from Mozart’s The Magic Flute, Rossini’s The Barber of Seville, Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado, and one of my all-time favorite songs (of any genre): Lakme’s “Flower Duet”. This is a staple in our car for any length of trip.

Ten Things About Church You Should Know (But No One Had the Guts to Tell You)

There is no sin in making little mistakes of spelling or grammar. We all make them. But in case you wanted to know (you probably don’t), or in case you wanted to mention it gently to someone else (more likely), here are ten tiny things to keep in mind as you lead in worship, prepare the bulletin, or just converse about the church service.

1. There are 150 psalms in the Bible. This collection is called the Psalter or simply The Psalms. Each chapter in the book is an individual psalm. So even though we call the book “The Psalms” you’ll want to say “Psalm 23″ instead of “Psalms 23.” As much as we love that chapter, it still only counts for one psalm.

2. Speaking of extra S’s, the last book of the Bible is “Revelation”-in the singular. It may produce many revelations in us, but apparently it was all of a piece for John (Rev. 1:1).

3. A word to the selfless souls who input song lyrics for Sunday morning: “Oh” is not the same as “O.” The former is an exclamation, an emotional cry of anger, excitement, despair, or surprise. The latter is a vocative form of address usually followed by a name or title. If you lose your wallet and say “O God” you are probably praying to find it. If you say “Oh God” you are doing something else.

4. When the worship leader and the congregation go back and forth with a passage of Scripture or a prayer, that’s reading responsively. You may also call the congregation to read responsibly, but they’ll likely try to do that anyway.

5. Martin Luther made his famous stand at the Diet of Worms, with the i pronounced like ee and the w like a v. Or at least that will get you pretty close, and no one will snicker.

6. The shiny book with all the church pictures is a pictorial directory, but the man listed toward the front of the book does not engage in pastorial ministry. There’s no “I” in pastoral work.

7. While the i’s have our attentions, please note the difference between Arminians and Armenians. John Wesley was an Arminian. Alice Panikian, a former Miss Universe from Canada, is Armenian. Don’t confuse the ethnicity with the theology. I can’t comment on Panikian’s views on the doctrines of grace, but I’m fairly certain I can guess Wesley’s opinion of the Miss Universe pageant.

8. Keeping with the Wesleys, you remember that Hark! The Herald Angels Sing is one of Charles Wesley’s most famous hymns. The punctuation is critical. The herald angels sang “Hark!”–as in “behold” or “listen up”–when they approached the shepherds keeping watch o’er their flocks by night. They were not singing, “Hark the Herald!” The Christmas story would be less glorious with the angels singing about themselves.

9. And later in that song, when you get to “Hail the Sun of Righteousness,” that’s not a typo. Don’t change it to “Son.” Malachi would be disappointed (Mal. 4:2).

10. And finally, one more warning about our egregious little consonant friend. Stuart Townsend has starred in uplifting films like Queen of the Damned and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. He’s also done voice-over work for the animated television show Robot Chicken. The guy who works with the Gettys and writes all those sweet modern hymns-that’s Stuart Townend. Don’t be so quick to say yes to the S.

Monday Morning Humor

Have you ever wished that someone would take an old movie about a guy on a buffalo and then make a music video of it? Well today is your lucky day. My friend Ryan Kelly, a pastor in New Mexico, told me this series changed his life.