Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 33

Should Christians Feel Guilty All the Time?

There are plenty of Christians who rarely feel the sting of conscience or the pangs of regret. But I also know many Christians who easily feel bad for all the things they are not doing or are doing less than perfectly. In fact, I’m convinced most serious Christians live their lives with an almost constant low-level sense of guilt.

How do we feel guilty? Let me count the ways.

We could pray more.
We aren’t bold enough in evangelism.
We like sports too much.
We watch movies and television too often.
Our quiet times are too short or too sporadic.
We don’t give enough.
We bought a new couch.
We don’t read to our kids enough.
Our kids eat Cheetos and french fries.
We don’t recycle enough.
We need to lose 20 pounds.
We could use our time better.
We could live some place harder or in something smaller.

What do we do with all this behind the scenes guilt? We don’t feel stop-dead-in-our-tracks kind of remorse for these things.  But these shortcomings can have a cumulative effect whereby even the mature Christian can feel like he’s rather disappointing to God, maybe just barely Christian.

Here’s the tricky part: we should feel guilty sometimes, because sometimes we are guilty of sin. Complacency as Christians is a real danger, especially in America.

Yet I don’t believe God redeemed us through the blood of his Son that we might feel like constant failures. Do Peter and John post-Pentecost seemed racked with self-loathing and introspective fear? Does Paul seem constantly concerned that he could be doing more? Amazingly enough, Paul actually says at one point “I am not aware of anything against myself” (1 Cor. 4:4). He’s quick to add, “I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me.” But it sure seems like Paul put his head on the pillow at night with a clean conscience. So why do so many Christian feel guilty all the time?

1. We don’t fully embrace the good news of the gospel. We forget that we have been made alive together with Christ. We have been raised with him. We have been saved through faith alone. And this is the gift of God, not a result of works (Eph. 2:4-8). Let us not be afraid to embrace the lavishness of God’s grace.

2. Christians tend to motivate each other by guilt rather than grace. Instead of urging our fellow believers to be who they are in Christ, we command them to do more for Christ (see Rom. 6:5-14). So we see Christlikeness as something we are royally screwing up, when we really should see it as something we already possess but need to grow into.

3. Most of our low-level guilt falls under the ambiguous category of “not doing enough.” Look at the list above. None one of the items is necessarily sinful. They all deal with possible infractions, perceptions, and ways in which we’d like to do more. These are the hardest areas to deal with because no Christian, for example, will ever confess to praying enough. So it is always easy to feel terrible about prayer (or evangelism or giving or any number of disciplines). We must be careful that we don’t insist on a certain standard of practice when the Bible merely insists on a general principle.

For example, every Christian must give generously and contribute to the needs of the saints (2 Cor. 9:6-11; Rom. 12:13). This we can insist on with absolute certainty. But what this generosity looks like–how much we give, how much we retain–is not bound by any formula, nor can it be exacted by compulsion (2 Cor. 9:7). So if we want people to be more generous we would do well to follow Paul’s example in 2 Corinthians and emphasize the blessings of generosity and the gospel-rooted motivation for generosity as opposed to shaming those who don’t give as much.

4. When we are truly guilty of sin, it is imperative we repent and receive God’s mercy. Paul had a clean conscience, not because he never sinned, but, I imagine, because he quickly went to the Lord when he knew he was wrong and rested in the “no condemnation” of the gospel (Rom. 8:1). If we confess our sins, John says, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9). We aren’t meant to feel borderline miserable all the time. We are meant to live in the joy of our salvation. So when we sin—and we’ll all sin (1 Kings 8:46; 1 John 1:8)—we confess it, get cleansed, and move on.

This underlines one of the great dangers with constant guilt: we learn to ignore our consciences. If we are truly sinning, we need to repent and implore the Lord to help us change. But if we aren’t sinning, if we are perhaps not as far along as others, or are not as disciplined as some believers, or we are making different choices that may be acceptable but not extraordinary, then we should not be made to feel guilty. Challenged, stirred, inspired, but not guilty.

As a pastor this means I don’t expect that everyone in my congregation should feel awful about everything I ever preach on. It is okay, after all, for people to actually be obedient to God’s commands. Not perfectly, not without some mixed motives, not as fully as they could be, but still faithfully, God-pleasingly obedient. Faithful preaching does not require that sincere Christians feel miserable all the time. In fact, the best preaching ought to make sincere Christians see more of Christ and experience more of his grace.

Deeper grace will produce better gratitude, which means less guilt. And that’ s a good thing all the way around.

Monday Morning Humor

With the first free standing store in Michigan opening last week in Lansing and me preaching on the Fourth Commandment this Sunday, how could I not post this oldie one more time?

Seeking Clarity in this Confusing Election Season: Ten Thoughts

I’ve been the pastor at my church since the summer of 2004. That means this is the fourth presidential election we have been through together. In each of the previous three, there have been moments—small, isolated moments—of conflict surrounding the election. Things have been stirred up by email chains, social media fodder, and sometimes by things I have said. I hope these brief reflections will not be in the category of “stirring up,” but rather might provide some clarity about what Christians should agree on and what we may not have to agree on.

Here we go.

1. Since this will come up in every comment and has been asked by my own parishioners dozens of times, I’ll make clear from the outset: I will vote for President, but I will not vote for either of the major party candidates. I have been critical of both candidates—more so than in any previous presidential election—because I believe both fail to clear a basic threshold of personal integrity, sound judgment, and trustworthiness.

2. This does not mean I think every Christian must come to the same decision in order to be a good Christian. There are simply too many prudential matters in the mix for Christians to be adamant that you absolutely cannot vote for so and so. Someone may think Trump is a lecherous oaf, but still conclude that his policies and judicial appointments have a better chance of being good for the nation. Likewise, someone may find Clinton’s position on abortion utterly deplorable, but conclude that Trump’s pro-life credentials are untrustworthy and that Clinton is less likely to be recklessly incompetent. Others may be convinced that an unpopular Clinton presidency may be better for conservative principles in the long run than a train wreck Trump administration would be. Some people may think voting third party is a waste. Others may figure it is one way to send a message that the system failed us this time around. Or maybe they really, really like Gary Johnson or Evan McMullin or whomever. Do I agree with all these arguments? No. But am I able to tell Christians that these arguments are manifestly unbiblical? No. They are conclusions that require prudential judgments. While our church might discipline a member for holding the positions Clinton holds or for behaving the way Trump has behaved, this does not mean we have biblical grounds for disciplining a church member who, for any number of reasons and calculations, may decide that voting for either candidate (or neither) makes the most sense. And if we wouldn’t discipline someone for a presidential vote, we should stop short of saying such a vote is sinful and shameful.

3. While it is not the role of pastors to tell their people who to vote for, it is our role to interpret Scripture and point out theological carelessness. Yes, David was a great sinner who was used mightily by the Lord. Yes, God forgives sinners and so must we. But David repented of his sin (see Psalm 51). Being a sinner like David doesn’t qualify anyone for anything, except for the redeeming blood of Christ and the saving grace that will be given to all those who truly repent and believe.

4. Likewise, Cyrus was a pagan ruler used by God for the good of his people. Which establishes that God can use pagan rulers for the good of his people. The example itself says nothing about whether God will use a particular pagan ruler, or whether God would have us vote for said pagan ruler if given the chance.

5. Even if you are a hold-your-noser instead of a NeverTrumper, every Christian should agree that Trump’s comments about women and his actions toward women (not to mention the way he has spoken of minorities) have been horrid. We embarrass ourselves when we try to defend the indefensible. And to claim it was merely locker room talk (which it wasn’t), or that you’ve heard worse (sadly, many have), or all men have spoken like that before (they haven’t) only serves to excuse sins that need to be forgiven not minimized.

6. And what about Clinton? It’s true, some conservative evangelical Christians have voiced more criticism about Trump than about Clinton. I imagine this is because most conservative evangelical Christians do not consider Clinton a viable option because of her extreme views on abortion. The conversation among most white evangelicals is not Trump or Clinton but Trump or not Trump. But certainly Clinton is no paragon of virtue either. It is hard to think she can be trusted with money, with power, with classified information, or with simply telling the truth.

7. But we are not voting for Pastor-in-Chief! Agreed. I don’t insist that the President of the United States has to be qualified to be a leader in our churches or even a member in our churches. And yes, many presidents have been morally bankrupt. But we can’t say what we would do then with what we know now. More importantly (and more theologically), we must not be moral relativists. The Bible does not teach that every sin is the same, nor does it suggest that private character is an irrelevant consideration for public service. There is nothing about sitting in the Oval Office that magically transforms people into something other than what they have been. If anything, power tempts even good people to be bad and makes bad people even worse. Our candidates will always be imperfect. When and where that imperfection crosses the line into “morally unfit” may be a matter of discretion, but it must be a matter that matters.

8. Likewise, to criticize a candidate’s egregious moral faults is not “casting the first stone.” We are not killing them or condemning them as irredeemably lost. The question is not whether Trump or Clinton are perfect moral examples, or whether we have failings in our past, or whether grace can cover all our sins. I evaluate presidential candidates with the same sort of grid I’d use for a staff evaluation: character, convictions, competence, and chemistry. Obviously, I don’t look for all the same things in a president as I would for an associate pastor. But I do think that in both cases a person’s ethical compass is crucial. The Founding Fathers, however imperfect they were in practice, were at least agreed that a Republic cannot long endure apart from the cultivation of virtue. I’d like to see the President defend and pursue the same.

9.There is a tendency, on both sides, to treat “our side” differently than we treat “their side.” Would the same Christian leaders excusing Trump’s statements ever think to excuse the same from Clinton (Bill or Hillary)? Of course not. Would liberals be overlooking Bill Clinton’s treatment of women (and Hillary’s role in downplaying or silencing accusations) if a Republican candidate (or spouse) had the same trail of serious allegations? No way. So much of politics is “defend our guy at all costs” and “seek and destroy their guy at all costs.” The church must show a better way.

10. I am interested in politics, always have been. I follow the ups and downs and ins and outs of the campaign season closely. I love my country and care about who wins and loses. Elections have consequences. Yet I’m much more interested in the church—my church and the Church. Our fidelity to biblical truth, our personal holiness, our sincerity, our consistency, our ability to speak with grace and truth, our unwillingness to confuse the kingdom of this world with the kingdom of Christ, our realism in the midst of utopian promises, our hope in the midst of fear and loathing, our winsome witness to the gospel—to embody these realities week after week is more important than what happens on the second Tuesday in November.

Give Him a Break

I have a generous church that allows me time each year for writing, study, and reflection. My elders have always been supportive–with oversight and limits–of me writing books and pursuing further education. To that end, my typical pattern for the last number of years has been to take about a month off each summer (sometimes it’s been a little less, sometimes I’ve been given more than that).

I understand that my situation is not everyone’s situation. Our church, with University literally in its name, values serious study and understands the time it takes. Likewise, since our church is tied to the university calendar, taking time away during the summer feels natural. Our church is also blessed with extremely capable men who can easily fill in when I’m gone. All that to say, I’m not claiming my experience should be the norm.

But here’s what I am suggesting: churches should be proactive in helping the preaching pastor get adequate time away each year for study. I’m not talking about the weekly schedule for sermon preparation. A pastor needs that time too. I’m talking about an annual break for reading, writing, and pursuing further education (through classes or seminars or conferences or group settings or independent research or whatever). This is not more vacation. This is something in addition to his allotted vacation.

Even Oxen Need a Break

I’m always amazed when I meet pastors who get two weeks of vacation a year and that’s it. I understand some of our parishoners barely get that much. I think they need more breaks too. But a church can’t change what the policy is for GM. They can change their own policy. There is no way for a pastor to stay fresh and energized for long term ministry if he is preaching 50 weeks a year. And even if he has several weeks for vacation, it will be hard for him to read that long theology book he’s been meaning to read, or bone up on divorce and remarriage like he needs to, or simply get lost in church history, if he never has concentrated time to study for something besides his sermon.

To be fair, sometimes the fault is with the pastor. He never takes his vacation. He never really leaves town. He doesn’t trust anyone else to fill the pulpit. If that’s you, Senior Pastor, you need to get over yourself before you are at the end of yourself. When I’m away, I always hear how much the congregation appreciated hearing from the other men on staff, or how grateful they were for the guest preacher. Of course, you can find incompetent men to fill your pulpit. But don’t find them! Surely, there are other men on staff, or godly elders, or another pastor friend in town who could do an adequate job. I wouldn’t be in my thirteenth year at the church if I tried to preach 50 times a year. I’d been burnt out and gone, or worse, I’d still be here but preaching on fumes.

Taking a break–and giving breaks to your pastor–is good all the way around. It refreshes your pastor. It allows other men to develop teaching gifts. It allows the congregation to hear from different voices. It establishes that the senior pastor is not indispensable, while at the same time reminding the congregation how much they love the pastor when he comes back.

And it doesn’t cost anything! I suppose if you don’t have anyone in house to use, it may cost a little something to pay for pulpit supply, but it would be money well spent.

Planning for Renewal

So how much time off should the senior pastor get? There is more than one right answer. But if someone asked my opinion (which I just did, since it’s my blog!), I’d say a pastor should get a minimum of three weeks vacation and one week of study leave each year. Hopefully, most churches could give four weeks vacation and two weeks of study leave. And some congregations may want to give more study time than that, depending on their pastor’s gifts, interest, and calling.

I don’t think pastoral ministry is harder than any other job. On most days, I feel like I have a better job than almost anyone else in my congregation. I love being a pastor. But it is hard work. And a unique work that doesn’t allow for weekends off or even two consecutive days off. Pastoral ministry requires a lot of head work and a lot of heart work. Both need times of renewal and rejuvenation.

So here’s my advice for churches as they enter the budgeting and planning season for next year: ask your pastor if he feels like he has enough vacation and enough study time? The question doesn’t mean the pastor should get whatever he wants. But the question would communicate care for your pastor, and it may provide benefits for the whole church way out of proportion to the week or two or three that you gladly give away.

Monday Morning Humor

Seems like a million years ago that the edgy moments in presidential debates were like this.

Did Charles Hodge think the Bible Was a Science Textbook?

In some circles, Charles Hodge is most famous for this infamous statement:

The Bible is to the theologian what nature is to the man of science. It is his store-house of facts; and his method of ascertaining what the Bible teaches, is the same as that which the natural philosopher adopts to ascertain what nature teaches. (Systematic Theology 1:10)

Sounds pretty bad, right? Or at least, it can be made to sound pretty bad: Charles Hodge the Commonsense rationalist who approached his Bible as if he were on a treasure hunt for wooden and timeless principles. For liberals, angsty evangelicals, and post-whatevers this statement from Hodge epitomizes everything that’s wrong with naive biblicism. These descendants from Hodge, it is said, treat the Bible like an owner’s manual dropped out of the sky, like a dead insect to be examined, like a staid collection of lifeless propositions.

But what did Hodge actually say? Or mean to say given the context?

The quotation above comes from the first chapter of Hodge’s Systematic Theology. Like dozens of Reformed systematicians before him—including Francis Turretin, whose Institutes of Elenctic Theology was used at Princeton before being replaced by Hodge’s Theology—Hodge began his work with a Prolegomena examining the nature and method of theology. Right or wrong, there is nothing particularly novel about Hodge’s general approach.

What sounds jarring to our 21st-century ears is Hodge’s emphasis on theology as science. If I were writing a systematic theology, would I introduce “science” as my all-encompassing metaphor? Certainly not. But in a hundred years will Christian theologians compare their theological approach to drama or dance or jazz? Doubtful. Will people look back at our day and wonder if our fascination with entertainment and stories overly influenced our theological method? They may. And they may be right, just like we are right to wonder if Hodge went too far to emphasize theology as science.

But in both cases—looking back at Hodge now, and someone looking back at our day a century from now—the important thing is to look beyond the analogies themselves to understand what the theologians were trying to communicate. There is a sense in which “theology as drama” is a helpful reminder that God has a story to tell and we are a part of it, that the Bible presents to us a glorious story of redemption and restoration, and that at the center of this story is the long-awaited Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. Approaching theological reflection as a drama has its merits. But so does approaching theology as a science. The Bible is a big book, and different analogies capture different aspects of the truth.

For Hodge, theology was like a science because in theological reflection the Christian must arrange the facts of Scripture in their proper order and relation (19). Theology is “something more than a mere knowledge of facts” (1). Hodge never thought of systematic theology as the recitation of barren propositions. But he likened theology to science because he believed the work of the systematician was to show how all the parts of the Bible relate to each other with logical consistory and harmony.

Any Christian who affirms the verbal, plenary inspiration of Scripture—and consequently, the Bible’s overall unity—should find no quarrel with Hodge’s aims. His great concern was that we see the Bible not as isolated points and unrelated facts, but in all its “unending harmony and grandeur” (3). Hodge defends his method by arguing that the human mind cannot avoid systematizing truth, and God desires that we do so (3-4). In rejecting the “speculative method” of deists and transcendentalists, and the “mystical method” of enthusiasts and liberals, Hodge champions the “inductive method” whereby we observe the text and arrange the truths that we observe into a coherent whole

Of Head and Heart

Despite the frequent accusations, Hodge was not ignorant of the noetic affects of the fall, nor was he afraid of experiential knowledge. He speaks of believers having “an unction from the Holy one” to believe the truth and of “an inward teaching” that “produces a conviction which no sophistries can obscure, and no arguments can shake” (15). Hodge did not want experiential knowledge to trump what is objectively revealed in Scripture, but given the right caveats and put in the right place he could affirm that “the inward teaching of the Spirit is allowed its proper place in determining our theology” (16). This hardly sounds like the Hodge his caricaturists would like him to be. In fact, the Hodge who argued that “the true method of theology” is “inductive, which assumes that the Bible contains all the facts or truths” of theology (17), also argued that the “facts of religious experience,” when authenticated by Scripture, should be “allowed to interpret the doctrinal statements of the Word of God” (16).

“Science” was Hodge’s way of affirming Scripture’s unity, consistency, and harmony. The inductive approach had nothing to do with suspicion of experience or a preference for theology by Excel spreadsheet. If anything, Hodge’s method reflects his concern that “it is no uncommon thing to find men having two theologies—one of the intellect, and another of the heart” (16). Hodge knew that some men have better theology in their hearts than in their heads and that good theology in the head should make it into the heart. That anyone would find the orderly systematization of biblical revelation a lifeless or dull ordeal would be surprising to Hodge.

The Bible, for Hodge, was not a periodic table of religious elements to be analyzed and quantified. It was a precious deposit of truth that would shine even brighter when arrayed in all its God-given splendor. The Bible is indeed a store-house of facts—soul-thrilling, experiential, coherent, gospel-laden, Christ-exalting facts. What could be more important than to arrange those facts so we can see how they all relate to each other? You may call that drama. Hodge called it science. Sounds pretty good to me.

All of which is to say, those who make Hodge sound the worst are typically those who have read him least.

What Is the Nature of Pastoral Authority? — A Presbyterian Perspective

Yesterday 9Marks released a new Journal on  Authority: God’s Good and Dangerous Gift. I always look forward to reading these journals, and this one is no exception. For one of their articles, 9Marks asked three pastors from three different traditions to answer the question: What is the nature of a pastor’s authority? My answer is below.

A Presbyterian Perspective

Since the word count is limited, and I was asked to give a “perspective” not a “polemic,” I’m going to focus on the nuts and bolts of pastoral authority as we practice it, rather than giving a biblical, historical, and theological rationale for the Presbyterian system. If you want the skinny on Presbyterian polity check out Guy Waters’ fine book How Jesus Runs the Church; and if you want the fat pick up James Bannerman’s classic The Church of Christ. But I’m going to forgo the why questions and get right to the what.

The pastor’s authority in Presbyterian polity is an authority shared with all the elders and exercised jointly through the Session and the other courts of the church.

Whether a church has elders and pastors as two different offices (like most Reformed churches), or teaching elders (i.e. pastors) and ruling elders as different designations within one office (as in most Presbyterian churches), the net result is more or less the same. At the local level, the authority to receive members into the congregation, exercise discipline, and establish rules for the government, worship, and theological integrity of the church rests with the board of elders (usually called the Session, or in Reformed polity, the Consistory).

In the Presbyterian Church in America, there are three “courts” in which this authority is exercised: the Session (the pastors and elders in the local church), the Presbytery (the pastors and churches—represented by the ruling elders—in a geographic area), and the General Assembly (all the churches in the denomination). The nature of the pastor’s formal authority is simply this: he has a voice and a vote in each of these courts. The Presbyterian pastor is not a bishop, nor the de facto ruler in his own little fiefdom. He is a teaching elder, whose vote counts no more and no less than the other installed teaching and ruling elders—whether that vote is for a member to be excommunicated, to plant a church, or to pass a licentiate’s ordination exam.

This means the pastor’s authority may look big or small depending on your church experience. Pastoral authority in Presbyterianism can look big because almost every formal decision resides with the Session (rather than the whole congregation). Apart from calling a pastor and voting on church officers, most congregational votes in Presbyterianism are only advisory. So, the pastor, as a key member of the Session, can wield tremendous influence. On the other hand, the pastor’s authority may be less than you think. He doesn’t always get his way. He can (and does!) get outvoted. He has no more formal authority than any of the other elders. Furthermore, he must submit himself to the Presbytery for spiritual care and accountability, and above that to the General Assembly.

Of course, formal authority is only one part of the equation. The teaching elder who preaches week after week to the same people will inevitably set the doctrinal, doxological, and evangelistic direction for the church. In most Presbyterian churches, the pastor knows the people best and speaks to them most. If the congregational dynamics are healthy, most people will follow the pastor’s leadership (in a host of areas) and consider him the “buck stops here” voice on whether dozens of little projects move forward or not. Moreover, as the moderator of the Session (as stipulated by the Book of Church Order), the pastor will normally set the literal agenda for the elders and preside over all meetings. In larger churches, the senior pastor is typically at the head of organizational chart, with staff members ultimately reporting to him even as he gives account to the Session and the Presbytery. Under the Session, the senior pastor usually has the final determination in what takes place in the weekly worship service.

In short, the nature of pastoral authority in Presbyterianism is both informal (in dozens of areas, from preaching, to casting vision, to having a broad understanding of the issues in the church, to making lots of daily decisions), formal (as a member and moderator of the Session), and shared (as only one voice and one vote when it comes to making the most important decisions facing the courts of the church).

Monday Morning Humor

Supreme Importance Without Swollen Heads

An insightful word from the British physician and brilliant essayist Theodore Dalrymple (a pseudonym):

No doubt the decline of religion accounts for the rise in self-obsession and self-importance that is everywhere observable. One of the great advantages of the Christian philosophy was that it managed to reconcile the unique importance of each man with humility. Every man was important in the eyes of God, and in that sense was at homes in the universe because the universe was expressly created for being such as he. His every action was known to God, and was therefore not without significance, however ordinary in other respects it might be; moreover, death itself was not without meaning, nor was it the end of his existence.

Yet, by comparison with the author of his being, he was infinitely small, as indeed was every other human being. However scholarly a man might be, God, being omniscient, was infinitely more knowledgeable; howsoever powerful a man might believe himself, it was finally God who disposed, so that all human power was both illusory and transitory. In the midst of life we are in death, the funeral service of the Church of England puts it; and it might have added, in the midst of importance we are insignificant.

I am not here concerned with whether this outlook is philosophically justified: with whether God exists, and if He does, with whether he is more interested in our doings and more solicitous of our welfare than He is with those of an ant, for example. All I am concerned to point out is that the religious outlook referred to above manages the difficult feat of assuring a man of his supreme importance without giving him a swollen head. (The New Vichy Syndrome, 63)

Sadly, I fear we Christians are quite adept at subverting our own biblical anthropology in favor of the same self-obsession bedeviling this age of social media. And yet, we have the resources at our disposal to embrace a happier way of life, by recalling what the Bible would have us not forget: in the midst of importance we are insignificant.

CROSS Conference 2016

A missions conference for students. For the greatest cause. December 27-30, 2016.