Jason K. Allen's Blog, page 35

Lord’s Day Meditation: “In the Midst of a Crooked and Perverse Nation” by C. H. Spurgeon

Lord’s Day Meditation: “In the Midst of a Crooked and Perverse Nation” by C. H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, September 6, Morning)

“In the midst of a crooked and perverse nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the world.” (Philippians 2:15)

We use lights to make manifest. A Christian man should so shine in his life, that a person could not live with him a week without knowing the gospel. His conversation should be such that all who are about him should clearly perceive whose he is, and whom he serves; and should see the image of Jesus reflected in his daily actions. Lights are intended for guidance. We are to help those around us who are in the dark. We are to hold forth to them the Word of life. We are to point sinners to the Saviour, and the weary to a divine resting-place. Men sometimes read their Bibles, and fail to understand them; we should be ready, like Philip, to instruct the inquirer in the meaning of God’s Word, the way of salvation, and the life of godliness. Lights are also used for warning. On our rocks and shoals a light-house is sure to be erected. Christian men should know that there are many false lights shown everywhere in the world, and therefore the right light is needed. The wreckers of Satan are always abroad, tempting the ungodly to sin under the name of pleasure; they hoist the wrong light, be it ours to put up the true light upon every dangerous rock, to point out every sin, and tell what it leads to, that so we may be clear of the blood of all men, shining as lights in the world. Lights also have a very cheering influence, and so have Christians. A Christian ought to be a comforter, with kind words on his lips, and sympathy in his heart; he should carry sunshine wherever he goes, and diffuse happiness around him.

Gracious Spirit dwell with me;

I myself would gracious be,

And with words that help and heal

Would thy life in mine reveal,

And with actions bold and meek

Would for Christ my Saviour speak.

 

Four Ways My Preaching Has Evolved and How Yours Should Too

Though for years I’ve been trying, I’m now resigned to the fact I’ll never forget my first sermon. It was the summer of 1996, and I had been invited to preach at a women’s halfway house. I spent the week frantically trying to create a sermon. Having no assistance from others, and even less expertise, a sense of desperation came over me. I jotted down all the preacher jargon I knew, my favorite Bible verses, a few life observations, a couple of college basketball illustrations, and my personal testimony. I learned the hard way: such a menagerie does not a good sermon make.

Thankfully, as far as I know, no recording of the attempted sermon exists. In God’s kind providence, he brought a series of individuals, resources, and role models into my life shortly thereafter that formed my understanding of what a sermon is to be and accomplish. Yet, over the years my preaching has evolved, as well it should have.

How my Preaching has not Evolved

My basic convictions about preaching have changed little, if any, over the past 15 years. Theologically, I am absolutely convinced of the power of Scripture to save, the sufficiency of Scripture to mature the believer, and the necessity of preaching the whole counsel of God.

Methodologically, little has changed either. Thankfully, while cutting my teeth in ministry I was exposed to strong, biblical exposition. Given my belief in the truthfulness and trustworthiness of Scripture, it resonated, biblically and logically, as the preferred way to preach.

I learned biblical exposition in person from Steve Lawson, and to a lesser extent, Stephen Olford. From a distance, I learned from the sermon tapes of John MacArthur and Adrian Rogers. Therefore, early in my ministry, I became committed to explaining the text and bringing it to bear on God’s people, even if I lacked the experience to do it well.

Though these theological and methodological convictions have long since been settled, I can trace at least four ways my preaching has evolved.

The Sermon Outline Means Less to me Now

Early in my preaching, I spent an inordinate amount of time on the sermon outline itself. I took it as a settled fact that the preaching gods found favor with a snappy, alliterated outline, almost as though spit-shined sermon points was the sine qua non of good exposition.

One should work to ensure the outline is faithful to the passage’s structure and that it helps the listener understand the text and follow along with the sermon. I did something different, however. In fact, I’m embarrassed to confess, I often spent more time laboring over the sermon outline than I did the actual meaning of the text.

Time expended polishing an outline could be better spent checking cross- references, praying through the passage, pondering more precise application, and other efforts that strengthen your knowledge of the text and the preparation and delivery of the sermon.

More Bible and Fewer Books

Like every other preacher alive, each year my library grows with more and more books. I acquire books on a near daily basis, and I devote a significant portion of each day to reading them. Yet, every year I seem to use them less and less for sermon preparation. This is not an anti-intellectualism screed. Far from it, in fact. I spend more time reading books now than at any prior season of my life.

When it comes to sermon preparation, a decade ago I would check every commentary I could access, peruse every illustration book I owned, and surf the scriptural indexes in my systematic theologies. I still rely on books, and especially on commentaries, but I now spend considerably more time in the Bible itself. I read and reread the passage and its broader context, looking for insights, making observations, seeking to grasp the forest and the trees of the passage. Moreover, I pray through and meditate on the passage. In so doing, the sermon—and the preacher—are better prepared.

One might occasionally strike illustrative gold by rifling through sermon illustration books, but that time would likely be best spent in the passage itself.

Fewer Personal and Family Illustrations

For the preacher, family illustrations are money in the bank. Church members, and especially senior adults, enjoy stories about young children. Such stories can be endearing to the congregation, giving them a sense of closeness to their pastor and engendering stronger relations with the flock.

Yet, in many congregations, there is an intrigue with—an almost voyeuristic interest in—the preacher’s personal life. As a father of five young children, life is like an artesian well, overflowing with humorous moments easily retold as sermon illustrations. However, I do much less of this than I did earlier in my ministry. I’ve found that family illustrations can actually distract from the passage rather than illuminate it. If not careful, over time my listeners can learn more of Anne-Marie and Caroline than Paul and Jesus. I want my listeners to know Mark, John, and Peter more than William, Alden, and Elizabeth.

Additionally, I noticed such illustrations often trivialized the sermon and the preaching event itself. It’s just hard to press upon people the seriousness and urgency of following Christ if they’re still chuckling over a dirty-diaper story.

More Intentional about Preaching Jesus

Early in my ministry, in my attempt to be faithful to the specific text under consideration, I often failed to connect the passage to Christ. In fact, depending on the sermon series, I could go weeks preaching “synagogue sermons,” messages devoid of explicit and substantial references to Jesus.

Perhaps it was pride, but I would think sermons that constantly referred to the gospel were repetitive or even shallow, a dispensing of milk when mature believers needed meat. This, too, has changed. Part of this I attribute to a fuller understanding of Scripture, that indeed it all points to Christ. Some of it came intuitively as I understood more clearly how much my congregation needed to hear the gospel.

The Scriptures point to Jesus, the lost need to receive Jesus, and the saved need to be encouraged in Jesus. Moreover, as I preach Christ, I find my heart sails— giving added passion and intensity. It is just hard to mess up a sermon that exalts the Lord Jesus Christ.

Conclusion

I’ve never been more convinced of the urgency of preaching the text, the need for a broad-based recovery of biblical exposition, or the consequence of the preaching act itself. These convictions have long-since been settled.

I now know a faithful preacher is a growing one. He grows in his knowledge of Christ, his knowledge of Scripture, his knowledge of self, and in the art and science of preaching.

If you can’t point to ways your preaching has evolved over the years, it could be you were exceptionally gifted from the start, or it may mean you’re still preaching junior varsity sermons. I’m grateful to God my preaching has changed over the years and pray it never stops changing. Has yours?

*This article was originally posted on 1/27/14*

Lord’s Day Meditation: “Hast Thou Entered into the Springs of the Sea?” by C. H. Spurgeon

Lord’s Day Meditation: “Hast Thou Entered into the Springs of the Sea?” by C. H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, September 5, Evening)

“Hast thou entered into the springs of the sea?” (Job 38:16)

Some things in nature must remain a mystery to the most intelligent and enterprising investigators. Human knowledge has bounds beyond which it cannot pass. Universal knowledge is for God alone. If this be so in the things which are seen and temporal, I may rest assured that it is even more so in matters spiritual and eternal. Why, then, have I been torturing my brain with speculations as to destiny and will, fixed fate, and human responsibility? These deep and dark truths I am no more able to comprehend than to find out the depth which coucheth beneath, from which old ocean draws her watery stores. Why am I so curious to know the reason of my Lord’s providences, the motive of his actions, the design of his visitations? Shall I ever be able to clasp the sun in my fist, and hold the universe in my palm? yet these are as a drop of a bucket compared with the Lord my God. Let me not strive to understand the infinite, but spend my strength in love. What I cannot gain by intellect I can possess by affection, and let that suffice me. I cannot penetrate the heart of the sea, but I can enjoy the healthful breezes which sweep over its bosom, and I can sail over its blue waves with propitious winds. If I could enter the springs of the sea, the feat would serve no useful purpose either to myself or to others, it would not save the sinking bark, or give back the drowned mariner to his weeping wife and children; neither would my solving deep mysteries avail me a single whit, for the least love to God, and the simplest act of obedience to him, are better than the profoundest knowledge. My Lord, I leave the infinite to thee, and pray thee to put far from me such a love for the tree of knowledge as might keep me from the tree of life.

Brothers, We are not Amateurs: A Plea for Ministry Preparation

Few men have shaped the 21st-century church more than John Piper, and few of his books have proven more helpful than his Brothers, We are not Professionals. Piper was right. Ministers are not to be professionals, and his call for radical, sacrificial, selfless ministry is spot on. Yet, when it comes to ministerial service, we are not called to be amateurs either.

A ministerial amateur is not one who lacks formal training or advanced degrees from reputable institutions. An amateur is one who lacks the knowledge base, skill set, and experience for a particular task, in this case, Christian ministry. This is to say, one can still be an amateur though holding an earned degree, and one can be a faithful minister though lacking one.

In fact, Christians—and especially ministers—are called to be 1 Corinthians 1 people, confidently preaching the foolishness of the cross. Moreover, the list of those who lacked formal theological training while impacting the world for Christ is long, including luminaries such as John Bunyan, Charles Spurgeon, and Martyn Lloyd-Jones. I have learned much from men in times past and present who lacked formal education.

Yet, never before in the history of the church has theological education been so accessible, and never before has it been so needed. Advanced technology, innovative delivery systems, and proliferating resources all make being a ministerial amateur—as a permanent state—inexcusable. Why pursue ministry preparation?

The Complexity of our Times

Our cultural moment necessitates rigorous ministry preparation. Every generation presents the church with particular challenges, but our generation comes with unique baggage and angularity. It is not that the 21st century is more fallen or more secular than previous ones, but it may well be more complex.

Befuddling ethical questions, the often tortuously complex ramifications of sin, and a cultural intelligentsia devoting its best energies to undermining the Christian belief system all present the church with serious challenges.

The lost need more than shallow answers from ill-equipped ministers. They need ministers prepared to bring the full complement of Christian truth to bear in a winsome, thoughtful, and compelling way.

The Centrality of Teaching the Scriptures

The preaching and teaching of Holy Scripture is the principal responsibility of the Christian minister, and it is the central need of the church. In fact, in order to be biblically qualified to be a Christian minister, one must be “able to teach.”[1]

Paul repeatedly charged Timothy to a faithful ministry of the Word with exhortations like, “retain the standard of sound words,” “guard the truth which has been entrusted to you,” “rightly divide the word of truth,” and “preach the Word.”[2] These exhortations, and many others, require a renewed mind—and an informed one. There simply is no place in ministry for sloppy exegesis, shoddy interpretation, or shallow sermons.

One can be a faithful minister without a seminary degree, but one cannot be a faithful minister without knowing the Scripture.

The Consequences of Ministry

There is an alarming inverse correlation between the seriousness of the ministerial task and the casualness with which it is often approached. We would neither let an untrained mechanic rebuild our transmission nor would we permit an unlearned pediatrician to diagnose our children. Yet, churches often place individuals with the lowest levels of preparation in the highest office—the pastorate.

Why would one knowingly receive soul care and biblical instruction from an amateur, and why would a minister be content as one? Souls hang in the balance. There is a heaven to gain and hell to shun. There is fixed truth to defend and proclaim. Satan is serious about his calling; ministers must be serious about theirs. The ministry is too consequential not to be.

The Priority of the Great Commission

The end to which the minister labors is the proclamation of the gospel and the furtherance of the Great Commission. Fulfilling the Great Commission necessitates a burden for the lost, a passion for the glory of God in the salvation of sinners, and an equipped mind to reason, teach, and persuasively present the gospel.

Furthermore, the Great Commission is a call to make disciples, not just converts. Though often conceptualized as primarily an act of zeal, the Great Commission also requires knowledge. It requires a readiness to “give an answer for the hope within you,” an ability to “contend earnestly for the faith once and for all delivered to the saints,” and the skill to “teach these things to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.”[3]

Conclusion

Once I heard a professor rebuke a student who argued it was appropriate to read his sermon manuscripts because Jonathan Edwards read his. The professor shot back, “You fool, you’re no Jonathan Edwards.” Similarly, don’t look to models like Spurgeon and Lloyd-Jones as justification for not pursuing formal theological education. They were self-taught geniuses. Likely, you are not.

God may well use you in spite of a lack of formal training, but if you have accessibility—and virtually every person on the planet now does—to theological education, why find out?

Ministers will be judged for their faithfulness, not their academic accomplishments, but it is impossible to be faithful without being rightly equipped. Brother, you are not to be an amateur minister.

[1] I Timothy 3:2.

[2] II Timothy 1:13–14; II Timothy 2:15; II Timothy 4:2.

[3] I Peter 3:15; Jude 1:3; II Timothy 2:2.

*This article was originally published 0n 1/20/14*

Lord’s Day Meditation: “Woe is Me” by C. H. Spurgeon

Lord’s Day Meditation: “Woe is Me” by C. H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, September 5, Morning)

“Woe is me, that I sojourn in Mesech, that I dwell in the tents of Kedar.” (Psalm 120:5)

As a Christian you have to live in the midst of an ungodly world, and it is of little use for you to cry “Woe is me.” Jesus did not pray that you should be taken out of the world, and what he did not pray for, you need not desire. Better far in the Lord’s strength to meet the difficulty, and glorify him in it. The enemy is ever on the watch to detect inconsistency in your conduct; be therefore very holy. Remember that the eyes of all are upon you, and that more is expected from you than from other men. Strive to give no occasion for blame. Let your goodness be the only fault they can discover in you. Like Daniel, compel them to say of you, “We shall not find any occasion against this Daniel, except we find it against him concerning the law of his God.” Seek to be useful as well as consistent. Perhaps you think, “If I were in a more favourable position I might serve the Lord’s cause, but I cannot do any good where I am”; but the worse the people are among whom you live, the more need have they of your exertions; if they be crooked, the more necessity that you should set them straight; and if they be perverse, the more need have you to turn their proud hearts to the truth. Where should the physician be but where there are many sick? Where is honour to be won by the soldier but in the hottest fire of the battle? And when weary of the strife and sin that meets you on every hand, consider that all the saints have endured the same trial. They were not carried on beds of down to heaven, and you must not expect to travel more easily than they. They had to hazard their lives unto the death in the high places of the field, and you will not be crowned till you also have endured hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. Therefore, “stand fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong.”

 

In Spirit & in Truth: Bringing Balance to Christian Worship

In the Christian life, balance can be difficult to achieve. Whether it’s reconciling God’s sovereignty and man’s responsibility, conceptualizing the divine and human natures of Christ, or trusting God without slipping into personal complacency, the one who finds balance finds a good thing. Similarly, the 21st-century church would do well to find balance in its worship of Christ.

Survey the Christian landscape in North America and you often find churches leaning too heavily in one of two directions. Some churches are inclined towards truth, emphasizing doctrinal straightness, in-depth preaching and rigorous Bible study. These disciplines are good, but not enough. As A. W. Tozer said, “You can be straight as a gun barrel theologically, and as empty as one spiritually.”[1] Conversely, other churches tend toward the emotive and affective. Careful Bible study and biblical, expository preaching are displaced by emotional impulses. Either of these overreaches can tilt the worship service in an unhealthy direction, hindering the growth of God’s people and leaving the worship service in want.

Yet, what Christ has joined together—worship in spirit and truth—no man should separate. Rightly understood, biblical truth and heartfelt worship complement each other. Indeed, theology does inspire doxology.

This balance is precisely what Jesus expressed in John 4 in his famous encounter with the woman at the well. At first glance, this lady looks ill-equipped to worship God. A Samaritan by birth and an adulteress by choice, she’s unlikely to be on the shortlist for any first-century church’s worship committee.

Though the Samaritan woman inquired of Jesus as to the proper location of worship, Jesus points her to the real components of worship, saying, “An hour is coming, and now is, when true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for such people the Father seeks to be His worshipers. God is spirit and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:23–24).

“In spirit” is a call to worship the Lord from one’s inner person, from the heart, so to speak. Though not necessarily emotional, such worship touches the emotion and impacts the affection. Having been converted and filled with the Holy Spirit does not ensure that one worships in spirit, but it does mean one is capable of worshiping in spirit.

“In truth” means faithful worship is done in accordance with and in light of God’s revelation, his holy Word. The public reading of Scripture and the preaching of God’s Word bring the truth to bear on the gathered congregation, thus informing and inspiring worship. Like two wings on an aircraft, both spirit and truth are essential for biblical, Christ-honoring worship to occur.

Worship is not a condiment, meant merely to flavor the Christian life. The worship of Christ is at the heart of the Christian life. As followers of Jesus Christ, we await the final worship scene, when for all eternity the redeemed will declare, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever” (Revelation 11:15).

In the meantime, let’s be found faithful to worship—in spirit and in truth—and to be about extending the number of redeemed, thus enhancing the worship of Christ for time and eternity.

[1] A. W. Tozer, Fellowship of the Burning Heart: A Collection of Sermons by A. W. Tozer (ed. James L. Snyder; Aluchua, FL: Bridge-Logos, 2006), 8.

 

Lord’s Day Meditation: “Just Balances” by C. H. Spurgeon

Lord’s Day Meditation: “Just Balances” by C. H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, September 4, Evening)

“Just balances, just weights, a just ephah, and a just hin, shall ye have.” (Leviticus 19:36)

Weights, and scales, and measures were to be all according to the standard of justice. Surely no Christian man will need to be reminded of this in his business, for if righteousness were banished from all the world beside, it should find a shelter in believing hearts. There are, however, other balances which weigh moral and spiritual things, and these often need examining. We will call in the officer tonight.

The balances in which we weigh our own and other men’s characters, are they quite accurate? Do we not turn our own ounces of goodness into pounds, and other persons’ bushels of excellence into pecks? See to weights and measures here, Christian. The scales in which we measure our trials and troubles, are they according to standard? Paul, who had more to suffer than we have, called his afflictions light, and yet we often consider ours to be heavy–surely something must be amiss with the weights! We must see to this matter, lest we get reported to the court above for unjust dealing. Those weights with which we measure our doctrinal belief, are they quite fair? The doctrines of grace should have the same weight with us as the precepts of the word, no more and no less; but it is to be feared that with many one scale or the other is unfairly weighted. It is a grand matter to give just measure in truth. Christian, be careful here. Those measures in which we estimate our obligations and responsibilities look rather small. When a rich man gives no more to the cause of God than the poor contribute, is that a just ephah and a just hin? When ministers are half starved, is that honest dealing? When the poor are despised, while ungodly rich men are held in admiration, is that a just balance? Reader, we might lengthen the list, but we prefer to leave it as your evening’s work to find out and destroy all unrighteous balances, weights, and measures.

Why I Like to Sit by Young Children and Why You Should Too

I’ll admit it. When it comes to airplane travel, my first inclination is to be a loner. Though an outgoing person by nature, when I fly my tendency is to retract into my seat and enjoy a parenthesis of disconnectedness in an otherwise full and busy life. No cell phones. No text messages. No email or social media. This is a recipe for productivity and rest.

A funny thing, though, has happened to me over the years. There is one circumstance that trumps all others. I find myself making a beeline to sit in the middle of one seemingly undesirable scenario.

Almost like a gravitational force, I find myself drawn to young children on a plane. As the father of five young children, you’d think I’d get my fill at home, but that’s not the case at all. I love to sit by young kids when I fly. On a recent flight, I cataloged my own heart and discovered why flying by young children brings me such pleasure. Consider this:

First, children hold a special place in the eyes of God. Even the rowdiest of kids brings a smile to God’s heart, and they should bring a smile to ours. Jesus, after all, beckoned the children to come to Him, and we may hardly be more like Christ than when we do the same.

I don’t pity the overwhelmed mother on a flight with three kids. I pity the young professional who, due to selfishness, material pursuit, or 1,000 other reasons has declined to have children. I pity the person who finds kids too expensive, too burdensome, too disruptive to enjoy. The parent who feels a bit overwhelmed is to be supported, assisted, encouraged, and commended, but not pitied. Their station of life is life, and it is good.

Second, most parents are on edge when they fly, afraid their crying baby or squirming toddler will be unwelcome to those seated nearby. My wife and I know these feelings because we have been victim to them ourselves. Perhaps that is why I especially enjoy watching the parent’s relief when I say I love children, am the father of five young children, and am honored to get to fly by their family. For most parents, these words come as good news from a distant land. It pleases me to get to share them.

Third, parents of young children often have a particular openness to the gospel. Whether it is sentimentality, physical weariness, or a renewed sense of life-stewardship, a mother holding a babe or a father wrestling with a toddler are often open to a spiritual conversation. The Lord often seems to work in the hearts of parents during this stage of life, prompting receptivity to the gospel. Moreover, a warm response to disruptive children is so rare in contemporary society that a gesture of grace itself often segues to the message of Christ.

Fourth, I love the constant reminder of the biblical pattern. God has ordained the family, and a young couple with children, after all, is a sign of God’s common grace. God intended the world to know children—and lots of them. Quiet homes and empty nurseries are a lamentable aberration to the divine pattern, and for me to see a family in action is a present reminder of God’s glory and grace.

Fifth, flying by a young family gives me an opportunity to serve. Travel is an irregularity from a normal and healthy pattern of life. Waitresses serve you meals; skycaps scurry to help with your luggage; bellmen are at the ready to tend to your baggage; and flight attendants hustle at the press of a button. While nice, these luxuries can be heady, leading you to think you are at the center of your own universe. As a helpful counterbalance, lending a hand to a young parent can bring much needed help to them and much needed perspective to you.

Sixth, it reminds me of my own kids. The wheels usually are not up on the plane before I find myself missing my own children. In some small way, I can vicariously enjoy my own children as I enjoy my neighbor’s. Furthermore, I often observe a need, notch a life-stage observation, or note a child’s particular want; all of which can help me be a better father, and, in the meantime, remind me of God’s goodness to me through the gift of my own children.

Seventh, I love the adventure of it all. Toys flying, kids squirming, juice-cups dripping, even babies squalling, all bring sunshine to my heart. Life is an adventure, and life with kids—your own or others—is especially adventurous. I find myself laughing, smiling, and leaving the plane happier than when I boarded it.

So, next time you fly, spurn conventional wisdom, take one for the team and choose to sit in the midst of a young mother with, as Loretta Lynn would say, “one of them a toddlin’, and one is a crawlin’ and one’s on the way.” You’ll likely be a blessing to that family, and, I promise you, they will be a blessing to you.

*This article was originally published on 5/23/13*

Lord’s Day Meditation: “I Will; Be Thou Clean” by C. H. Spurgeon

Lord’s Day Meditation: “I Will; Be Thou Clean” by C. H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, September 4, Morning)

“I will; be thou clean.” (Mark 1:41)

Primeval darkness heard the Almighty fiat, “light be,” and straightway light was, and the word of the Lord Jesus is equal in majesty to that ancient word of power. Redemption like Creation has its word of might. Jesus speaks and it is done. Leprosy yielded to no human remedies, but it fled at once at the Lord’s “I will.” The disease exhibited no hopeful signs or tokens of recovery, nature contributed nothing to its own healing, but the unaided word effected the entire work on the spot and forever. The sinner is in a plight more miserable than the leper; let him imitate his example and go to Jesus, “beseeching him and kneeling down to him.” Let him exercise what little faith he has, even though it should go no further than “Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean;” and there need be no doubt as to the result of the application. Jesus heals all who come, and casts out none. In reading the narrative in which our morning’s text occurs, it is worthy of devout notice that Jesus touched the leper. This unclean person had broken through the regulations of the ceremonial law and pressed into the house, but Jesus so far from chiding him broke through the law himself in order to meet him. He made an interchange with the leper, for while he cleansed him, he contracted by that touch a Levitical defilement. Even so Jesus Christ was made sin for us, although in himself he knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him. O that poor sinners would go to Jesus, believing in the power of his blessed substitutionary work, and they would soon learn the power of his gracious touch. That hand which multiplied the loaves, which saved sinking Peter, which upholds afflicted saints, which crowns believers, that same hand will touch every seeking sinner, and in a moment make him clean. The love of Jesus is the source of salvation. He loves, he looks, he touches us, we live.

Simply Profound yet Profoundly Simple: The Paradox of the Gospel and the Mandate for a Robust Witness

A paradox, G.K. Chesterton quipped, is “a truth standing on its head, waving its legs to get our attention.” In the Bible, such paradoxes abound. Paradoxically, Jesus is both God and man; and, paradoxically, the Bible was given by both human inscription and divine inspiration. One such paradox, or seemingly contradictory truth, is rooted in the gospel itself – the gospel message is simple, yet profound.

The gospel is a simple message. Simple enough to be comprehended by a child, understood by the illiterate, and conveyed by those lacking formal education. In fact, at times in the New Testament the Apostle Paul, an educated man, seems to revel in the gospel’s relative simplicity. To the church at Corinth, he chided the Jews who desired authenticating signs and Greeks who searched for wisdom. On the contrary, to the Corinthian believers, Paul purposed to “know nothing among you except Christ and him crucified.”

At the same time, the gospel is also a profound message. Paul, the church’s great missionary-evangelist, was also the church’s most accomplished theologian. Paul penned some 13 New Testament letters, explaining and applying the gospel.  Moreover, the Pauline epistles both insist and assume believers to be students of Scripture, equipped and equipping others to defend the faith. In many ways, the New Testament as a whole is one large project in documenting, defining, and defending the gospel.

One need not look back to the first-century church to find this gospel paradox. In the 21st century, just like the first century, the gospel message – the simple gospel message – still saves. Yet the 21st century also brings with it a season of unique evangelistic challenge. Prior generations of Christians often had the luxury of presenting the gospel in a cultural context of shared presuppositions – even among the lost – concerning the authority of Scripture, the truthfulness of the gospel, and the realities of heaven and hell. In past generations, the great enemy of the gospel was frequently perceived as apathy among unbelievers, and much of evangelism was oriented toward persuading the hearers to respond to the gospel message they knew and acknowledged but had not yet personally embraced. Evangelism focused more on exhortation to believe the gospel than an explanation of the gospel.

Such is not the case now.  Contemporary believers can no more assume modern man is predisposed to believe an ancient gospel message than we can assume a modern man would be predisposed to believe in ancient medicine.  Therefore, when it comes to explaining the gospel less may be more, except when less is not enough. God’s people must not settle for only a rudimentary knowledge of God’s saving message. Rather, we must have a robust and confident grasp of God’s Word and be ready to field the questions of modern man. In every sense of the expression, we must be New Testament believers, ready to give an answer for the hope that resides within us.

In Paul’s day and in ours, the gospel is indeed a paradox. In its own way, to paraphrase Chesterton, the gospel stands on its head, waves its legs and demands our attention. This is a paradox worth embracing, celebrating, and proclaiming.

*This article was originally published on 4/12/13*