What do Christians do now?

No matter what your personal feelings are about our recent election results, we cannot deny that in our nation frustrations abound, emotions are confused and conflicted, confusion is rampant, and division is evident. Facebook is full of individuals trying to express to the world how they feel, one way or another. Peaceful demonstrations and rioting are happening in many cities throughout the US. America is divided by the celebration of some and deep fear and anger of others. And, Christians might be wondering, "What do we do? How do we respond?"

Well, I cannot tell you everything that you need to do to respond, but here are several biblical guidelines to help us process what is running through our heads and help those around us in our sphere of influence.

Pray for our nation, President-elect, and other government officials: Christians are called to be in submission to the governments under which we live and to pray for our leaders. As difficult as it may be for some to hear this right now, that is what we are called to do by God, and no matter your feelings about this election, you cannot deny that we are a deeply divided nation and prayer is desperately needed. You may be confused, you may be hurting, you may be angry, or you may be celebrating but none of that exempts us from the call to prayer. If you do not know how to pray for our nation, I would recommend reading this article by my senior pastor on eleven ways to pray for the new President-elect and the nation. Pay particular attention to the last way. And, note also that, while in this article he does express some of his emotions about our current situation, he does so in a way that fears God and is honoring to our leaders (see below), as well as brings us back to praying for the good of our leaders and nation.

Take seriously God's Word through Paul and Peter in Ro. 13:1-7 and 1 Pt. 2:12-17: Christian, this may be hard to hear for you right now or it might be too easy for you to hear, but we are called to be subject to and honor the governing authorities. Please take a moment and reread Paul and Peter's words in these passages, and, in fact, if you do that and do not come back to this post: fine, for they will do you more good than anything else I can say. I want to highlight in particular Peter's final command in that section in v. 17: "Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor." We need to take that very seriously, for as Peter says in the beginning of the passage, "Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation." So, what does that verse mean? Well, let's look at the couplets:

• "Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood." First, this means in our interactions in person or on social media, we need to honor everyone, even if we disagree with them. We may feel compelled to speak truth, but we should always speak the truth in love, which means at least that we are "quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger"; we do not berate; we do not mock; we do not antagonize; we do not resort to name-calling; we do not gloat; and we also seek peace, not quarrels. The tongue is a dangerous tool that sets ablaze a world of unrighteousness, and we can do that by gloating or by being angry. Second, this means we need to be especially careful with how we interact with other believers. All of the above still applies, and we need to remember that the world knows we are Christians by our love for one another. The other side of that is that when the world sees us fighting among ourselves, the gospel and cause of Christ is maligned. Please, remember we are to glorify God in all we do and not give unnecessary offense.
• "Fear God. Honor the emperor." First, remember that both Paul and Peter wrote under the rule of Nero when they composed these works of God's Word, and both remind us that we should honor the rulers. I know for some that is hard to hear right now, but we need to bring our emotions into submission to God's Word and honor the rulers who are taking office. That means that we can disagree with them and we can even point out their immorality (we will get to that in just a moment), but, like above, we do not berate, we do not mock, we do not resort to name-calling, we speak in love and not anger, and we do not join with those who do. We show them the respect and honor their office is due. Second, do not gloss over the command to fear God. Fearing God means being subject to authorities, but it does not mean covering up their sins, making light of their sins, or defending their sins. Sin is sin, and Christians are never to cover up, condone, make light of, or defend sinfulness. We are "to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with [our] God." Part of honoring our leaders and everyone is not letting sinfulness and injustice prevail and loving those who are needy, persecuted, and have no voice.

Remember that God is in control of all this: Christian, we know something that the non-believers in this world do not: God is in sovereign control of all that is happening right now, the leaders are in His hands and He does with them as He wishes, all kingship truly belongs to Him, and He has placed all authorities in their places. And, even though we may not be able to figure out why, we can know He has done it for the good of His people. These are His promises from His Word, so we need to keep them close to heart and walk by faith; not by sight in times of confusion, pain, and fear. And, even in times of celebration, we are not to place our faith in our leaders, for they are just tools of God; not any time of savior for this nation.  

Remember that this nation is not our true home or our true hope: Christian, while yours and my earthly home may be in America and we may even be citizens of this nation, our true citizenship is in heaven because when we were united to Christ, He transferred us from kingdoms of this world into His eternal Kingdom. Now we are spiritual exiles in our physical homes. So, while we do want our nation to prosper (see below), we can also know that this nation is not really our home or our hope, and the like the great "cloud of witnesses" of Christians past, we are looking forward to a heavenly city "whose designer and builder is God." We do care about our nation, its people, and we grieve injustice, division, and conflict, but our hope should never be here or in any nation for all of this will one day pass away. Our hope should be in the new heavens and new earth that Jesus has secured for us. The world desperately needs to see that hope right now because it is what causes them to ask questions and gives us the chance the share the gospel. 

Seek the welfare of our nation: Christian, while this nation is not our home and we really are citizens of God's Kingdom, we are still here right now, and He calls us to seek the welfare of this nation. In fact, the passage to which I just alluded deserves full quotation:

Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, to all the exiles whom I have sent into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: Build houses and live in them; plant gardens and eat their produce. Take wives and have sons and daughters; take wives for your sons, and give your daughters in marriage, that they may bear sons and daughters; multiply there, and do not decrease. But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.

Our spiritual exile currently in whatever nation we occupy is mirrored in the physical exile that Israel experienced in Babylon, and that is actually why Peter calls us exiles in the first place in 1 Pt. 1:1, so God's commands to them apply to us as well. We need to conduct ourselves, live our lives, use social media, work our jobs, communicate with politicians and leaders, and do whatever else we do in this life in such a way that it contributes to the welfare of our nation. It does not matter how we feel about our nation or the government, we are called to seek its welfare. As Paul says in Ro. 13:2, "Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment." Now, that does not mean we cannot peacefully protest or call out the sins and injustice of our leaders, for those can be ways of actually seeking the welfare of our nation, but we should not be involved in or condone activity that undermines peace, safety, justice, and the welfare of our nation. We also need to do it in such a way that we continue to honor our leaders, as mentioned above.

Be careful how you conduct yourself at times like this: Christian, there are a lot of emotions rolling around right now. Some are celebrating, and others are hurting, angry, and fearful. When such emotional ups and downs run unchecked, it creates conflict, division, and even some violence, as the recent news has shown. Christians are ambassadors for Christ, are called to be instruments of reconciliation, should have gracious speech, and need to be careful never to add to that strife, unrest, division, or quarreling in the way we conduct ourselves in our conversations and especially on social media. (Here is a great post about general rules for posting on social media.) Let me try to give some guidelines that might be helpful:

• If you are angry, confused, or even celebrating, take that to the Lord first, just as the psalmists did with life's ups and downs. If you are celebrating, remember that no mere man is a savior who will solve your problems. We have only one Savior and Shepherd who can solve our problems, and it is Jesus Christ. All other men are fallen and will disappoint us, so keep your celebration moderate, always looking to God alone for your peace, hope, and confidence. If you are angry, hurting, or confused, again, take those to God first, using the psalms of lament as your guide. A few examples are Ps. 44; 60; 74, and note in particular that, while these psalms express deep feelings of pain to God, they never accuse God of wrong-doing and they move to praise for His goodness even in the midst of hardship. That should be our pattern. 
• If you have spent time in prayer, and you still need "to get it out," start with personal conversations with friends or family first, please! This will help you process whatever you are feeling and get a handle on your emotions.
• If, after all that, you still feel like you need to say something publicly on social media or in some other fashion, speak only the truth and do it in love and let "your speech always be gracious." If you are celebrating (and with how much pain there is out there right now, I honestly cannot imagine a good reason to celebrate publicly but perhaps you have one), do not "rub it in," especially when you know others are hurting, for that is provoking and pride at its ugliest, and, again, do not elevate a mere man to the position of a savior. Jesus is our only Savior, and all our leaders in this world are fallen instruments in the hands of God. If you are hurting, make sure that your grief is not the grief of a world that has no hope but the grief of a Christian who has certain hope in Christ. And, if you are angry too, be angry but do not sin, as Paul commands us. An example of sinful anger might be if we do not follow the above guidelines from Paul and Peter about honoring our leaders and everyone, as well as not loving our brothers and sisters and Christ as we should. Hopefully, if you have expressed your pain and anger to God first and close friends and/or family second, by the time you get here, you will be ready to be angry without sin. 
• No matter how you feel about this election, remember that we are called to "weep with those who weep." If you are celebrating, the Christ-like and loving thing to do would be to set aside your celebration and acknowledge that there are those who are hurting around you, validate that, and weep with them. In that pain, you can offer them the hope of the gospel, but validate their pain, enter into it, and uphold them through it. If you are hurting too, it seems hardly needful to tell you to weep with those who weep, but perhaps you need to hear that in your weeping, you need to weep as one who has hope in the gospel and pass that on to others. Sometimes in our emotions, we can forget that our hope is not in this world or in the leaders of this world but in God's sovereign control of it (see above) and in the new heavens and new earth (see above). Remember that and lead others who are mourning to that hope.

Keep the first things first: Christian, at the end of the day, we are called to be salt and light in this world, make disciples of Christ, work our jobs as to Christ, love God and our neighbors, worship together, etc.; all so the gospel can spread because God "desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." And, Christian, we can do that no matter what government we have. As Paul says in 1 Co. 15:3-5, what is of absolute first importance is the good news of Christ's death and resurrection. At this time and at all times, the world needs the gospel more than anything else. Please, bring the world back to that over and over again. There is only one Savior, one Lord, one Master, and one Hope, and that is Jesus Christ. The world needs to see Him always but especially in hard times. Display that hope before the world, keep the gospel central, and then be ready to explain that hope to those who see it in you.

By His Grace,
Taylor

God as Father: Lessons I Learned as a Dad (Part 3)

A few months ago I began a blog series that will be irregular (at best) on lessons I have learned from being a dad about God being our heavenly Father--i.e. what it means for God to be our Father, how that impacts our lives, our relationship with Him as our Father, etc. I have learned quite a bit since I became a dad because the father-child relationship analogy that the Scriptures use has become so much more real to me. Well, recently I have been thinking about another aspect of God's fatherhood and our relationship to Him.

My son Gabriel is almost three now, and that means he is in the stage commonly known as "terrible twos," which should really be "terrible twos and threes or maybe even fours." That means that Gabriel is beginning to understand more and more how he is individual with a will of his own and he is desiring to assert his autonomy more and more. Of course, every parent out there knows what is coming next: tantrums. Gabriel now knows what he wants, knows that he is an individual, and knows he does not want to be told what to do, which means we see a lot of tantrums. This is actually part of their developmental process and is a good sign in the grand scheme of mental and emotional development, though it sometimes feels like hell on earth for parents.

This past weekend, for example, we took him to two Halloween activities in our city on Saturday, and at both there was lots of candy, which is what one would expect. Well, we, of course, try to limit his sugar intake, but depending on the day and activity, we might bend the rules a little and let him have more than he normally would. And, we did that Saturday, letting him have a little more candy than normally we would. That, however, was not enough. At a local church's festivities, we cut off the candy because he had had more than enough and we were about to go home and have dinner, and all of a sudden his world went from being loads of fun to a tragedy that in his mind would rival Oedipus' discovery that the oracle at Delphi had been right all along. And, while he did not attempt to gouge out his eyes, the screaming and crying certainly made it sound like he had.

Such tantrums are common in our life right now, and my "gut" responses vary. Sometimes the tantrums are so over-the-top ridiculous that it is all I can do not to laugh. Often they are frustrating, trying my patience to its limits. Most of the time there is mixed in with other emotions a sense of loving pity--pity because he does not understand all the things involved in denying what he thinks he needs, pity because I do not like seeing him sad, pity because I am trying to do what is best for him and he does not understand, pity because his immaturity is making him overreact. Lately these tantrums have also been humbling for me personally, which may seem like an odd response, but allow me to explain.

In my prayer life, there are times when I "vent" to God about things going on and my opinion of how my life is going. Now, those types of prayers are not necessarily bad or sinful because He wants to know what is on our hearts and He knows them anyway. And, certainly honesty with God in our prayer lives is something we need to develop. But, there are times where my "venting" is really just a "grownup" way of describing a tantrum. When I look at Gabriel with pity while in the midst of a tantrum, lately I have thought, "God, is this what I look like to You when I vent in my prayers? Do I look like a child rolling on the ground screaming because I did not get my way?" I am pretty sure I know the answer to those questions, and I do not like it.

I think that is probably the case much of the time. Even though I might veil it in "grownup" language and might not be screaming while rolling on the floor, sometimes it is about the same thing--I am upset because I cannot understand why God is not doing something the way I think that it should be done, and I doing whatever it takes to convince Him that my way is better. It may not involve stomping and screaming, but it is not really any better than a tantrum. Yet, at the same time, when I think, "God, is this what I look like?" I also think "Wow, you are so patient, kind, and loving to me to put up with this." With a toddler, we can cut him some slack because he has not learned how to deal with his emotions properly, but I have no such excuses. And, yet, if I--a sinner and sub-par father--respond with loving pity, how much more does God as my heavenly Father do that for me?

If I am moved with pity because Gabriel does not understand all the things involved in denying what he thinks he needs, then how much more is that true of God? The gap between God's knowledge and my own is far greater than the gap between my knowledge and Gabriel's--I am much less than a toddler in my knowledge compared to God. As the LORD says in Isaiah, "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." If I am moved with pity because I do not like to see Gabriel hurt, how much more is that true of my heavenly Father who loves me perfectly? Of course, just like I know it is sometimes necessary for Gabriel to experience disappointment for his own good, so He knows that sometimes it is necessary for His good plan for me. Yet, even though it is necessary, it does not mean He does not experience fatherly sympathy for His confused and hurting child. If I am moved with pity because Gabriel does not understand that I am trying to do what is best for him, how much more is that true of my heavenly Father who always works all things for my good? My wisdom (as limited as it is) far exceeds Gabriel's, and, indeed, Gabriel would not throw a tantrum if he knew what I knew. Well, the same can be said of us. God's wisdom far, far, far exceeds our own, and God always answers our prayers in the way we would have them answered if we knew everything He knew and were as wise as Him. But, just as Gabriel does not understand because his knowledge and wisdom are limited, so I do not understand because my knowledge and wisdom are limited. So, my heavenly Father looks upon me with loving pity and says, "My child, you do not understand, but please trust me, for I love you more than you love your own son." And, if I am moved with pity for Gabriel because his immaturity causes him to overreact, how much more is that true of our loving and understanding heavenly Father? Immaturity does not, of course, excuse Gabriel's reaction and neither does it excuse my "grownup" tantrums, but it does move me to fatherly compassion for my son, and I think the same is true of our heavenly Father.

At the end of the day, I still need to do what is best for Gabriel, as God does for me, but thinking about how much I--a very imperfect father--am moved with love, compassion, and pity for my son makes me so thankful for my heavenly Father who is the perfect Father. If I can respond in love and compassion to my son, most certainly God does to me. Even when I throw a tantrum, He looks upon me with fatherly love because He has adopted me and loved me perfectly in Christ.

There is, of course, another side to this: how I would like Gabriel to respond. I know Gabriel cannot understand many of the decisions Erika and I make concerning him, but I would like him to respond by saying, "You know dad, I don't get it, but I know you love me, so I trust you." Obviously that is pipe dream for Gabriel. Every day Erika and I care for him, feed him, clothe him, love him, give him experiences, and so much more, but when what he thinks he "needs" is challenged, he forgets all that. He so easily forgets how much love we have shown him, so trust in those times is hard. But, am I really any different when it comes to my relationship to God--my heavenly Father? Throughout my life God has provided for me, proved Himself faithful over and over again, and never let me down, and yet when what I think I "need" is challenged, I forget all that too. I bet my heavenly Father would like me to say, "You know Dad, I don't get it, but I know You love me, so I trust You."

That is what the Psalms do. Do you know what the most common type of psalm in the book of Psalms is? It is not the hymns, the confidence psalms or the wisdom psalms. It is not the thanksgiving psalms or psalms of remembrance. It is the laments. There are more psalms of lament than any other type of psalm. These psalms express intense sadness, suffering, and confusion about life, and there are more of them than any other type. That alone should tell us something about the Christian life: God's people experience real suffering and pain often. But, the psalms of lament have a characteristic to them that keeps them from descending into "grownup" tantrums.

These psalms (e.g. Ps 13, 22, 26, 42-44, 74, 77, 79, 88, 102, 130, 143) almost always follow a very important structure. They begin with an invocation to God for help. Then, there is a complaint section that may lead to a plea for help, confession of sin, or cry for vindication. And, then, most importantly, all but one of them end with confident praise to God. For example, Ps. 13 ends with:

⁵ But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
    my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
⁶ I will sing to the Lord,
    because he has dealt bountifully with me.

In this psalm, David has not seen any resolution between the beginning and the end, but even when he complains and cries out for God to act, he does not forget what is true about God. Even though it does not feel that way to him, he reminds himself of the truth.

I think we can learn something about how we should pray when confused or in pain from these psalms. It is okay for us to pour out our hearts to God and cry out to Him in pain and confusion. In fact, it is good for us to do so, but when we do that, we must never act arrogantly towards God--thinking we know better--or question His character--accusing Him of wrongdoing. The psalms of lament always ground their complaint in the goodness of God and then come back to that goodness with faith at the end, even when everything in the life of the psalmist seems to testify to the contrary. The psalms of lament combine honest, intense expressions of grief with truthful, biblical, faithful reminders of who God really is.

When we pray and "vent" like that, then we are not throwing a "grownup" tantrum but are doing exactly what we want our children to do: saying, "Dad, I don't get it, but I know You love me, so I trust You." That is a righteous lament; not a toddler tantrum.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Solus Christus: The God Who Heals

The God who personally became man for us—the prophet, priest, king, judge, shepherd, and suffering servant—is also the God who heals the weak and the hurting. For today’s Advent devotion we again look to a prophecy about the Messiah in the book of Isaiah:

¹ Behold my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my Spirit upon him;
    he will bring forth justice to the nations.
² He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice,
    or make it heard in the street;
³ a bruised reed he will not break,
    and a faintly burning wick he will not quench;
    he will faithfully bring forth justice.
⁴ He will not grow faint or be discouraged
    till he has established justice in the earth;
    and the coastlands wait for his law. (Is. 42:1-4)

Matthew tells us in Mt. 12:15-21 that Jesus fulfilled this prophecy too. Jesus came to earth and suffered, so that He could identify with us in our suffering and heal our suffering (cf. He. 2:10-18). Have you ever confessed a sin to another Christian, admitted a doubt to another believer, or expressed the pain of your heart to another child of God, only to have them condemn you for that sin, doubt, or pain? That’s called breaking a “bruised reed.” The Church is made up of a bunch of imperfect, sinful, and at-times-judgmental people, which means all of us will at one time or another break a “bruised reed” or quench a “faintly burning wick.” But, we never have to worry about that from our Savior. He will “faithfully bring forth justice” without breaking the bruised reeds like you and me. In fact, He will heal the bruised reeds by forgiving our sins, casting our doubts, and comforting us in our pain.

This doesn’t mean all our diseases will be healed; this doesn’t mean we won’t experience heartache in this world. It doesn’t mean we won’t at times suffer the consequences of our sins in this world or be scolded for our doubt (cf. Mt. 14:31). It does mean that when we’re bruised, He won’t make it worse but He’ll care for us until we’re healed. When we’re barely burning, He won’t quench us but He’ll love for us until we’re burning with His love again. This is why Jesus says to believers, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” And, soon He will return to take us into the new heavens and new earth where there will be no pain, no crying, no sin, and no death (Re. 21:1-4). That’s what the suffering servant secured for His people by becoming man. That’s why we can celebrate Christmas.

Today let Advent remind you that Jesus is gentle with His people. Let God’s promises about His Messiah remind you that you can go to Him with your doubts, sins, and pains and never worry about being rejected, despised, or crushed because He was rejected, despised, and crushed for you (cf. Is. 53:1-12). Unfortunately, because we’re all still sinful people, we can’t say that for certain about anyone in this world. We can’t say beyond the shadow of a doubt that another human won’t reject us, but we can say with absolute certainty that Jesus won’t reject any who come to Him in faith. Remember that you can always go to Him and He’ll always love you. I know this to be true because He became like you and died for you.

By His Grace,

Taylor

The Incarnation

Over the Christmas break, I had the privilege of preaching a short series of sermons before my home church. It was a brief, three-part series on a few of the results of the incarnation of Jesus into this world. They are posted on my sermons page, and you can also access them below:

The Incarnation (Advent Series 2013)
Date:	Title:	Scripture:	Recording:	Transcript:
Dec. 29, 2013	The Incarnation: Unshakable Hope	Ro. 5:1-5	MP3	PDF
Dec. 22, 2013	The Incarnation: A Merciful Priest	He. 2:14-18	MP3	PDF
Dec. 15, 2013	The Incarnation: Victorious Light	Jn. 1:1-14	MP3	PDF

I pray that God will use them to magnify His glory in your heart and encourage you.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Solus Christus: The God Who Heals

The God who personally became man for us—the prophet, priest, king, judge, shepherd, and suffering servant—is also the God who heals the weak and the hurting. For today’s Advent devotion we again look to a prophecy about the Messiah in the book of Isaiah:

¹ Behold my servant, whom I uphold,
    my chosen, in whom my soul delights;
I have put my Spirit upon him;
    he will bring forth justice to the nations.
² He will not cry aloud or lift up his voice,
    or make it heard in the street;
³ a bruised reed he will not break,
    and a faintly burning wick he will not quench;
    he will faithfully bring forth justice.
⁴ He will not grow faint or be discouraged
    till he has established justice in the earth;
    and the coastlands wait for his law. (Is. 42:1-4)

Matthew tells us in Mt. 12:15-21 that Jesus fulfilled this prophecy too. Jesus came to earth and suffered, so that He could identify with us in our suffering and heal our suffering (cf. He. 2:10-18). Have you ever confessed a sin to another Christian, admitted a doubt to another believer, or expressed the pain of your heart to another child of God, only to have them condemn you for that sin, doubt, or pain? That’s called breaking a “bruised reed.” The Church is made up of a bunch of imperfect, sinful, and at-times-judgmental people, which means all of us will at one time or another break a “bruised reed” or quench a “faintly burning wick.” But, we never have to worry about that from our Savior. He will “faithfully bring forth justice” without breaking the bruised reeds like you and me. In fact, He will heal the bruised reeds by forgiving our sins, casting our doubts, and comforting us in our pain.

This doesn’t mean all our diseases will be healed; this doesn’t mean we won’t experience heartache in this world. It doesn’t mean we won’t at times suffer the consequences of our sins in this world or be scolded for our doubt (cf. Mt. 14:31). It does mean that when we’re bruised, He won’t make it worse but He’ll care for us until we’re healed. When we’re barely burning, He won’t quench us but He’ll love for us until we’re burning with His love again. This is why Jesus says to believers, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” And, soon He will return to take us into the new heavens and new earth where there will be no pain, no crying, no sin, and no death (Re. 21:1-4). That’s what the suffering servant secured for His people by becoming man. That’s why we can celebrate Christmas.

Today let Advent remind you that Jesus is gentle with His people. Let God’s promises about His Messiah remind you that you can go to Him with your doubts, sins, and pains and never worry about being rejected, despised, or crushed because He was rejected, despised, and crushed for you (cf. Is. 53:1-12). Unfortunately, because we’re all still sinful people, we can’t say that for certain about anyone in this world. We can’t say beyond the shadow of a doubt that another human won’t reject us, but we can say with absolute certainty that Jesus won’t reject any who come to Him in faith. Remember that you can always go to Him and He’ll always love you. I know this to be true because He became like you and died for you.

By His Grace,

Taylor

In Our Pain, Jesus Crosses Over

"Jesus comes in side death, inside where Mary weeps. 'If only you'd been there,' we say, grieving over our private hurts and reaching out to anyone who will listen. And just there, Jesus crosses over." ~ Thomas Gardner, John in the Company of Poets

This Sunday, I have the privilege and pleasure of preaching before my church. The passage on which I have based my sermon is John 11--Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. This is such a long, detailed, and rich story that I cannot bring out everything it could say. So, for the sake of time (and the congregation), I am going focus on one of John's major emphases in this story: love. Unfortunately, that means on Sunday I have to skip the portion of the passage where Jesus weeps with Mary and Martha, which shows us such a profound and important aspect of our Savior. But, there is nothing to stop me from writing about it here.

If you do not know the story or remember the details, go ahead and go read John 11. This story is the final, climactic sign (miracle) of John's gospel that shows Jesus to be God in the flesh--Lord over life and death. It also emphasizes Jesus' deep love for Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. In the beginning, the sisters send a message to Jesus informing Him of Lazarus' grave illness because they know how much Jesus loves him. They think that His love will compel Him to come quickly to heal Lazarus, but Jesus has something else in mind--something more loving--so He waits and allows Lazarus to die (cf. Jn. 11:5-6). (More on this to come Sunday.)

When He arrives in Bethany, the sisters express profound confusion and pain. They had waited almost a week, and Jesus had not shown up. They had put all their hopes for their brother on Jesus, and Jesus had not given them what they wanted. And, they both said to Him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." (Jn. 11:21, 32) Mary and Martha were both trying to make sense of a traumatic situation and Jesus' response to it. They cannot fathom why He would let Lazarus die. And, we do that too sometimes, right? "Lord, why didn't you heal my friend from cancer? Jesus, why didn't I get that job I really needed? Jesus, why am I still alone? Lord, why is my child suffering? Why didn't You come quickly?" Now, those kinds of statements do not necessarily come from a lack of faith. Oftentimes they are simply cries of confusion and pain when we really have no idea how to respond. They are much like the questions many of the psalmists ask: "Why, O LORD, do you stand far away? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?" "O LORD, why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me?"

So, how does Jesus respond to us? Well, we know that He raises Lazarus, but how does He respond while they wait for Him to act? He does two things: 1) He reminds them of who He is and 2) He weeps with them. In response to Martha, Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die." (Jn. 11:25-26) He reminds her that He is Lord over life and death; that He is Ruler over everything, even our last enemy: death (cf. 1 Co. 15:26). And, Jesus does this with us too, right? He has given us His Word, and when we turn to it in times of trouble, we can see how much He loves His people and the glorious things He has done for them. When we turn to it in hardship, we can see that He is in control of our situation (cf. Eph. 1:11) and working good out of it (Ro. 8:28). He has also given us the Church. We hear the truth of who He is when the Word is preached, and we hear the truth of who He is from our brothers and sisters in Christ. We need those because in times of hardship, it is difficult to remember the truth, much less believe it. We need to read the truth of who He is in His Word and hear it from His people.

That is not all that Jesus does, however. In response to Mary, He weeps. He does not sit outside our pain in sovereign apathy. He does not simply give us propositions about His power. We look to Him with tears and say, "If only you had been there," and "just there, Jesus crosses over." He sees His Bride suffering, and He enters into the pain with her. In this story, certainly, Jesus knows He is about to raise Lazarus. That was His plan all along (cf. Jn. 11:4). Even in our suffering, He knows the good He is going to work out of it. Knowing the end, however, does not mean He sits on the sideline as an impassioned observer. He "crosses over" and weeps with us. Now, in this story, He does not weep because of His loss, for, again, He knows the end. He weeps because He sees the pain that sin and death have cause those whom He loves. So it is with us. Even though He knows the end, He "crosses over" into the pain and weeps with His Bride. Sometimes He does it through an unexplainable comfort worked in us by the Spirit. Sometimes He does it through the ministrations of a friend who sits and weeps with us. Whatever the ways, He "crosses over."

Friends, if you are in Christ, you have a Savior who is both sovereign over your problems and understands your pain. He is not just a Savior who is in control. That would make Him powerful but indifferent. He is also not just a Savior who understands our pain. That would make Him empathetic but impotent. He is sovereign and weeps with us. This is what He does for us--those whom He loves--while we wait for Him to act, and we need both of those while we grieve and wait. Here, in John 11, we see that Jesus has both, which makes Him the perfect Savior.

By His Grace,
Taylor

A Tragic Option

"Make no mistake, the problem of evil is not just a problem for Christianity--it is a problem for all worldviews because evil is fundamental to our human experience. If any worldview is to be considered plausible it must provide us with the intellectual and existential resources to deal with this issue." ~ Brett Kunkle from Stand to Reason

Yesterday Americans saw another example of the problem of evil up-close and personal with the bombing of the Boston Marathon. When things like this happen, often people will ask, "Where was God?" or some equivalent question. I do not at all mind the question; in fact, it is a good question. I have briefly written about this myself in past posts, and of course many wiser men have addressed this question (here is a good, short example and for a fuller treatment check out The Problem of Pain for pastoral help or God, Freedom, and Evil for a philosophical treatment). I do not bring up the subject today, however, to address the "problem" itself but talk a little about something I read on Facebook yesterday. Obviously Facebook was full of comments about this tragedy. Like most major events that hit the Facebook newsfeed, comments were across the board, and I was encouraged by some, discouraged by one or two, impressed by several, and perplexed by a few. One in particular stood out, and I wanted to share it as well as a comment (a tragic option) that was added to my friend's post.

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook yesterday:

Playing off what Steve Childers said:
Our Options When Tragedy Strikes:
Option One: A sovereign God who is not loving. He doesn't care about our suffering.
Option Two: A loving God who is not sovereign. He cares but he's not in control.
Option Three: The all-sovereign, all-loving God, whose ways are often beyond our ability to fully comprehend (Isaiah 55:8-9). The sinfulness of man is far worse than we could imagine. The only hope we have for what happened in Boston is Jesus Christ changing people.
Only He can bring us comfort in the face of tragedy.

I completely agree with my friend's post. In fact, I do not bring it up because I want to add or subtract anything to what he has said. I bring it up because a comment was made on the post that presents a truly tragic option. The individual commented: "Option #4 - There is no God." That is what I want to address briefly.

The simple statement came with no further explanation as to the motive or mindset of this individual, but I think we can assume that this individual added this option because they endorse it. Perhaps they think it deals with the problem of evil and pain (which we all experience) better than any theistic explanation. But, does it? In my option it does not because this tragic fourth option has an important corollary that most do not consider. Most who accept this option do not follow it to its natural, logical end. They exist in a state of inconsistency that attempts to hold that life still has meaning and purpose and yet there is no god. There are a few, however, who have been honest about it. Ablert Camus, for example, rejected the idea of God (following the "God is dead" movement of Nietzsche) and determined that because of this life is absurd:

So long as the mind keeps silent in the motionless world of its hopes, everything is reflected and arranged in the unity of nostalgia. But with its first move this world cracks and tumbles: an infinite number of shimmering fragments is offered to the understanding. We must despair of ever reconstructing the familiar, calm surface which would give us peace of heart.... If the only significant history of human thought were to be written, it would have to be the history of successive regrets and its impotences. (The Myth of Sisyphus, p. 18, emphasis added)

Without God bringing, giving meaning to the universe, we must despair of ever being able to find any meaning in anything ourselves. In fact, according to Camus' honest look at life without God, it is man's very search for meaning that creates the absurdity of this life:

This world in itself is not reasonable, that is all that can be said. But what is absurd is the confrontation of this irrational and the wild longing for clarity whose call echoes in the human heart. The absurd depends as much on man as on the world. For the moment it is all that links them together. It binds them one to the other as only hatred can weld two creatures together.... This is all I can discern clearly in this meaningless universe... (ibid, p. 21, emphasis added)

So, Camus, who cannot give any comfort to the "longing for clarity" that "echoes in the human heart," is forced to conclude:

Hence the intelligence, too, tells me in its way that this world is absurd. Its contrary, blind reason, may well claim that all is clear; I was waiting for proof and longing for it to be right. But despite so many pretentious centuries and over the heads of so many eloquent and persuasive men, I know that is false. (ibid. pp. 20-21)

Without God this world is absurd. The necessary corollary to "option #4" is life is absurd, the problem of evil is unsolvable, and man's search for meaning, unity, and clarity is utterly futile. So, what does Camus, in his honest look at life without God, believe should be our response to this? He tells us that there are really two intelligent options: suicide or "fate surmounted by scorn." (ibid. p. 121) Your only options are to kill yourself or live life with hatred of the absurdity, scorn of this universe, and enough pride and defiance so as never to let the futility beat you. According to Camus, only dogged hate and pride will get one through this life.

As my quote from Brett Kunkle (above) points out, atheists must deal with the problem of evil just as theists must, and for their philosophical world-view to be acceptable, it must give us the resources necessary to deal with this issue and others like it. Does it? With the tragic option #4, what are we going to say to the victims of the bombing of the Boston Marathon? Perhaps: "In the grand scheme of the universe your suffering is utterly meaningless--life and all that comes with it has no transcendent meaning or value," "Take heart, you will soon cease to exist forever and your suffering will be over," or, as Bertrand Russell said, "...all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system..." so who cares, right? Option #4 cannot deal with the problem of evil, at least not in a way that man's soul will find acceptable. Option #4 cannot offer any hope to the victims of this tragedy or a world living in fear of similar things happening to their loved ones. Option #4 cannot give us any resources for handling the problem of evil other than Camus' two options. Option #4 can only say, "This tragedy is absurd. Life is absurd. The bombing of the Boston Marathon only reminds us that we must either kill ourselves and get it over with or buckle down, hate this universe, live with defiance, and never let the world win." Is that really palatable? Is that anything less than tragic?

Now, do not get me wrong. I do not believe God exists, the Bible is true, and Jesus is the only hope for the world because it is the most palatable option. I believe it because it is true. I believe it because the Hound of Heaven relentlessly pursued me through my rejection of Him and brought me to the point where I could not deny His truth and my desperate need of Him. However, it is also the most palatable option, and I believe that is precisely because it is true, because it is the only world-view that can make sense of everything in the universe. As C. S. Lewis states, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen. Not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." (The Weight of Glory, p. 140) Only option #3 (i.e. orthodox Christianity) can shed light on pain, suffering, and the universe itself and allow us to understand their meaning.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Let That Be Enough

"...have you not cause to say, 'I love the Lord, because He hath heard the voice of my supplication.'?... He has heard you in the day of trouble, has strengthened you, and helped you, even when you dishonoured Him by trembling and doubting at the mercy-seat. Remember this, and let it fill your heart with gratitude to God, who has thus graciously heard your poor weak prayers." ~ Charles Spurgeon, the morning of Feb. 6 from Morning and Evening

Reading this today reminded me of a very special part of prayer that I often forget in my desire for answers--the believer's prayers are heard by the God and King of the universe always. Even when we do not get the answers for which we look, He never turns a blind eye or deaf ear. He always listens and perhaps says, "Wait, my child," and when, in our anxiousness, we say, "But, Father!" He patiently responds, "Wait, my child." That is never the response I want but it is no less valid or loving. The very fact that our heavenly Father--the God and King of the universe--is available at all hours and hears us is incredible. Imagine how you would feel if the President (whether you like him or not) was always at the ready to hear you. Just the fact that he listens and wants to hear from us would be an honor, regardless of his response. How much more true is that of our heavenly Father? He is the King of the universe; I am a pion and unimportant even by human standards (not to mention cosmic standards). He is the holy God; I am a sinful, selfish creature. Yet, He wants me to come to Him and wants to listen. That alone, regardless of the answer, is amazing. I am not a big fan of Switchfoot in general (not that I have anything against them; I just do not care for most of their music), but I like the chorus to "Let That Be Enough":

Let me know that You hear me
Let me know Your touch
Let me know that You love me
And let that be enough

Let that be enough, Father.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Advent: Day 11

Yesterday we looked at the Great Commission given by the Father to the Son. In it, the Father commits the Son to die for His people and the Son takes that commission. That means that many of the prophecies about Jesus are not going to be happy prophecies. One of the saddest tells us that the Servant—the Messiah—will be a suffering servant:

¹ Who has believed what he has heard from us?
    And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
² For he grew up before him like a young plant,
    and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
    and no beauty that we should desire him.
³ He was despised and rejected by men;
    a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
    he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
⁴ Surely he has borne our griefs
    and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
    smitten by God, and afflicted.
⁵ But he was pierced for our transgressions;
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
    and with his wounds we are healed.
⁶ All we like sheep have gone astray;
    we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
    the iniquity of us all.
⁷ He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
    yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
    and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
    so he opened not his mouth.
⁸ By oppression and judgment he was taken away;
    and as for his generation, who considered
that he was cut off out of the land of the living,
    stricken for the transgression of my people?
⁹ And they made his grave with the wicked
    and with a rich man in his death,
although he had done no violence,
    and there was no deceit in his mouth.
¹⁰ Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him;
    he has put him to grief;
when his soul makes an offering for guilt,
    he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days;
the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand.
¹¹ Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied;
by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant,
    make many to be accounted righteous,
    and he shall bear their iniquities.
¹² Therefore I will divide him a portion with the many,
    and he shall divide the spoil with the strong,
because he poured out his soul to death
    and was numbered with the transgressors;
yet he bore the sin of many,
    and makes intercession for the transgressors. (Is. 53:1-12)

He was despised, rejected, pierced, bruised, and God laid on Him our iniquities. That was the plan for the incarnation of Jesus. It was the plan when God the Father commission God the Son (Is. 49), and Jesus willingly took on the responsibility.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism calls this the "humiliation" of Christ. It asks in question #27, "Wherein did Christ's humiliation consist?" and it answers, "Christ's humiliation consisted in His being born, and that in a low condition, made under the law, undergoing the miseries of this life, the wrath of God, and the cursed death of the cross; in being buried, and continuing under the power of death for a time." Even becoming man was part of this suffering that Jesus was commissioned by God to take. The incarnation, the glorious event that we celebrate at Christmas, was a humiliation for Jesus. Paul tells us that Jesus "emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men." (Php. 2:5-11) He gave up the glorious riches of heaven and became one of us, and not just one of us but a servant for us. He voluntarily subjected Himself to the miseries of this life, leaving the perfection of heaven. Paul also calls this the grace of Jesus: "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you by His poverty might become rich." (2 Co. 8:9) This is the true meaning of Christmas—that Jesus became poor so we, by His poverty, might become rich.

By His Grace,
Taylor

A Dark Night

"Evil is conquered as evil because God turns it back upon itself. He makes the supreme crime, the murder of the only righteous person, the very operation that abolishes sin. The maneuver is utterly unprecedented. No more complete victory could be imagined. God responds in the indirect way that is perfectly suited to the ambiguity of evil. He entraps the deceiver in his own wiles. Evil, like a judoist, takes advantage of the power of good, which it perverts; the Lord, like a supreme champion, replies by using the very grip of the opponent." ~ Henri Blocher

While my wife and I were watching The Dark Knight Rises, a dark night was occurring a few time zones away. People who were attending another showing of the very movie we were presently watching were attacked by a man, for no apparent reason. According to news, a man burst into the crowded theater wearing a gas mask and carrying an arsenal. He shot what is believed to be tear gas into the crowd, and then he opened fire with a shotgun, a rifle, and two handguns. At least 12 people are dead, and dozens are critically injured.

As with other tragedies that have rocked our recent history, the big question is, "Where was God last night?" Well, He was on His throne as King of the universe, where He has always been since before there was time. He never left it during the showing of The Dark Knight Rises in Denver, on 9/11, at the Oklahoma City bombing, at Virginia Tech, during WWI, during WWII, or when two of my closest friends died a few months before 9/11. He was not somewhere else in the world and somehow missed it. He was not surprised by it. He has always been and will always be in control of all things. We cannot say "He was not in control" of that event or "did not ordain it" and yet also hold to promises like Ro. 8:28. He cannot work all things together for good unless He controls those bad things that He works together, along with the good things, to accomplish good for His people. Why did He ordain the Denver shootings? I have no idea. I could give a few possible reasons like bringing together a nation or opportunities for the gospel, but anything that I could come up with would surely not be close to a complete account of God's plans and would cheapen the lives lost in that tragedy. The last thing we want to do in these situations is give simplistic answers that cheapen the deaths of valuable human beings or sacrifice God's sovereignty because we do not understand. We must leave it up to Him and acknowledge that sometimes when the darkness surrounds us we cannot understand why. Yet, we cannot doubt in the dark what we have known to be true about God in the light, and when we "can't trace God's hand trust His heart." He is sovereign over all things, and He promises to work all things together for the good of those who are His. If you deny the first you cannot trust in the second. If you deny the first you cannot have the hope of the second.

God's ultimate proof of His control and His ultimate use of evil to accomplish good come together at the cross, which is why I began with Blocher's quote. He is, of course, saying nothing new. Peter said it in his sermon at Pentecost: "Men of Israel, hear these words: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with mighty works and wonders and signs that God did through Him in your midst, as you yourselves know—this Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men." (Emphasis added.) God planned the ultimate crime and used the actions of evil men for the ultimate gift of salvation, for His glory and our good. Indeed, "no more complete victory could be imagined," and it shows that even in times of great tragedy like this, we can trust God's heart.

In all this, we cannot forget that we must grieve with those who grieve. The gospel is not a salve that will make the pain go away. The truth of the gospel is foundational in all things, especially death, but many people who have not experienced such grief try to use it as a magic wand to make those who are grieving instantly "feel better." They apply it with the hopes of making the grief go away. Yet, they do not understand that the gospel is not meant to keep us from mourning. It is meant to help us mourn as those who have its hope, to mourn not as the lost but with hope (1 Th. 4:13). Those who grieve must be allowed to grieve and struggle with God during these hard times. We cannot give "pat answers," we cannot sacrifice God's sovereignty, and we cannot trivialize the deaths of fellow human beings. We must grieve with those who grieve but not "as others do who have no hope" (1 Th. 4:13). We must pray the churches in the Denver area who will be called upon for urgent ministry. We must pray for our nation and communities. And, we must point to the cross as the ultimate proof of God's sovereignty over evil, His good use of it, and His heart for His people. What better answer can we give?

They do not give better answers, per se, but for similar answers from better men, I recommend reading one of Piper's articles that he wrote shortly after 9/11: Why I Do Not Say, "God Did Not Cause the Calamity, but He Can Use It for Good", and I also recommend listening to Steve Brown's broadcast that he aired on 9/12/2001: Tragedy, Sovereignty, and Hope.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Suffering, A Prayer

Thou art great, and we are small.
  Thou art sovereign, and we are weak.
Thou art infinite, and we are finite.
  Thou art eternal, and we tarry but just a little while.

But with all Thy greatness and with all Thy power,
  Thou dost bend down low,
And listen to the sound of our tears
  As they strike the ground. ~ An old rabbis' prayer

In some previous posts I have mentioned that I am taking a class on worship and our professor, Dr. Derek Thomas, has encouraged us to write out prayers on various subjects so that we can think about how we would lead a congregation in prayer before a sermon. This is not so that we would memorize prayers but so that we would engage in the practice of "studied prayers" and be prepared to pray well before a congregation.

Below is one I wrote about suffering. I hope you find it helpful, perhaps something you can pray through, and perhaps a blessing to your soul.

Father, there are some of us here today that have a hard time singing many of the words in these songs of praise. Some of us here are hurting and have a hard time praising You. Instead of thoughts of joy, our hearts cry out like David did, "O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest." Suffering seems to be our lot in life right now. Tears have been our food both day and night, and, while we know You are there, You feel further than the moon. It feels like steadfast love has ceased. Remind us, Father, of what You did for us in Jesus. Remind our hearts that You brought us out of bondage from sin by sacrificing Your only son. Remind us that You have given us the down payment of glory in the person of the Holy Spirit. Remind us that through the cross You turn suffering into glory. Remind us of Your everlasting, intense, electing love so that we can endure the pain. Remind us that in all Your greatness and in all Your power, You bend down low and listen to the sound of our tears as they strike the ground. 

Father, we confess, it is difficult to praise You during this time. We confess, it is difficult to trust You during this time. We confess that we want to be in control. We confess that we are happy to praise You when we feel like we are in control and everything is going fine, but when we lose control—when the wind blows, when the storm is about to sink the ship, when the darkness is closing in, and when the giants are looming over us—it is difficult to bring our hearts to praise and say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord." It is difficult to trust You. We want to trust Your heart, Father, especially when we cannot trace Your hand. Remind us, Father, of what You did for us in Jesus. Remind our hearts that You brought us out of bondage from sin by sacrificing Your only son. Remind us that You have given us the down payment of glory in the person of the Holy Spirit. Remind us that through the cross You turn suffering into glory. Remind us of Your everlasting, intense, electing love so that we can endure the pain. Remind us that in all Your greatness and in all Your power, You bend down low and listen to the sound of our tears as they strike the ground. 

Father, our minds fail us during times like these. We know that You are sovereign over everything in this world and we know how much You love us, yet we cannot understand how this suffering can be worked out for our good. How is it that hope can come from suffering? How is it that sharing in Christ’s suffering means also sharing in His comfort? When we try to wrap our mind around why this is happening, we simply cannot understand. Where shall wisdom be found? And, where is the place of understanding? We feel like Peter and the other apostles in John 6 who were temped leave but had to admit, "To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." Even though our minds fail us, Father, we know we have nowhere else to go. Remind us, Father, of what You did for us in Jesus. Remind our hearts that You brought us out of bondage from sin by sacrificing Your only son. Remind us that You have given us the down payment of glory in the person of the Holy Spirit. Remind us that through the cross You turn suffering into glory. Remind us of Your everlasting, intense, electing love so that we can endure the pain.

The darkness feels like it is closing in, Father, but help us not to doubt in the dark what we have known to be true about You in the light. Help us to remember Your deeds, Father, to remember Your wonders of old. Help us to ponder all Your work and meditate on Your mighty deeds. Help us to say to our souls what the psalmist once said thousands of years ago, "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and what are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God." Help us to remember that even when You seem further than the moon, You are not far off. In fact, You are closer than our skin.

Father, I pray those of us who are not suffering right now can be a comfort to those who are. Help us, Father, to not trivialize or "spiritualize" their grief. Help us to suffer with them, to grieve with them. Help us to be present with them in their suffering, even if we do not know how to help. Help us to be able to listen as they struggle and support them with prayer and love. Father, we want to help them mourn but not as those who have no hope. Help us to be able to mourn with them as those who have hope—hope in Jesus, in heaven, in the new heavens and earth, in Your steadfast love, in Your promises to work out all things for our good, in everlasting glory.

Father, we pray all these things in the name of Your Son, whom You put forward as a sacrifice so that we can have hope—Jesus. Amen. 

By His Grace,

Taylor

Trusting God: Even When Life Hurts

"Our lives are also cluttered with a lot of 'if onlys.' 'If only I had done this,' or 'if only that had not happened.' But again, God has no 'if onlys.' God never makes a mistake; God has no regrets. 'As for God, his way is perfect' (Psalm 18:30). We can trust God. He is trustworthy." ~ Jerry Bridges, Trusting God: Even When Life Hurts

This month's free audio book from ChristianAudio.com is Jerry Bridges' Trusting God: Even When Life Hurts. This is an excellent book that deals with relating to God midst the darkness and pain that we will at times encounter in life. Stand to Reason has given a helpful summary of the book just in case you want to learn more about it. But, if you jump on it now, you get it for free and can listen to it on your drive to work or something like that. So, even if you do not like it, you have not spent any money! Here is part of Stand to Reason's summary:

Bridges says there are three truths about God that we must keep in mind throughout our times of suffering:
In the arena of adversity, the Scriptures teach us three essential truths about God—truths we must believe if we are to trust Him in adversity. They are:

• God is completely sovereign.
• God is infinite in wisdom.
• God is perfect in love. 

Someone has expressed these three truths as they relate to us in this way: "God in His love always wills what is best for us. In His wisdom He always knows what is best, and in His sovereignty He has the power to bring it about."
The rest of the book follows that outline, looking to the Bible to expand on each of these points, exploring how they all fit together, and addressing objections and misconceptions. Here are some excerpts...

 Go read the rest of the summary for yourself and download the free audio book.

By His Grace,
Taylor

Book Review: "A Grief Observed"

Yesterday was C. S. Lewis' birthday (thanks Adam for reminding me). He was born November 29, in 1898. Recently I wrote a short review of one of his best works (in my opinion): A Grief Observed. If you get a chance, buy it and read it, even if you are not dealing with grief right now. It is short, honest, and will bless your soul. Enjoy the review...

Many books have been written on the subject of grief but none quite like this one. Most books on the subject of grief are written about how to deal with grief. This book, however, talks indirectly about dealing with grief by doing exactly what the title implies: observing a particular grief. This book is not about grief (in general) observed for such a book would have to be, as Douglas Gresham says in his introduction to this work, “so general and nonspecific as to be academic in its approach and thus of little use to anyone approaching or experiencing bereavement.”  This book observes C. S. Lewis’ grief after having lost his wife, Helen Joy Gresham (referred to simply as “H.” in the book). It was originally written simply as the journal of a man who was struggling with God and the loss of part of himself. Lewis had no intentions of publishing it until a friend of his read it and begged him to publish it because it would help so many people. It certainly has done that.

This book is especially near to my heart because I have grieved in a way similar to Lewis. I did not lose a wife but I lost my two closest friends in the span of a few months. I struggled mightily with God for a long time after that. There were many days where I shook my fist at God and said, “God, I would leave you if I had anywhere else to go.” Unfortunately, I did not know about A Grief Observed at the time. I know it would have helped me to know that “real” Christians actually do struggle with God when they grieve.

What a “real” Christian thinks, feels, and says when they struggle with grief is possibly the greatest contribution of this book. Often in the Church we spiritualize grief in such a way as to make it seem trivial, which is very unfair to those who are experiencing it. Lewis expresses this frustration, “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.”  The truth of the gospel is foundational in all things, especially death, but many people who have not experienced such grief try to use it as a magic wand to make those who are grieving instantly “feel better.” They apply it with the hopes of making the grief go away. Yet, they do not understand that the gospel is not meant to keep us from mourning. It is meant to help us mourn as those who have its hope (1 Thess. 4:13). All of us who grieve must be allowed to grieve and struggle with God during these hard times. The struggle is normal and okay for God knows that we are dust (Ps. 103:14). In my estimation, the greatest contribution that this book makes is simply showing that “real” Christians struggle with God during grief. Lewis is one of the giants of the modern Church. His polemical works were ahead of their time and second to none, yet during the grief of death even the man who wrote The Problem of Pain and Mere Christianity asked the question, “[W]here is God?”  Even Lewis struggled with feeling that when “you go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain… [you find] a door slammed in your face, and a sound of a bolting and a double bolting on the inside.”  The Church needs this kind of honesty and permission to struggle with God in grief.

Probably the second greatest contribution that Lewis makes with this work is the fact that he does not let the struggle consume him. This work chronicles his move from feeling like the door to God was slammed and locked in his face to realizing, “It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, ‘Peace, child; you don’t understand.’” This may not seem like a large step to one who has not grieved, but those who have felt the cold pain of the closed door know that this is a long way down the path of recovery. If Lewis had left us with the pain of the initial struggle, it would not be helpful to any grieving Christian. However, Lewis honestly chronicled the struggle from deep pain to the point where he could say, “How wicked would it be, if we could, to call the dead back!... Poi si torno all’ eternal fontana.”  The last section translates, “Then back to the eternal fountain.” In this work he showed us that “real” Christians struggle with grief, but also that “real” Christians continue to struggle until they can say to God, “Praise in due order; of [You] as the giver, of her as the gift…. by praising I can still, in some degree, enjoy her, and already, in some degree, enjoy [You].”

The third and final contribution of this work that I would like to mention (there are many more outside of the scope of this short review) is the honest way he struggles with the way others treat him. Those who have a friend who is bereaved can learn a lot of how to treat that friend from this work. For example, he acknowledges that he wants to be around others but wants just to be able to be while around them—“I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.”  During grief, especially the initial stages, you do not want to be alone but you also fear being around others because they will try to get you to “talk about it” when you just need their presence. If only people could understand that you do not want them to make you happy; you just want to know that others still are. I think this is what Lewis is expressing here. Another example: “An odd byproduct of my loss is that I’m aware of being an embarrassment to everyone I meet…. I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate it if they do, and if they don’t.”  I hated this too. People simply do not know how to be around you. They do not want to treat you like “normal” because they feel that would be insensitive but they also do not know how to talk to you about it, so they end up making you feel like an invalid. Most of the time you do not want to talk; you just want to be treated like normal so that you can bring it up when you are ready to talk. For all those who have not experience such grief, A Grief Observed is very helpful in learning how your grieving friends want to be treated.

This book is one-of-a-kind. I am so thankful that Lewis’ friend convinced him to publish it for it has helped so many grieving Christians and will continue to help them for many years to come. I have described the three greatest contributions that I think this book makes but there are so many more that I simply could not fit into the scope of this review. Whether someone is grieving a great loss, knows someone who is grieving a great loss, or simply wants to understand Christian grief better, this book will be invaluable to them. As Douglas Gresham says in his introduction, “…at least this book will help us to face our grief, and to ‘misunderstand a little less completely.’”

By His Grace,
Taylor