Blogging Theologically

Theology for real life

Links I like (10/13)

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Links I like

Happy Thursday everyone! If you’re in need of a good read today, you might want to check out Samuel Rutherford’s The Loveliness of Christ (99¢) and Simple Church by Thom Rainer and Eric Geiger ($4.99).

Is Voting Third Party Throwing Away Your Vote?

Aaron Earls:

But if you’ve seen this option discussed online, you’ve probably encountered supporters of either of the two main candidates assert that voting for a third party candidate is a waste. I don’t think that is the case.

I’m not arguing whether or not you should vote for a third party. That is a decision each voter has to make on their own. I simply want to address common objections.

My Top 6 Mistakes As a Young Pastor

Mark Dance:

I made several mistakes in my first decade of ministry. I want to leverage the pain of the top six of those mistakes to help younger pastors succeed instead of suffer.

4 Reasons Spurgeon Died Poor

Christian George:

Charles Spurgeon could have been one of the richest millionaires in London.

Instead, he died poor.

Unlike his contemporary pastors in London, Spurgeon did not leave millions of pounds to his family after his death. Susannah told a Baptist newspaper her husband only left £2,000 (Nottingham Evening Post, March 31, 1892).

This number is staggering compared to how much money Spurgeon actually earned. In fact, one of the most overlooked aspects of Spurgeon’s ministry is his personal finances.

Let’s see where Spurgeon’s wallet takes us.

Driving from Duty to Delight

Erik Raymond:

Let’s cut right to it. Sometimes we don’t feel like reading our Bible, praying, going to church or other things that God tells us are good for us to do. It may not be any one thing, for any number of reasons we just don’t want to do it. So what do we do?

Well, we have a choice. It’s a fairly simple choice, but it’s not an easy one.

Leaving and Cleaving to the Local Church

Lore Wilbert:

I love my church family in Texas, never have I left a place looking behind me as I did there; pioneering is in my blood, forging ahead, new, change, adventure. By the time we came to the end of our time in Denver, our first year of marriage was forged in the fire of unemployment, miscarriages, violence, financial loss, and a church leadership crisis. There was no one reason that pressed us out, but the compilation all the reasons made it easier to leave. We looked eastward and hoped for home.

Andrew Fuller’s Awful Place

Joe Garner III:

The writings of Andrew Fuller (1754-1815) provided much of the theological bedrock of the first wave of the modern missions movement launched by the Baptist Missionary Society’s commissioning of William Cary (1761-1834) to India. Fuller was a theologian, missions society administrator, and most particularly, a pastor. Throughout his preaching ministry, he implored the local church pastor of his era to consider the seriousness of the call to preach.

How To Actually Help When Tragic Events Happen In The World

Matt Rogers:

I’m prone to feel helpless in the wake of each of these events. Were it my family, neighbors, or friends then I would know what to do. I’d know how to love, care, and support.

But when it’s people I don’t know suffering in places a long way from home, I’m a bit lost. How can I help? Even more, how can the normal church member help?

When a group member may not actually be a Christian…

A favorite from the archives:

I realize this is highly contentious—perhaps bordering on arrogant—statement to make, so it’s important to clarify: In saying this, and in citing statistics like these, I’m not suggesting we have license to self-righteously determine who is and is not a Christian. Only the Lord ultimately knows if someone’s profession of faith is genuine. Similarly, we must also be careful not to confuse someone who is immature in his or her faith with someone who is actually unregenerate.

So how do you know the difference? Here are a few indicators.

Links I like (8/30)

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Links I like

A few books to consider this week:

6 Things Spurgeon Didn’t Say

Christian George shares six quotes from Spurgeon that didn’t actually say.

Men and women are not equal

Glenn Stanton:

Man and woman are not equal. He owes what he is to her. That is hardly her only power, but it is among her most formidable. Christianity has always known this. The Savior of the world chose to come to us through a wife and mother. It’s why you find what you find at the very center, the honored and singular position, on that superlative ceiling of a certain celebrated chapel.

Eight Trends Where Churches Are Moving Virtual

Thom Rainer:

The virtual movement is a good trend for churches, because it is a trend of healthy stewardship. Churches only have so much time, money, and energy. Often times it is best to have someone else do the work virtually.

8 Ways to Overcome Perfectionism

David Murray:

Perfectionists struggle to get their work done on time, mainly because of the false belief that everything has to be done flawlessly.

Allan Mallinger’s addresses this in Too Perfect: When Being in Control Gets Out of Control by offering the following advice.

The Insanity of God

A film based on Nik Ripkin’s book releases tonight in a special one-night only screening in select theaters across America. The film itself looks quite compelling. If there’s a showing in your area, consider checking it out.

A Couple Phrases I Wish Preachers Would Stop Saying So Often

Erik Raymond:

In this post I’m thinking particularly about pastors, or those who regularly teach the Bible. Have you carefully considered what you are saying and how you are saying it?

We know this examination is not a waste of time. The Bible tells us that all people will give an account of what we say (Mt. 12:36). Furthermore, James writes that those who teach the Word of God will incur a stricter judgment (3:1). Therefore it is important for those of us who teach the Bible to give some consideration to both what we are saying and how we are saying it.

On Empty Nests, Christian Mommy Guilt, and Misplaced Identity

Jen Wilkin:

I walked through last week with a tape in my head chanting, “I miss them I miss them I miss them.” I thought of life after that last baby leaves and could conjure up no vision for what would come next. Meaningless, meaningless. I did the only reasonable thing: I attempted to fill the hole in my heart with cookies—a lot of cookies. I overreacted to things that normally wouldn’t have bothered me. The internal ache hurt so deeply and caused so much distraction that I once again had to face the ultimate Christian mommy-guilt question: Do I love my kids too much?

What CS Lewis wrote is more powerful than what he didn’t

A favorite from the archives:

“Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less,” C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity… except he didn’t. This quote has been making the rounds for years, since the publication of Rick Warren’s The Purpose-Driven Life, where it appears as part of Day 19, “Cultivating Community.” And it is to Warren this quote belongs, for indeed, it is his.

It’s a nice quote, and even a helpful one. But what Lewis actually wrote on this subject is far greater.

What needs to happen to write “a word to the unconverted reader”

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freely-heart-rocks

“A word to the unconverted reader.”

We don’t often think of these words belonging in books written by Christians with a Christian audience in mind. And probably with good reason. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen someone who isn’t a Christian choose to pick up a book by a Christian author for themselves.1 But when I read them at the end of a chapter in Charles Spurgeon’s The Saint and His Savior, they don’t feel out of place. They don’t appear to be a shoe-horned acknowledgement of the possibility—no matter how remote— that a non-Christian might be reading. “Now, if you’re not a Christian…” as we usually read, and whatnot.

Perhaps it’s because Spurgeon was the quintessential gospel-centered preacher.2 Regardless of the text he preached, or the subject of the books he wrote, his aim was to proclaim only Christ and him crucified. So, when he addressed his unconverted readers, what he wrote mattered. He didn’t write to them as an afterthought, or as a mere acknowledgement as so many of us do today. Instead, he wrote to them to explain why what he had just written mattered to them.

For example, when he wrote to Christians of our love to Jesus—a love which grows in us a desire to obey his commandments, an anxiety to make his name known, a desire to defend him against his foes and endure and persevere in whatever situation he places us—he explained what all of this meant for the one reading who does not believe.

And he doesn’t mince words. He reminds such readers that they have been condemning themselves even by reading of these graces enjoyed by others. That the heights and depths of this love of which he wrote is too high for anyone to attain for themselves—only Christ can attain it for them. Of Christ, he says, “He can renew thee, and make thee know the highest enjoyment of the saints.”

He alone can do it, therefore despair of thine own strength; but He can accomplish it, therefore hope in omnipotent grace. Thou art in a wrong state, and thou knowest it: how fearful will it be if thou shouldst remain the same until death! Yet most assuredly thou wilt, unless Divine love shall change thee. See, then, how absolutely thou art in the hands of God. Labour to feel this. Seek to know the power of this dread but certain fact—that thou liest entirely at his pleasure; and there is nothing more likely to humble and subdue thee than the thoughts which it will beget within thee.

Know and tremble, hear and be afraid. Bow thyself before the Most High, and confess his justice should He destroy thee, and admire his grace which proclaims pardon to thee. Think not that the works of believers are their salvation; but seek first the root of their graces, which lies in Christ, not in themselves. This thou canst get nowhere but at the footstool of mercy from the hand of Jesus. Thou art shut up to one door of life, and that door is Christ crucified. Receive him as God’s free gift and thine undeserved boon. Renounce every other refuge, and embrace the Lord Jesus as thine only hope. Venture thy soul in his hands. Sink or swim, let Him be thine only support and he will never fail thee.3

Though we might not want to emulate his language,4 there’s something I think we could all learn Spurgeon’s desire to leave a word for the unconverted reader.

Spurgeon felt the “anxiety” of which he wrote to his fellow believers—the desire to make Christ known. He didn’t write to nonbelievers as an afterthought, or as though a footnote would be sufficient. Instead, he spoke to them knowing the general disposition of their hearts—that they are far from the Lord, that they are condemned under God’s judgment, and that they have only one hope: to turn to Christ, to put their souls in the hands of the one who, “sink or swim,” would be their only support, and would never fail them. They need worry less at the first of growing in love for Christ and obeying him out of that love, but first gaining that love.

Spurgeon’s words to the unconverted reader were the words that matter most to them. So if we are going to write to those who don’t believe—even if the chances are slim that they’ll be reading—an offhand acknowledgement won’t do. We must write to them as Spurgeon did. But in order to do that, we must also feel the same “anxiety” Spurgeon did. Because writing a word to our unconverted readers only “works” when it’s clear we care about the state of their soul.

  1. Unless the point was to make fun or attempt to poke holes in his or her arguments, of course. ↵
  2.  He was gospel-centered before being gospel-centered was a tagline. ↵
  3.  C. H. Spurgeon, The Saint and His Savior: The Progress of the Soul in the Knowledge of Jesus (New York: Sheldon, Blakeman & Co., 1858), 270–271. ↵
  4. I mean, unless speaking in Victorianisms is your style, then have at it. ↵

We can work and we can wait, for Christ will reveal all in the end

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freely-heart-rocks

Yesterday, I was reading an overall excellent book on disciple-making and orienting churches around being “sent”—that is, building a culture that helps everyone see themselves as missionaries responsible for making disciples. One chapter in particular dealt with the challenges many of us have in sharing our faith. We feel awkward, we don’t feel equipped, we don’t know what to say… all the things we’ve all heard, felt and said.

I read through the chapter and found I agreed with most everything in substance (which is nice). But as I came to the end, even though I agreed with the points made, I didn’t find myself actually motivated to go and share the gospel more. If anything, I actually found myself struggling with demotivation to a greater degree than I had before I started.

Maybe you’ve been there. Maybe you’ve read an evangelism book and agreed with what’s said, but by the time you were done, you felt less motivated than you did when you started. You felt less effective than ever. And so, you continued to feel like a failure when it comes to sharing the gospel.

So often, there’s an expectation in these books—whether spoken or unspoken—that you’re going to see immediate results. That you should be able to draw a line from someone who comes to faith in Christ to yourself. And I’m not always so sure that’s true. I agree that we should be able to point to clear fruit in our lives of our growth as disciples, which includes playing our part in making others disciples.

But I wonder if part of the discouragement so many of us feel about sharing the gospel comes down to this expectation? And sometimes I wonder if the expectation itself is realistic—or if it misses something critical that might actually strengthen us for our task?

Consider what Charles Spurgeon once said:

We must not always reckon to see nations converted the moment the gospel is preached to them; and especially where new ground has been broken up, where countries have just received the gospel message, we must not be disappointed if neither to-day nor to-morrow we are rewarded with abundant results. God’s plan involves ploughing, sowing, and waiting, and after these the up-springing and the harvest. “Be patient, therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and the latter rain.”1

This is good advice for all of us. It is a reminder that our expectations don’t always align to God’s plans. “God’s plan involves ploughing, sowing, and waiting, and after these the up-springing and the harvest,” as Spurgeon said. Sometimes as we share the gospel, will be ploughing the soil. Sometimes we will be sowing seeds. Much of our time, especially in a culture such as our own, will be spent waiting.

There are people I’ve been sharing the gospel with for years who I have yet to see express interest in the things of God, let alone give any indication that they will turn to Christ as their only hope. I still share what I can where I can, but I recognize that I’m probably not going to see the results right away (which, I hope, no one will write off as a lack of faith on my part). And if this effort does result in them coming to faith at some point, it doesn’t mean I’m going to know about it.

At least, not yet.

I fully expect there to be a day when I’ll get to learn the results. But today is not that day. Tomorrow might not be it, either. It probably won’t be until I’m standing with those people worshipping our risen Savior. And because I know that, I don’t need to worry about drawing a straight line right now. I can wait and I can work, knowing that Christ will reveal all in the end.

  1.  C. H. Spurgeon, The Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit Sermons, vol. 19 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1873), 182–183. ↵

He will never leave you or forsake you

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heart-log-freely

If you had to asked me if I had a favorite Bible verse or passage, I’d be inclined to say, “the last one I read.” A bit cheeky, I know. But, even so, there’s a lot of truth to this.

The other day, I started Deuteronomy. And in Deuteronomy 3:6, Moses tells the Israelites as they prepare to enter the promised land, “Be strong and courageous; don’t be terrified or afraid of them. For it is the Lord your God who goes with you; He will not leave you or forsake you.”

This is without a doubt one of the best verses we can read, if for no other reason than those last eight words: “He will not leave you or forsake you.” This is something I’m always tempted to forget. Because I’ve lived more of my life as a non-Christian than as a Christian, I’ve got a lot of reprogramming I’m still trying to do. One of those places is remembering that I do not have to be afraid that God is going to wash his hands of me. If I am truly his—if he truly did save me 10 and a half years ago—then I belong to him.

Through Christ, he has brought me into his family. He has called me his child. He will never leave me or forsake me. Thinking about this reminded me of something Charles Spurgeon said:

The devil would rob us of our heritage if he could, but there is an Advocate with the Father who pleads for us. Satan would snatch from us every promise, and tear from us all the comforts of the covenant; but we are not orphans, and when he brings a suit-at-law against us, and thinks that we are the only defendants in the case, he is mistaken, for we have an Advocate on high. Christ comes in and pleads, as the sinners’ Friend, for us; and when He pleads at the bar of justice, there is no fear but that His plea will be of effect, and our inheritance shall be safe. He has not left us orphans.1

This is such good news, isn’t it? Though he may try, Satan cannot snatch away what we are promised. He cannot drag us out of God’s hand anymore than we can jump out ourselves. And what’s more, even as we feel the weight of our sin, we can know that Christ is still with us. Always, until the end of the age. He has not left us orphans.

He will never leave us or forsake us.

  1.  The Believer Not an Orphan (Published in Till He Come) ↵

There’s only one book no one can make me get rid of

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Bible-square

I love books. I love them to a degree that is probably bordering on unhealthy. There are stacks of them in my house. My shelves are double stacked. My wife is constantly pulling her hair out because they’re everywhere.

I love my books.

I hate when I have to purge them.

But I could part with all of them.

Seriously. All of them. Every graphic novel (which I’ve done before). Every commentary. Every book on prayer, on evangelism, on church leadership and the end times. Ever really great piece of literature. Every entertaining but not life-changing paperback.

Every single book I own could be taken away from me if necessary. Every book but one: My Bible.

My Bible is more important than any other book I own. It is the book from which I learn about God’s nature and character, about the grand plan he has been working throughout all of history to reconcile all things to himself through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the promise of the new creation and the certain hope of salvation through faith in him. Every page, every word, every syllable offers something more valuable than even the greatest literary works in my library. There is no more important book I own, even when I fail to treat it that way.

I love how Charles Spurgeon once described the value of the Scriptures. He said:

All other books might be heaped together in one pile and burned with less loss to the world than would be occasioned by the obliteration of a single page of the sacred volume [Scripture]. At their best, all other books are but as gold leaf, requiring acres to find one ounce of the precious metal. But the Bible is solid gold. It contains blocks of gold, mines, and whole caverns of priceless treasure. In the mental wealth of the wisest men there are no jewels like the truths of revelation. The thoughts of men are vanity, low, and groveling at their best. but he who has given us this book has said, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8-9). Let it be to you and to me a settled matter that the word of the Lord shall be honored in our minds and enshrined in our hearts. Let others speak as they may. We could sooner part with all that is sublime and beautiful, or cheering and profitable, in human literature than lose a single syllable from the mouth of God.1

This is the attitude we should all see growing within us as we read the Bible. As we begin to read it, it can be challenging. The cultural and historical distance, translational baggage, the temptation to jump into the most difficult to understand passages possible… all of this and more threatens to steal our joy as we take our first steps. But over time, we start to see more and more of the wonders God has given us in this book. And reading it eventually becomes one of our greatest joys because through it we come to know our glorious redeemer more and more deeply.

the many books I own are wonderful, but they don’t hold a candle to this one. I hope you feel the same.

(And Emily, if you’re reading this, this is not a license to get rid of all my books while I’m at work.)

  1.  C.H. Spurgeon, from the sermon “Holy Longings,” as quoted in Lit!: A Christian Guide to Reading Books by Tony Reinke, pp. 27-28 ↵

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