Daniel Darling's Blog, page 27

The Way Home: Mindy Belz on international reporting and humanizing ignored people groups

This episode is part of a special series of podcasts in conjunction with the release of The Dignity Revolution: Reclaiming God’s Rich Vision for Humanity. In this series, Dan is bringing together leaders and thinkers whose work helps Christians think well about what it means to be human.

Mindy Belz is senior editor of WORLD Magazine and the author of They Say We Are Infidels. Through her reporting she has helped to humanize people we are otherwise tempted to ignore.

You can pre-order The Dignity Revolution today and receive a free one-year subscription to Light Magazine.

Show Notes

Website: world.wng.org/globe-trot
Twitter: @mcbelz

The post The Way Home: Mindy Belz on international reporting and humanizing ignored people groups appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

The Way Home: Russell Moore on being created in the image of God

This episode is part of a special series of podcasts in conjunction with the release of The Dignity Revolution: Reclaiming God’s Rich Vision for Humanity. In this series, Dan is bringing together leaders and thinkers whose work helps Christians think well about what it means to be human.

What does it mean to be created in the image of God? How does this relate to human dignity? Russell Moore joins this special edition of the podcast. Dr. Moore is the president of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission.

You can pre-order The Dignity Revolution today and receive a free one-year subscription to Light Magazine.

Show Notes

Website: russellmoore.com and erlc.com
Twitter: @drmoore

The post The Way Home: Russell Moore on being created in the image of God appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

Behold Your Mother

“Yeah, well, we’re leaving tomorrow for vacation.”

This was the stunning response I received from the adult daughter of an ill and elderly church member when I called to let them know her father was in the hospital, hanging on to life.

I wish I could say this was a rare exception, but I’d be lying. When I pastored a mostly elderly congregation, I was shocked at the cavalier attitude of their Christian children. These were otherwise professing, faithful, generous believers who, nonetheless, seemed dismissive about their parents.

I’m not referring to the very difficult decision many face of whether to personally care for parents in the home or to find them a facility where their needs can best be met. This is always a complex and difficult decision and it’s not the same for every family in this situation. What is clear, however, is the responsibility of children to stewardship, oversight, and compassion for parents in their twilight years.

I know some children who found this kind of care a sacred honor, even though the hours were often filled with thankless tasks and sad realities. Elder care can be a grueling and lonely grind.

What disturbed me were the others, too many of them, who offered a “not my problem” approach, a kind of blame-shifting, pass-the-baton attitude that leaves family members without the resources to live the last years of life with dignity.

Sometimes this responsibility was shifted to the church. A refrain I often heard was “Isn’t this the church’s problem?” There is some truth here. Christ’s body is supposed to look out for the marginalized, particularly those in their advanced years. I was always amazed at the level of care and generosity exhibited by our small congregation. But there are some levels of care and decision-making that even the most resourced, well-meaning churches can’t provide, such as power-of-attorney, difficult housing decisions, and medical decisions. What’ s more, the church shouldn’t enable abdication of responsibility by family.

A theology of parental care

So where does this indifference come from? Why does this exist among Christian children of elderly parents? There are likely quite a few complex factors, but I wonder if some of this lack of compassion stems from a failure to adequately teach the biblical ethic of “honoring father and mother,” given by God as law in the Pentateuch (Exodus 20:12) and continued in the New Covenant (Ephesians 6:2).

To “honor” in ancient times meant more than what we think that word might mean. It carried with it a commitment for children to care for their parents in their infirm years. This was a countercultural idea, both in the ancient Near Eastern context of Israel and the first century world of the Church. It might be just as countercultural today, in an increasingly utilitarian society. Health care experts are writing, more persuasively, about the elderly’s lack of societal usefulness.

This is why care for the elderly is not simply “the right thing to do” but a vivid portrait of the gospel story. The Holy Spirit in us renews our self-centered motivations, reminding us that Christ cared for our spiritual disability while we were spiritually dead and “yet sinners.” Witness Jesus’ words to his beloved disciple John, from the cross. Even while suffering cruel injustice and bearing sin, he made sure his mother Mary would have her physical needs met. “John,” he said, “Behold your Mother.”

We often read Jesus’ final words here as a sign and symbol of the New Covenant, where Christ is calling out a new people with new allegiances. He’s creating a new family, made up of the redeemed from every nation, tribe, and tongue. So John has a new mother and Mary has a new son. Two thousand years later the Spirit is still creating new mothers and new sons in the family of God.

But there is also something else at work here. Jesus was fully human, a real son from a real mother. His submission to the Father’s will in going to the cross didn’t release him from the earthly responsibilities to the one who had wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in the manger, who nurtured him, provided for him, and cared for him as a child.

What does Jesus’ example offer for his followers? It reminds us that honoring our parents isn’t simply payback for their care for us in childhood. It’s not a reward dependent on how well they parented us. Care for your parents is a reflection of what we believe about the gospel.

It seems we need to recover this ethic in church life. I fear that our good desire to reach the next generation becomes an obsession with youth so much so that we often leave behind the aging. I wonder if we’ve imbibed too much of our culture’s pragmatic utilitarianism that discards people when they are no longer at peak usefulness.

Care of parents, particularly in the latter years, is difficult, grueling, and offers little tangible reward. The elderly seem like speed bumps on the road to relevance. But if we really believe each human life was made in the image of God, if we really believe that every human has intrinsic worth, regardless of utility, we’d do better at embodying this ethic when it comes to equipping our people to care for their elderly parents.

We can do this in several ways. First, we can preach the biblical texts on honoring parents and include the elderly in our preaching on the sanctity of human life. Second, we should be more intentional about fostering intergenerational relationships so the younger see the value of engagement with senior saints. Third, we need to be more intentional about challenging those tempted to abdicate their responsibility to their parents and affirm those who willingly take up the task. Lastly, the church can connect our people to helpful resources in the community that offer help and wise counsel.

Most of all, however, the church must embody the ethic of Jesus on the cross, who embodied the holistic nature of the gospel, which doesn’t only say, “Father forgive them,” but also, “Mother, here is your son.”

This article was originally published here.

The post Behold Your Mother appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

The Way Home: Rich Stearns on human dignity and the Great Commission

This episode is part of a special series of podcasts in conjunction with the release of The Dignity Revolution: Reclaiming God’s Rich Vision for Humanity. In this series, Dan is bringing together leaders and thinkers whose work helps Christians think well about what it means to be human.

He has traveled all over the world in a 20-year career, helping World Vision bring help and hope to the most vulnerable. World Vision CEO Rich Stearns joins me to talk about what he’s learned about a Christian’s call to both the Great Commission and Great Commandment, about leadership in a multi-national Christian organization, and why he still thinks too many Christians have a hole in their gospel.

You can pre-order The Dignity Revolution today and receive a free one-year subscription to Light Magazine.

Show Notes

Website: worldvision.org
Twitter: @RichStearns

The post The Way Home: Rich Stearns on human dignity and the Great Commission appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

The Worst Ministry Advice I Ever Received

“Son,” the pastor whispered to me as he put his hand on my shoulder, “You need to listen up to what I’m about to tell you, because it will be the key to your ministry success.”

I leaned in, eager to hear this crucial insight.

“Don’t become friends with anyone in your congregation.”

This pastor was only a few years older than me, but he’d grown up in a pastor’s home. He was scarred from the abuse he’d seen his father suffer and from his own experiences in ministry.

To be fair, his advice did contain some bits of wisdom. There is a danger for leaders in allowing friendship to cloud judgment or show favoritism. If we’re not careful, we’ll allow ministry to either damage relationships or to keep us from necessary confrontations. I think he was genuinely trying to warn me about these pitfalls.

But is this detached view of leadership, espoused in many leadership models, a good one for the pastor? Is the risk of being hurt by possible betrayals a good reason to adopt an “above the fray” approach?

I didn’t think so, for a few reasons.

First, my wife and I just didn’t know how to not make friends with the people we served. We are both natural extroverts who thrive on relationships. More important, we didn’t see a way to faithfully serve our small congregation without investing fully in their lives, forming friendships, and being vulnerable. In other words, how would we live and work among humans without being fully human?

Second, I don’t see a detachment from people in Jesus’ public ministry. Yes, Jesus took time to get away from the crowds and be alone—something too few pastors do—but this is the same Jesus who purposefully chose, discipled, and cultivated 12 men to walk closely with him for three years. What’s more, Jesus further winnowed his inner circle to three: Peter, James, and John and had perhaps a best friend in John, often described as “the Apostle whom Jesus loved.”

So Jesus, the Good Shepherd, had good friends. He chose a best friend. How can we do less? Of course, there are a few considerations. Unlike Jesus, by choosing and forming deep friendship with a few parishioners, we can form an unhealthy bubble and be isolated from real issues and legitimate criticism. We can also send a signal that we favor, both in our preaching and in our service, certain people over others. Jesus didn’t allow his close friendships to keep him from ministry to others—and neither should we.

Third, not developing friends with your parishioners leaves you isolated. And isolation in ministry is dangerous. I’ve observed that every pastor is a preacher, but not every preacher is a pastor. There is a tendency among pastors who (rightly) prioritize personal study to disconnect from the congregation and function as glorified conferences speaker. We become someone everybody shows up to hear once a week to deliver a sermon.

I don’t want to diminish the importance of preaching. Jesus told Peter in that famous walk on the beach in John 21 to “feed my sheep.” God’s people need the regular, systematic, lifelong feeding on the Word of God. Pastors cannot be less than preachers, but they should be so much more. In fact, I feel strongly that a pastor who is isolated from his congregation, who never makes deep friendships, who is detached from the real-world, daily struggles of those who walk in the doors will not be able to effectively shepherd his own people.

It shows up in your preaching. When I pastored, I preached differently after having conversations with my people. I had their faces in my mind as I prepared. I thought of the restaurant executive who was under constant pressure to see his franchises pull bigger profits. I saw the college student who faced a daily barrage of anti-Christian rhetoric from his professors and classmates. I saw the homeschooling mom who felt inadequate, most days, to do her job.

If you don’t know your people, if you are not friends with them, if you do not share your life, your vulnerabilities, even your fears with them, you will not have the relationship capital to then shepherd them well through the seasons of life.

In my current role working for the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention, I’ve had the chance to hear a lot of different pastors in a lot of different churches. I can tell the ones who have been among their people. There is an earthiness to them. They are . . . shepherds. I can also tell the pastors who are essentially conference speakers. They preach awesome, well-crafted sermons, sermons that edify and educate. But there is a kind of academic, ivory-tower feel to what they are saying. It sails right past the guy who works 70 hours at the warehouse and the single mom who waits tables.

There are a lot of people who can preach well. But far fewer are willing to pastor. Some argue that these are separate gifts and it is true that, especially in larger churches, different people will be called to different roles. Pastors of large churches can’t possibly befriend everyone who walks in the door on Sunday nor should they be guilted into thinking they should. Neither Jesus nor Paul were personal friends with most of those who heard their preaching.

And yet, pastors should at least be friends with some in their congregations. Some of their best friends should be from among the people they serve. There is certainly a risk to forming these kinds of bonds, but there is also great reward, both personally and for the ministry as a whole. Some of my best, most enriching and sanctifying relationships are with people whom I pastored.

So, with all due respect to that pastor who gave me the advice to “not get too close” to the people I served, I would give the opposite advice. If you are going to shepherd God’s people faithfully, don’t do it from afar, detached, and disengaged. Roll up your relational sleeves and live among them. This will be the key to your ministry success.

This article was originally published here.

The post The Worst Ministry Advice I Ever Received appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

A Ministry of the Mundane

I’ll never forget the quiet of the church building on my first day as pastor. I had previously served on a large church staff with many action-packed weekly ministries. The building was a beehive of activity. But in my new role as pastor of a small church, it was a different experience, one my Bible-college training and Christian upbringing didn’t quite prepare me for.

I suspect most of my ministry colleagues have made similar adjustments. I once heard Chuck Swindoll say to a gathering of ministers, “In ministry life, there are more moments of the mundane than the magnificent.” This is true, but why is it so hard to adjust to a ministry of the mundane?

Pastors are rightly motivated to see God do a grand work in their midst. After all, that’s why we surrendered to the call to ministry in the first place. We want to be vessels through which God changes the lives of the people we serve. We read the book of Acts and are inspired, again and again, by the way the Spirit of God builds Christ’s church. And we ask ourselves: Why can’t that happen here, in this community, through this local church?

We all want God to do something big, and we want that big thing to happen through our ministry. This isn’t necessarily a bad or carnal impulse. We should dream, as Paul did in Romans 10:1, for the salvation of those who are alienated from God. We should read the Great Commission and the words of the Lord in Acts 1:8 and the picture of the gathering of the kingdom from all nations in Revelation 5 and 7 as both a challenge to spread God’s name and a promise of Christ’s activity in this generation. Nobody should go into ministry with only a casual interest in seeing people moved from death to life.

God is in the whisper

However, this doesn’t mean we, ourselves, have to be overcome with frenetic activity. Sometimes God moves in big, catalytic moments like conferences and memorable worship services or large-scale events. Other times, however, God moves in the quiet, small things.

I’m reminded of Elijah, who experienced an adrenalin crash after his showdown with the prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel. Many in Israel still worshipped Yahweh, yet still he was despondent because the big convert, Queen Jezebel, remained hardened in opposition.

As God ministered to his discouraged prophet in 1 Kings 19, he demonstrates God’s unwillingness to be held captive by our expectations. Elijah stood and watched a series of big natural phenomena: a strong wind, an earthquake, and a fire. Each time, the text is clear that God was not in any of these events. God was in what came next: a whisper.

Does this mean God isn’t in control of earthquakes and fires and wind? No. Does this mean God doesn’t use big events to bring about his purposes? No. But the point God is making to Elijah and to us who speak and minister for God, is this: God is also in the whisper. He’s in the quiet, ordinary moments of life.

Gregory the Great wrote, “Purity of heart and simplicity are of great force with almighty God, who is in purity most singular, and of nature most simple.”

Most of our professional ministry training prepares us for the big moments. This is good. But I wonder if we go into the pastorate expecting every day to be Mt. Carmel, when more days are like Elijah’s solace under the juniper tree.

We have a natural restlessness. In part it’s a product of the culture in which we live, where we are constantly awaiting the next big thing. Our smartphones light up with alerts from social media, email, text, and phones. Each one has the promise of something new: a new conversation, a new opportunity, a new news story. We are mastered by the moment.

I find it extraordinarily difficult to turn this off. It’s a constant battle that I don’t always win. I find it hard not to check my phone regularly, even when I should be present with people.

This is a symptom of not just a busy culture, but a busy heart. We are restless creatures because we are running from the solitude that allows us to meditate, to be quiet, to hear God speak, to repent. It’s uncomfortable to face ourselves, so we fill our time with distractions.

The way of Jesus is not just active ministry. It’s time away with the Father. It’s not just crisis and confrontation; it’s the ordinary, mundane, and common. As much as we need to plan the next big event, we need to experience routines, and rest and renewal. At times, this might mean a sabbatical or time away with the family. Often it’s simply structuring our lives to include moments that are not big or consequential: breakfast with friends, a few hours to read and grow, or pursuing a life-giving hobby. I’m reminded of Thomas Carlyle’s statement that silence is “the element in which great things fashion themselves together.”

It’s one thing to cultivate this “theology of the mundane” in our own hearts, but it’s another altogether to incorporate it into our leadership. Leadership books often coach readers to evaluate all of life through the grid of “How does this activity contribute to our five- and ten-year goals?” Instead, try accepting that all of life doesn’t have to be driven by the next big moment. Enjoy this present ministry.

We do this in a few ways. First, model in your schedule the kind of healthy spiritual rhythms you’d like others to develop. Second, take the long view of church ministry, where the Spirit of God slowly changes the hearts of his people, rather than making every Sunday “the big Sunday.” Third, work to balance your desire for growth with a commitment to pastor the people in front of us, rather than the people we wish we had.

The mundane isn’t meaningless

Sometimes our well-meaning impulse toward missions and evangelism reduces the mundane to meaningless. We need to recall that God’s Kingdom means he rules over all the earth, not just over what happens on Sunday. It isn’t always the big moments—the dramatic altar calls, the big donations to fund a project, the talented new hire on the church staff—where God is working. The daily, obscure work that fills ministry life matters too. Painting a nursery wall, stuffing bulletins, conversations with neighbors, cleaning up after a potluck—this too is Kingdom work.

For years as a staff member of a big and influential church, I would drive past small churches and think to myself: What even happens there? As if God is only present in mega-ministries.

Pastoring a small church changed that for me. Early on, a young person wrote me a heartfelt note about how my recent sermon series helped them understand the power of forgiveness. I remember thinking, Those sermons, at a church nobody has ever heard of, were somehow used by God in that young person’s life. On another occasion, a confused and recently divorced man stumbled into our tiny church parking lot to speak with one of our elders after everyone had left church on Sunday. That conversation led to this man’s conversion.

God is at work in all kinds of churches in all kinds of different ways. The spirit of Christ is drawing people to himself and changing lives through the church of 100 just as he is in the church of 10,000. He is working in the mundane, the everyday life of the church, even when it seems nothing is happening but an occasional whisper.

This article was originally published here.

The post A Ministry of the Mundane appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

The Way Home: Brandon Smith on how the Old Testament applies today

How does the Old Testament fit in with the rest of the Bible? And how does this apply to me today? My friend Brandon D. Smith of B&H Publishing stops by to share some of his insight. Brandon is the author of They Spoke of Me: How Jesus Unlocks the Old Testament[image error]. He also serves at City Church in Murfreesboro, Tenn., and co-hosts the Word Matters podcast.

Show Notes

Website: secundumscripturas.com and centerforbaptistrenewal.com
Podcast: wordmatterspod.com
Book: They Spoke of Me: How Jesus Unlocks the Old Testament [image error]

The post The Way Home: Brandon Smith on how the Old Testament applies today appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

The Essential Art of Forgiveness in Ministry

I’ll never forget where I was when I nearly quit the ministry: sitting in my office at church, weeping. My wife was out of town with our children, ministering to a friend whose husband had just died from cancer. It was very early in my first pastorate. Being a senior pastor was new, different, and somewhat frightening.

I was experiencing the betrayal of a church leader close to me, someone who had discipled me, mentored me, and ordained me for ministry. What began, I thought, as constructive criticism, soon turned into private and public slander.

This new opposition wasn’t the kind of friendly and constructive criticism I’d expected and sought from people I’d grown up idolizing. This wasn’t coaching from older, wiser, pastors. This was jealousy, bullying, and threats. And it was deeply personal.

His disapproval of me had not stemmed from integrity issues, doctrinal issues, or even leadership failures. It was simply a difference in ministry model. I chose to pursue a style of leadership that departed, in some ways, from his. Having been his disciple, he had expected me to lead just like him in my own ministry.

I remember thinking in this moment, I think I’m going to quit. Maybe I’m not cut out for church leadership. Maybe they are right.

I replayed the conversations with this person over and over in my head. You are not cut out for ministry. You are an embarrassment. You will never make it without us.

That same day I called up a friend, a respected and experienced pastor. I was trembling when I called him and told him about the situation. I told him I was pretty sure I would leave the ministry.

Rich, my friend, responded that day with two statements that changed my life and ministry forever:

“Dan, you can’t quit. I won’t let you quit. You are right and they are wrong.”

“Dan, you must also forgive them.”

The first word was one I wanted and needed to hear. The second … well, I didn’t like hearing about forgiveness so much in this moment. But Rich was right.

I had always spoken and preached and taught about forgiveness, but perhaps it was in a sterile, academic way. I really had not had occasion to practice forgiveness. I’m not talking about letting go of petty hurts and insults—the kind of daily rhythm of forgiveness and repentance that oils relationships—I’m speaking of painful and difficult hurts.

How do you forgive when you’ve been so deeply wounded? I would learn this in a personal way over the next year as my reputation was maligned and I lost many friends. No longer was forgiveness a sterile topic for a future lesson.

Calling out evil

In the story of Joseph—dreamer, slave, brother, wrongly accused, prime minister, son—I discovered a powerful secret about forgiveness and leadership. The story of Joseph’s epic fall and rise had been a staple of my growing up years in church. I knew the contours well and saw in Joseph not only a powerful tale of God’s provision and protection, but a beautiful shadow of Christ. Christ was the better Joseph, wrongly accused, imprisoned, then exonerated by resurrection and exalted in glory.

But there is something about the God-given forgiveness displayed by Joseph that I hadn’t seen until my current trial. In those famous words, Joseph says:

As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today. (Genesis 50:20 ESV)

Two things strike me about Joseph’s passionate words to his brothers. First, Joseph didn’t minimize the hurt against him. He pointed to his brothers and said to them, “you meant evil against me.”

We too often skip past this part and get to the good stuff: the forgiveness. Perhaps it’s our desire to see resolution and reconciliation that causes us to minimize real hurts. I think we do this in our own lives as well. As Christians we are so wired for forgiveness that we forget to look at evil—evil done to us—and call it what it is.

But to minimize sin—even sin against ourselves—is to hollow out the gospel message that offers forgiveness in the first place. Christ, in his death and resurrection, offers forgiveness for those who repent and believe. It’s free, but it cost Christ his life. The sins we committed against God were heinous violations of his holiness and tragic trespasses against our fellow man.

The only way we can begin to offer forgiveness is if we call our hurts what they are: evil. In a way, reading Joseph’s words freed me to move forward. It gave me permission to own what had happened to me.

Some slights are mere slights and many insults are petty. But real, honest, genuinely evil things done against us are not things to be dismissed lightly. Forgiveness is not a pass. It’s not a wave of the hand with a shrug, No big deal.

God meant it for good

What happened to me—this was big deal. It was evil—not simply by my own flawed accounting—but by numerous godly people who knew the situation. Owning this helped me to appreciate the next piece of Joseph’s forgiveness, the theological truth that formed the ground of my ability to forgive.

But God meant it for good. The doctrine of God’s sovereignty generates a lot of heat. Theologians have argued about it since the first century. But for me, this was no longer a sterile chapter in a systematic theology textbook. It was life.

Joseph’s words are beautiful declaration of the tension between human responsibility for sin and God’s sovereignty. His brother’s intended evil. They worked and schemed against their brother, denying him human dignity, abandoning him for death, and selling him, like property, to the highest bidder. They intended but God superintended.

God used human sin to accomplish His purposes in the world. Joseph’s ordeal is a shadow of another, betrayed by his brothers, sold for thirty pieces of silver, wrongly put to death. In Christ, Peter declared on Pentecost, we see the same tension:

this Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. God raised him up, loosing the pangs of death, because it was not possible for him to be held by it. (Acts 2:23-24 ESV)

Man schemed, God superintended for good. I can’t fully explain this mystery. But it does cause me to worship and it gives me grounds for repentance. I know that the evil done to me—pedestrian when compared to the evil I’ve committed against God—is not random. It’s not out there somewhere. It’s being used by God for his glory.

Sometimes we see, as in the life of Joseph, this being fully worked out. Mostly though, we won’t see the full flower of Christ’s kingdom restoration until He comes back in victory. I’ve seen God use this difficult season to draw me closer to him, to sharpen my leadership, and to allow me to build new friendships with people I’d never know if I wasn’t hurt so deeply.

Forgiveness as vital to leadership

Forgiveness is not ancillary to spiritual leadership. It’s vital. A leader’s ability to forgive others directly impacts his ability to lead others. I’m convinced of it, not only from the life of Joseph who became a wise and capable leader in Egypt.

I had to forgive those who had hurt me deeply not only for my own personal spiritual growth, but also because I had a congregation of people watching me. How could I preach of the forgiveness Christ offers and yet harbor bitterness in my heart? How could I help my people apply the gospel to their own relational struggles if I ignored what the gospel was telling me?

I’ve seen bitterness tear at the heart of a leader and poison his leadership. I’ve seen it up close in ministry and I’ve read about it in countless biographies. Look closely at tyrannical leaders–in ministry, in government, in business, anywhere—and you’ll find a common trait. Somewhere in their past was a deep hurt that wounded them so deeply they couldn’t move on. Bitterness and cynicism became embedded in their psyche, making them insecure and power-hungry.

When we can’t or won’t forgive, we communicate something other than the gospel we claim to declare. We say, with our lives, that God is less than all-powerful and that our circumstances are outside of his control. What’s more we offer a limited gospel, one that only heals certain kinds of pain. Ultimately, we lead our people away from the living water their hearts crave.

Forgiveness doesn’t always mean reconciliation. It doesn’t always mean every relationship is put back together perfectly. It doesn’t mean we ignore abuses or criminal acts. What it does mean, however, is that we don’t shut off our hearts from the gospel’s healing, cleansing flow. It means we trust the evil done against us, not to our own limited and faulty vengeance, but to the powerful justice of God.

This article was originally published here.

The post The Essential Art of Forgiveness in Ministry appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

The Way Home: Brian Dembowczyk on passing the gospel to the next generation

How can parents effectively communicate the truths of Scripture in a way that is lasting for their children? Brian Dembowczyk joins me to share some practical ways parents, teachers, and leaders can be intentional about passing on the gospel to the next generation.

Brian is the managing editor of The Gospel Project at LifeWay. He is the author of Cornerstones: 200 Questions and Answers to Learn Truth and Gospel-Centered Kids Ministry: How the Gospel Will Transform Your Kids, Your Church, Your Community, and the World.

Show Notes

Website: gospelproject.com
Twitter: @briandembo and @Gospel_Project
Book: Cornerstones: 200 Questions and Answers to Learn Truth and Cornerstones: 200 Questions and Answers to Teach Truth (Parent Guide)

The post The Way Home: Brian Dembowczyk on passing the gospel to the next generation appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.

We Should Expect Non-Christians to Share Our Morals

A common reaction among evangelicals to the Supreme Court ruling on same-sex marriage has been deflection from controversy. This laissez-faire approach has been most commonly expressed by closely connected beliefs about Christianity and morality:

We should not expect non-Christians to think and live like Christians. So why all the fuss among Christians over the legalization of same-sex marriage?
Since when do we depend on the government to enforce Christian morals?

Many who express these sentiments do so with well-meaning attempts to (rightly) keep evangelicals from panicking over misplaced trust in temporal earthly powers. Additionally, they want to remind themselves and fellow believers that to be a Christ follower will always be, as Jesus promised, countercultural.

Yet the two statements above reflect a poor understanding of how God ordered creation, morality, and the purpose he has given civil law. Assumptions like those above can lead to disastrous consequences for how we understand moral obligation.

Universal Expectations

In one sense, the Bible does describe the condition of humans, without Christ, as lost and depraved, incapable of pleasing God (Rom. 3:9–20). Apart from Christ, we are in a state of rebellion, and until regenerated by the Holy Spirit, cannot understand the ways of God (1 Cor. 2:14). It should not surprise us, then, when sinners act sinfully. Sin has been the human default ever since Eden.

However, by keeping the spotlight only on sinful humanity’s inability to live lives of obedience unto God, we overlook how failure to obey God shows that God’s commands for human obedience are grounded in his good and holy nature, and therefore obligatory on all persons at all times. Morality reflects God’s holiness. Thus, one function of the moral order is to expose our rebellion against God’s moral law and God himself. We know the moral order is good because our guilty consciences indict us for failing to uphold it. This is the most basic of ethical principles. To say non-Christians can’t be expected to live like Christians and obey God ignores the fact that God and the moral order he implanted in creation are to be obeyed. Making that claim leads to a consequence similar to what happens when we quit a book halfway in: We’ll fail to see the full story and resolution.

At creation, God made humans as his image bearers. Christian theology has long debated the definition and scope of what it means to image God. But on a functional level, to image God means at least that we possess the capacity to make sense of moral cues or moral demands. God endowed the mind to know right from wrong.

Paul picks up on this theme of creation and moral order in Romans 1 and 2, where he describes particular sinful practices as unnatural. Not only that, he says that these practices are known to be immoral because they violate “the law … written on their hearts” (Rom. 2:15, ESV). The “conscience also bears witness” to God’s moral law. The fact that humanity is mired in sin does not excuse anyone from knowing or doing what their God-given conscience knows to be good or bad.

Every human, even in a fallen world, has some capacity to do good. This is often referred to as common grace—that is, God’s restraining us from being completely evil, and his enabling us to do good, though not unto salvation. Christians do well, then, when they advocate Christian ethics in the public square, both as a word to the conscience of non-Christians, hoping they will repent before their Creator, and as a way to promote what is best for human flourishing.

Imagine we took the same approach with a different issue—say, crime—that some do with marriage and family policy. What if our approach toward murder or theft was as laissez-faire? Why should we expect our neighbors not to murder? Why should we think non-Christians will act like believers and obey the sixth commandment? But if the home of one of these advocates were broken into by an unbelieving neighbor, they would call upon the local, God-ordained authorities, and accusing the thief of violating a fundamental principle of justice that all of our consciences know to be true: It is unjust to steal. Stealing is a violation not only of God’s revealed law, but also of the basic concept of justice that is written on the heart of every person. If our unbelieving neighbor steals from us, we don’t excuse their behavior because they don’t follow a Christian code of ethics. We simply expect them not to steal.

All Christians, if they are honest, hope non-Christians think and act like Christians—whether in maintaining a just and well-ordered society or when approaching issues like human trafficking, abortion, racial justice, child poverty, and other pressing issues. We fight for laws that reflect what we believe to be true about human dignity and human flourishing. Why? Because principles of morality are not limited to or binding on only Christians.

Therefore, we must not shrink back from fighting for what we believe is God’s design for marriage simply because it is controversial. That morality is contested and controversial simply displays how fractured societies are and how obstinate sinful humans are to God’s design. We advocate for biblical marriage in the wider culture, not because we want to create a theocracy or because we need government sanction for our beliefs, but because we believe that the way God ordered human life offers the best opportunity for human flourishing. Ending human trafficking or supporting the best marriage policy has real-world implications for the common good.

The Role of the Government

The second axiom of this laissez-faire approach to ethics is an appeal to the inability of civil law to shape human hearts. To this principle we add our whole-hearted agreement. Only a work of God’s Spirit can regenerate the heart. There is no legal utopia that can convert and immediately sanctify.

However, this does not mean Christians should not work for just laws and a well-ordered society. In fact, knowledge of human depravity should motivate Christians in a representative republic to fight for a government that promotes God’s law. And we should do this for several reasons.

First, the Bible tells us that government is God’s delegated authority to do good (Rom. 13:4). Christian ethics assumes the presence of sin and evil in society and therefore affirms the need for just leaders and just laws to punish evil and promote good. Human leaders, whether they realize it or not, are leading in the place of God (Rom. 13:4).

Second, it is fictitious to assume that laws are amoral. Every law reflects some moral principle. Laws that govern theft, for instance, reflect the belief that private property is a moral right. Laws that govern food safety reflect the belief that corporations that sell food to the public should care about the health of the consumer. Laws that prohibit human slavery reflect the belief that humans possess inherent dignity. Each of these principles terminates at a particular goal: affirming that which is good, and shunning that which is evil.

All of our activism—our work to change laws and legislation in this country when necessary—flows from our moral beliefs. Sometimes activists acknowledge this more vocally—read the statements of those who work on behalf of the poor and impoverished—while others are more subtle. Imagine if Martin Luther King Jr. had not appealed to the gospel in his march for civil rights. If Christians refuse to apply a Christian ethic while stewarding their influence on public policy, others will fill that void with their own moral ethic. A secular ethic is not a value-free ethic simply because it says so. Secular ethics are packed with their own conceptions of what is true, good, beautiful, and worthwhile to pursue. The task of the Christian, therefore, is to contend for justice and truth in the public realm.

Third, it is impossible to work for justice without believing that laws are moral statements, because every belief in morality stems from the understanding that morality makes demands that we ought to follow. If as a Christian you work for justice at any level, you are bringing Christian ethics to bear on public policy, whether you realize it or not. Gary Haugen, president of International Justice Mission, an organization fighting to end human trafficking, has written an entire book pleading with Christians to fight for just laws around the world. Why? Because without a system where laws reflect some aspect of Christian ethics—principles of justice, dignity, and the common good more broadly—societies descend into anarchy, and the weak are preyed upon by the strong. Justice for the trafficked, eradication of poverty, compassion for the fatherless—these depend on a system where right and wrong are distinguished.

Finding the Right Moral Standard

Some construe biblical texts to mean that Christians cannot morally evaluate what happens outside the church. “Judge not, that you not be judged,” Jesus said in Matthew 7:1. Some read this as a prohibition on making moral judgments about culture, for fear that Christians will appear morally scrupulous, petty, and judgmental. But what Jesus really says is this: The standard by which you judge shall you be judged. The question, ultimately, is whose standard of judgment is true? As Christians, we believe unreservedly that God’s moral judgments are holy, true, and for our good. Moral judgment is rooted in God’s kindness and mercy to show a path toward righteousness and flourishing.

To be sure, Christians are to hold fellow Christians accountable within the life of the church. But neither Jesus nor the New Testament writers excuse misbehavior or unbelief carte blanche. Much of the New Testament’s moral witness is about Christian morality inside the life of the church. But that focus about Christian moral integrity doesn’t welcome moral chaos outside the church.

If we insist that Christian ethics should have no bearing on public policy, we do a disservice to our theology and cripple the mission of the church. It is a retreat inward and a tacit approval of injustice in society. A public Christianity is not about imposing Christian ethics on an unwilling citizenry. Instead, public Christianity is about marshaling God’s truth in service of our fellow image bearers, using the conscience and persuasion as our means.

Andrew T. Walker contributed to this article. Andrew serves as Director of Policy Studies at The Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission.

This article was originally published here. 

The post We Should Expect Non-Christians to Share Our Morals appeared first on Daniel Darling, author, pastor, speaker.