Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 167

Iowans Teach Us All a Lesson

The lesson? Sometimes quitting is the better part of valor. Sometimes it's more prudent to start over and admit defeat than stick with your first  ill-conceived idea.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, look at the football trophy below–yes, it is a football trophy, for the winner of the Iowa-Iowa State game–and then read this.

Now if only the Big Ten would scrap Legends and Leaders.

Pastoral Pressure and Apostolic Anxiety

2 Corinthians 11:28 always seemed like a strange verse to me–until I became a pastor.

Here's Paul rattling off all the ways he's been beat up for Jesus—imprisonments, lashes, rods, stoned, shipwrecked, adrift at sea, sleepless nights, hunger and thirst, cold and exposure, danger from everyone everywhere (v. 23-27)—and then as the cherry on top Paul mentions one more trial: "apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches" (v. 28). This is the mighty Apostle Paul, the one counted it a joy to "spend and be spent" for his people (12:15), the one who was sorrowful yet always rejoicing (6:10). This is the Paul who faced every imaginable opposition and yet learned to be content (Phil. 4:11) and anxious about nothing (4:6). And here he is admitting that even with everything else he's endured he still feels daily pressure and anxiety for all the churches.

Ever since becoming a pastor I have found unusual comfort in this verse.  It's not that I have accomplished what Paul accomplished, or suffered what he suffered, but every earnest minister will feel this burden for the church.  And Paul had several churches to burden him!  The churches were full of infighting and backbiting.  They put up with false teaching.  They were prone to legalism on one end and complete chaos on the other.  Some of the church members were making insignificant matters too important, while others were too willing to compromise on Christian essentials.  Paul loved these churches and their struggles burdened him more than shipwreck or imprisonment.

Before I go any further, let me be clear: I don't think pastors are the only ones with burdens. We are not the only ones with anxiety. In many ways we have the best job in the whole world. I certainly feel exceedingly thankful to do what I do on most days. I have no interest in comparing the difficulty of pastoral ministry with the difficulties of other vocations. All I want to do is encourage pastors to keep fighting the good fight, and encourage congregations to keep encouraging their pastors.

I'm not surprised Paul felt daily pressure for the churches. His work never seemed to let up.  He had letters to write, visits to make, a collection to gather for the saints in Jerusalem. He had to send people here and there and manage the affairs of his churches from a distance. He had to respond to a myriad of criticisms, often conflicting criticisms.  Some people thought he was too harsh.  Others said he was too weak.  Some people in his churches were ascetics and thought Paul was worldly.  Others were licentious and thought Paul was too ethically demanding.  They complained about his teaching.  They questioned his credentials.  They compared him negatively to the original apostles. They thought him lame compared to the false apostles. They didn't like the way he handled money.  They didn't like his preaching style.  They didn't like the way he arranged his travel plans.  They didn't like his discipline. On some days they just didn't like Paul. All this for the man who led them to Christ, loved them like a Father, planted  (many of) their churches, refused their money, and risked his neck for their spiritual good. No wonder there was no weight for Paul like the weight of caring for God's people.

Ask any pastor who really takes his work seriously and he will tell you of the pressures he feels in ministry—people in crisis, people leaving, people coming, people falling through the cracks, people disappointed by the pastor, people disappointing to the pastor. In the midst of this work the pastor is trying to find time for study, prayer, preparation, and family. He's trying to improve himself, train up new leaders, meet the budget, get to know a few missionaries, champion important program, manage staff, take care of administrative details, provide for deep, accessible worship and preaching, be responsive to new ideas, listen to new concerns, be ready to help when people are in trouble.

And most pastors feel a burden for all the other things they could be doing: more evangelism, more involvement in the neighborhood, more for the poor, more for missions, more for the denomination, more for the city, more to address global concerns, more to address social concerns. There will be pastors reading this who wonder if the church is still responsive to their preaching, if the leadership will ever be responsive to his leading, if the congregation will ever grow like the churches he hears so much about. On top of all this every pastor has his own personal hurts, personal mistakes, and his own spiritual health to attend to. Who is weak and are not pastors weak?

But be encouraged. God uses weak things to shame the strong (1 Cor. 1:27). His grace is sufficient for you; his power is made perfect in weakness (2 Cor. 12:9). For the sake of Christ, then, be content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when you are weak, then you are strong (v. 10).

Paul had pressure. You have pressure too. But God can handle the pressure. And he looks good when you can't.

This article originally appeared in the August edition of Tabletalk magazine.

Monday Morning Humor

In honor of my friends in first year Greek or Hebrew learning to speak a new language…

Mary Idelette DeYoung

Born 12:50am this morning.

6 pounds, 8 ounces. 20 inches long. Mom and baby are doing great.

"My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior" (Luke 1:46-47).

Glory of God: Glory to God and Going to Church

Ephesians 3:14-21

…to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus… (v. 21)

As a pastor I hear the question fairly often: "Why do Christians need to go church?" Sometimes the questioner is a young child wanting to get out of his boredom on Sunday morning. Other times the questioner sincerely wonders why we must be a part of a church if we can have a relationship with God anywhere, anytime. Most often, the questioner is an adult hoping to be "spiritual but not religious."

The local church is the hope of the world. Unless we are physically unable, every Christian should be a part of a church. The church is where Christ gets glory (Eph. 3:21) and where we (not just I) shine as lights in the world (Phil. 2:15). The New Testament assumes that believers belong, not just to the church universal, but  to a specific community of Christians. That's why Paul wrote nine of his thirteen letters to churches and why each church in Revelation is represented by an individual lampstand. God's plan has always been to establish a people, not simply a loose assortment of individuals.

It's through the preaching of the word, the giving of gifts, the building up of the body, the loving of the unlovely–all in the context of the local church–that Christ gets glory.

An Idea Whose Time Has Come

Union Station

As Christians, we know we've been saved by Christ, we should look like Christ, and we can have a relationship with Christ. But we rarely consider how all this depends on our union with Christ.

The whole of our salvation can be summed up with reference to this reality. Union with Christ is not a single specific blessing we receive in our salvation. Rather, as Michael Horton points out, it is the best phrase to describe all the blessings of salvation, whether in eternity (election), in history (redemption), in the present (effectual calling, justification, and sanctification), or in the future (glorification).

Every blessing is received "in Christ" (Eph. 1:3). No part can be excluded from our union with him. This is the foundation and basis for all his gifts. So while it's appropriate for theologians to talk about an "order of salvation" (ordo salutis) whereby we are called by the Spirit, born again, moved to faith and repentance, justified, adopted, sanctified, preserved, and glorified, we must never separate these benefits from the Benefactor. Every blessing in the order of salvation flows from our union with Christ. As John Murray said, "It is not simply a step in the application of redemption; when viewed, according to the teaching of Scripture, in its broader aspects it underlies every step of the application of redemption. Union with Christ is really the central truth of the whole doctrine of salvation not only in its application but also in it once-for-all accomplishment in the finished work of Christ."

The doctrine of union with Christ is so common in the New Testament that it is easy to miss. Over two hundred times in Paul's letters and more than two dozen times in the writings of John we see expressions like "in Christ," "in the Lord" or "in him." We are found in Christ, preserved in Christ, saved and sanctified in Christ. We walk in Christ, labor in Christ, sorrow in Christ, and conquer in Christ. We obey in Christ and are made perfect in Christ—just to name a few examples. Another thirty-two times Paul speaks of believers participating together with Christ in some aspect of redemption, whether it's dying with Christ, being buried with Christ, being raised with Christ, or being seated with Christ.

Apart from this kind of union, all the blessings of Christ would be outside us. It's only when the Spirit joins us to Christ and we are ingrafted into his body that we can participate, not only in Christ's benefits, but in Christ himself. The whole of the Christian life from election to justification to sanctification to final glorification is made possible by, and is an expression of, our union with Christ. That's why Jesus' final request in the High Priestly Prayer is that "I [may be] in them" (John 17:26) and why Paul says "Christ in you" is the hope of glory (Col. 1:21).

Juan of the Good Guys

I took my oldest son to a Chicago White Sox game in the middle of June. We got their plenty early so we could watch batting practice and loiter around the dugout. For days leading up to the game my son kept telling me his favorite player was Juan Pierre, the Sox left fielder and speedy lead-off man. I admit I was somewhat incredulous with my son's choice. I figured he would/should pick one of my favorite players, Paul Konerko or Mark Buehrle. Or maybe he'd pick a young player like Gordon Beckham. Or maybe a homerun hitter like Carlos Quentin or Adam Dunn. But he was adamant that Juan Pierre was the best.

Arriving early, all my son wanted to do was wait by the dugout and get Juan Pierre to sign his baseball. We waited and waited and waited–in a group of other kids, teenagers, and adults with sharpies. We waited a long time and–at least where we were at our time–we saw only two Sox players come out to sign anything: Chris Sale (the tall, lanky, hard throwing young left handed reliever) and…you guessed it… Juan Pierre.

Made my son's week.

And then I read this article on Monday about Pierre turning his season around. On May 18 he was batting .242 with a reputation for miscues in the field. Now he's batting .286, and I've seen him make some spectacular plays in left. During his slump, the Sox manager Ozzie Guillen stood by Pierre, saying his work ethic was so strong and his attitude so positive that he'd take a team full of Juan Pierres. But this is the part of the article that caught my attention.

Most impressive is that Pierre is the same unassuming, upbeat person now as he was in May. While he doesn't wear his faith on his sleeve, he is a deep believer.

"That's where I put all my faith and confidence," he said. "When God makes a promise, you can take it for word. As bad as it might go in baseball, it's temporary. … So I go out and play as hard as I can and I can look in the mirror and say I gave it my all, and if it doesn't work, I can live with it."

Notice, he doesn't expect that faith will make him a baseball success. But he believes that no matter what happens in baseball, it's not what's most important. Good word Juan.

I don't know the depth of Juan's faith (according to another article he's a lifelong Catholic). But today I'm thankful for him–thankful for his humility, thankful for his good example, and thankful he signed my son's baseball.

Oh, and I'm thankful he hit his second home run of the season last night and drove in the winning run in the 14th inning to beat the Indians.

Kings of Judah: Hezekiah and Heroes

2 Chronicles 29:1-31:21

Thus Hezekiah did throughout all Judah, and he did what was good and right and faithful before the Lord his God. (31:20)

Many of us learned the Old Testament as a collection of stories about famous people we should be like instead of a single story about what God is like. That error is called moralism. Thus, we learned: be nice to your siblings like Joseph, be courageous like Daniel, and face your giants like David. These are well-meaning applications but don't get at the heart of the story.

But some Christians go too far in the other direction and sneer at drawing examples from biblical narratives. Yet, the New Testament says we are to imitate our leaders (Heb. 13:7) and use the Old Testament for our example (1 Cor. 10:6).

Hezekiah is one example worth imitating. Along with Josiah, he was the best king Judah ever had. First, he was an inspiring and effective leader, a rare combination of organizer, administrator, and motivator. Second, Hezekiah worshiped God in spirit and truth, cleansing the temple and reinstating the Passover. Third, Hezekiah believed Yahweh to be the King over the whole world, even the Assyrians. Fourth, he sought God in his time of need. For all Hezekiah's accomplishments, the most remarkable may have been his last: he repented of his pride and asked for forgiveness.

Glorying in Indicatives and Insisting on Imperatives

You may have seen Bill Evan's recap and analysis of the sanctification discussion I've been a part over the past months. It's a helpful summary and raises a number of good points. Later, on the same Ref21 site, Sean Lucas posted a friendly rejoinder. Without necessarily dissenting from Evans, Lucas argues that much of this discussion boils down to a matter of emphasis. This is the paragraph from Lucas that Justin Taylor highlighted on his blog:

I mention all of this to simply say: this is a historical disagreement. It is not recent, not the result of misbegotten, misspent fundamentalist childhoods, not the offshoot of strange Lutheran strains in a pure Reformed stock. I tend to think that the differences are simply matters of emphasis: some lead with imperatives and others lead with indicatives; but both sides hold the indicative-imperative relationship together. If we can recognize that the other "side" holds a legitimate perspective in the Reformed tradition that is largely a matter of emphasis, then we can approach each other with love, respect, and gratitude. We can avoid lumping them into pejorative groups (legalist, neo-nomian, antinomian, cheap grace, moralist), and we can recognize the temptation in our own approach that might lead us to become "imbalanced"—either by overemphasizing indicative to such a point that we fail to say what the Bible says in Colossians 3:5-17; or by overemphasizing the imperative to such a point that we fail to say what the Bible says in Colossians 3:1-4.

That's a good paragraph. I agree that there is historical disagreement on some of these matters. The Reformed tradition does not always speak with one voice. I also commend Lucas' exhortation to avoid "lumping" and employing pejorative labels. Finally, I'm sure Lucas is right that part of this debate comes down to a matter of emphasis.

But I'm not sure it's only a matter of emphasis.

I have no problem with Christians emphasizing the indicatives. I often do. In fact, let me say this as plainly as possible: we ought to positively glory in the indicatives of the gospel. The indicatives ought to fuel our following of the imperatives. Our obedience must be grounded in the gospel. Sanctification is empowered by faith in the promises of God. We need to be reminded of our justification often and throughout our Christian lives. Our pursuit of personal righteousness will not go anywhere without a conviction that we are already reckoned positionally righteous in Christ. So let's be passionately and repetitively gripped by the gospel of free grace.

I have no problem with that emphasis. Actually, I love it. But my question is whether we can emphasize all the glorious indicatives of Scripture and still insist on obedience to the imperatives. The phrase "insist on obedience" is key. I know that all my friends in this sanctification discussion believe obeying the imperatives is crucial. I know they want Christians to be holy. I don't doubt for a moment that they think the imperatives of Scripture are really, really important. What I'm not clear on is whether my brothers and sisters in this debate believe we can explicitly and directly insist on obedience to those imperatives.

I'm not sure the issue is just emphasizing one or the other–indicatives or imperatives. There are at least two other issues at play.

1. Should Christians be exhorted to make an effort to obey the commands of Scripture or is the only appropriate exertion the effort to believe more fully the promises of God?

2. Should Christians be exhorted to obey the imperatives or does sanctification so invariably flow from justification that the way to get obedience is always and only to bring people back to the gospel?

I think everyone agrees that justification fuels our sanctification (see Rick Phillips' post for an excellent summary of the differences between the two). Imperatives must be rooted in indicatives. The question, however, is whether we betray the indicatives by insisting directly and explicitly for Christians to work hard at obeying the imperatives. No ones denies that obedience to the imperatives is crucial. But can we demand obedience to those imperatives? Or is that falling back on law? The central question in this discussion is not just a matter of emphasis between the indicatives and imperatives, but whether emphasizing the indicatives accomplishes the goal of the imperatives without ever insisting upon them. Or to put it another way, is sanctification by faith alone in our justification by faith alone? I think not.

The last thing I want is to be the guy who says "stop making the gospel so important." I never want to encourage people to emphasize the gospel less. But it is possible to emphasize the gospel in a wrong way. The Westminster Confession of Faith, after expounding that the law "directs and binds" us explains, "Neither are the forementioned uses of the law contrary to the grace of the gospel, but do sweetly comply with it" (WCF 19.7). Likewise, the Larger Catechism says the "moral law" is "of special use" to the regenerate because it shows, among other things, how they ought to take "their greater care to conform themselves thereunto as the rule of their obedience" (Q/A 97). And the Belgic Confession says about the law, "we continue to use the witnesses drawn from the law and prophets to confirm us in the gospel and to regulate our lives with full integrity for the glory of God, according to his will" (Art. 25). There is no degrading language here about falling back into law or moving beyond justification, no hint that the imperatives are only a concession to our unbelief. The Reformed confessions understand that obedience to God's commands–which we all want–is not accomplished merely by insisting on indicatives, but also by insisting directly and explicitly on the imperatives that flow from them.