Daniel Darling's Blog, page 32

The Way Home: Bob Lepine on marriage and parenting

He has been on the radio talking about marriage and parenting for twenty-five years. What lessons does this radio veteran have for young families? Bob Lepine is a great broadcaster, a creative leader, and the host of Family Life Today, a broadcast ministry that helps families around the world. Bob talks to me about his own journey, about working with Dennis Rainey for nearly three decades, and about a new project aimed at helping young families raise godly children in an increasingly confusing world.

Show Notes

Twitter: @fltbob
Website: familylifetoday.com
The Art of Marriage
Christ-Centered Parenting curriculum

The Way Home: Jamie Ivey on image and identity

We present, on social media, to our friends, at work, the best versions of ourselves. But what if people knew who we really were? With our mess ups and mistakes and foibles? Jamie Ivey, a popular podcaster, writer, and adoptive mother shares what God is teaching her about image and identity. He’s the author of a brand new book, If You Only Knew: My Unlikely, Unavoidable Story of Becoming Free[image error].

Show Notes

Twitter: @jamie_ivey
Book: If You Only Knew: My Unlikely, Unavoidable Story of Becoming Free [image error]
Website: jamieivey.com
Podcast: The Happy Hour

Book of Wishes: The reason we long for more

It arrived every November, wrapped in cellophane, its pages filled with new possibilities. On the cover, a dreamy holiday image, pulling your heart into the season and beckoning you to indulge in hours of wish making.

It’s hard to overestimate the sheer joy the Sears Wish Book brought to my young heart. Before Amazon and Apple. Before Walmart and Black Friday. Before Facebook and Google. Every year, I waited with anticipation and longing for the day this catalog would come.

A savvy wisher would ignore the advice on the front page, which warned shoppers against skipping to other sections and “missing out” on possible gems like Garfield piggy banks, board games, and Chicago Bears pajamas nestled among the cheesy sweaters, cheap jewelry, and knife sets. The gems, every child knew, were found in only one place—the toy section.

Full immersion in the Wish Book took days, not hours. A young boy had to read every caption and organize his desires. There was the practical, low-hanging fruit, ripe for the Christmas stocking: Matchbox cars, classic books, a mini Etch A Sketch. Carefully dog-earing other pages would alert parents and prepare them to consider more valuable gifts like the new Lego gas station, a baseball card collector set, a Talking Computron.

I would never have admitted this at the time, of course, but looking back on those days, it’s obvious: The anticipation surpassed even the pleasure of seeing Christmas gifts under the tree. What I realize now is, hidden in that longing there’s an innate yearning for something better—some lasting pleasure or sense of completion. Something that can’t be found in plastic and cellophane, but in the perfectly satisfying companionship of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

We long for better things because we instinctively know we were created to enjoy our life—to experience beauty, truth, and goodness as gifts of a loving Father. Yet every chase that ends in something tangible during this lifetime ultimately arrives at a less-than-satisfying conclusion. As Christians, we know that this longing—echoed in the soundtracks of our age, in the sentimental yarns we tell every Christmas, and in the constant grasping for the elusive next thing—is really a longing for God Himself.

The Bible, with its call to Spirit-filled endurance and constant warnings of suffering, is not a Wish Book. And yet in many ways, it sort of is—in how it rebukes our dreams and desires. The problem is not that we dream; it’s that we dream poorly. It’s not that we have wishes, but that our wishes are too small. Nor is it that we long for “what’s next” or “what’s better”; it’s that we can’t fathom the fullness of what’s truly next or better for those who love God and, as Romans 8:28 says, “are called according to His purpose.”

So go ahead and wish. Just remember, when God answers your desires, He may have something different in mind—something that may include hardship. But what He offers is a gift of greater beauty or wonder than you could ever ask or think.

This was originally published by In Touch Magazine.

The Way Home: Scott James on celebrating the wonder of Christmas

How can families celebrate the wonder of the incarnation throughout the Christmas season? Doctor, church elder, and author, Scott James joins to the show to talk about the rhythms of his family and about his new Christmas book for children, The Littlest Watchman: Watching and Waiting for the Very First Christmas[image error].

Show Notes

Twitter: @scott_h_james
Book: The Littlest Watchman: Watching and Waiting for the Very First Christmas [image error]

When everything isn’t awesome: Is the modern evangelical worship service a safe place to lament?

A couple years ago, I took a day off and treated my family to a matinee showing of The Lego Movie. My wife and I have four children—three girls and one boy—so this day was like an oasis for my son and me, surrounded as we are by princess movies. As it turns out, everyone, girls included, enjoyed the film. What we didn’t realize, however, was that the theme song “Everything is Awesome” would replace “Let It Go” from Frozen as the tune that would get stuck in our heads most often. By the end of the summer, for the sake of our sanity, we nearly banned it in the Darling house.

But every time I watch the movie and see those little plastic figures running around gleefully, I can’t help but be reminded of church. If there is a soundtrack to most evangelical worship services today, it’s that everything is awesome. The music and liturgies on Sunday all reflect a common theme: God is astounding and worthy to be worshipped. And this is good. The act of worship, the very exercise of getting out of bed, getting dressed, and committing a sizeable portion of the day to declaring, with the people of God, the greatness, majesty, and glory of Jesus Christ—this is in many ways why we exist as His called-out people.

Yet there is a sense in which our worship seems to play only the high notes—victory, triumph, joy—in a way that reduces the Christian story to one giant non-stop series of confetti-drenched celebrations. This is not the whole of the Christian experience. The Holy Spirit -inspired writers of Scripture declared the story of God by including the very real sorrow of a fallen world. Witness Jeremiah’s distressed cries. David’s heart-wrenching psalms. Habbakuk’s righteous indignation. Isaiah’s woes. Paul’s anguish. In fact, Scripture is filled with lament and sorrow over the state of mankind, the presence of evil, and life in a dark, cursed and broken world.

To be sure, the Christian story is triumphant. We serve a risen King, victorious over sin and death, who makes His enemies His footstool, and who is the Christ reigning in judgment over the nations. But we also serve the Good Shepherd who rescues His sheep, the great Comforter who walks through the valley of the shadow of death with His people. The powerful Healer who binds broken hearts. The Man of Sorrows acquainted with grief. Sometimes God’s people need to meet this Man of Sorrows when they walk into church. They enter the auditorium broken, defeated—maybe even angry. To quote a pastor I know, “People use up all their faith just getting into the door.”

This doesn’t mean our times of worship should be somber. Quite often it’s the joyful clapping and hopeful singing that has lifted my soul from anguish to gladness. There are times, however, when I’ve walked into church and wondered just where to go with my distress. There are many faces to God, and the one I needed to see on those mornings wasn’t the triumphant Warrior but the gentle Shepherd. In those moments, I’ve wondered, Are there spaces for solitude, for lament, for grieving here?

I think church leaders can help in this without much disruption. When I have the opportunity, I try to set the tone through my opening prayer. I’d intentionally offer up to the Lord the broken, the downtrodden, and the weary. Doing this not only brought their heavy burdens before God’s throne; it also gave public permission, right at the beginning of our services, for those who might be afraid to be sad on a Sunday morning to give voice to their hurts.

We can also invite space for lament by slightly tweaking our worship. We might offer a more somber hymn or chorus in between triumphant melodies. This both works better to cover the range of human experience and presents a more holistic vision of the Christian story as recorded in Scripture.

Most importantly, believers must keep in the forefront of their minds real images of the people they are called to help. We don’t relate to one another en masse but as individuals made up of unique life experiences. Christians who actually know what the people around them are enduring each day, who are intimately familiar with each other’s trials and struggles—these are people who connect. They will not just push and prod; they will also comfort and encourage. And ultimately everyone in the body will find what he or she needs in the life-giving gospel of Christ.

Christians needn’t fear lament, as if acknowledging the fallenness of the human condition— their condition—is a lack of faith. Faith is not always expressed in the happy-clappy sentiment of a tent revival; sometimes it’s expressed through clenched teeth, survival and grit, and the bare-knuckled struggles of life.

I think of Job, reduced to a diseased and pockmarked mess, sitting by a refuse pile and scraping his sores with broken pottery. When Job said, “Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him” (Job 13:15 NIV), he was not sporting a wide smile. He was likely drowning in his own tears, his brow permanently furrowed and his head lowered in misery. This, too, is the stuff of faith. Could Job, fresh from devastating losses, find safety to lament in our church services today? If not, we may need to rethink the kind of gospel we’re presenting to our people every week—because “everything is awesome” is not the same as the Christian story.

This was originally published by In Touch Magazine.

photo credit: Sicko Atze van Dijk

The Way Home: Marvin Olasky on journalism and the pursuit of truth

How should Christians think about journalism and the pursuit of truth? The longtime editor-in-chief of World Magazine joins the podcast to talk the media, Christian witness, and his journey from Marxism to Christianity. Marvin Olasky is one of my favorite people. I’ve been reading World for several decades and have been strongly influenced by his leadership. He will also discuss his new book, World View: Seeking Grace and Truth in Our Common Life[image error].

Show Notes

Twitter: @MarvinOlasky and @WORLD_mag
Website: World Magazine
Book: World View: Seeking Grace and Truth in Our Common Life [image error]

Why recognizing our need for grace enlarges our capacity to give it

British author and thinker G. K. Chesterton was once invited by a London newspaper to offer his opinion on what was wrong with the world. Legend has it he sent a brief letter in reply:

Dear Sirs, I am. Sincerely yours, G. K. Chesterton

This echoes the thoughts of another philosopher. In one of his final letters, Paul wrote his protégé Timothy and volunteered an answer to a hypothetical question: Who is the world’s worst sinner? Which human being was the biggest problem, in Paul’s mind? Was it Nero, the wicked despot who gleefully slaughtered innocent Christians? Was it the weak people of faith who abandoned Paul in a time of need? Was it the perennially dysfunctional church in Corinth?

None of the above. So who did this aging apostle finger as the chief sinner? Shockingly, Paul pointed to himself (1 Tim. 1:15). Yes, in Paul’s mind, he was the problem. This is the same man who planted churches throughout the known world, penned much of the New Testament canon, and boldly declared the gospel before kings.

Today, we might dismiss Chesterton and Paul as either falsely humble or lacking in self-esteem. But nothing about the lives of these two men suggests a pattern of narcissism or self-pity. Neither were they deluded about the real presence of evil in the world. They understood the problem of sin down to its very core and recognized the hope that sets men free: I am a great sinner, and I have a great Savior.

Our default setting is to say the other guy needs to change. We’re prone to notice everyone else’s need for repentance while ignoring our own. And this double standard nurtures grudges, builds walls, and encourages a suffocating self-justification.

The gospel offers something both shocking and hopeful to relationships. It reminds me of my own need for grace, a poverty I share with the person who has provoked me. This new vision empowers me to see others in a new light. When my wife sins, I stop using it as leverage to get my way. Rather, I offer forgiveness, knowing my capacity for sin is no smaller than hers. When my children disobey, I’m not surprised—only eager to correct them in love. When I read about a famous celebrity who can’t seem to make wise choices, I’m less likely to join the mocking chorus.

There is potential for this sanctifying process every day of our lives and in every relationship. And yet, quite often, when presented with an opportunity for growth, we resist. Since the fall, we’ve been inclined to blame our sin on those around us. We really do think that if only everyone else would change, then we could find peace and joy. This is why we must routinely return to the good news of the gospel. It frees us from the prison of ourselves, opening us up to the Holy Spirit’s regenerating power. I’m amazed at how easily I resist this kind of relational freedom. Recently our family moved from Chicago to Tennessee. Even though we eagerly anticipated this change, the journey tested our relation-ships in many ways, stretching us to the breaking point. Quite often, when problems arose, I was quick to blame everyone around me, mostly my wife. My thinking went like this: If she’d only have done this . . . or If she would just stop doing that, I . . . This kind of reasoning always leads to conflict.

It wasn’t until I stopped to listen to the Holy Spirit and consider my own sin that I found the warm waters of grace wash over my soul. The gospel, applied to our relationships, enables forgiveness and repentance to do its work. Repentance points the finger inward, acknowledging our sin before God and others. And forgiveness stands ready to let Jesus’ mercy flow through us toward those who have hurt us by their words and actions.

Relational intimacy doesn’t take place because two people just “magically” happen to get along. It takes place because two people regularly apply the principles of Scripture to their own hearts, freeing themselves to look up, with fresh eyes, on the one they are called to love.

K. Chesterton and the apostle Paul were both on to something. They understood that the real problem with the world—and relationships for that matter—doesn’t lie out there somewhere. It’s inside me; it’s inside you.

This was originally published by In Touch Magazine.

photo credit: Wendell

15 Years and Counting

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church. However, let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband. (Ephesians 5:31–33 ESV)

Fifteen years ago, a man waited by a church stage in Chicago as a beautiful young woman from Texas walked down the aisle. When you get married, you do it without knowing, fully, what is ahead. You know the other person, of course. You get wise input from friends and mentors and parents. You spend time together getting to know each other.

But you don’t really know the person you are marrying. This is part of what makes marriage mysterious and wonderful if you are committed to it. It is mysterious in that you have no ideas what life with this other person will bring, what vistas are ahead, what sorrows and joys lay in your future. Making a commitment to someone deeply different in every way–personality, gender, background–“till death do us part” is a great adventure. It’s also wonderful because marriage can be a vehicle by which God forms and shapes you and because if you fight for intimacy, you can truly experience it, regardless of your circumstances. Nobody has influenced me toward godliness more than Angela.

But here is the thing. Marriage is only wonderful if you both commit to it and if you invest in it. You enter your marriage with starry-eyed love and wonder but you are sustained in your marriage by those vows you took. The commitment to “death do us part” forces you to die to yourself, to engage in the gospel rhythms of confession and repentance that are the catalyst for true intimacy. I heard a friend recently say, when performing a wedding: “Your love initiated this commitment, but it is your commitment that will build your love.”

Good marriages require deep investment. One of the most frustrating and heartbreaking things about ministry is seeing the unwillingness of couples to invest deeply in their marriages. I’m not just talking about regular date nights, which are important. I’m not just talking about getting time away together, which is also important. I’m talking about financial, spiritual, and emotional investment in your marriage. We invest in the things we consider important and, sadly, for many, their marriage is pretty far down the list of things that will initiate a sacrifice of time and resources.

Marriage also needs Jesus. You cannot do this on your own. I consider it a gift of grace that God has allowed Angela and me to enjoy fifteen years together. We have prioritized our marriage, but we are only doing well because of Gods’ rich grace. Lately, we’ve both grieved the shipwrecking of several marriages of couples our age–ministry couples who seemed bullet-proof–and our response was simply to weep and thank God for his goodness to us and to recommit to fighting for our marriage till death do us part.

Fighting sounds a bit melodramatic, but it’s not. To fight for our marriage, it means we commit to walking with Christ and fighting sin. It means we embed ourselves in a local community of believers, where we weekly confess our sins, pray and are prayed for, and allow the Word to penetrate our hearts. It means we love each other with humility and self-sacrifice, knowing our own weakness and frailty. It means we are intentional and not lazy. Our marriage is worth fighting for because, as we’ve experienced, there is a sweet fellowship God gives us when we walk with Him and with each other. I love Angela today more than when she walked that aisle. Our commitment has bound us together and has given us fertile soil for a deeper and holier love to emerge.

We also fight for marriage, not because it’s better and healthier than the alternative–it most assuredly is–but because by faithfulness to each other we demonstrate faithfulness to marriage as one of God’s symbols of his love for the church. We enjoy marriage as a good gift when we recognize that marriage was not designed by God to be our source of joy and happiness. We enjoy marriage as a good gift when we don’t expect from our spouses what only God can give in Christ. We enjoy marriage when we realize it is a mere signpost of something better to come in the New Jerusalem: intimacy with Jesus. This long-term view of marriage helps sustain two sinners during difficult seasons, hard decisions, and times of sorrow.

If God allows you to experience the good gift of marriage, my word to you is this: enjoy your marriage, fight for your marriage, and see in your marriage the faint echoes of something even better on the horizon.

photo credit: Ilovebutter

 

Thanksgiving, When There is No Reason to Be Thankful

There was little to be thankful for in those first few, difficult, ravaging years. The bitter New England cold had claimed half of the Mayflower’s first courageous travellers. The comforts of their homes in England, warm food, adequate furnishings, reliable city infrastructure—this was all gone and replaced with a crude and uncertain reality in the New World. Still, these men and women stopped to say thank you. We don’t really know if this feast—perhaps in the early 1620’s in Plymouth, Massachusetts—was “the first thanksgiving”, but we do know that these hearty souls found time to offer gratitude to God, in the midst of their suffering.

It’s reminiscent of another unlikely call to praise, this time the faint whisper of a beleaguered prophet. Habakkuk, who groaned with longing and expectation for God to visit his sinful people, nevertheless offered up a feeble note of trust:

Though the fig tree does not bud

and there is no fruit on the vines,

though the olive crop fails

and the fields produce no food,

though there are no sheep in the pen

and no cattle in the stalls,

yet I will triumph in Yahweh;

I will rejoice in the God of my salvation!

(Habakkuk 3:17-18).

Those early American settlers, this despondent Old Testament seer, and, perhaps you, may have few visible reasons to offer thanks. Some families have empty chairs around the Thanksgiving table–a fallen officer, a mother succumbed to cancer, an empty high-chair where a miscarried baby should sit. Others have seen strife swirl through their homes like a tornado, unsettling what used to be comfortable and stealing what was once joyous. Still there are some whose economic situation is so dire that perhaps they are forced to sit around someone else’s table, dining on other’s generosity.

The world, as we see it, as the headlines and our timelines reveal, is broken, sinful, and bears much reason for sorrow. Why, then, would reasonable people stop and offer thanks to a God who seems to take away more than he might give?

Not because of the promise of better tomorrow in this life, but because of something all of God’s people understand: every breath, every morsel of food, every human relationship is a gift from a gracious Creator. What’s more, even the pain we endure is working for us and for God an even greater reward in that future kingdom.

We can whisper out our thankfulness because we believe in a God who is not absent from our struggles, but is near, very near. Jesus, who bore our pain and experienced the full range of human difficulty, has defeated the darkness that steals our joy. He is gathering, with his hands, all of human history to himself. He is ushering in a new Kingdom, restoring all things from broken to beautiful again.

This kind of faith, viewed through the cloudy and colored lens of our frail human existence, frees us from the prison of our self-interest and liberates us to lavish our gifts, however meager, on the abandoned, the vulnerable, and the sick.

Thanksgiving allows American Christians, blessed with historic wealth, opportunity, and temptation, to lift our eyes away from our own pockets of sorrow and toward the heavens in great and humble gratitude. We should not let Thanksgiving be overcome by football, by shopping, by trivial nothingness, but should gather, with those we love, and offer thanks to a gracious and benevolent Father. We should pause our hurried ways, cease our labors, disconnect from the world and offer simple, humble, heartfelt praise.

Thanksgiving is a good measure of the heart. Gospel people are humble people. Broken by their own sin and by the tragedies of life in a fallen world, they understand what it is to be dependent, not on their own ingenuities and gifts, but on the simple mercies of a powerful Creator.

This originally appeared as a column in Homelife Magazine.

The Way Home: Alistair Begg on Spurgeon, pastoral leadership, and sports

How has Charles Spurgeon’s ministry influenced Alistair Begg, pastor, radio teacher, and author? Today Alistair joins the podcast to talk Spurgeon, pastoral leadership, and Cleveland sports. I asked him about the difference between shepherding and mere leading and what piece of advice he’d give to a young seminarian.

Show Notes

Twitter: @truthforlife
Website: truthforlife.org and Spurgeon Study Bible
Book: Spurgeon Study Bible