Recently we had someone over and as the night came to a close Angel warmly offered, “Let’s do this again soon!” I wilted as I processed just how many things were on our calendar in the coming month. Just like Angel did, I wanted to be with them again and soon, but her invitation made me flinch.
My wife Angel and I are very different people. Angel brings light and life everywhere. People are drawn to her, and she is drawn to people. One of the many things I love about Angel is how she gets caught up in a moment with people. In that space, it’s not unusual that she shares hopes with those we are with of spending more time together. And she means it: there is no doubt of her genuineness.
“I don’t compare myself with anybody, but nobody is better.” Michael Jordan
“They say the sky’s the limit, but I think my potential is beyond it.” Jay-Z
“I won’t be happy until I’m as famous as God” Madonna
“I won’t be a rock star. I will be a legend.” Freddie Mercury
“We’re more popular than Jesus now.” John Lennon
We tend to expect that greatest among us are also some of the most arrogant. And why wouldn’t they be? For many who make it to the top of their field, we can see how that arrogance can be a driving force for their greatness.
God became flesh.
Let that sink in. Christianity asserts that God—sovereign, immutable, omnipotent, other—the eternal God who has no beginning and end—became a human being.
Because many of us have had exposure to Christianity from our early years, it is easy to miss how massive the theological implications of the incarnation are. The incarnation lays the groundwork for a God who chooses to participate in his creation. The incarnation denies the existence of an abstract and distant God, unmuddied by his handiwork.
“God did not, as the Bible says, create man in his own image; on the contrary, man created God in his own image.” Ludwig Feuerbach dropped this theological bombshell three years before Friedrich Nietzsche’s birth. Feuerbach, a name forgotten by most, but who influenced Nietzsche, wrote these words in his book, The Essence of Christianity (1841). He argued that human beings project their own attributes and desires onto an imagined deity, creating God in their own image. This for Feuerbach, is the essence of Christianity (and indeed all religions), the deification of our human ideals. “What man wishes to be, he makes his God… God is the outward projection of a man’s inward nature.”
We Westerners avoid death.
When was the last time you walked through a cemetery? When was the last funeral you went to? Our churches no longer have cemeteries, those who are older head to retirement communities and then to head to long-term care or assisted care facilities. The number of funerals held in churches has diminished. Death has become professionalized, antisepticised, and remote.
Five things we’re missing the global church gets: Sean McConnell says, “Our theology may say one thing, but our behavior is often more focused on our work and our plans than God’s presence.”
What is the Devil’s part in temptation? Paul Tautges warns, “Just as he hounded Jesus all the way to the cross, so he never tires of tempting you. He’s always on the hunt, always waiting for an opportune time.”
“God did not, as the Bible says, create man in his own image; on the contrary, man created God in his own image.” Ludwig Feuerbach dropped this theological bombshell three years before Friedrich Nietzsche’s birth. Feuerbach, a name forgotten by most, but who influenced Nietzsche, wrote these words in his book, The Essence of Christianity (1841). He argued that human beings project their own attributes and desires onto an imagined deity, creating God in their own image. This for Feuerbach, is the essence of Christianity (and indeed all religions), the deification of our human ideals. “What man wishes to be, he makes his God… God is the outward projection of a man’s inward nature.”
Waiting pushes our limits—and that is part of God’s design: Mark Vroegop muses, “I think it’s safe to say that most people dislike waiting. Do you know anyone who celebrates it? “Oh good, we get to wait.” That feels weird or fake, doesn’t it? Imagine meeting a friend and asking about her weekend. What would be your immediate response if she said, “I spent three hours waiting on Saturday”? You’d probably groan, right? Waiting feels like a gap in time that’s annoying at best and aggravating at worst.”
Savoring the moment takes time: Brianna Lambert with a lovely piece. “Maybe the older woman in the grocery store knows how precious this season is precisely because she’s had 10,000 more days to fully enjoy its memory.
I grew up in the age of Neil Anderson and Frank Peretti, two Christian authors who used their pens to try to enlighten their audiences about the power and pervasiveness of the spiritual world. I can still picture the claws descending from heaven on the cover of Peretti’s This Present Darkness that spooked me as a child.
As I developed theologically, especially through the influence of Reformed thinkers, I began to set aside these influences, which now felt naïve. To focus on the demonic forces of the world seemed to leave people with magical worldviews, where they held very little power over their own actions, and diminished the importance of mortifying the flesh as disciples of Jesus.
One of my least favorite reading experiences was reading Beowulf in high school English. Were you subjected to this torture? Beowulf was written sometime between the 8th and 10th century and uses an early form of Old English called West Saxon. Maybe if I re-read Beowulf I would love it, but at the time it felt like it was just one of those books we were reading because of its historic significance. Getting through the language was just brutal. I could barely piece together what a sentence meant, much less a paragraph, and understanding the plot felt virtually impossible. On top of that, this bizarre story of a monster in a far-away land felt profoundly irrelevant to my life...
Many American Christians are disappointed with their experience at church. Many feel shiftless: lacking deep friendships, disconnected from leadership, and without a direction as disciples.
When I graduated from Gordon with my BA and came back across the country to marry my bride, I busted through the doors of our new church like a bull in a china shop. I wanted to dive into ministry as quickly as I could and sit under a mentor as soon as possible. I was a man on a mission, eager to put my biblical-theological studies degree to use as soon as possible. I reached out to the pastoral staff and tried to jump in as quickly as I could into ministry roles and sought out mentoring from the pastoral staff. There were lots of good things about our experience at that church, but when we left two and a half years later for seminary, I was largely disappointed with the ministry opportunities that had been available to me and the lack of depth of my relationship with the pastoral staff.
Many church members are at a church for years without feeling a significant level of connection and belonging.
Without a doubt, there are ways in which churches need to improve in helping newcomers feel at home quickly and well. That is a post for another day. Today, I want to offer my 21-year-old self some advice about how to make a new church his family.
God intends the local church to be home. One of Paul’s phrases for the church is “the household of faith” (Galatians 6:10) or “the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19).[i] The church ought to be our home: a place where we are intimately connected with our first family.
After Angel and I were married, we moved to Phoenix, a town new to both of us. We began a several-month-long journey of finding a church that would be repeated again in two-and-a-half years when we moved to New Jersey. I have vivid memories of both church shopping experiences: of the sweet little Anglican church in Phoenix where we were the youngest in attendance by at least four decades and mobbed afterward by kindly congregants who begged us to stay for coffee and cookies; of the 1,000 square foot church on the Jersey shore where our friends and we doubled the size of the congregation and the accompaniment was played by means of a 1980s style boom box which the pastor turned around to push the button at the beginning and end of every song.
It wasn’t long ago that the idea of having more than one church in your lifetime would have been completely foreign. Virtually the entire world died where they were born and rarely left their hometown.[i] In contrast, the average US citizen today is expected to move 11.4 times in his or her lifetime.[ii] Even if you never leave a church for another reason, you will most likely look for a church roughly a dozen times in your life.
Shopping Well
No one likes to church shop.[iii] I certainly hope you don’t enjoy church shopping. Church shopping is a dangerous activity. By its very nature, it places the shopper in the position of being an observer and a critic and not a participant and member. The faster you can shift from critic to member, the healthier it will be for you spiritually and the healthier it will be for the body of Christ.
And yet, sometimes it is necessary. When you look for a church, here are four questions you should ask.
Who is God? Michael Reeves asserts that the essence of the fullest answer to that question is “a Trinity.” Reeves believes that while the Trinity is something many Christians shove to the back corners of their minds when it comes to relating to God, or perhaps explore with a sort of mechanical interest, with clumsy charts and worse analogies, reflecting on the Trinity is something that should stir delight in us.
Reeves quotes Karl Barth, who once said, “The triunity of God is the secret of His beauty.” Reeves contrasts the Triune God with a singular conception of God (like the Islamic understanding of God), who has a very different relationship with creation. Reeves says that “Absolutely singular supreme beings do not like creation.”
In contract, “Everything changes when it comes to the Father, Son and Spirit. Here is a God who is not essentially lonely, but who has been loving for all eternity as the Father has loved the Son in the Spirit. Loving others is not a strange or novel thing for this God at all; it is at the root of who he is.” That is to say, the relationships within the Triune God are that which defines God himself. God is relational and loving in his very essence.
DA Carson is one of the clearest and deepest thinkers in the Reformed evangelical world. In The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God Carson tackles what is perhaps the most difficult issue for Reformed thinkers to grapple with: if the God of the Bible is sovereign, can he really be loving?
Before making his case for what the love of God looks like, Carson grapples with the distortion of the love of God. In Carson’s words, “The love of God has been sanitized, democratized, and above all sentimentalized.”
Carson spends the first two chapters parceling out the love of God. First, Carson lays out what is his most significant contribution in the book: a layered understanding of the love of God. In doing so, Carson comes to grips with the multitude of ways God is talked about scripturally. For instance, how does one reconcile God’s love of the world with his love of the elect? It is a surprisingly difficult task that Carson has an elegant solution for.
After NT Wright completed his seminal work on the resurrection of Jesus: The Resurrection of the Son of God he planned on writing a follow-up on the crucifixion of Christ (what would eventually be The Day the Revolution Began). As he prepared to write that book, tragedy struck as 19 terrorists hijacked four commercial airliners and flew them into civilian targets on the Eastern seaboard of the US. Wright realized he needed to write a book on the problem of evil before he dealt with the cross. This thin (less than 170 page) volume Evil and the Justice of God is Wright’s contribution on the subject of evil and God.
Wright’s book is neither primarily a pastoral nor a philosophical reflection on the problem of evil. It deals with the problem primarily from a cultural and biblical perspective. Wright speaks with such ease, you feel as though you’re sitting with a cup of tea in hand in his living room. This both warmly draws the reader in, but can at times give one the sense that the material is ad hoc and is not as well thought out as one would hope.
The encroachment of evil in the contemporary world has been a significant problem, and yet, Wright notes, it “seems to have taken many people, not least politicians and the media, by surprise.” This is because our cultural philosophy has no answer for evil. Wright identifies that cultural philosophy in one word: progress. What is new, no, what is next holds the highest value (look no further than our cultural worship of youth).
And yet, we should have learned that progress provided no real answers for our hardest questions. How, in light of Auschwitz, could we still be anchored by a philosophical mooring as weak as progress? Our answer has been to project evil outward: to the other, to society, to politics. But a culture of blame is no real solution.
Enter postmodernity, where cynicism reigns: “nothing will get better and there’s nothing you can do about it.” But that is no solution. Worse still, “postmodernity allows for no redemption. There is no way out, no chance of repentance and restoration, no way back to the solid ground of truth from the quicksands of deconstruction.”
Modernism did away with Satan and evil, but the burden of proof lies on the modernist to defend their tenuous construal of reality.
What does the God of the Bible do about evil? Wright takes us on a biblical tour to answer that question.
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