Michael Kelley's Blog

The Good News About What the Bible DOESN’T Tell Us

There are several places in Scripture that leave us… wondering. In these sections of Scripture, God’s Word tells us something that happened but it doesn’t tell us exactly how it happened. We get the main point of action, but we don’t get the specifics. Here are a few examples:

He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he blessed and broke the loaves. He kept giving them to his disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. Everyone ate and was satisfied (Mark 6:41-42).

This, of course, is Mark’s recording of the miraculous feeding of the 5,000. We know that from five loaves and two fish that the whole crowd was fed, but we don’t know how. Did Jesus just keep breaking off piece after piece of bread, each time the bread regrew? Did the bread instantaneously appear? We know what happened, but we don’t know the specifics.

Here’s another example:

When they heard this, everyone in the synagogue was enraged. They got up, drove him out of town, and brought him to the edge of the hill that their town was built on, intending to hurl him over the cliff. But he passed right through the crowd and went on his way (Luke 4:28-30).

Jesus was teaching in Nazareth, and the people didn’t like what they heard. In fact, they meant to kill Him by driving him off the edge of the cliff… and “he passed through the crowd.” Did the people forget what they were doing for a few seconds? Did they freeze in place? Again, we know what happened, but we don’t know the specifics.

In one sense, that’s kind of fun. It leaves things to our imaginations. But in another sense, it can be frustrating. It makes us wonder and we are left unsatisfied with the amount of information given to us. So what can be encouraging about what the Bible leaves out? What’s the good news about what the Bible DOESN’T tell us?

The good news is simply this: By leaving out some of these details, the Bible forces us to recognize the main point without getting lost in those details.

Let’s say the Bible did give the play-by-play of how the miracle occurred on the hillside. Or let’s say it told us exactly how Jesus passed through the crowd. It’s very likely that we would be so enamored by those details that we might miss the overall message of the text.

We might be so captivated by the HOW that we miss the WHAT.

The “what” is that Jesus is powerful. He’s powerful enough to feed 5,000 as if they were one. And He’s powerful enough to not let the whimsy of man disrupt His plans. The message here is that because Jesus is powerful, we can trust in His provision. In His plan. In His ability to carry it out. In other words, though the “how” is missing the “Who” is not.

So don’t be frustrated by what the Bible doesn’t tell. Look instead where the Bible directs us to. And when we do, we will always find the “Who” even if we don’t find the “how.”

A Little Story About Repentance

Here’s a brief reflection on the nature of repentance. I was thinking about Pilgrim’s Progress when I wrote this, sort of in the same style:

I was once walking along a road with no real direction in particular. I found myself just picking the way to go based on the friendliness of the path – was there sunshine? Were there potholes? Did one way look more inviting than the other? The way before me was spread out, so I walked on at my leisure with little intentionality.

But then I heard a voice behind me saying, “Turn…”

I did not want to turn around. I wanted to choose the way I should go. Still, the voice made me wonder what might be of interest, so I quickly glanced over my shoulder and found only darkness. It seemed, much to my dismay, that there was little light in that direction. Why would I turn? Why would I choose a different way when I could instead walk on, as I had been, using my senses to guide me to the next step and direction?

But there was the voice again. Insistent this time. “Turn…”

I glanced over my shoulder again to see the speaker but found, again, only darkness. It was maddening. Logic went against turning to what I could not see. There was only the voice behind, whereas there was the clear path in front. So I walked on.

“Turn…”

And I answered with frustration. “Turn to what? I can see what lies ahead, but not what lies behind. There is only darkness.” But as much as I wanted to laugh off the decision, I could not escape the voice. There was a sense of urgency there; urgency, but behind the urgency, there was kindness. Such a voice I had rarely heard. It was the voice I would use with my own children when I knew something they didn’t. So I began to turn. Not fully, but only slightly, and to my dismay, the light shifted.

As I turned, what was behind me was no longer shrouded in darkness, but instead began to be enlightened, not fully but only slightly. I turned back to the way I was going. Things were still light there. I could still see the way; I could still determine which way I wanted to go. But then, glancing back in the opposite direction, I was able to see more. Bit by bit, I indeed turned. As I did, I saw more and more.

So I went a new way, walking in the direction of the voice. And as I walked that way, there was more and more light, but it only came with each further step…

Make Sure Your Joy is Safe

In Philippians 4:4, Paul tells us to rejoice in the Lord always. And in case we missed it the first time, he tells us again: Rejoice!”

Some days it feels possible to live like that. Those are the good days. Everyone is safe. Everyone is healthy. Everyone is generally prosperous. Good days indeed. But those are not most days.

Most days, we look for an exception in Paul’s words. We want Philippians 4:4 to say, “Rejoice in the Lord… mostly.” As it stands, however, the text does not leave us that option. We are to rejoice in the Lord ALWAYS. The “always” is what makes it a struggle, and perhaps not just a struggle, but actually offensive.

You might well be in the midst of a sad season. A painful season. A season in which it feels like work just to get out of bed in the morning. And if you are, this verse is the equivalent of getting a mass-produced greeting card in the mail whose front cover reads, “With Sympathy,” and on the inside has a hand-written message that reads, “Try and look on the bright side!”

How do you deal with such an air-tight command to rejoice in seasons like that?

The first way is to recognize that rejoicing in the Lord does not mean ceasing to be sad. By way of example, consider the shortest verse in the entire Bible: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Standing at the tomb of His friend, Lazarus, dead for days, and knowing He would soon turn the funeral into a party, Jesus wept. And in so doing, be comforts us because with His tears, Jesus validates our sadness. If the Son of God felt sad, then who are we to think ourselves above doing so ourselves?

So whatever this unconditional rejoicing is, it does not mean the absence of sadness or grief. In fact, these two things fit together. Is this not what we experience every time we go to the funeral of a beloved saint who has gone to be with the Lord?

The key to understanding and embracing the unconditional rejoicing Paul prescribes comes in the fact that we are to rejoice always “in the Lord.”

It’s important that we make a distinction between joy and happiness. Joy is active; happiness is passive. Put another way, happiness happens to you while joy is something you choose. That’s because happiness is related to your circumstances, but true rejoicing comes “in the Lord.”

Put still another way, happiness is an emotion to be experienced; rejoicing is a command to be obeyed.

Rejoicing in the Lord, then, is not giving thanks for favorable circumstances in our lives; it is instead choosing to find your greatest source of joy, your greatest source of satisfaction, and your greatest source of contentment in Jesus. While everything else in the world can change in the blink of an eye, Jesus never does. That means, among other things, that when you rejoice in the Lord you are putting your joy in a safe place. It’s a place that cannot be touched by the shifting sands of circumstance.

The charge of unconditional rejoicing, then, is an opportunity for self-examination. It’s a chance examine your own life and ask the question of where exactly you have invested your own joy. Your own satisfaction. Your own contentment. Is it in things that will change? Is it circumstantial? Or is it in the Lord, where it is safe?

Understanding the Peace that Transcends Understanding

Philippians 4 is full of air-tight statements. Take a look at some of the instructions Paul left us with:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your graciousness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

The language here leaves no room for exceptions. We are to rejoice ALWAYS. Our graciousness should be evident to ALL. We should pray in ALL circumstances and not be anxious about ANYTHING.

And what will be the result? It’s another air-tight statement – we will have unconditional peace.
This peace, which stands in contrast to the anxiety in verse 6, is not just the absence of conflict. It is, more positively, a state of untroubled, undisturbed, well-being. Understanding it that way helps us see why this kind of peace “transcends understanding.” That is to say, this is peace that doesn’t make sense given the circumstances we are in.

Now consider a scenario with me. Let’s say that you are at the local pool. You’ve had a great day; it’s been hot, the sun has been shining, and you’re enjoying yourself. You are at peace, and it’s a peace that is certainly understandable given what’s going on around you. But you are enjoying yourself so much – so logically – that you haven’t noticed the clouds that are rapidly approaching.

Suddenly, you hear warnings from everyone’s phones. Those warnings are followed closely by the tornado warning sirens above you. That’s followed closely by an announcement over the loudspeaker saying a tornado is bearing down on your location and you need to get to an interior room inside the building immediately. So you jump up, gather a few things, and then start to hurry inside the building when you notice that there is a gentleman who is casually doing the backstroke in the middle of the pool.

You have to admit – it looks pretty peaceful, but given the chaos that has erupted around you, that peace doesn’t make much sense. It transcends your understanding. In fact, there are only two reasons why that man could be at peace, given the circumstances.

Reason number one is that the guy in the pool is oblivious to the circumstances. Maybe he’s hard of hearing. Or maybe his head has been under the water. But for whatever reason, that guy does not understand the severity of what’s happening around him.

Or…

The only other reason for that person’s peace in the midst of chaos is that he knows something you don’t know. And who knows what that might be? Maybe he knows that that scientific research – only released that day – has proven that tornadoes don’t hit swimming pools. Or maybe he knows there is actually a bunker with oxygen at the bottom of the pool. Who knows? But clearly he knows something you do not, and that’s why he is peaceful when, in your mind, he should be anything but.

Now these Philippians Paul was writing to had all kinds of logical reasons to feel anxiety. Paul was writing his letter from a jail cell, and the Philippians were undergoing persecution. So what might it be that they know that the casual onlooker does not? Perhaps it is in the simple statement Paul includes at the end of verse 5.

Yes, they are undergoing persecution. Yes, their future is unsure. Yes, they will likely experience pain. Yes, these are reasons to be anxious. But…

The Lord is near (Phil. 4:5).

The same thing is true for Christians today. We have every reason to feel fear. Anxiety. Worry. Trepidation. Every reason to be troubled in the midst of chaos. But we know something the world doesn’t, and that “something” is the source of peace that defies understanding.

The Lord is near. He is not oblivious to our circumstances. He is not unaware of our difficulty. He is not aloof to our troubles. He is near, and He is nearer than He ever has been before to returning. For now, though, when we pray under any condition, He will extend His unconditional peace, which will stand guard over our hearts like a military garrison stationed inside a city.

4 Things the Great Commission is Not

The closing of Matthew’s gospel is not just a tidy end to his book; these last few verses are the marching orders for the church:

The eleven disciples traveled to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped, but some doubted. Jesus came near and said to them, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:16-20).

Here is one of those passages that, if we ever wonder what God’s will is for our lives, we can come back to again and again, for here is the answer. What does God want me to do? He wants me to go and make disciples. Just like He said. So I wonder today, in this post, you would think with me not just about what these parting words of Jesus say, but also what they do NOT say. In that spirit, here are four things the Great Commission is NOT:

1. Negotiable.

The lasting command Jesus gave to the church is couched in His authority. Before He said to go, before He said to make disciples, Jesus wanted everyone to know the position from which He was speaking. This is not a life hack; it’s not some good advice; it’s not a request. This is a command, one rooted in the authority of Jesus.

Here we see the Son of God, the King of the Universe, the One through whom and in whom all things hang together. He has died and risen from the grave as the Conqueror of sin and death. And is taking His rightful place at the right hand of God the Father. From that position of authority, indeed all authority in heaven and on earth, He issues this command. Because of His authority, Jesus’ commission is not negotiable for any of us.

We should beware, then, of all the ways we tend to try and negotiate with Jesus. We hold up our circumstances, our supposed limitations, our special instances, but they are of no consequence. That doesn’t mean Jesus doesn’t care about them; it does mean, though, that they do not excuse us from this command.

2. Restrictive.

This is a very inclusive command. Jesus began His command with a non-restrictive description of His authority with the word “all.” With His “all” authority, we are to go to “all” nations. And when we go to “all” nations, we are to teach people to obey “everything.” There is nothing left out here; nothing pushed to the side. And here, too, we should be careful that we don’t either intentionally or unintentionally restrict that which is meant to be loosed.

We should be careful that we don’t restrict the “who” of the Great Commission. Like Jonah, there are certain groups of people that are uncomfortable for us to speak to. There are all kinds of reasons for that – maybe it’s our past experience, perhaps it’s our upbringing, or maybe it’s the state of current events. But if we are Christians, then the Great Commission calls us to confront our political, racial, and socio-economic biases. It’s an inclusive command for us to cross the lines we’ve drawn in our hearts.

But we should also be careful that we don’t restrict the “what” of the Great Commission. It’s not lost on Jesus that some of His teaching is hard to stomach. He saw it happen when He taught Himself – every time He stepped up to a crowd it was always thinner when He got done as people were confronted with the full implications of following Him. Ironically, we might talk ourselves into restricting some of the teachings of Jesus to try and make Jesus more palatable to those around us. But Jesus doesn’t need our help with that; He’s not asking for our help – in fact, He’s not asking at all. He’s commanding our faithfulness.

3. Complicated.

The Great Commission is not negotiable; it’s not restrictive; it’s also just not that complicated. We are to go. We are to share. And we are to bring others along the road of following Jesus. That’s it. And when you look at it like that, it’s really not that complicated. One might wonder, then, why we tend to make it so.

If we think about other parts of life that we tend to overcomplicate we might come up with a reason or two. For me, I know one of the reasons I tend to overcomplicate something is out of sheer procrastination. I know something needs to be done and I feel either unprepared or unexcited about doing it. So complicating an issue like that is a neat way around actually getting busy – it’s because the more I talk around something, the longer I don’t have to actually do it. And as an added bonus, it actually looks like I’m doing the very thing I’m subconsciously avoiding.

4. Easy.

But it’s at this point that we should recognize the difference between simple, and easy. Just because something is simple, doesn’t mean it doesn’t take effort. And cost. And pain of one sort or another. That’s true in obeying Jesus’ instructions. More times than not, they’re actually pretty simple. But there is difficulty in their simplicity.

It will cost us to obey Jesus’ commission. We will have to go, and if we have to go, then we will have to leave. And we will have to make disciples, and if we are making disciples, it will mean we have to give up some other things in our lives we are spending time and resources on. Make no mistake – living out Jesus’ Great Commission requires a drastic reordering of our lives. That’s not easy, but Jesus’ promises us it’s worth it.

These words of Jesus? They’re not negotiable, restrictive, complicated or easy – but they are the words of the One with all authority. So we must ask ourselves when confronted again by this familiar passage – are we following Jesus, or aren’t we?

One Bible Passage that Relieves the Anxiety of Decision-Making

Life is, in a sense, about making decisions. Granted, some of those decisions are more consequential than others, but whether big or small, we make thousands of decisions everyday:

What to eatWhat to wearWhich item on the to-do list to tackle firstWhether to make the phone call or text

We make most of those daily decisions without even thinking about doing so. We just act, and for the most part, that’s fine – we really don’t need an hour-long deliberation over whether to have the burger or chicken for lunch. We just need to choose, and move forward.

But every so often we come to a significant decision that we know will alter the trajectory of not only our lives, but the lives of those we live. These are decisions about career, relationships, and even our perceived calling from the Lord. While every decision really does matter, these types of decisions seem to matter more. Because they do, we often experience a lot of anxiety leading up to them, and an equal amount after them.

Before the decision, we ask questions:

What are the implications of going this way or that?How will making this decision affect my lifestyle?Is there one choice that sets me and my family up better for the future?

To be clear, these are not decisions of morality; it’s not as if we are choosing whether to help someone in need or place a huge bet on a football game (though that, too, is a choice). These are decisions that are murkier – you can see the good in either choice, and neither one is inherently sinful or disobedient to God’s revealed will. And because there isn’t really a “bad” decision in that scenario, the questions that come after are almost always worse:

Did I do the right thing?Would it have been better if I had made a different choice?Have I messed up my future by going this way?

There is a Bible passage that can help with the anxiety that comes both before and after those decisions. It comes from Acts 16, and it involves one of Paul’s missionary journeys:

They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia; they had been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they came to Mysia, they tried to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them. Passing by Mysia they went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision in which a Macedonian man was standing and pleading with him, “Cross over to Macedonia and help us!” After he had seen the vision, we immediately made efforts to set out for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them (Acts 16:6-10).

Paul’s ambition was to preach Christ where He had never been preached before. For that reason, he wanted to go into Asia, though we don’t know exactly where. He had the most noble of noble intentions, and yet the Lord stopped him. So he tried again. And again, the intentions were noble. And yet again he was prevented.

We don’t know how the Holy Spirit forbade Paul and his companions, nor do we know how the Spirit of Jesus refused them entrance. We just know He did. And that is the pin that bursts the bubble in our own anxiety around decision-making.

Put simply, as good and right as Paul’s intentions were, God had other plans. That truth helps reframe what we are really doing – and not doing – when we make decisions.

Our job in making decisions is to do all the things we know we should do. We should weigh possible implications. We should seek counsel from others. We should pray and ask God to search our hearts for any offensive or self-centered purpose in us. But our job is not to anticipate every potential outcome. That’s the job of the Lord.

And because it is, we can make our choices and then trust. As He did with Paul, the Lord will get us where He wants us one way or another. So when we choose in the best way we can, we can move forward in confidence. We don’t have to burden ourselves with endless second-guessing.

The Lord is faithful. He will accomplish His purposes.

Christians Can’t Be Fruit Pickers

Once upon a time, my favorite restaurant was the Golden Corral. It was, at the same time, my parent’s favorite restaurant because it was the only place they could take three teenage boys where they would be filled up without having to take out a second mortgage.

Those were the days when it didn’t matter what you ate, or how much of it you did, because your metabolism was working in overdrive. I would move through the buffet and grab two chicken fried steaks, a couple of bowls of mashed potatoes, and a couple of more rolls and then take it all down.

And then go back for more.

I don’t remember eating a lot of vegetables from the Golden Corral in those days – that was one of the other great parts about it. Because it was a long and glorious buffet line, I had the options of picking and choosing exactly what I wanted. And I picked and chose not based on health content, but on preference. I only wanted the things on my plate that were going to taste the best to me at that moment in time.

It occurs to me that we use the Golden Corral mentality in lots of other areas of life as well. We engage in relationships primarily with people who make us feel good about ourselves. We choose activities primarily based on what we will be the best at and enjoy the most. We put ourselves in situations where we have opportunities to display our best attributes. In many areas of life, we belly up to the buffet and choose that which tastes the best, regardless of whether it’s going to actually make us healthier.

We do this, too, with the development of our character. We know that once we come into Christ, that the Holy Spirit does His work of transformation in our hearts. He forms us into the image of Christ, growing us into His likeness in our thoughts, actions, and behaviors. Paul wrote about this work of the Spirit in the book of Galatians using the agricultural metaphor of fruit:

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. The law is not against such things (Gal. 5:22-23).

We look at that list, and no doubt there are some attributes on there that are more to our liking. Things that “taste” better to us because we are naturally already bent toward them. Our personality and makeup might be such that we are naturally joyful. Or that we are naturally patient. Or that we are naturally peaceful and laid back. But there are no doubt other attributes on this list that run completely against the grain of our personality:

We are naturally spontaneous, not self-controlled. We are naturally critical, not kind. We are naturally direct and abrasive, not gentle. Here is where we are tempted to employ the Golden Corral philosophy to our character, picking and choosing that which is the easiest source of personal development, but resisting the work of the Holy Spirit to develop these unnatural traits in us.

And when we do, the excuse is easy: “I’m just not a patient person.”

Thing is, these are the “fruit” of the Spirit. And the word “fruit” is singular. Not plural. It’s a packaged thing. An all or nothing deal.

That means we don’t get to be fruit-pickers.

The Holy Spirit does not allow us to fall back on the excuse of our personality; He’s not content to acknowledge our natural short-comings. What He will do, though, is grow us up in all these attributes, even the uncomfortable ones, through any and all means at His disposal.

The response to the work of the Spirit in our lives, then, is very simple: willing and joyful submission. To walk through the day believing the Spirit is at work in and through us to bring us into the likeness of God’s Son, and to not hold onto our natural personality traits. Or to use them as a crutch for our behavior.

Christian, don’t be a fruit-picker. Instead, embrace the holistic work of the Holy Spirit in your life. Hold nothing back.

A Christian Without a Church is a Christian in Trouble

Several years ago, a phrase gained popularity in religious circles and it went like this:

“I like Jesus; I just don’t like the church.” The sentiment behind the phrase was that a person could have a very fulfilling and growing relationship with Christ without actually being a part of a local fellowship. While the relationship with Jesus is essential, a relationship and commitment to a local congregation is optional.

To be fair, there is a way someone could justify an opinion like that. Christians believe in a doctrine often referred to as the priesthood of the believer, which means that anyone who has trusted in Christ can approach God directly. The only intermediary we have is Christ alone; we don’t need an institution or a special class of religious person to serve in that role. The Book of Hebrews helps us understand this incredible privilege that comes with being made right with God:

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin. Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need (Heb. 4:15-16).

And yet that same Book of Hebrews also helps us see that our life with Christ is not meant to be lived apart from other Christians:

And let us consider one another in order to provoke love and good works, not neglecting to gather together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging each other, and all the more as you see the day approaching (Heb. 10:24-25).

That last passage is in the positive; we should not neglect meeting together because in meeting together we can encourage one another to love and good deeds. But the opposite is also true:

A Christian without a church is a Christian in trouble.

It’s a humbling thing to recognize that truth because it means that it’s not just unwise to be without a church; it’s dangerous. And the reason it’s dangerous is because we aren’t strong enough to go at life with Christ on our own.

We need other people in our own weakness. And other people need us. This is at least part of the reason behind the biblical metaphor of the body Paul used to describe the church. To keep with that metaphor, can you imagine the pride of a leg thinking (if a leg could do that) that it could just go off and have a sustainable experience without the rest of the body?

In a sense, that’s exactly what we are doing when we stop going to church. We are saying, “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I only need me.” And there we find ourselves on the slippery slope of pride, which inevitably leads us not only to neglect the church, but to neglect the authority of God. When there is only me, then I’m the only one I have to obey.

When it’s only me, I’m left to constantly be inside my own head, and once there I can easily convince myself that my personal preferences are actually the right thing for me. I assume the role of sole authority in my own life, doing and believing as I please.

This is a dangerous place to be – to leave ourselves open to whatever influence tickles our emotions and fancy at the moment, and to simply embrace that thing or person because there’s no one else there. Conversely, the church anchors us from drift. The church holds us accountable to truth rather than preference. The church forces us to deny ourselves and keep following Jesus. To leave the church is to make a statement that we don’t need that protection – we are just fine in and of ourselves without it. And that is a drastic overestimation of ourselves.

Yes, a Christian without a church is a Christian in danger. Let’s not think so highly of ourselves that we fail to recognize it.

4 Cultural Characteristics That Make Discipleship an Uphill Battle

One of the primary terms the Bible uses to describe our relationship with Jesus is the word “walk.” It’s a good word; it has the connotation of a forward progression. We aren’t meant to have a stagnant relationship with our Lord; instead, we are making forward progress in intimacy and obedience.

But there are certain characteristics of our culture that make this walk seem like it’s going uphill. These are attributes that are so infectiously true of the environment we live in that they inevitably work their way into our own lives just because we are humans at this given place and at this given time. Unfortunately, though, these cultural characteristics are also obstacles to discipleship, this long walk in the same direction with Jesus. It’s important, then, for us, the people of the walk on the way to recognize some of the factors that make this walk so arduous sometimes.

1. The craving for immediacy.

We live in the culture of now, and because we do, we are the people of now. My children’s generation is the first generation that don’t know a life without the internet, that don’t know what it means to have to do slow research in paper books or even wait for the regularly scheduled time for a TV program. We are a microwave people living in a microwave world. And that craving for immediacy in all things runs against discipleship, which is by its very nature a long, long road.

I love how Psalm 84 describes this long road: “Happy are the people whose strength is in You, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage” (Psalm 84:5). Note particularly that he didn’t say that our hearts are set in a sprint or a stroll; rather, our hearts are on pilgrimage. It’s a long journey together with Jesus.

2. The avoidance of adversity.

We live in a culture that will do almost anything to alleviate pain, difficulty, or adversity. When we meet with things like adversity, we simply leave the relationship, we quit the job, or we walk away from the challenge. We like to be really good really quickly, and if we don’t have that instant gratification, we are likely to turn the other way and try to escape.

But adversity is one of God’s most effective crucibles for spiritual growth. Indeed, James said that without adversity, we will never truly grow into maturity:

“Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing” (James 1:2-4).

The stance of rejoicing instead of escaping is counter-intuitive to most everyone in the world today. But for those committed to the walk of spiritual growth, it’s absolutely essential.

3. The crowding of messages.

Whether you know it or not, you are constantly being marketed to. TV, billboards, radio – these are only the obvious ones. But everywhere, all the time, someone is trying to get a message into you. But that’s okay because we have conditioned ourselves to be able to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. But this division of focus runs contrary to the single-minded disciple who is seeking the kingdom of God. The writer of Hebrews described this focus like this:

“Therefore, since we also have such a large cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us. Let us run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:1-2).

Notice what we are being to told to throw off so that we can keep our eyes fixed on Jesus: There is the sin that easily trips us up, of course, but there are also apparently other things that might not necessarily be sin, but nonetheless can serve as weights around our ankles in the walk of discipleship. Whether a seemingly innocent distraction or a downright sin, they both must be thrown off so that we might have an uncrowded pursuit of Him.

4. The complicating of process.

We love processes in our culture, don’t we? And many times, the more complex the process is the better. It seems that the most complicated we make something the better we feel when we finally accomplish it. That’s also true in church many times.

We have all kinds of metrics and all kinds of measures and all kinds of processes to go through, all designed to produce and measure spiritual growth. While many of these might have their merits, it does seem that we have, at times, very much complicated the issue. Discipleship is a matter of seeking to know God through prayer and His Word and do what He says.

Know Him and follow Him. That’s it. Everything else is an aid to that simple, core message.

We live in a culture that is immediate, adversity-adverse, crowded, and overcomplicated. Here, too, as disciples of Jesus, we are meant to be salt and light. We are meant to stand distinct from this pattern as we walk with Him, even if that means we are going uphill for a while.

Noah’s Ark, and Why “God Isn’t Your Co-Pilot”

Several years ago, there was a popular slogan that, on the surface, sounded very Christian, and made its way onto bumper stickers and t-shirts. The saying went like this: “God is my co-pilot.”

The phrase originated from a 1943 memoir written by Robert Scott, who was a World War II fighter pilot. He titled his book God is My Co-Pilot” as a means of expressing his faith and reliance on God during his missions. The book was even made into a movie in 1945. Scott intended the phrase to mean that the reason he was able to make it through combat was because of the protection of the Lord. God was with him, and he wanted a simple phrase to represent God’s presence.

In this, he was absolutely right. And if the t-shirts and bumper stickers that came after meant the same thing, they were right also. If you are a Christian, God is indeed with you; even more so, He is “for” you:

What, then, are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? 32 He did not even spare his own Son but gave him up for us all. How will he not also with him grant us everything? (Rom. 8:31-32).

But while the sentiment behind the phrase might be right, “God is my co-pilot” does have one major flaw –

If God if your co-pilot, then you are the pilot. That is, you are the one doing the actual steering. You are the one making decisions. You are the one in control. The role of the copilot is, by definition, to assist the captain in operating an aircraft and maintaining navigation. And that’s not right. Consider the words of the prophet Jeremiah:

“I know, Lord, that a person’s way of life is not his own; no one who walks determines his own steps” (Jer. 10:23).

Or Daniel:

“May the name of God
be praised forever and ever,
for wisdom and power belong to him.
He changes the times and seasons;
he removes kings and establishes kings.
He gives wisdom to the wise
and knowledge to those
who have understanding.
He reveals the deep and hidden things;
he knows what is in the darkness,
and light dwells with him” (Dan. 2:20-22).

God is no one’s copilot. Whether a king or a pauper, the Lord bows to no one. Which brings us to Noah. Noah, who “found favor in the sight of the Lord” (Gen. 6:8). These were desperate times, days in which “the Lord saw that man’s wickedness was widespread on the earth and that every scheme his mind thought of was nothing but evil all the time.” In fact, so evil were these days that “the Lord regretted that He had made man on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart” (Gen. 6:5-6). And so this God, who only a few chapters earlier in the Book of Genesis gazed on His perfect creation and declared over and over again, “It is good,” chose to wipe the earth clean of everything that walked, crawled, or flew around it.

God shared His intentions with Noah, but He also gave instructions. We find the detailed commands of building the ark, a vessel that would save a remnant of humanity and the rest of God’s creation to repopulate the earth. In those instructions, we find what kind of wood to use, how to cover it, how long and wide and high it must be, how many decks it would have, and even how close to the sides of the craft should be to the roof. We find instructions about almost everything… except a rudder. Or a sail. No instructions as to how to steer the ship.

Perhaps that’s intentional because this craft was not meant to be steered at all; the ark was not designed to be navigated. The fate of the company was left in the hands of God by faith.

Noah was not the captain of his own ship leaving God to the role of copilot. The same thing is true today.

If, today, you are grasping tightly to the rudder of your own life, let it go. You are fighting a losing battle. Surrender yourself, by faith, to God’s direction and control. And know that when you do, God is not only with you, but for you. He will accomplish His good work in and through you.