Randy Alcorn's Blog, page 61

Giving Thanks: A Daily Privilege, and a Command

Thanksgiving isn’t just a holiday; it’s a daily privilege and command. The happiest people are the most thankful ones. Here are some verses to contemplate and perhaps share with family and friends this week:

I will give thanks to the Lord because of his righteousness;
    I will sing the praises of the name of the Lord Most High. (Psalm 7:17)

I will give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart;
    I will tell of all your wonderful deeds. (Psalm 9:1)

Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord;
    let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation.

Let us come before him with thanksgiving
    and extol him with music and song. (Psalm 95:1-2)

Enter his gates with thanksgiving
    and his courts with praise;
    give thanks to him and praise his name.
For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;
    his faithfulness continues through all generations. (Psalm 100:4-5)

Praise the Lord. Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his love endures forever. (Psalm 106:1)

Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. (Ephesians 5:19-20)

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6-7)

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. (Colossians 2:6-7)

Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Photo by Jessica Delp on Unsplash

How Could Generosity Change the Way You and Your Family Celebrate Christmas This Year?

Some of you have heard about “Giving Tuesday,” which this year is Tuesday, November 30. It’s a response to the consumerism of Black Friday and Cyber Monday and is designed to provide people with a charitable day to consider giving as they go into the holiday season. (Learn more at www.givingtuesday.org.) I’m sharing this early so you and your family can consider how it might fit into your Christmas celebration this year.

You can give to any ministry you choose. (In fact, we don’t turn down gifts at EPM!) But one of my favorite ministries is the JESUS Film project, which I’ve personally witnessed at work in powerful ways in China, Cambodia and Mexico. If you are led to donate, then JESUS Film would be a great organization to consider:

Mission experts estimate that at least 1 billion people have never heard the gospel of Jesus Christ and most haven’t even heard the name Jesus.

They don’t know what He has done for them, nor His love, His offer of forgiveness and eternal life.

But film teams in India and South Asia are ready to reach them now with the wonderful news. Many of these waiting teams are with dozens of partner ministries. Most of these partners in the developing world cannot afford to purchase showing equipment, but they have teams ready to show “JESUS.” They are eager to take the gospel to their own people.

Waiting teams need portable, solar-powered projector kits and video tablet sets.

Today, these partners speak of an openness never seen before, especially evident in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic. Some unreached people believe that the virus is a judgment from God. In their search for hope, they will attend an outdoor showing of “JESUS” or watch safely in the privacy of their own homes. Millions are ready for spiritual truth, for the light of the gospel!

Your gift of any amount will shine light into their darkness, helping to send hope, salvation, and peace through Christ.

A growing number of believers are aware of the materialism in our Christmas celebrations and are choosing to celebrate differently. I’d encourage you and your family to consider ways that you can make this Christmas different, even if you still exchange presents, as our family does. (See Changing Christmas in Our Families and in Our Hearts.)

When I was writing my book Giving Is the Good Life, I learned of a family sponsoring a child whose son asked them, “Can you help me sell my game system on eBay?” The parents were surprised, since this was one of their son’s most prized possessions. They asked him why. “So I can send our [sponsored] child a Christmas present,” he replied.

I’m sure the boy was happy when he originally received his game system. I’m also sure that when he gave a Christmas present to a truly needy child across the globe, his happiness was both greater and more enduring.

The way of loving generosity may sound like dutiful obedience to the uninitiated. But generous givers know the truth: the habit of generosity ultimately explodes into enduring happiness.

Many years ago, when our then-missions-pastor Barry Arnold told our church about enslaved Christians in Sudan, family after family spontaneously decided to give to free the slaves. My family was among them, and it was a wonderful Christmas, made better by the knowledge that we’d given to what matters.

Shortly before he and his four friends were killed by the Auca Indians in their attempts to bring them the gospel, missionary Nate Saint wrote:

As we have a high old time this Christmas, may we who know Christ hear the cry of the damned as they hurtle headlong into the Christless night without ever a chance. May we be moved with compassion as our Lord was. May we shed tears of repentance for these we have failed to bring out of darkness. Beyond the smiling scenes of Bethlehem may we see the crushing agony of Golgotha. May God give us a new vision of His will concerning the lost and our responsibility.

David Bryant asks, “Who wouldn’t like to end each day, putting our heads on our pillows, confidently saying, ‘I know this day my life has counted strategically for Christ’s global cause, especially for those currently beyond the reach of the gospel’?”

Whether or not you participate in “Giving Tuesday,” may this Christmas season focus on the person and work of Christ. One of my favorite verses is 2 Corinthians 8:9, “For we know the grace of Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty might become rich.”

Speaking of a gift, imagine one day on the New Earth, the warm voice of someone from a different culture, with a different color of skin, coming up to you, embracing you and whispering, “Thank you—through your giving you helped bring us the good news of Jesus.”

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

Depression Can Keep Us Desperate for God’s Strength and Grace

Note from Randy: Every few years or so, I go through a season of depression. Though I’ve never been tempted to take my life, many godly people have been. I briefly addressed both depression and the temptation to commit suicide when interviewed at my church about happiness in Christ.

God has used those times of depression in my life, teaching me to trust Him, and giving me some intimate times with Him. I’ve been experiencing depression the last several months, and it’s been a bit heavier recently. But Jesus is with me, and Nanci and Gracie cheer me up, and hopefully I’m encouraging Nanci too as she undergoes six months of chemotherapy. (Gracie doesn’t need our help dealing with depression. She doesn’t know what it is—she’s just wired for nonstop happiness and is one of God’s gracious ways of delivering it to us.)

Just this last week I reread Nanci’s blog, “My Cancer Is God’s Servant.” I recommend you do the same. It is short and very powerful, and really encouraged me. (Thanks so much for your continued prayers for Nanci!)

I also appreciated the following interview by Vaneetha Rendall Risner with author and professor Terry Powell about depression, the Christian life, and the holidays. I loved what he shared about his dog, and really all of what he had to say. It’s excellent. (Vaneetha is no stranger to suffering herself; check out her book Walking through Fire, and see this interview I did with her earlier this year about suffering and God’s goodness.)

A Christian Perspective on Depression

An Interview with Terry Powell by Vaneetha Rendall Risner

Depression can almost wither our joy. Especially over the holidays, when everyone seems cheerful and excited, enjoying time with friends and family.

Those who suffer with depression often endure silently, feeling shame and internal condemnation. For Christians, the struggle is often magnified by the assumption people are less spiritual if they can’t seem to “count it all joy.”

Terry Powell understands that struggle. His battle with depression began at a young age and continued through adolescence into adulthood. Terry has learned a lot through the years and offered to answer a few questions about depression and how he copes with it, particularly at this time of year. Here is my interview with Terry:

What is depression like for you?

Depression for me takes one of two forms:  either a robotic, emotionally-numb state when I’m listless, less motivated, and have lost a zest for living, or the pendulum swings to the opposite extreme:  periods of heartache and extreme sensitivity, causing me to cry at the least provocation.  Current descriptors include hopelessness; negative self-talk consisting of severe criticism; wishing for death; and an overreaction to the normal stressors that all people face.

Yet these negative descriptions don’t always characterize me. Symptoms come and go, yet with God’s grace, I’ve maintained a fruitful teaching and writing ministry.

What are the common misconceptions among Christians about depression and faith?

Some Christians still believe that recurring depression stems from anemic faith or a failure to pray or read the Bible. I believe some despondency may result from the Holy Spirit’s conviction of sin or from not spending time with the Lord, but I’ve personally felt buoyant on days when I’ve neglected the Lord, and despondent on days when I experienced an unhurried, meaningful devotional time.

A Christian colleague familiar with research on depression says that over half those suffering from major depression have a genetic predisposition to it caused by a depletion of brain chemicals such as serotonin, which control mood.

Looking at the lives of spiritual giants like David Brainerd and Charles Spurgeon also keeps me from equating depression with weak faith.  Their outrageously fruitful lives coexisted with recurring bouts of despair and darkness of spirit. In the Bible, David and Jeremiah both alternated between periods of zealous praise and laments over God’s perceived absence or forgetfulness.

You said your struggle with depression can be a blessing. Can you explain that?

Depression keeps me desperate for Jesus’ strength and grace, utterly dependent on Him for holiness and ministry effectiveness.  Knowing my brokenness, I’m less prone to feel proud when I accomplish something for Him. My emotional frailty also increases my sensitivity and compassion for hurting people, whether or not their pain stems from depression.

Yet the primary benefit is the glory God gets by using a weak, needy person.  In Psalm 50:15, God said, “Call on me in the day of trouble.  I shall rescue you, and you will honor me.” When I’m forced to cry out to God for sustenance or intervention, He may not rescue me from the trouble, but He meets me in the trouble.

Sweeter intimacy with Him makes the trial pale by comparison.  My need allows God to get the glory because others can see His sufficiency in my weakness. Charles Spurgeon, oppressed by attacks of both depression and gout, wrote “God gets from us most glory when we get from Him much grace.”

You maintain that memorizing Bible verses doesn’t eliminate depression, but at the same time you say that God’s Word is imperative in coping with it. Could you elaborate?

When I recommend God’s Word as a weapon against depression, I am not saying that despondency evaporates when I read the Bible or meditate on a promise from God, or that regular devotions eliminate depression.  But I am saying that anchoring myself in God’s Word is integral to my endurance.  The promises of Scripture keep me from yielding to despair. Additionally, prayer and fellowship, counselling and/or medicine can all be helpful as well.

In my teaching at Columbia International University, when depression settles over me, I may go weeks at a time without feeling the presence of God. Satan whispers, “Why do you keep serving someone who’s absent. When is the last time you were conscious of His presence?  Cancel your next class and go home.”

But I lock my mental lens on Isaiah 41:10: “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”  Then I preach to myself: “No, I haven’t felt God’s presence in a while. But His Word says He’s with me, so His presence doesn’t depend on my feelings.  His Word, which promises His presence, is far more reliable than my fickle feelings that question His presence.”

No matter what causes my depression, there is still a spiritual battle to fight.  Will I believe the hopeless messages that roll around in my mind when I’m depressed, or will I trust God’s Word?

What practical things do you do to combat your depression?

Exercise regularly.  Aerobic exercises release endorphins, a natural analgesic, which can temporarily improve mental outlook.

Call someone who is suffering, or write them an encouraging letter.  I ask God to help me focus on another’s need rather than stay absorbed in my own.

Do something constructive around the house. I wash dishes for my wife or clean out our cars. The depression may not lift, yet I’m doing something constructive.

Call a close friend to pray for me over the phone.

Ask the Lord to sustain me so I can execute the day’s responsibilities for His glory.

Play with my dog. Farley, my 10-year-old dachshund, helps fill my depleted emotional tank as he greets me daily with tail-thumping, face-licking exuberance.

Despondency is more common during the holidays, even among people who aren’t diagnosed with chronic depression. How do you cope with the holidays?

Some years we invite an international student and his or her family to our house at Christmas and serve them.  It’s harder for melancholy thoughts to control me if I’m focusing on guests.

We often hear from adults, “I just don’t feel the Christmas spirit this year.” But the meaning of Christmas is an objective, historical reality, not a subjective feeling.  It commemorates the birth of our Savior, who was born to die for our sins.  Whether or not I “feel” the Christmas spirit is in one sense irrelevant. The meaning of Christmas isn’t inside me....it just is.

Terry Powell teaches Church Ministry classes at Columbia International University in South Carolina.  His books include Serve Strong:  Biblical Encouragement to Sustain God’s Servants and Now That’s a Good Question!  How to Lead Quality Bible Discussions.  He has a bride of 46 years, two grown sons, a daughter-in-law, and six-year-old grandson. His constant prayer is, “Lord, make me half the man my dog thinks I am!”

This article was originally posted on Vaneetha's blog and is used with permission.

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

Healing a Pandemic of Disunity: The Love of Christians Is the Gospel’s Greatest Defense

“If an individual Christian does not show love toward other true Christians, the world has a right to judge that he or she is not a Christian.” —Francis Schaeffer

I read Francis Schaeffer’s The Mark of the Christian shortly after it was published in 1970. Schaeffer quoted Christ’s words in John 13:35: “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” Then he cited Jesus’s prayer in John 17:21 that the disciples “may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.”

Schaeffer tied the verses together:

[In John 13:35] if an individual Christian does not show love toward other true Christians, the world has a right to judge that he or she is not a Christian. Here [in John 17:21] Jesus is stating something else that is much more cutting, much more profound: We cannot expect the world to believe that the Father sent the Son, that Jesus’s claims are true, and that Christianity is true, unless the world sees some reality of the oneness of true Christians. (26–27)

A beautiful, biblical slap in the face.

The Final Apologetic

I was 16—a new believer studying how to defend gospel truth to friends and family. Yet Schaeffer called Christian love and unity “the final apologetic,” the ultimate defense of our faith.

Schaeffer helped me see what should have been self-evident in Christ’s words: believers’ love toward each other is the greatest proof that we truly follow Jesus. If we fail to live in loving oneness, the world—or to bring it closer to home, our family, and friends—will have less reason to believe the gospel.

In 1977, some of us who’d struggled at our churches gathered to worship and study Scripture. Before we knew it, God planted a new church. Our fellowship was a breath of fresh air. At 23, as a naive co-pastor, I thought we’d found the secret to unity. But eventually, though our numbers rapidly increased, too many left our gatherings feeling unloved, not experiencing what Schaeffer called the “reality of the oneness of true Christians.”

Our Deep Disunity

In the 52 years I’ve known Jesus, I’ve witnessed countless conflicts between believers. But never more than in the last year. Many have angrily left churches they once loved. Believers who formerly chose churches based on Christ-centered Bible teaching and worship now choose them based on non-essential issues, including political viewpoints and COVID protocols.

Churches are experiencing a pandemic of tribalism, blame, and unforgiveness—all fatal to the love and unity Jesus spoke of. Rampant either/or thinking leaves no room for subtlety and nuance. Acknowledging occasional truth in other viewpoints is seen as compromise rather than fairness and charitability.

Sadly, evangelicals sometimes appear as little more than another special-interest group, sharing only a narrow “unity” based on mutual outrage and disdain. This acidic, eager-to-fight negativity highlights Schaeffer’s point that we have no right to expect unbelievers to be drawn to the good news when we obsess about bad news and treat brothers and sisters as enemies.

Playing into Satan’s Strategy

The increase in Christians bickering over non-essentials doesn’t seem to be a passing phase. And it injures our witness, inviting eye rolls and mockery from unbelievers and prompting believers to wonder whether church hurts more than it helps.

Satan is called the accuser of God’s family (Revelation 12:10) and uses every means to undercut our love for each other. Too often we do his work for him. His goal is to divide churches and keep people from believing the gospel. “By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever who does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother” (1 John 3:10). When we fail to love each other, we are acting like the devil’s children.

“Give no opportunity to the devil” (Ephesians 4:27). To resist the devil, we must love God with abandonment, and love our neighbor as ourselves. That central principle is the heart and soul of Scripture. “The whole law is fulfilled in one word: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another” (Galatians 5:14–15).

Few words of Jesus are as sobering as these: “I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned” (Matthew 12:35-36).

Unity of Differing Opinions

When Paul wrote to believers in Rome, he addressed the issues of eating “unclean” meat and which day to worship on—each certainly as if not more controversial in the culture of their day as most political issues or COVID responses are to us today. The paradigm-shifting revelation he shared in Romans 14 is this: while true love and unity are never achieved at the expense of primary biblical truths, they are achieved at the expense of our personal preferences about secondary issues.

We are to welcome those who think and act differently than we do and are “not to quarrel over opinions” (Romans 14:1). Or as the NLT puts it, “Don’t argue with them about what they think is right or wrong.” Love doesn’t require wholesale agreement.

Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him. (Romans 14:3)

Paul emphatically states that equally Christ-centered people can have different beliefs, which lead to them taking different—even opposite—actions in faith. They are OK with God and therefore should be OK with us (unless we have higher standards than God).

“One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind” (Romans 14:5). We can take contradictory positions on nonessential issues but still honor God by valuing love over our opinions.

Pursue What Makes for Peace

As long as we hold our convictions with faith and a good conscience, God Himself approves of people on both sides of nonessential matters. And if God can be pleased both by those who do and don’t eat certain foods that were addressed under Old Testament law, and by those who worship on the Sabbath or another day of the week, can’t He also be pleased with those who choose to take or not take a vaccine, or to wear or not wear a mask?

“Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another?” (Romans 14:4). God warns us not to set up our own judgment seats as if we were omniscient. Why do we imagine we can know that a brother’s or sister’s decisions, heart, and motives are wrong?

“Each of us will give an account of himself to God. Therefore let us not pass judgment on one another” (Romans 14:12–13). We will not ultimately answer to each other, but we will answer to God concerning each other. We lack the qualifications of the only true Judge, including omniscience, infinite wisdom, and righteousness.

“So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding. . . . The faith that you have, keep between yourself and God” (Romans 14:19, 22). Peace and edification don’t come naturally; they require Spirit-empowered work.

The call to “pursue” peace (or “make every effort,” NIV) means unless there’s a compelling reason to speak or post, and you’ve sought God’s direction and sense his leading, and you can speak graciously, then do what Scripture says and keep what you believe between yourself and God. Having a strong opinion never equals God telling us to express it. Scripture confronts us for how we have treated each other before the watching world:

“A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion” (Proverbs 18:2).
“When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent” (Proverbs 10:19).
“There is one whose rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing” (Proverbs 12:18).

Steps Toward Love and Unity

“Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law” (Romans 13:8). We don’t simply owe it to God to love each other and thereby obey Him. We owe love to one another.  We are part of God’s family. We need each other. 

What practical steps might we take toward love and unity in our fractured times?

1. Practice James 1:19. If we would only “be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger,” this alone would foster love and unity to an astonishing degree.

2. When you disagree, if possible, meet face to face and talk. Don’t shred each other publicly.

3. Ask yourself where you are pointing. Will my words or social-media post be more or less likely to draw others to Jesus?

4. Raise your expectations for love and unity in your church. Lower your expectations for them coming naturally or easily.

5. Repent of being an agitator; commit to becoming a peacemaker.

6. Talk to your church leaders. Honestly articulate problems and ask how you can help foster love and unity.

7. Pray for those who’ve hurt you. Doing so transformed my relationship with a brother. One of my wife’s closest friends is someone she chose to intercede for decades ago, despite their conflicts.

8. Ask God to help you reject pride and develop true humility. A.W. Tozer said, “Only the humble are completely sane, for they are the only ones who see clearly their own size and limitations” (Tozer on Christian Leadership). To think clearly is to think humbly. “Think of yourself with sober judgment” (Romans 12:3).

Show Them Jesus

True unity is grounded on

mutually believed primary truths about Jesus,
refusal to elevate secondary beliefs over primary beliefs,
demonstrated heartfelt love for Jesus and others, and
the supernatural work of the Holy Spirit.

When I reread The Mark of the Christian fifty years later, when divisiveness is the air we breathe, it spoke to me more deeply than ever. Schaeffer’s message rings true: when we call upon God, and make concerted efforts to live in humble love and unity, people will see Jesus. By His grace, some will believe in Him.

“May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had, so that with one mind and one voice you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God” (Romans 15:5-7, NIV). 

Russell Moore on Loving the Hurting Exvangelical

Note from Randy: This is a remarkable and heart-touching article from Russell Moore. It’s really about a different kind of ex-evangelical—not those who embrace heresy and sexual sin—but those who have been deeply hurt by the evangelical churches they’ve been part of, and never want to go through that pain again.

Not all people who withdraw from church do so because they’ve lost faith in Jesus. Sometimes they’ve lost faith in the church, and not always for petty and insignificant reasons. We can disagree with their choice to give up on church but also understand their reasons.

We should be able to say, “I DO understand firsthand how terribly hurtful the Bride of Christ can be in this fallen world. I don’t deny that for a moment. I have both been hurt by church people and a hurter of church people. But I also believe Jesus wants us to remain part of a local church body, and perhaps help it become more focused on Him through our willingness to not give up on His beloved bride, even when she’s sometimes petty, self-centered and unfaithful, realizing that in reality, ‘she’ is us.”

My Dad Taught Me How to Love the Exvangelical

What looks like rebellion might often be pain and despair.

By Russell Moore

A year ago last week, my father died. If anything, the one-year anniversary was even more grief inducing than the actual day of his death. I suppose that’s because, a year ago, I plunged immediately into activity—the writing of an obituary, the preparation of a eulogy, the mechanics of a funeral. And now, a year later, none of those things are before me—just the fact that he’s gone. With all the reflection over the past year, I’ve realized one thing that I never really knew before—my father taught me to love the exvangelical.

An exvangelical is the catchall term for people who have walked away, disillusioned and sometimes even traumatized by American evangelical Christianity. The word is really slippery because it can include everyone from committed orthodox churchgoers who no longer claim the word evangelical because of all the nonsense they’ve seen go under that name to those who have actually walked away from the faith altogether.

One of the most difficult days of my life was when, as a 21-year-old, I had to tell my father that I thought God was calling me into Christian ministry. It felt, I suppose, how it would feel to tell one’s parents one had been arrested or that one had decided to exercise one’s gifts at meth cooking. That was because I knew my father wouldn’t approve.

Unlike some people I’ve known, it was not because my father was against the church or religion; he was not. And it wasn’t because he was putting some sort of pressure on me to “succeed” in a way that would mean making a lot of money; he never did that. When I finally worked up the nerve to tell my father—I think the night before I told my church—he responded better than I thought he would. He said, “I wish you wouldn’t do it; I don’t want to see you hurt.”

My dad, you see, was a pastor’s son.

Over the years, the Bible Belt became a source of dismay and spiritual crisis, but the church was not. To me, my church meant home and belonging and acceptance. If I so much as smell something similar to my church foyer or a Sunday school room or those vacation Bible school cookies, I immediately calm down. And the hymns we sang together week after week after week bring to my mind, every time I hear them, whatever the opposite of trauma might be. But I had not grown up in a parsonage; my father had.

His father was his hero. Though my grandfather died when I was five years old, I grew up always around his reputation. He had been pastor of my home church; most of the people who taught me Sunday school or who led my youth group or who sang in our choir had been led to Christ by him or baptized by him or married by him. He was revered by all of them, and by no one more than my father. And he was the subtext of my father’s conflicted relationship with the church.

That night, talking through my call to ministry, my father said: “I’m going to say this this one time, and then I’ll never say it again. I’ll support you completely, whatever you decide to do. But I wish you wouldn’t do it. I just don’t want to see you get hurt the way they hurt my dad.”

My father’s disillusionment with the church never seemed to fit to me. My grandfather did not seem to be “hurt” by anyone. I had listened to his sermons on tape and listened to the people around me talk about him. If anything, he seemed ebullient and energetic. But my father was not talking about some big issue, but 1,001 little matters. He had observed, close up, the Darwinism and Machiavellianism that can happen in even the smallest of congregations. I’m not sure that such things even affected my grandfather. But he had a child who was watching.

My dad kept his word. He never said another word about wishing I wouldn’t do it. Never. He was always there if I was preaching anywhere around him. He was there for my ordination. When there were multiple opportunities to say, “Didn’t I warn you?” he never did—not once.

But what I realize now is that I judged my father too much for what I saw as a deficient spirituality—because I didn’t know what it was like to experience what he had.

He would often go to church—for great stretches of time—but his attendance would often taper off and then disappear. The only time I ever argued with my father—literally the only time about anything—was when I made a snarky comment as a young adult about his spotty church attendance. Let’s just say he was not happy—and I realized that there was a reason I had never engaged my father in a debate before that (or since). But I remember in that argument his saying something along the lines of, “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.” And indeed I hadn’t.

After I was grown, I asked my grandmother why she had insisted that I be with her at church every time the doors were open—Sunday school, worship services, Training Union, Royal Ambassadors, Wednesday night prayer meetings. She said, “I wanted you to be a Christian.” I asked why she also insisted that we would skip one Wednesday night every month, her only explanation being “No church tonight; it’s business meeting.” She said, “Because I wanted you to be a Christian.” She didn’t want me to see the sort of carnality that could break out in a Baptist congregational business meeting.

My dad, though, never had that option. The business meetings came to him. They were in his living room, at his kitchen table, and he knew that at any time a business meeting gone wrong could result in his losing his home, his friends, and his school, and ending up somewhere entirely new. Maybe even more than that, he could see a man he revered cut apart by critics while smiling through it all and then showing up to those same people’s hospital rooms and then standing over their caskets to recite words of comfort when they died. I never had to see that.

I never thought about all of that until my 15-year-old son asked my wife in early 2021 whether I had had a moral failure, given the accusations of my being a liberal for not supporting a politician I believe to be unfit; a “critical race theorist” for saying that African American people are telling the truth when they say that racial injustice is still a problem; that I must be funded by George Soros because I think that the immigration system should be fixed, etc.

I invited my son to come with me to one of those “business meetings” where they read out their grievances against me. When we walked out, I said, “What did you think?” He said, “That whole meeting was so angry and so stupid. Why do we want to be a part of that?”

I didn’t have a good answer. But what I resolved at that moment, as I looked into his eyes, included two things. The first was that my son would never have to ask again if I had failed morally because of the machinations of such people. And the second was that I was going to make sure, as much as possible, that my sons never have to see the church the way my father had to see it.

I realized, only over the past several months, how despite the fact that I loved and revered my father, on this one point I had been judgmental. I chalked up to deficient spirituality what was mostly the result of pain. It wasn’t that my father had a low view of the church; it was that he had a high view of his dad.

Just this past week, I had multiple conversations with people who grew up in evangelical churches—some who had been very committed and devoted. And they had been hurt. They saw the church turn against them because they wouldn’t adopt as Scripture some political ideology or personality cult. Some had seen people they trusted revealed to be frauds or even predators.

Not one of them walked away because they wanted to curry favor with “elites” or because they wanted to rebel. If anything, the posture of many of these people was not that of the Prodigal Son off in the far country so much as that of his father, waiting by the road for a prodigal they loved and wanted to embrace again: their church.

My counsel to them was different than my counsel to many of you. To them, I talked about the dangers of cynicism and how to distinguish between the failure of an institution and a failure of the one worshiped by that institution.

To one I said, “If you look at Jesus and the Gospels and you decide you cannot follow him, that’s one thing. But it would be a shame to avoid even looking at the claims of the gospel because you want to avoid at all costs what a church that hurt you said they believed. That’s even more the case when your problem is that they didn’t seem to believe what they said they believed. And that’s even more the case when Jesus warned you—in Matthew 24 and Mark 13 and Revelation 1–3 and by the Spirit repeatedly in the letters of Paul and Peter and John and Jude—that such things would happen, and would happen in his name.”

But to you—to us—I would counsel: Let’s believe in Jesus enough to bear patiently with those who are hurt, especially those hurt by the church. Let’s not assume that, in every case, those disappointed or angry or at the verge of walking away are doing so because they hold a deficient worldview or because they want to chase immorality. There are some people for whom that is true, in every age.

But many, maybe most of them, are not Judas seeking to flee by night but are instead Simon Peter on the seashore, asking, “To whom shall we go?” (John 6:68). Many of them, like Peter himself, will conclude, “You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (vv. 68–69, ESV). To many of these Jesus will say, as he did to Peter, “I have prayed for you … that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers” (Luke 22:32).

Let’s not mistake hurt for rebellion, trauma for infidelity, or a broken heart for an empty soul. We can only convince people not to give up on the church if we likewise refuse to give up on them.

Jesus does not need us to do public relations for his 99 sheep still in the pasture; he needs us to go looking for the one who’s lost in the woods. At some time or another, that’s all of us. And we will count on a church loving us enough to send in someone after us—not with hectoring and shaming but with patience and love. And it might even be that the one who comes to help you, in your darkest moment, is right now an exvangelical.

In the meantime, let’s have love for the exvangelical. Let’s have the kind of community that can counteract the business meetings.

It took 50 years, but my dad taught me that.

This article originally appeared on Christianity Today and is used with the author’s permission.

Photo by Josh Applegate on Unsplash

The Kindness of Constructive Criticism: How Input from Others Can Rescue You from Reckless Words

As a writer, I seek input from others on my writing and take it seriously. I hate having a book published and only then learning some of what I said was inaccurate, misleading, unfair, or confusing. Those who I invite to criticize my writing before it’s published thereby do me the greatest possible service. Among other things they help me have less to be held accountable for at the judgment seat of our gracious and holy King, who said to His disciples, “I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak” (Matthew 12:36).

Jesus reminds us we should choose our words with care. After all, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21). Our words are so powerful they can make the dying live or make the living die. “Reckless words pierce like a sword” (Proverbs 12:18a). Social media and people’s comments on it demonstrate this graphically. Tragically, some no longer attend church because they have been so deeply hurt by church members’ posts online, concerning secondary things such as political candidates, COVID, masks, and vaccinations.

Words That Heal and Help

Fortunately, the first half of Proverbs 12:18 about reckless words piercing like a sword is followed by the second: “…but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” Words in private conversation, spoken in a sermon, and even on social media, can heal instead of wound. And with all the wounding going on in churches right now, this has never been more needed! In contrast to hurtful or careless words, “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver” (Proverbs 25:11).

Some reckless, wounding, and misleading words are deliberate, but others are not by design, and can be prevented if we bounce our words off others first. I am sometimes blind to my misspoken words, which is why each and every time I write something for a public audience, not only in books but also articles and blogs, I call on editors. Most often my editor is Stephanie Anderson, frequently also Doreen Button, and Kathy Norquist has often edited and critiqued in the past. When it’s a book, I get editing help from multiple people before the publisher’s editor ever sees it. Then they help me more to get it right and see what I and the other editors didn’t.

Every edit is a criticism because it is saying, “Your words aren’t as correct, or clear or helpful or concise as they could be—here’s what I would say instead.” Some writers resent this, and if they do, they will never become good writers or for that matter, good thinkers. When I look over someone’s edits, usually in red via “track changes” in Microsoft Word, about 70% of the time my immediate response is, “They’re right; I’ll change that to what they proposed.” I press “accept changes.” And 20% of the time it’s “They’re right that it needs to be changed, but I’d prefer to change it differently than they proposed.” Even then their criticism has helped me immensely to improve the words, even when I choose different ones. Iron sharpens iron.

The remaining 10% of the time (roughly), I say, “I think it’s better as I wrote it, so I won’t change it.” But the fact is, while what I write that’s published still has flaws, it’s far better because I have listened to critics whose goal is to help me. I am deeply thankful for them. Being a writer, or a writer who solicits such criticism, has helped me immensely to grow in my ability to handle all sorts of criticism, not just of writing and speaking but in all areas of my life. (As I’m reading an otherwise good book, I often bump into sentences and whole paragraphs where I think, “Did no one edit this? Or did someone try but the writer refused to heed the criticism?”)

The Best Way to Prevent Valid Criticism

If you can’t handle criticism, you shouldn’t write or speak or preach. If you resent and resist critical input, that exposes a character flaw in you. If you fail to seek such input, it reveals a lack of wisdom.  The best way to prevent valid criticisms after you publish—not just a book or article but a blog or anything you intend for public consumption—is to get good input and editing before you publish.

Likewise, the best way to prevent valid criticism after you teach or preach is to show your manuscript or notes to someone before and present it or at least talk it through with them and genuinely ask for their criticism. Don’t resist it. Listen to it and take it seriously. Don’t wait until you preach to find out you mishandled the text, didn’t interpret properly, or were unnecessarily critical—or even that the passing joke you made could hurt someone’s feelings, maybe a spouse or child or your fellow pastors or church members.

In fact, most of the unloving, divisive, and unfair words that I’ve seen on Facebook, blogs, and other online posts could have easily been prevented if people would delay that post one day and have one or two people read it over and give their inputs and edits before others see it.

One of the worst aspects of online technology is its immediacy. Forty-five years ago as a young pastor, I felt very hurt by someone and wrote them an angry letter. I put the letter in an envelope, addressed it, stamped it and put it in our mailbox. Several hours later I was convicted by the Holy Spirit that I’d done the wrong thing and spoken careless words that dishonored Christ and could be hurtful to the person I wrote to. I immediately ran out our front door to the mail box, and was relieved to find the letter hadn’t been picked up. I destroyed it. I don’t remember who I wrote it to or why. Whatever pain I had is long past. But had that letter been sent, to this day I suspect I would have hurt someone in a way that they might still remember over forty years later. Had it been only five or ten years later, I would likely have emailed the person immediately. In this modern era, this is all the more reason to stop ourselves, be  slow to speak” and “slow to anger,” and perhaps  go to a trusted friend and ask, “Should I send this email/post this blog? How would you recommend I change it?”

When you ask for an edit, don’t primarily seek input from people who think just like you do. If they share your same irritations at the world and the church, they probably share some of your blindness to other viewpoints. Hence, they may not criticize or edit you in the ways you most need it.

Seek input from people who don’t always share your same passions or hobbyhorses. If you get that input and revise what you first wrote, you will be heeding the words of Scripture, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (James 1:19, NIV).

Don’t post impulsively or when you’re angry. Don’t trust your ability to accurately assess someone else’s words and actions. Don’t overestimate your ability to, on your own and without critical input, speak the truth in love. Seek the help of others to point out where what you’re saying isn’t true or isn’t loving.

The same applies to believers posting all those snarky comments on others’ posts that they may imagine are witty and courageous, when in fact they are mean and cowardly. While you are dropping Bible verses like bombs, you would do better to memorize and practice James 1:19, and repent in light of what Jesus said in Matthew 12:36 about our culpability for every careless word.

Recognizing our accountability to God, may we pray with the psalmist, “LORD, set up a guard for my mouth; keep watch at the door of my lips” (Psalm 141:3).

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

Should We Pursue Self-Love?

I’ve often heard it said in evangelical messages, books, and articles that God’s Word teaches three kinds of love—love for God, love for others, and love for self. The supposed proof is Matthew 22:39, where “Love your God with all your heart” is called the first and greatest commandment. Number two is its corollary: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Clearly, we are taught to love God above all and love our neighbor above all but God. So where does that leave love of self?

We Already Love Ourselves

Despite the common teaching that it does, Matthew 22 does not command us to love ourselves. The clear proof of this is that in verse 40 Jesus says, “All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” He states that there are two commandments, not three. The commandments are love God and love our neighbor. If He were commanding us to love ourselves, He would have said there are three commandments, not two. In reality, He commands that we have two objects of our love (God-love and others-love) and assumes a love that’s a given (self-love).

When in Ephesians 5 God commands a husband to love his wife as he loves his own body, is God teaching a man to love his own body? Of course not. He is simply recognizing that a man does love his body, as demonstrated in the fact that he feeds and clothes it and takes actions for his own self-preservation. As we would jump out of the way of a speeding car (which comes naturally out of our inherent self-love), so we are to risk our very lives to pull someone else out of the way of a speeding car (which does not come naturally as does our self-love, but actually violates our self-love because it is self-sacrifice out of love for others).

Scripture recognizes that we do love ourselves, as shown by the fact that we “look out for number one.” It is perfectly natural to put ourselves first. Even the suicidal person is acting out of what he thinks (wrongly) is his own self-interest—“I would be better off dead.”

God acknowledges the reality of self-love, but He certainly does not teach it as a Christian virtue to be cultivated. Rather, it is an existing reality, necessary for our survival, in some respects healthy, but in other ways very much tainted by our sin. Our instinct to take care of ourselves is something we are to extend to others, that we might lovingly take care of them.

A False “Virtue”

In today’s psychological model, even within the church, self-love has sometimes been elevated from a fact of life into a virtue to be cultivated. And it is being cultivated not as subordinate to, but as a priority over, love for God and love for others.

In his book When People Are Big and God Is Small, Ed Welch writes:

Pastors of many growing churches preach almost weekly about healthy self-esteem, as if it were taught on every page of Scripture. Too many Christians never see that self-love comes out of a culture that prizes the individual over the community and then reads that basic principle into the pages of Scripture. The Bible, however, rightly understood, asks the question, “Why are you so concerned about yourself?” Furthermore, it indicates that our culture’s proposed cure—increased self-love—is actually the disease. If we fail to recognize the reality and depth of our sin problem, God will become less important, and people will become more important.

When self-love becomes a virtue to be cultivated, it magnifies our commitment to acting only in our own best interests, not in the best interests of others.

Scripture makes a direct value judgment on “self-love” in 2 Timothy 3:1-5:

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God—having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them.

Often a long list begins with an overriding or summary attribute. For instance, Galatians 5 says “the fruit of the spirit is love,” which is followed by those familiar attributes that flow out of love. The 2 Timothy 3 passage suggests that when people are lovers of themselves the results are predictable. (Read back through the list and ask yourself if these things have decreased or increased in society as a result of the modern concept that “putting myself first is a virtue.”)

Our True Self-Interest

I have heard people say that to grow closer to God (God-love) and get involved in ministry (neighbor-love) they first have to learn to love themselves (self-love). Not only is this making a non-commandment into the first commandment, it is also neglecting the fact that the proper sense of “feeling good about ourselves” develops precisely as we obey God and do what He has made us to do—love Him and love others. To wait until we stop feeling bad about ourselves before we go on to love God and others is like waiting until we stop being hungry before we go get something to eat.

We would do better to teach that to live for God’s glory will bring about our own ultimate good. We will experience eternal reward for loving God and loving our neighbor. To obey God is always in our ultimate self-interest, for God is the rewarder of those who diligently seek Him (Hebrews 11:6). In a universe where God sets up the rules, what is right is also smart.

Happiness is found in discovering what’s truly in our self-interest: loving God and our neighbor. This profound, paradigm-shifting concept, understood correctly, makes the false dichotomy obvious in the question, “Should I serve others, or should I act in my own best interests?” The answer is that loving others is God’s design for me and command to me, and all that He wants me to do, including personal sacrifices, is ultimately in my best interests. That’s true often in the present (what’s more personally satisfying than loving people?). But it is always true in eternity, since it pleases a God who says He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him (Hebrews 11:6).

Too often “loving yourself” means putting ourselves first here and now for what we perceive to be our own good, neglecting the pursuit of God, and neglecting to sacrifice for the good of our neighbor because in the words of the pastor who endorsed a “Christian” self-love book, “we are the most important person in our lives.”

Don’t get me wrong. I want to emphasize that rejecting the obsessive focus on ourselves and loving ourselves does not mean at all that we shouldn’t take good care of ourselves. On the contrary, we are to steward carefully the bodies, minds, and souls that God has entrusted to us. With a proper Christ-centered focus, self-care can be a Christ-honoring, others-benefiting, and wise part of the Christian life. So there are some forms of what could be called “self-love” that are necessary and helpful, but other forms that are sinful and harmful.

Thinking of Ourselves Rightly

Romans 12:3 warns us, “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment.” For the Christian, “sober judgment” includes seeing ourselves as dead to sin and alive to Christ, loved and transformed by God, members of a new kingdom, with a future of reigning with Christ in Heaven. But notice the major warning is not “Don’t think less of yourself than you should,” but exactly the opposite—“Don’t think more of yourself than you should.” The psychological model says we don’t love ourselves enough. The biblical model suggests we love ourselves too much, which manifests itself in selfishness.

We do no good for ourselves or anyone else by spending our lives in self-loathing, imagining we are not only sinners—which indeed we are—but irredeemable sinners, which we are not. Paul says, “Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst” (1 Timothy 1:15, NIV). Jesus came to redeem us and desires to do a beautiful work of grace in our lives, one in which the fruit of the Spirit is increasingly evident.

We are saints and sinners at the same time, but as we yield to the power of God’s grace in our lives, contemplating Scripture and depending on the Holy Spirit, “We all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18, NIV).

Hence, I believe there is a proper biblical basis for what could be called, in the right context, positive self-esteem. (Indeed, it is far more positive than the atheistic evolutionary view of humanity with which society indoctrinates our young people.) According to the Bible, each of us is a special creation of a good and all-powerful God, and unlike no other creatures, we are made in His image. God has masterminded the exact combination of DNA and chromosomes that constitute our genetic codes, making each person as different from all others as every snowflake differs from the rest. As Christians, we are clothed with the righteousness of Christ. He has given us special gifts and abilities to serve Him in a particular and unique way. We are His beloved children, and He loved us so much as to die for us (demonstrating His worth as a God of unconditional love).

Also, sometimes those struggling with guilt over sin are told they just need to love and forgive themselves. It’s true that once we’ve received Christ’s forgiveness, God doesn’t want us to go through life punishing ourselves for past sins. Our part is to accept Christ’s atonement, not to repeat it.

Jesus suffered for our sins so we would not have to. By refusing to accept His provision, we imply that He died in vain. By inflicting suffering on ourselves, we imply that we are good enough to pay our own way. So whenever we start feeling unforgiven, it’s time to go back to the Bible and remind ourselves, and each other, of God’s forgiveness.

Christ Is the Proper Object of Our Focus

By following the modern path of making self-love, rather than God-love and others-love, we make it the engine or driving force of our Christian lives, and it’s a force that is bound to fail. If we see self-love as an ideal to be focused on and cultivated rather than an already-existing reality to be directed away from ourselves and toward God and others, it’s bound to do nothing more than propel us down the ancient and tragic path of selfishness.

God isn’t looking for people preoccupied with their worth as human beings. He’s looking with people with “a broken and contrite heart” and who are “contrite in lowly and spirit” (Psalm 51:17; Isaiah 57:15). “Blessed are the humble,” Jesus said in Matthew 5:5 (literally, “Happy are the humble”).

But doesn’t Psalm 139, which is a centerpiece in all the Christian self-esteem books, tell us some wonderful things about ourselves? Yes, it does, but let’s not miss the focus. The focus is on David’s wonder at the omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence of God. Let’s not reduce that God-centered emphasis to a mere prescription for self-esteem.

Sam Storm writes, “If you truly love your ‘self’ (and all of us do), take your eyes off ‘self’ and do your ‘self’ as favor: ‘Look at Me,’ says the Lord. ‘The state and condition and circumstances of your soul will change for the good only to the degree that you make My glory the object of your obsession.’”

Here are two videos on self-love that I heard after I’d already written this article. Both are excellent:

1) Dan Franklin’s message “Is It Okay to Be Selfish?”

2) John Piper’s Ask Pastor John podcast, “You Don’t Need More Self Love”

Photo by Nijwam Swargiary on Unsplash

Finding Peace and Rest in a World of Weariness and Division

Note from Randy: This is a great article from pastor and author Scott Sauls. Though he talks specifically about the weariness and burnout that many church leaders have faced over the last year and a half, much of what he says applies to all believers who find themselves tired and hurting over the division and angst in our culture. Scott’s words really resonanted with me.

May we remember that Jesus invites us to come to Him and sit at His feet, and even in this world full of suffering and pain, to find in Him the happiness, peace, and rest we all long for.

Ted Lasso, Mr. Rogers, and Christian Leaders in an Unhinged World

By Scott Sauls

In December of 2020, I saw a meme on the internet in which five portable restrooms were lined up at a construction site. All five of them were on fire. The meme read as follows:

“If 2020 were a scented candle…”

That sounds about right. The combination of a global pandemic, mass social isolation, emptied communities and classrooms and congregations, Zoom fatigue, and the most divisive political season of my 53 year-old lifetime, created a perfect storm that has left almost everyone, especially leaders, feeling agitated as well as tired, lonely, insecure, overwhelmed, under-encouraged, and immobilized by fear that they will say or do something that will get them called out, attacked, accused, taken down, or canceled.

In a recent text exchange with a fellow Christian leader, I asked how he was holding up. He replied, “I am ready for 2020 to end. But I might have to wait until 2030 for that to happen.”

As I write this, it is September 2021, and the year 2020 still shows no signs of retreat. If there were a competition for word of the year, top contenders might include “polarized,” “racialized,” “tribalized,” “politicized,” “divided,” and “outraged,” to name a few.

Sociologists and therapists alike are calling the climate we are in “The Great Resignation.” In an effort to escape regret and hurt and fear and other 2020-ish challenges, alarming numbers of people have “resigned” from their friendships, communities, schools, jobs, cities, and even family members in hopes of hitting the reset button on life.

Many Christian leaders feel heavy as they find themselves stuck in the crossfires. This is especially true of bridge-building types who work hard to keep themselves above the fray of partisan division and rancor. In the current climate, nonpartisan, bridge building leaders are especially vulnerable to being labeled as obsessive maskers and anti-vaxxers, woke antagonists and white supremacists, American nationalists and anti-American globalists, homophobic bigots and gay affirming sellouts, too liberal and too conservative politically, too rigid and too loose theologically, too direct to call themselves true priests and too cowardly to call themselves true prophets.

Amid such realities, it is easy to understand why Paul Tripp, himself a counselor and pastor, has labeled the assignment of pastor as a “dangerous calling.” This is not just true of pastors, but of all Christian leaders under pressure to be the rope in modern versions of the ancient Jew/Gentile cultural, ideological, and socio-political tug-of-war.

The fatigue that comes from trying to bring people together in a politically unhinged climate can take a toll. The weariness factor is so pronounced for some that, according to the latest surveys, over thirty percent of pastors and other church staff (for example) are actively looking to leave the ministry. Within my own pastor networks, the percentages seem much higher than this. Since the pandemic began, leadership complexity and demands have been unrelenting for an unprecedented number of Christian leaders. When I have myself felt wearied, I have been helped by this gentle, caring word from Pastor Joe Novenson:

“The feel of faith is not strength, but dependent weakness.”

Enters Jesus, who reminds us that in this world there will be trouble. No one should be alarmed by the presence of thorns in the flesh or even fiery trials, for it is in such trials that we receive opportunity to share in what Paul called the fellowship of sharing in Jesus’s sufferings. As the last two Beatitudes attest, even if people persecute us or say false or misleading or hurtful or behind-the-back or out-in-the-open things about us, rejoicing remains possible, for so they treated the prophets before us. Great is our reward in heaven, our Lord reassures us. The wearying things that happen to Christian leaders are things that happened to our Lord first. As we suffer similar things, we have opportunity, if we will accept it, to abide in even deeper, more intimate solidarity with Christ.

Likewise, if concerned friends point out true things about us, including our own glaring deficiencies, sins, blind spots, and the like, we have the ultimate resource in Christ himself to face our deficiencies in a spirit of humility and teachability and repentance, versus running from them. As the modern hymn reminds us, “Our sins, they are many. His mercy is more.”

I know. It’s much easier said than done.

It feels almost pie-in-the-sky difficult.

I once heard an anecdote about St. Teresa of Avila and a conversation she had with the Lord. It was a time of deep weariness and suffering for her. She asked the Lord why he allowed things to get so hard for his children, to which the Lord allegedly replied, “This is how I treat my friends.” To this, Teresa responded, “Well, then, it’s no wonder why you have so few friends!”

Amid seasons like an “extended 2020” that can sometimes feel like a long, unrelenting winter, the promises of the Gospel and the rest it provides remain. In the Gospel, there are resources not only for coping, but also for thriving in weary times. The Gospel gives us resources that help us nurture and lean into counter- and cross-cultural community and witness.

As Donald Carson has written, as “a band of natural enemies who love one another for Jesus’s sake,” Christians possess resources in Christ to pursue harmony between individuals and groups who could not possibly come together, let alone love one another, outside of Christ. In Christ, dividing walls of hostility between male and female, Jew and Gentile, slave and free were torn down in early church communities. If Christ could accomplish this in ancient times, could he not also accomplish it right now?

This might be our best current opportunity for compelling, persuasive witness—to simply be kind to one another in Christ, especially across the lines of difference. To opt out of the modern culture of biting, devouring, blaming, shaming, and attacking in the name and for the sake of love.

There must be a reason why Mr. Rogers is popular again and Ted Lasso is such a celebrated TV series. Human hearts are bent, battle worn, and tired. We crave the sort of kindness, caring, empathy, and benefit-of-the-doubtism that Mr. Rogers and Ted Lasso exemplify. Both illustrate the Proverb which tells us that a gentle answer turns away wrath (Proverbs 15:1). Both also point us to Christ himself, whose eighth and most memorable “I AM” statement invites all who are weary to come to him for rest, “for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (see Matthew 11:25-30).

If you are a Christian leader, please recognize that Jesus’s invitation for you to come TO him comes a full seventeen chapters before Jesus asks you to go and do FOR him. His great invitation is extended to you long before his great commission.

Whatever your situation, one thing is for certain. In this or any other disorienting climate, you will only become a gentle rest-giver to the degree that you yourself can also enter the Sabbath rest of Christ. A weekly Sunday Sabbath, to be sure. But also a daily, even moment-by-moment one. The abiding kind.

If Christian leaders are going to embody his gentle and humble ways in the culture, they must first address the messy, restless, anxious culture that can so easily take up residence in their (our) own hearts. Abiding Sabbath is the only way to do this well.

It is good to remind ourselves and each other that there is no bypass road around Jesus’s great invitation in Matthew 11 to get to his great commission in Matthew 28.

To become like Christ in the world, Christian leaders must pull into the rest area to abide and linger with Christ. For the fruit of the Spirit—including the fruit of rest-giving gentleness—can only grow and be shared and sustained when we take the lead in resting in and relying on Christ.

What does this mean for Christian leaders? Chiefly, that they themselves are, first and foremost, sheep under the Shepherd’s care. It is beneath the shelter of this reality that Christ will keep, uphold, and strengthen them as they limp forward until 2020 ends…even if that doesn’t happen until 2030.

This article originally appeared on Scott’s blog and is used with permission.

Photo by Caleb Frith on Unsplash

The Chosen Reminds Us We Too Will One Day Walk with Jesus

Many of you have watched the first two seasons of The Chosen, but if you haven’t yet, I highly encourage you to start! The first year was consistently excellent, and season two was just as good. I actually think The Chosen is better than any portrayal of Jesus I’ve ever seen—the presentation of Christ’s love, wit, humor, and delight with His disciples is amazing!

In this clip from my message “No More Curse,” I talk about the show, and how we too will walk with Jesus as His disciples:

Here are some related thoughts:

Scripture portrays God as holy and transcendent. But even before Christ’s incarnation, God came to the garden to walk with Adam and Eve. And Christ’s incarnation and resurrection took it much further—one member of the transcendent triune God became permanently immanent. Jesus is in physical form, in a human resurrection body, for all eternity.

Jesus promised we’d eat with Him in His Kingdom. How truly magnificent! To eat a meal with Jesus will be to eat a meal with God. The fascinating God is by far the most interesting person we’ll ever meet in Heaven.

Imagine what it’d be like to walk with Jesus, as the disciples did. If you know Christ, you’ll have that opportunity on the New Earth.

I’m sometimes asked how untold millions of believers with Jesus in Heaven, or on the New Earth when Heaven descends to it (Revelation 21-22), will be able to talk to Him one-on-one. But if God took on human form several times, as recorded in Scripture, couldn’t Christ choose to take on any form to manifest Himself to us? Or might the one body of Jesus somehow be simultaneously present with His people in a million places? For sure He promised us He would be with us always (Matthew 28:20). We don’t have to wait until we die or are resurrected for that to be true, but how much more immediate and wonderful will His presence be with us in the world to come?

Could we walk with Jesus (not just spiritually, but also physically) while millions of others are also walking with Him? Might we be able to touch His hand or embrace Him or spend a long afternoon privately conversing with Him—not just with His spirit but His whole person? It may defy our logic, but God is capable of doing far more than we imagine!

I sometimes ponder what it’ll be like to see Jesus, to fall on my knees before Him, then talk with Him and eat with Him and walk with Him as a resurrected person living on a resurrected Earth. Like Job I’m struck with the realization that “I myself will see him with my own eyes—I, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!” (Job 19:27).

For more on the eternal Heaven, the New Earth, see Randy’s book  Heaven . You can also browse our additional resources on Heaven.

C. S. Lewis, the Self-Described “Most Reluctant Convert”

This Wednesday, November 3, for one night only, the movie “The Most Reluctant Convert: The Untold Story of C. S. Lewis” will be in cinemas nationwide.

It’s based on the on-stage production done by Max McLean (who plays the adult Lewis in the movie), which is absolutely excellent. You can watch “C.S. Lewis On Stage—The Most Reluctant Convert” here. Max is a faithful believer and the familiar voice of several audio Bibles.

In late May 1988, when our daughters were seven and nine, Nanci and I and the girls spent ten days in England. We visited Oxford, where I used some photos from one of the six Lewis biographies that I’d read (showing the view from his window of some stationery objects) to trace down Lewis’s office and rooms behind Magdalen College. It was in this room where he came to a belief in theism, then on Addison’s Walk outside the building, by Deer Park (which he saw through his back window), Lewis came to Christ. In this same room in years to come he wrote most of his books, including The Chronicles of Narnia.

Lewis says in Surprised by Joy:

You must picture me alone in that room in Magdalen, night after night, feeling, whenever my mind lifted even for a second from my work, the steady unrelenting approach of Him whom I so earnestly desired not to meet. That which I greatly feared had at last come upon me. In Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all of England.

He referred here to his conversion to theism. It was on Addison’s Walk where Lewis underwent his second conversion, this one not merely to theism but to Christ Himself. He had a long walk with two friends, one of whom was J. R. R. Tolkien (it was Lewis who beseeched the procrastinating perfectionist Tolkien to finish and publish Lord of the Rings and Tolkien once said that if not for Lewis he likely never would have).

Lewis wrote in Surprised by Joy of a trip riding in the sidecar of a motorcycle driven by his brother Warren, on a trip to the Whipsnade Zoo:

When we set out I did not believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and when we reached the zoo I did. Yet I had not exactly spent the journey in thought nor in great emotion. “Emotional” is perhaps the last word we can apply to some of the most important events. It was more like when a man, after long sleep, still lying motionless in bed, becomes aware that he is now awake.

However, Lewis tied his conversion to Christ directly back to that talk with Dyson and Tolkien on Addison’s Walk.  A few days after his trip to the zoo with Warren, Lewis closed out a letter to Arthur Greeves with this news: “I have just passed on from believing in God to definitely believing in Christ—in Christianity. I will try to explain this another time. My long night talk with Dyson and Tolkien had a good deal to do with it.”

Lewis’s mentorship and impact on my own life, and indirectly on my ministry has been profound, and I’m grateful to God for him. My Heaven book is full of him, and Heaven for Kids overflows with Narnia. Screwtape Letters inspired Lord Foulgrin’s Letters. It also inflenced The Ishbane Conspiracy, which I wrote with my daughters thirteen years after we lurked outside Lewis’s rooms at Magdalen. Mere Christianity plays a pivotal role in my novels Deadline and Deception. In Edge of Eternity, Nick Seagrave’s pilgrimage, into a world where the spiritual realm is visible, was Lewis-inspired. In my novel Dominion, Lewis serves as a guide to a character in Heaven. Another character, yet on earth, reads the The Chronicles of Narnia to his children. (In 2013, the year of the 50th anniversary of his death, I did a plenary session on Lewis and Heaven and Hell at a Desiring God conference.)

Nanci and I retraced Lewis’s steps beside his friends on Addison’s Walk. Negotiating the falling leaves, on a brisk wet afternoon, was haunting and unforgettable. What happened in Lewis’s life there was a stone thrown in a pond. Its ripples have extended deep into my life and millions of others. I’m forever grateful that our God of grace called that reluctant convert into His Kingdom.

Also coming out this month: “Sabina: Tortured for Christ, The Nazi Years” will be in theaters November 8-10. It’s the story of Richard Wurmbrand’s wife, and Richard as well. After many years in Romanian prisons, he went on to be the founder of Voice of the Martyrs. I will never forget reading his first book, Tortured for Christ , as a young believer. It marked me. It still does.