The word and the Word: do not sunder what God has joined

by Dan Phillips

Ask a group of Biblically faithful Christians how God is known. Some will likely answer, "In Christ." Others, "Through the Bible." I had just such an array when I asked the other day, as we have been studying how God reaches out to us and how we must respond.

Well, which response is right?

Broadly, one could say that three answers have been given in the history of the Christian church. Taking "A" as representing "In Christ," and B as "Through the Bible," we can treat them thus:

A, not so much B. This would be broadly the view of Christianoid liberalism of all stripes. Like virtually all false teachers, they do want to be seen as on the Jesus bandwagon, so they would claim Him. "Christ, not doctrine" would be their rallying cry. It might be neo-orthodox shaped with a sprinkling of existential spice, but it would amount to this: "We must encounter the living Christ. The Word witnesses to this Christ, but it is just the words of men witnessing poorly and fallibly to the Christ. It is inadequate. All that matters is the soul's contact with the living Christ, a contact that can't be tied to dogma or reduced to doctrines."

This is useful, of course, because this "living Christ" usually fits in pretty well with wherever the professor wants to go. This "living Christ" gets down with the world just fine. He's for evolution, "a woman's right to choose," "marriage equality," "social justice," "empowering women"; He's green, He voted for Obama, He loves Huffington Post, He's not so sure about literal Adams and Jonahs and falling walls and man-swallowing fish. In other words, He pretty much hates and loves what the world hates and loves. The  professor need not deny himself, much less take up anything as distasteful as a cross.

Machen killed this monstrosity decades ago but, like Freddy Krueger, it just keeps coming back. Unlike Freddy, it does change its shirt from time to time. But it's always the same nonsense, under the skin.

Both A and B. Many orthodox Christians would sign onto this, and it's a vast improvement. It at least recognizes that Christ and the Word are not opposed to each other. In fact, I wouldn't quarrel too insistently with this answer, as long as its view of B matched B's witness to itself.

However, I think this isn't the best way to put it. It still envisions a parting between the two that doesn't do justice to the role Christ Himself (A) gives to the Word (B). That is better expressed as...

A, by sole means of B. Of course and always, the intent is to know Christ truly and intimately (Ephesians 3:17-19; Philippians 3:10). And this can happen only as we are born of the Spirit (John 3:1ff.), and the Lord opens our hearts (Acts 16:14). But by what means, through what instrumentality, is this accomplished?

As I've been studying closely with my church on Wednesday nights, God has always had but one means of making Himself known, from the first moments when there was sentient life: by His Word. This has always been the case. Adam's first recorded experience of God is of God speaking to him; and so it goes through redemptive history. The grand trans-covenantal paradigm of Abram is that his right standing before God came through his saying "Amen" to the word of God (Gen. 15:6 and context).

Nothing has changed in the coming of Christ. He preached, He preached and preached; He was known as "the teacher." His miracles showed that his preaching had power, but their meaning was known through His preaching. When people came for his miracles, He moved on so He could preach more, say more words about God and His Kingdom (Mark 1:33-38).

This is what He said would be the norm. The mark of someone who was a genuine disciple was that that person continued in His word (John 8:31-32). That person who experienced God and knew God personally would be the person who kept Christ's commands and word (John 14:21, 23). Christ's abiding in the person would flourish by means of His word abiding in him (compare John 15:4 and 7).

And so it continued after He ascended. When Peter was surrounded by inquiring unbelievers, he preached God's words to them and used those words to urge them to salvation (Acts 2). The saved — reconciled to eternal fellowship with God — were those who embraced his word (Acts 2:41). Again and again, Luke describes the spread of Christianity as the spread of the word of God (Acts 6:7; 12:24; 13:49). In fact, how would we today have fellowship with the Father and the Son? Through the words of God through the apostles (1 John 1:1-3).

This is but a brief sample. I could just put it like this. You say the really important thing is to know Christ. I say "amen." And then I ask, "Who is this 'Christ'? Where do we learn of Him? Where do we find out infallibly who He is, what He taught, what He did, what He offers and demands, how I can know Him, and how He wants me to live and think?"

You know the answer.

A, by sole means of B.

Don't sunder what God hath joined.

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Is God always "gentle"?

by Dan Phillips

Thought-provoker question: who was required to instruct the Israelite kids about what to do once they entered the Land (Num. 15)?

Thought-provoker answer: their parents. Their parents who had lamented that God had brought them into the desert to kill them and those very children (Num. 14:1-3). Their parents who had refused to trust and obey God by entering the Land (Num. 14:4-11). Their parents who, as discipline, had been doomed to die in the desert (Num. 14:22-23, 28-35). Parents who would have to answer the question, "But why won't you be there with me?" over and over again.

Those parents.

Thought-provoking thoughts: God really, really doesn't "get" unbelief; and He really, really doesn't always mollycoddle those who have every reason to know better.

So:

"Gentle"? Relatively, always. Extraordinarily, often.

In mollycoddling unbelief?

Don't count on it.

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Unfathomable unbelief (re-post)

by Dan Phillips

Of course, Phil's Po-Motivator makes this post from December of 2007 a "win" all by itself. But I thought it timely as well.

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And he said to them, "Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?" (Luke 24:38)

Is this really a rhetorical question?

Our unbelief has to be unfathomable to God, as was the disciples' to Christ. It is as if He were saying,

"What basis have I ever given you for doubting Me? I told you that I would be rejected, handed over to the chief priests and scribes, beaten, condemned, crucified, killed (Luke 9:22, 44; 18:31-33). You didn't believe that would happen, but it did. I also said I'd rise again from the dead (Luke 18:33). Did you disbelieve? Again? Why?"

To say that God knows and understands all things is not to say that God finds everything understandable, if you take my meaning.

It is clear that the Lord does not see doubt as a virtue. But beyond even that, He seems to find unbelief unbelievable.

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Written for our instruction: it's all in how you look at it

by Dan Phillips

First scene:

During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel—and God knew. (Exodus 2:23–25)

Fast-forward:

...and the people of Israel said to them, “Would that we had died by the hand of the Lord in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the meat pots and ate bread to the full, for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.” (Exodus 16:3)

And again:

Now the rabble that was among them had a strong craving. And the people of Israel also wept again and said, “Oh that we had meat to eat! We remember the fish we ate in Egypt that cost nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic. But now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at.” (Numbers 11:4–6)

And again:

“Is it a small thing that you have brought us up out of a land flowing with milk and honey, to kill us in the wilderness, that you must also make yourself a prince over us?” (Numbers 16:13)

Then rewind, rewind, rewind:

So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. (Genesis 3:6)

Tap the fast-forward:

Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. (Genesis 3:7)

Once more, a bit longer:

Now Absalom, David’s son, had a beautiful sister, whose name was Tamar. And after a time Amnon, David’s son, loved her. And Amnon was so tormented that he made himself ill because of his sister Tamar, for she was a virgin, and it seemed impossible to Amnon to do anything to her. But Amnon had a friend, whose name was Jonadab, the son of Shimeah, David’s brother. And Jonadab was a very crafty man. And he said to him, “O son of the king, why are you so haggard morning after morning? Will you not tell me?” Amnon said to him, “I love Tamar, my brother Absalom’s sister.” (2 Samuel 13:1–4)

And tap again:

But he would not listen to her, and being stronger than she, he violated her and lay with her. Then Amnon hated her with very great hatred, so that the hatred with which he hated her was greater than the love with which he had loved her. And Amnon said to her, “Get up! Go!” (2 Samuel 13:14–15)

Press and hold:

But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death. (James 1:14–15)

Tap rewind:

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. For by it the people of old received their commendation. By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible. (Hebrews 11:1–3)

Once more:

for we walk by faith, not by sight. (2 Corinthians 5:7)

And once again:

So Jesus said to the Jews who had believed him, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:31–32)

Concluding observations:

1. Sin always — always — makes things appear as they are not.
2. The only way to see things rightly is by God's Word

See you in church, Sunday.

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Gullibility versus Biblical faith: three vignettes

by Dan Phillips

I used to drive a dear lady, an older sister in the Lord, to a chiropractor. It was a long drive, and my opinions about chiropractics were irrelevant and secondary to the opportunity for fellowship.

But she became a bit concerned because she wasn't seeing any progress, after many months of visits. So she went in to the chiropractor to question him. She shared her concerns, he looked at the X-rays.

And this was the upshot: though she felt no difference, and though the X-rays showed no difference, she was making progress.

Because he said so.

Just "progress" that could not be seen, felt, nor detected by instruments.

Fast-forward a couple of decades later, to Just The Other Day.

As I drove my wife to the airport the other day, we passed a Palm Reader, so advertised by signs which blared out many claims of wonderful mysteries awaiting within.

You just have to marvel. I thought (partly aloud, to my family), "How does that person stay in business? Obviously he or she makes enough income to rent a house, have signs, keep a location on a busy street... but how? Do people really think that someone has those kinds of powers, yet all they can do is run a little shop in a little town in a little corner of the world, in total anonymity. That makes sense to people? To a lot of people?"

(I also noted that one of the claims on the advertising was "Returned loved ones." I wondered if that required a receipt. But I digress.)

And then, having delivered Valerie to her point of departure, as we journeyed home, the boys and I spotted another... well, place of business.

This time, the sign said "APOSTOLIC SIGNS AND WONDERS."

And again, I marveled.

I exploded to the boys, "Really? People who own Bibles go to a place like that? 'Signs and wonders' — so that means they're raising the dead, healing the congenitally blind and the congenitally paralyzed, parting water, making the sun stand still, stopping and starting rain at a word... all the time! Because that's the main thing they say on the sign: not that they preach the Gospel, not that they preach the Word, but that they do apostolic — not just garden-variety, mind you, but apostolic — signs and wonders. And with all that going on, they're just a never-heard-of group in a tiny building 'way off the side of the road."

So... what's the difference?

Here's the irony, the truth I keep hacking away at from every angle I can find.

Many so-called "continuationists" (Reformed!) would shake their heads and cluck their tongues right along with every one of us — even while they enable this sort of thing. Because obviously, the only reason such follies can survive is that people have given the charlatans a bye on the whole Biblical issue of falsifiability.

How so?

All the Biblical tests of genuinely revelatory/attesting events are explained away by modern hucksters or their enablers. They either die the death of a thousand qualifications, or are radically Clintoned down. "You see these tongues are... are... they're a different kind of tongues than Pentecost! Yeah, that's the ticket. So you can't test them or identify them. You just have to believe! And the prophecy, it's... it's... it's not like the entire Bible explicitly defines prophecy. No no, it's a special kind of non-inerrant non-binding low-octane objectively unverifiable prophecy for the glorious New Covenant! Yeah, that's it. That's the ticket! And these porn pictures I get in my head, they're actually..."

You see?

And what does all that leave us with?

Pious gullibility masquerading as faith. With the charlatans in charge.

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About those "Honest Doubts . . ."

Your weekly dose of Spurgeon
posted by Phil Johnson

The PyroManiacs devote some space each weekend to highlights from The Spurgeon Archive.The following excerpt was a short item in the July 1884 issue of The Sword and The Trowel.

WO pilots are alongside our vessel; each one is eager to seize the helm. Let us take stock of the rivals and their several works.

Faith in God has evidently steered many into a haven of personal rest, and their voyages have been grandly serviceable to that Humanity which we are nowadays so blandly invited to adore.

As for Doubt, that popular guide of man's youth, it has assuredly left the barques which it has boarded to drift to and fro like derelicts, without owner or harbour. When it has come on board our own vessel we have been all in a flutter till it has swaggered off again. Usefulness to humanity has come scantily enough from the skeptical principle. It has attempted nothing, and accomplished less.

"Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend."

Assuredly there will not be much lost if this popular gentleman called Doubt, who finds it needful ostentatiously to dub himself Honest, should be dropped overboard. He will not drown, and the yielding element will suit him.

Investigation, judgment, conscientious care, must ever be exercised; but the harpy of unbelief, perpetually defiling the sacred and tearing to pieces the useful, we cannot and will not endure. To live to jangle is no ambition of ours.

Plain common sense leads us to prefer virtue to vice, and, as a way to virtue, that same sense selects faith in God rather than incredulity. Surely it needs no surplus of wit to make this election. How can a man who has a right to be outside of Bedlam long debate which of the two to choose—the faith which sees the invisible God, or the blind unbelief whose highest glory is to know nothing?

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When the Lord seems harsh

by Dan Phillips

The story that opens Matthew 11 is intriguing and instructive from many angles.

First, we shouldn't miss how Matthew frames it in verse 2 — "Now when John heard in prison about the deeds of the Christ, he sent word by his disciples." It is unique for Matthew to say so baldly "the Christ." He uses the title sixteen times in total, usually on the lips of persons whom he quotes (i.e. 2:4; 16:16, 20; 22:42; 23:10; 24:5, 23, 63, 68; 27:17, 22). He himself (i.e. not in quotation) uses only five times: four times in the genealogy/birth narrative (1:1, 16, 17, 18), and here. It is found without "Jesus" only in 1:17; 2:4; 16:16, 20; 22:42; 23:10; 24:5, 23; 26:63, 28, and of those several are spoken to Jesus or by Jesus.

So Matthew is stressing the point to us that the miracles Jesus was doing are miracles of Messiah, they are Messianic deeds, they are Messianic in character and serve to identify Jesus as the one foretold throughout the pages of the Old Testament. Matthew wants us to have that firmly in mind as we read what follows.

John the Immerser, however — the Messianic forerunner, the Messianic announcer, the King-maker who had identified Messiah to Israel — is languishing in prison. Whether he looks to the right, to the left, upward or downward, no glorious kingdom is in sigh.

Not for the first time, John calls to our mind Elijah, who after a terrific victory (1 Kings 18) knew bitter discouragement and frustration (1 Kings 19; do not fail to hear Ligon Duncan open this up to devastating and glorious effect).

So John sends Jesus some messengers (v. 3) to ask: given that nothing (that, to John's expectation, should happen) is in fact happening, is Jesus really the Messiah? Or is Messiah still to come?

How deep did John's doubt go? We can't know. He may have truly wondered if he had been mistaken in identifying Jesus as the Messiah. Or he may have been wanting to prod Jesus into action. Or he may just have wanted an explanation, a word of encouragement, as he awaited what would be his death, a death that apparently would come before the least glimmer of Messianic kingdom glory.

The key, again, is in verse 2. Where did John hear about "the deeds of the Messiah." Matthew tells us: "in prison." John expected (rightly!) that Messiah would bring political deliverance and victory and vindication, a golden age and an earthly kingdom. But John saw no deliverance for Israel, and no deliverance for himself. So he sent his students to ask the question.

How does Jesus respond?

Not as we'd expect, were we encountering this for the first time.

You have to say that our Lord's response is pretty brusque, even falls a bit harshly on our ears (vv. 4-6). It isn't cruel, but it isn't what some might call gentle and edifying and thoughtful and nuanced and careful and all that.

I mean, honestly, wouldn't you have said something different? I think I would have. I might have said, "Tell John to hang in there. Tell him I feel his suffering and pain, I know and I care. Tell him that the Messianic kingdom will come in all its glory, and he will live and rejoice as a great name in that kingdom. Tell him that he will see that all his suffering was not in vain, but brought great glory to God. Tell him that the present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory to follow. Tell him that, for that kingdom ever to happen, I must first make atonement for sin, and win the crown through the Cross. Tell him that, if he endures, he will eventually understand everything, and will rejoice."

I think that's what I would have said.

And, evidently (as I've noted before), I would have been wrong.

Jesus sees that John needs something different, and of course He is right. As I said, His answer isn't cruel, but it isn't soft, either. He says in effect, "Remind John of what he already knows, but is forgetting in his discouragement. Remind him that he already knows the answer to that question. And remind him that sticking with me solidly and faithfully guarantees blessing."

In no way did He tell John what John wanted to hear. Instead, He told John what John needed to hear.

And then, before I bring this home, note that it even gets worse, in a way. The second John's students leave, Jesus waxes eloquent about what a great man John was! I mean, He goes on and on about it (vv. 7-19). Now, seriously — couldn't He have said a little of that to John? Couldn't He have thrown him a wee little bone? I mean, come on; John's in prison awaiting death for his faithful service to Jesus. Jesus couldn't show a little love in that way?

Again, evidently not. Apparently John himself would never hear those kind words in this life. Evidently, what I think John needed is not what John actually needed.

Perhaps we get another peek in verse 7, where Jesus asks "concerning John: 'What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind?'" Even given this question, which the crowds evidently overheard, Jesus does not see John as "shaken." Oh, you'd think so, and I'd think so. But Jesus doesn't need anyone to tell Him the heart of man, because He knows what's in there (Jn. 2:25; Rev. 2:23).

So what Jesus sees John as needing (and what John actually did need), evidently, is a good, bracing shaking. He sees John as needing a splash of cold water in his face. Jesus is less concerned about John's feelings and his emotions and his mood than He is about his faith and his faithfulness.

I bring this up for your reflection, as I've reflected on it myself. Just ask yourself:  if Jesus was this"harsh" (as it seems to us) with such a favored and faithful servant, can it really be that shocking if He at times seems harsh in dealing with us lesser lights? Have there been times when you've thought Him a poor friend because He hasn't "shown up" as you would have done for one of your friends, because He didn't immediately relieve a depression, a distress, a difficulty, as you would have done for one of your loved ones?

Doesn't this give us good reason to re-think, to remember who's who, to remember that while Jesus almost always does give us exactly what we ask for, He reserves the right to give us something better (and therefore other) than what we think we need? Indeed, He does so regularly give us what we ask Him to give us, and does so frequently give us a good word from the Word directly or through others, or lets us get a peek of success or fruitfulness, that we get a bit spoiled, and expect Him to do it all the time. Then when He doesn't, we check in to Doubting Castle or its dark and dank environs.

I'm saying, we should think again. In looking back and making sense of our lives, or if we're there right now, we should think again. Like our Lord told John to do. Remember what you already know, but are forgetting. Think in faith, think with God's word and God's facts in view.

Just remember: it says He works all things together for our good (Rom. 8:28), and not necessarily for our definition of good on our schedule.

Seemingly harsh? Sometimes.

Good?

Always.

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Is Christianity rational? (Re-post from 2006)

by Dan Phillips


Re-posted from 8/31/2006, slightly edited.

A Mormon friend, in passing, remarked that religion is not rational, so he didn't expect it to make sense. It's a matter of faith, not reason.

You might think, "Right: Mormon. I don't expect rationality, either." Hang on.

He went on to give an example—but the example was not how a human could become a god, or how there could be only one god and many at the same time, or how God can keep changing His mind about things, or how two equally-inspired books could contradict each other. His example was the virgin birth. I said there was nothing irrational about the virgin birth, and the conversation simply moved on elsewhere. (I now wish I'd asked instead of stated; still looking for a do-over.)

But was he right? Is religion irrational?

"Religion," maybe. Christianity, no.

Now, before we stay too focused on my friend's Mormonociousness, I'd add that some Charismatic friends have said the exact same thing. Try to follow out some thinking to its uncomfortable conclusion, and you get a shrug and a dismissal. It doesn't have to make sense. It's faith, man. "A man with an experience is never at the mercy of a man with an argument," I heard a Charismatic church elder say.

Perhaps definitions are part of the problem. There is a world of difference between rational and rationalism. The latter is a philosophy, a worldview that asserts that man can know truth by the use of his unaided reason. The former merely means that something is in accord with reason, it doesn't violate fundamental canons of thinking such as the law of non-contradiction.

Is Christianity rational? Without re-writing van Til, Gordon Clark, Carl Henry and the gang (—as if I could), I'd rather just focus on one generality and two specifics.

First, some who karaoke this tune are actually simply anti-intellectual. Their religion is a Schleiermacheranian mish-mash of feelings and sentimentality; and, lazily, they like it that way. Like Alice's queen, they have "believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." They can splop! down an absurd statement and, when challenged to try to make any kind of sense of it—let alone Biblical sense—they can loftily murmur that their religion is a matter of the heart, not of the mind.

This is of course to stand Biblical religion on its head (pun noted, but not intended). As soon as you assert anything about God, life, reality, you find yourself in the arena of thought and ideas. Even the assertion that nothing can be asserted about God is an assertion about God, open for analysis, criticism, acceptance or rejection.

This is by the design of God, who crafted us to analyze, understand, exercise dominion (Genesis 1:26-28). Thus He positions the first commandment as "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind"(Matthew 22:37; cf. Deuteronomy 6:5).

The resurgence of the irrational is not new, either. It was in vogue in the seventies, but was already old then. J. Gresham Machen had fought and slain this dragon a half-century earlier — nor was he the first. The shade of rouge, the odor of the cheap perfume, and the color of the plastic jewels change, but it's the same old whore.

But second, even among Christians who are not anti-intellectual jellyfish, I've met some who very reverently think that some of our beliefs simply are not rational. They're mysterious, they have to be held by faith, not reason.

To this I'd just begin by noting that the opposite of faith is not reason; it is sight (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:7).

But are some of our faith-tenets irrational? Two that I hear cited specifically are the Trinity, and the Virgin Birth.

The second example is just plain silly. I have never understood how this can be an issue to anyone who believes Genesis 1:1, and thus grants the premise of a God who created everything out of nothing. It's like saying, "Everything out of nothing? Sure! But make an existing egg alive without a sperm? No way!" Canons of rational thought are not even stretched, let alone violated, by the fact of the Creator and Ruler thus operating within His creation.

How about the Trinity? Surely the doctrine that God is three and one is not rational?

When I informally debated a Jesus-only heretic on the radio once, he described the Trinity as the belief that "God is three people and one person at the same time." That belief is irrational; if that were what the doctrine of the Trinity meant, I would agree with him. God is not one in one way, and three in the same way.

Yes, the Trinity, stated that way, is irrational. That statement is also irrelevant. Because Biblically-instructed Christians do not believe this.


(By the way, this is a classical straw man argument. You'll meet it in every anti-Trinitarian cultist or heretic. The procedure is as old as dirt: mis-state, then refute the mis-statement, then declare victory. This is yet another reason why it is so vital that we know what we believe better than those whom we seek to evangelize.)

The Trinity is the Biblical teaching that there is but one God (Deuteronomy 6:4), and that this one God is Father (2 Peter 1:17), Son (John 1:1), and Spirit (Acts 5:3-4). The simplest way I have been able to understand and express the truth is that God is one in one way, and three in another. Or, we could say that God is one "what" (i.e. one as to His essence), and three "who's" (i.e. three as to His persons).

Now, do we understand the Trinity exhaustively? Of course not! How exactly does God manage being what He is? We don't really need to know, since we'll never need to be God. Nor should the finite expect to understand the infinite exhaustively. It is as C. S. Lewis says:

If Christianity was something we were making up, of course we could make it easier. But it is not. We cannot compete, in simplicity, with people who are inventing religions. How could we? We are dealing with Fact. Of course anyone can be simple if he has no facts to bother about. (Mere Christianity [Macmillan: 1960], p. 145.)

But we know enough to love Him, to worship Him, and to discern truth from error. And we know enough to know that there is nothing irrational about the doctrine.

Is Christianity rational? I daresay it's the only worldview, ultimately, that is.

Put another way: if it isn't rational, it isn't Christianity.

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Faith, reason, obedience and sufficiency

by Dan Phillips

As I read through the first part of Jeremiah 13, an instructive and timely pattern leapt out at me.

In verse one, Yahweh instructs the prophet to purchase and wear a linen loincloth. In verse 2, Jeremiah does it. Period. Then, and only then, does the prophet receive another word from Yahweh.

Pause and reflect on that. Such a trivial command, no? As if God parted the heavens to tell you to buy a can of olives, or a jar of mayonnaise, and put it on the shelf?

If that were the case, would it be lawful and reasonable to ask why this command was given? Sure, I don't know why not. We could ask. But suppose no answer was forthcoming? What then?

In response, let me ask four questions of my own:

1. Was the directive surely from God?
2. Was the directive clear enough?
3. Does God deserve obedience, regardless of the presence or absence of further explanation as to His rationale?
4. Would it in any sense be unreasonable to say that disobedience, dithering or delay would itself be unreasonable?

In the Biblical example before us, the answers are clear enough. To the first three questions, I would suggest that Yes is the only reasonable answer; and, to the fourth, only No.

Suppose Jeremiah never received one further word from Yahweh. The entry for that day might be, "Dear Diary: today, Yahweh told me to buy a belt, so I did." The diary's last entry of his life might include, "...oh, and I never found out what the deal with the belt was. But that's okay. He's Yahweh. I'm not."

Why would it be "okay"? Do this mental exercise. List for me every last being who does not have exhaustive knowledge of the nature, meaning and significance of every fact or event that ever has existed or will exist, as well as every fact or event that might have existed.

That will be a very, very long list. Blogger won't allow you to write all the names in your comment. This list will contain the name of every last sentient creature, of any order, ever.

My name will be on that list. Yours, as well.

Now: list for me every last being who does have exhaustive knowledge of the nature, meaning and significance of every fact or event that ever has existed or will exist, as well as every fact or event that might have existed.

That will be a very short list. It will contain only one name: God.

At this point — because this is what they do — your village atheist might sputter and fume with explosive, scornful fury. But, just to be blunt and plain, that's what Hell is all about, and that is why only people who deserve to be in Hell will be in Hell... and why we all deserve to be in Hell. The idea of a God who deserves ultimate and all-consuming love and respect and obedience, simply because He is God, is abhorrent, and the rejection of that premise is what launched the doomed project known as "the world."

Back to our passage. The issue to Jeremiah, once he received this seemingly nonsensical directive, is this and only this: is Yahweh worthy of faith, love, and obedience?

That, right there, is the archetypal question. It was that same question in the Garden, and it was at that same point that our great-great-greats answered wrongly, and doomed us all.

You see, they had a word from God that was also clear and sufficient: don't eat the fruit of this tree, or you will die. In that, they actually had more than Jeremiah had, in that they had a known consequence. So the issue was exactly the same: was Yahweh worthy of faith, love, and obedience?

Sure, they could have asked a million questions. Why that tree? Why make that tree? Why put that tree there? and on and on. But the trump to every last question was the answer to the same four questions above, and the answer would have been exactly the same. Did they need to know the answers to any of those questions in order to know what they must do, and why? No.

But Eve listened to Satan, and decided that epistemological autonomy was the way for her. Maybe Yahweh was right, maybe He was wrong. Who knows? She would decide for herself. She would cull reasons and information from sources that made sense to her, and give and pursue the answer that made sense to her. The locus of authority, the pivot-point of the universe, shifted at that moment from the throne of Yahweh to the mind of Eve — though only in her mind.

And Adam said, "Sure, honey, whatever." 

And what in the world does that have to do with the post's title?

Simple. We can ask a million questions about God's Word, too. Why did this and that happen, according to the Bible? Why can't men do this and this, and why must they do that and that? Why can't women do this and this, and why must they do that and that? And children? Why must we believe this, and disbelieve that? Why must we preach this, and denounce that?

While I am forced to say that we are, all of us, inconsistent with what we should believe and do, and we all fail and sin in one way or another; I am equally forced to say that we are compelled to ask and answer the same four questions as we posed of Yahweh's quizzical-but-crystal-clear command to Jeremiah, above.

This is the dividing-point between orthodoxy and heterodoxy, and between faithfulness and faithlessness. And here, too, is the dividing-point between those who rest in the sufficiency of Scripture, and the endlessly-discontented Leaky Canoneers. 

Both groups share in common that the Bible doesn't tell them all that they would like to know or hear. The difference is that the first category trusts God's wisdom and goodness, and sets itself in faith to make the most of every bit God's abundant provision — whereas the second sets itself to invent and pursue different avenues to get the experiences and knowledge they demand.

Though both claim "faith" as their motivator, I think the Biblical definition and illustration will properly apply only to one of the orientations.

To the other, other Bible words and other analyses will apply.

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The Patience of Job

Living by Faith, Not Feelings
by Phil Johnson



ob, by God's own testimony, was a righteous man, "blameless and upright, and one who feared God and shunned evil" (1:1)—"none like him on the earth" (v.8).

But even the most righteous people on earth sometimes feel God is obscured by the darkness of grief and suffering. Job in particular suffered the loss of all his children and all his earthly possessions in a single day, after which his entire body was reduced to a festering mass of sores, and he was left without any earthly comfort whatsoever—while being beseiged with bad counsel.

In the wake of so many unimaginable, crushing, life-destroying tragedies and plagues, Job felt abandoned by God. He felt overwhelmed by grief and personal loss.

I imagine it would be pretty hard for any of us to understand how he felt, how much it hurt, and how bitter the whole experience tasted.

But I'll tell you this: What Job suffered was no easier for him emotionally than it would be for you and me, no matter how righteous he was. He still felt the same kind of pain, with the same intensity, that you and I would feel if we suffered this way.

Job 2:13 says his friends "sat down with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his grief was very great."

Human emotions don't help us make sense of these things. If you want to sort through the problem of evil, you have to think sensibly, and theologically, and biblically, and not let your emotions rule your mind.

Job was a wise enough man than to know better than to respond by reflex on the basis of his feelings. If he had responded according to what he felt like, he might have cursed God. If he had just given vent to his feelings, he could easily been consumed with bitterness, self-pity, anger, and frustration—and he might have been tempted to take his wife's advice: "Curse God and die!"

But Job's very first response was the response of someone who knows something about God: "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither: the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 1:21).

Job had filtered his feelings through his theology. It still did not make sense to him why he had to suffer like this (and that is why Job is 42 chapters long; because it records the dialogue Job had with his friends as he tried to sort this out). But even though it made no sense to him, even though he was overwhelmed with painful feelings, his immediate response made no mention of those feelings.

He doesn't focus on any doubt or confusion he might have been struggling with. Instead, his very first response was a bold affirmation of what he knew to be true about God.

Faced with the darkness of pain and loss, he didn't go chasing his emotions or wallowing in his uncertainty; he stood firm and clung to what he knew for sure. He anchored his soul on theological truths he was certain of, rather than setting himself adrift on a sea of confusion and doubt.

This cannot be stressed too much: It was sound theology, not his feelings, that enabled Job to weather the immediate shock of the news that his children and everything he owned were gone forever. This is why sound theology is so important—and so intensely practical.

Notice what truths Job clung to. These were the things Job knew for sure about God. These were the truths that became his anchor. And throughout the book of Job, amid all his complaints and pleading, he never once let go of these principles. Here are three truths Job clung to in order to see him through his grief:

1. God is Sovereign

Job was a staunch Calvinist. He knew and confessed instantly that God was sovereignly in control of his life, even though Job had every reason to feel like his life was spinning out of control. As you go through the book of Job, you'll see that he raises all the same questions anyone would ask in a situation like this. He wanted to know why. He wondered if he had done something to deserve judgment. He wondered if God was angry with him for something. He had lots of questions.

But here, in his initial response, he simply affirms that which he knew beyond doubt: that God is sovereign and He therefore must have decreed what happened to Job: "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away." He knew the hand of God was in it.

He doesn't rebuke Satan or even mention him. Job's focus was on God, and he knew this bitter providence could not have come to him apart from God's knowledge and express permission.

But even so, Job doesn't try to explain away God's sovereignty by dismissing it as bare permission. He knew God had a purpose in this. God wasn't a mere bystander, uninvolved and unconcerned. Job uses active verbs: "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away."



Job doesn't blame God for the evil in the act, but he doesn't for a moment imagine that God was a helpless bystander when these things happened.
This is a healthy view of the sovereignty of God. Job knew that God controls providence. He is still in control even when it seems like evil has taken over.

In other words, when God gave Satan permission to afflict Job, it was a willing permission, not something involuntary that Satan tricked or goaded God to allow against His better judgment. God had a purpose and a plan in this.

And even though Job never had the benefit of knowing what we know because of the behind-the-scenes glimpse of heaven we are given in verses 6-12, Job trusted from the start that God was still firmly in control. If Job suffered, it could only be because God was allowing him to suffer. And Job knew that God had a purpose in it.

We get to see what took place in heaven that led to Job's trial. Job himself did not have the advantage of that knowledge. But he did know enough about God to know that God is sovereign. Satan could not touch anything that was Job's without God's permission. God must have given that permission, and Job knew that even without seeing the scene in heaven, because he already had a right view of God's sovereignty.

Furthermore, Job understood that God has a right to do with His creatures whatever He chooses. If He decides to allow us to suffer, He has every right to do so. In Job 2:10, Job tells his wife, "You speak as one of the foolish women speaks. Shall we indeed accept good from God, and shall we not accept adversity?"

In Lamentations 3:38-41, the prophet Jeremiah wrote,

38 Is it not from the mouth of the Most High That woe and well-being proceed?
39 Why should a living man complain, A man for the punishment of his sins?
40 Let us search out and examine our ways, And turn back to the Lord;
41 Let us lift our hearts and hands To God in heaven.

Jesus said to Peter on the night of his betrayal, "Shall I not drink the cup which My Father has given Me?" (John 18:11).

That was also Job's perspective. It was surely not something that arose from the grief and pain he was suffering at that moment. But it was the perspective his theology had taught him. It was what he knew about God, not what he felt with his emotions, that enabled him to endure this trial.

Here's a second truth about God that emerges from Job's response:

2. God is Just

"In all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong." (Job 1:22).

That is a remarkable statement. People often respond to disaster and loss by charging God with wrong. Job knew that God is just. So while acknowledging that God was sovereignly in control of all the tragedies that had befallen him, Job was careful not to blame God in any way.

This is a difficult balance to achieve. There are even some Calvinists—I'd call them hyper-Calvinists—who fall into the trap of blaming God for evil, blithely describing His sovereignty over evil in such a careless, ill-thought-through way that they make Him the efficient cause and the author of evil.

That is simply bad theology. Don't fall into the trap of wanting your doctrine of divine sovereignty to be so overblown that you end up portraying God as the author and agent of evil. He is not.

Don't ever imagine that God exercises his sovereignty over evil in the same active way he exercises sovereignty over good. Don't ever suggest that God causes evil in the same way He causes good. He is the active agent and efficient cause of the good that comes to us. He isn't the "creator" of evil in the same way He is the Creator of good.

In fact, evil is not a created thing. Evil is a defect in something God created to be good. When God finished His creative work, He pronounced everything "very good" (Genesis 1:31), so evil cannot be something God created. Evil is not a substance or a created thing. It represents the marring of what God created good. The agents of evil are Satan, the demons, and fallen humanity. They are the ones responsible for damaging what God made to be good. God's sovereignty does not change that fact.

Now, God certainly permitted evil. It isn't something that caught Him off guard or took Him by surprise. He is not the helpless victim of evildoers. Evil was part of His plan from before the foundation of the world. But He is not to blame for it. He is not the agent or author who is responsible for it. He uses it for His own wise and holy ends, but He doesn't sanction it, condone it, or otherwise approve it.

Notice, again, in verse 11, that Satan challenged God to afflict Job. He said, "Stretch out Your hand and touch all that he has, and he will surely curse You to Your face!" But God did not stretch out His hand and afflict Job. That was left for Satan to do. All God did was remove the restraints from Satan, and Satan was the agent of the evil.

So we see that Job suffered according to the plan and providence of God, but God was not the source of the evil; Satan was. Job understood this, and that is why although he knew God is sovereign, he did not blame God for evil.

We're not for a moment to imagine that God's sovereignty makes Him blameworthy for the evil that occurs in a fallen universe. To entertain such a thought would be to curse God in our hearts—the very thing Job was so determined never to do.

Now consider third truth about God we see in Job's response:

3. God is Good

Once more, here's Job 1:21: "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; Blessed be the name of the Lord."

In the midst of his trials, Job was confessing that God is good. That is the very opposite of what Satan claimed Job would do. Verse 11: "he will surely curse You to Your face!" Instead, Job blessed God's name! Job knew that even in the midst of this horrible calamity, despite all the evil that had befallen him, God was good.

Job did not understand God's purpose, of course. He did not know about Satan's challenge. But he knew the character of God. That is why he was so tormented trying to figure it all out. But you can read all his complaints and protests, and you will see that he never once impugns the goodness of God. In fact, in Job 13:15, Job says, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him." He trusted that God was good.

Did you realize that this is the very lesson the book of Job is designed to teach us? James 5:10-11 says: "My brethren, take the prophets, who spoke in the name of the Lord, as an example of suffering and patience. Indeed we count them blessed who endure. You have heard of the perseverance of Job and seen the end intended by the Lord; that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful."

Even this horrible trial was a token of the Lord's mercy and compassion to Job. I know that is hard to grasp because of our human prejudices, but I am certain that when we get to heaven, we will hear testimony from the lips of Job himself about the great goodness and compassion of God that came to him because of his trial.

See, although Scripture says Job was a righteous man, that doesn't mean he wasn't a sinner. It means he was a justified sinner. His conscience was clear of any unrepented sin, and he outlines that argument in chapter 31.

Some have suggested that there was an element of overconfidence or self-righteousness in Job. But remember that even Satan had nothing to accuse him for in chapter 1. He was justified. He was forgiven. He had devoted his life to the pursuit of holiness, and there was no gross or life-destroying sin in his life.

Still, Job was not sinless. He acknowledged his need for a Redeemer in Job 19:25. And at the end of the book, when He gets an even better picture of God's greatness and sovereignty, Job's response in Job 42:6 is, "I abhor myself, And repent in dust and ashes."

But let me be clear: God did not afflict Job in order to punish him for his sin. God was testing him, proving him, and strengthening his faith. God's ultimate purpose for Job was good, even though the immediate effect was calamity. This was not punishment for his sin.

On the other hand, however, Job, as a sinful creature, had no claim on any blessing of any kind. God could justly afflict him, because Job needed to be refined and strengthened. And God's ultimate purpose, as James 5:11 says, was compassion and mercy.

Consider this: Job's loss was temporary. All his afflictions were transient, passing afflictions that would eventually give way to an even greater weight of eternal glory. As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 4:17, "our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."

Suffering is the price and prelude of glory. But while the suffering is temporary, the glory is eternal, and infinitely greater. That is our hope in the midst of suffering.

God eventually gave Job back more than he had lost. Here's Job 42:12-17:

12 Now the Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning; for he had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, one thousand yoke of oxen, and one thousand female donkeys.
13 He also had seven sons and three daughters.
14 And he called the name of the first Jemimah, the name of the second Keziah, and the name of the third Keren-Happuch.
15 In all the land were found no women so beautiful as the daughters of Job; and their father gave them an inheritance among their brothers.
16 After this Job lived one hundred and forty years, and saw his children and grandchildren for four generations.
17 So Job died, old and full of days.

When I first read that years ago, I couldn't help feeling that new sons and daughters would hardly make up for the children Job had lost forever. As a father, I cannot imagine the pain that would be caused by the loss of one of my sons. And a new son wouldn't ease the sorrow of loss or make up for the pain of it. So my first reaction to this passage, years ago, was to think this was scant comfort for Job.

But remember, Job's children were righteous, too. So when he died, old and full of age, he was instantly reunited when them for all eternity. Even now, they are together in the Lord's presence. Job, from heaven's perspective, can look back on that trial and say it was truly a light and passing affliction, and the Lord restored to him everything he ever lost, and more.

That is our joy and our confidence in the midst of disaster. It may be contrary to the feelings we experience when we suffer loss, but from an eternal perspective, it is a far more solid rock on which to anchor than the way we feel in the midst of calamity. That's why theology is so important. It teaches us that despite what we may feel, God is still in control; he is just and righteous; and above all, He is good.

That is what the promise of Romans 8:28 teaches us, isn't it? "We know that all things work together for good." How do we know that? Because we know that God is good, and so no matter what He does—no matter how painful or hard to understand it may be for the moment—we know He will use it for good.

And it is the very definition of faith to be able to cling to that promise, no matter what.

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Worst day, ever

by Dan Phillips

The irony of the phrase "Good Friday" has been noted, probably, by all of us. "Good" for us, certainly. Without the cross-work of the Son of God on that day, all would be lost, hopelessly and forever.

But of course it was a horrid day, viewed from any other angle. Our race — Adam's race — reached its nadir on that day. Any appalling crime you can call to mind was bottomed by the mock-trial and the mocking of God incarnate. At that point, we hit bottom, and the Gospels record it for all to see, for all time.

But the worst day, ever, for the apostles and most who loved Jesus, had to be that Saturday, which today marks.

The events of Thursday night and Friday must have been a surreal nightmare, a madman's collage. With "the triumphal entry" still in their minds, the apostles had suddenly seen everything turned on its head, beyond their darkest imaginations. They must have fallen asleep — assuming they fell asleep, since that was about all they were good at — with numbed hearts and bedazzled minds.


But then Saturday dawned. Reality hit. It had really happened. They were now waking up, for the first time in three years, with no Jesus. That meant no Messiah, no Lord.  No hope, no guide; no one who really knew what He was doing. No point to doing what they had all left their jobs and their lives to do.

And nothing had changed overnight. He died Friday. He was still dead, Saturday.

Horrible, throbbing reality settling down on their chests like a massive elephant. What now? Dear God in Heaven, what now? What do we do? What do we say? What do we tell the crowds? What do we tell our families? Do we go back with our tail between our legs, and beg for our jobs back? And what, what do we make of the world now, now that we had repented because the Kingdom of Heaven was at hand... and yet it seems more distant than ever?

Not only that, but there had to be the throbbing pain of guilt. We think of Peter's big talk, but remember: everyone had said the same (Mark 14:31). Big talk, big promises, massive failure, every one of them.

What, what to do about all that?

For them, Saturday had to be the worst day, ever.

All that, for one reason: because they did not believe the Word of God.

We should never forget what a surprise Sunday was for all of them. This is a critical miscalculation for every worldling who has whistled past the empty grave, trying to explain away the Resurrection as wish-fulfillment or mass hallucination. None of them expected it, in spite of Jesus' teaching. None of them was looking for it. All of them thought it was over. All of them were caught off-guard that Sunday.

Let us think about that, this Saturday. We should learn from it. And while we thank God that Friday was not the end of the story, let us also thank Him that Saturday wasn't its end, either.

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Battling depression

by Dan Phillips

Many folks never know a moment's real depression. The very notion is a strange one to them. If someone spoke of being depressed for years, their response might be an honestly incredulous "—years?" I knew a pastor of this temperament once, a really good guy, who simply was unable to tell a depressing story in the first-person. Every time he tried, his stories wound up with happy endings.

This post is not addressed to such happy souls. You have my envy and good wishes. You may just want to sit out the meta to this post, though it's possible that reading it could be instructive.

I speak to folks who hear about years-long depression, wince in empathy, and find nothing whatever hard to believe in the thought. In fact, you could add your own story. Perhaps your episodes aren't so protracted or free-floating. A disappointment (small or massive) can send you into a depression.

It won't be a pretty post, nor as literary as some have tried to be. But if experience is a requirement, I have the cred to say a word to you. My temperament lists in that direction. I'm about eight (+/-) years into a steady recovery — glory to God — from a deep, serious, years-long period of depression, preceded by patches of varying length, all going back years and years. I'll not natter on about it further; picture bad, and you'll not be far off.

You don't need me to describe depression to you. You don't need me to go into what you'd say are the causes and reasons. What I have to say may not "reach" you at this moment, but I hope it sticks with you, and that by God's grace you soon can connect with it in a helpful, encouraging, redemptive way. This could be a series of posts, but I'll be relatively brief and pointed.

Disclaimer one: you should possibly see a good doctor. I do not mean for happy-pills, and I do not mean for psychological treatment (my focus is neither). I mean to eliminate the possibility of physical causes. I met a lady once who, after years of serious depression, had a doctor identify a physical hormonal deficiency. When that was addressed, everything instantly changed for her. Anyone exploring sin problems, psychological problems, or anything else would have been barking up the wrong tree and making things worse. Depression can be caused (or worsened) by lack of rest and nutrition (1 Kings 19:4-8).

Disclaimer two: you should definitely talk to your pastor — and I'm not him. I'm just a guy in a blog; a pastor, perhaps, but not your pastor, responsible for the watch-care of your soul (Hebrews 13:7, 17). It will contain a number of links for side-reading. But if you email me for counseling, I'll refer you to your pastor. It isn't that I'm uncaring, it's just that I'm not him. Just so we're clear up-front.

HSAT, let's go.

First and above all: you must see depression as your enemy, to be killed and buried and replaced. It is not your friend. It has come to feel comfortable and comforting, even friendly. Your real friends may not understand this, but I do. They see you wrapping a sopping-wet blanket around yourself, and think you're nuts. But I do understand, more's the pity. The sodden blanket is comforting because it's familiar. It has assumed your body-temperature. It has sapped you of strength in the process, too, so that the thought of doing anything different simply seems like too much to ask.

Now, I'm assuming you're a Christian. If you're not, you should be depressed. You should be depressed, despairing, haunted, and filled with terror. I have not one bit of ultimate good or encouraging news for you  — except to tell you that you being alive right now means that God graciously is giving you yet one more chance to learn how you can know God, and actually to come to know Him. If you reject Christ and His Gospel, I feel pity and sorrow for you, but I have no comfort or encouraging to offer. This really is your best life now, and that's not good. He who disobeys the Son will not see life, but the wrath of God abides on him (John 3:36).

But if you're a Christian, you need to understand that Christ's bequest to you is joy (John 15:11), and that God's will for you is that you rejoice (Philippians 3:1; 4:4). You need to see, understand, and embrace — hear me, now — that right now, you have the very best reasons to be the very happiest that you could ever be.

"Well," you say, "that's not me. I believe in Christ, but I still don't have that joy. I don't seem to be meant to know that. I have deep and insurmountable reasons why I can't have joy. I can explain to you at great length and in exhaustive, heartbreaking detail why I am not fated to have joy, with pictures and footnotes and poems."

Ah, now this is who I'm addressing. Glad you're here. Hope you hear, because I do have a word for you.

First, I would ask you to read this article, and think hard about it.

Second, take the time to think through this series of hard-won truths, from me to you:

1. You say you believe Jesus, and I believe you.
2. Jesus says you should have joy (cf. John 15:11). His apostles agree (cf. 1 Peter 1:5-9).
3. If you say you don't or can't, are you still believing Jesus?
4. If you realize that this betrays a lack of faith, what should you do about it? (HINT)
5. If your response is that you are waiting on God to change that for you or in you, or to change your circumstances so that you can have reason for joy, what is that called? In other words, what is demanding that God do something before you will believe called? (HINT)
6. Have you realized and "owned" just how depressing unbelief is, all by itself?
7. Here's a hard one: have you realized and "owned" how much laziness there is in the unbelief that fuels depression, how much pride and stubbornness too? Remember: everything we do, we do because we think (perversely, sometimes) that it will make us happy. Have you come to take pleasure in being seen as a noble sufferer, a tragic victim — has that become an important element of your self-image? Have you seen these vices in the insistence that things really are exactly how they seem to you and your feelings right now, and the refusal to bring in God's Word and re-think them all Biblically? 
8. If so, have you identified that as sin to be repented of and mortified, rather than a quirk to be embraced, coddled, excused, explained, leaned on and enabled?

I think facing up to those last two was the single most pivotal element in my turnaround. I knew that temptations to lust, to lying, to laziness in other areas were enemies to be targeted and destroyed. I had not seen these familiar, friendly, customary ways of depressive thinking in the same light.

A big help to me at the time was John Piper's Future Grace — not that it's inspired Scripture, but Piper helped me see my need to learn, memorize, believe, embrace, and live on God's happy and joyous promises for His child. I'll always be grateful to him for that.

So what I'm calling you to see is that you need to battle depression, as surely as you would battle temptation to immorality or violence or theft. It is equally your enemy; it is not your friend.

You can't do it by trying you talk yourself out of it alone. You can't do it by telling yourself not to be depressed. In fact, you can't do it by yourself at all. You need God and His grace. Above all, you need living, vital faith in His promises. You need to be ruthless about your lazy, stubborn, habitual unbelief. Challenge it, confront it, lay Scripture to it. Challenge yourself — as I had to do. Ask yourself, "Are you going to be a Christian, or not?" Face the fact that going about as if Romans 8:28 weren't a golden promise that should give you hope and joy right now is every bit as faithless as being a PoMo or an Emergent or any other waffler you despise. You don't dare sneer at Rob Bell or Brian Maclaren, while refusing to believe the burstingly happy nature of God's good news for each and every last one of His children.

Briefer: God says something that clashes with the Emerg*s love-affair with the world; the Emerg* retorts, "Not for me." God says something that clashes with our (dare I say it? sometimes?) love-affair with our depression, and we retort, "Not for me."

What is the difference?

The defector says (for instance) that the command to preach the Word (2 Timothy 4:2) isn't for him, and you curl your lip at him. But what of you, when you say that the command to rejoice in the Lord always (Philippians 4:4) isn't for you, that the prospect of being filled with all joy and peace in believing (Romans 15:13)  doesn't reach to you? How are you different, except in particulars?

As I close inelegantly, let me point you to the post that moved me finally to write this: 25 ways to pursue joy in Christ. If you're going to get off the mat and start fighting this battle, that's a good place to start.

I am not holding out one spoonful of spinach that I haven't had to swallow first, myself.

May "the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope" (Romans 15:13).

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True Religion, Undefiled

More on gospel faith and the proper role of good works in Christian living
by Phil Johnson

ood works are a fruit of justification, not the means of it. But good works are inevitable as an expression of authentic faith. They are the vital signs of spiritual life. "For as the body apart from the spirit is dead, so also faith apart from works is dead" (James 2:26).

To put it another way: having been justified by faith, we are saved unto a life of good works that flow naturally from saving faith. According to Ephesians 2:10, "We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."

That's not talking about ceremonial, legalistic, or "religious" works—smells and bells, robes and rituals, outward symbolism and formal liturgy. But the "good works" that are the ineluctable fruit and vital expressions of true faith are spiritual qualities like holiness, humility, compassion, selfless expressions of love for one's neighbor, love for Christ, and a particular love for His people.

That is exactly what James 1:27 means: "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world." James is not suggesting that doctrine doesn't matter. He is not depreciating objective truth. He is not downplaying the content of the gospel message. He is not saying the atoning work of Christ is merely an example for us to follow rather than a vicarious atonement offered to propitiate God. He is certainly not suggesting that if you do enough acts of kindness, it doesn't matter whether you believe in Christ or not.

He is saying that true faith in Christ will inevitably produce works of kindness and love—an overflow of Christ's righteousness. This is an essential, inevitable expression of authentic Christian faith.

Don't miss the vital point: The essence of "true religion" as described by the Word of God is not—and never has been—embodied in altars or animal sacrifices. Its most important expressions are not ceremonies and dietary laws or festivals and priestly institutions. But true religion and undefiled is about real life—everyday life—and a quality of life that reflects the mercy, love, and goodness of Christ in the way we serve and minister to one another.

Not that we have already attained a sufficient righteousness of our own—far from it. As a matter of fact, even our best works are imperfect and therefore worthless for any merit in the sight of God. This cannot be overstressed: our own works play no role whatsoever in justifying us. But every authentic believer has a new heart, new desires, a new love for God and spiritual gifts that enable us to be used by the Holy Spirit in spite of the remnants of sin in our flesh. And we press on toward Christlikeness, because Christ Jesus has made us His own (cf. Philippians 3:12).

In other words, if our faith is truly genuine, there should be some evidence of "faith working through love" (Galatians 5:6) somewhere in our lives.

Conversely, when someone verbally professes faith in Christ but his or her personal life and private thoughts are utterly devoid of good works, personal holiness, righteous desires, love for God, and love for the brethren—that person needs to hear and heed 2 Corinthians 13:5: "Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?—unless indeed you fail to meet the test!"

In the words of YHWH Himself: "I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings" (Hosea 6:6).

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Trusting: what it is and isn't

by Dan Phillips

After Tuesday's post, it occurred to me that perhaps I should try to do for the notion of trusting God the same sort of thing I did for (or, some would say, to) Christianoid notions of prayer. So here we go.

My wife and I both work, and even so California severely taxes our resources (pun noted in passing, not intended). But suppose I were suddenly to make this announcement:

For years I have been burdened by the paucity of emphatically Biblical teaching in the Eastern Sierra. The Word burns in my bosom, and I can't hold it in any longer. I'm weary of telling people to reboot their computers all day, when I could be teaching and preaching the Word. So as of this week, my wife and I are going to quit our jobs, put our house on the market, pack up the kids and everything, and drive to Bishop, California, to begin a new faith-based ministry. How we'll manage, what we'll do, where we'll live — we have no idea. We are stepping out on faith. We'll just be trusting God.

If I made that announcement, at least two things would happen:

1. Scores of folks would burst out, "Who are you, and what have you done with Dan Phillips?" (My dear wife would lead that chorus.)
2. Scads and scads and scads of Christians, if they heard of it, would glow, nod piously, and say "Ahh, 'tis so sweet to trust in Jesus!"

But it's good to trust, isn't it? Aren't trust and faith and believing God all Biblely pictures? So what is wrong with that picture? Anything? Anyone? Bueller?

It is a pretty good hermeneutical principle that the first occurrence of a major concept controls and informs subsequent Biblical occurrences. I think that holds in this case, where faith makes its first appearance in Genesis 15:6. Let's set it in context.

After these things the word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision: “Fear not, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great.” 2 But Abram said, “O Lord GOD, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?” 3 And Abram said, “Behold, you have given me no offspring, and a member of my household will be my heir.” 4 And behold, the word of the LORD came to him: “This man shall not be your heir; your very own son shall be your heir.” 5 And he brought him outside and said, “Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” 6 And he believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness. (Genesis 15:1-6)

What are the essential elements? There are only two:

1. An explicit word from God
2. Believing embrace of that word

So that is what faith is: it is trusting an explicit word from God. We could say a lot more about it, but we must say at least that much, and shouldn't let ourselves stray far from it.

Fast-forward a couple of millennia, and we see Jesus saying to Martha, “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. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26). Nothing has changed. Jesus makes an explicit statement, fastens Martha's attention on it, asks if she embraces it, if she believes it to be true.

The related word trust is not fundamentally different, except that it emphasizes the element of dependence on the truth, leaning and relying on it. But it still is directed towards the Word (Psalm 119:42), and the truth it reveals.

Other similar statements are simply shorthand for the same idea. For instance, when David sings, "O my God, in you I trust" (Psalm 25:2), we must understand this in the background. David isn't saying, "God, I have great self-esteem, and I've plunged myself into the Cloud of Unknowing, listening in the mystic stillness for that still small voice." Such thought would have been foreign to him, repellant. Rather, he is saying in effect "I know what Scripture says about You to be true, and I rest my full weight on it."

So let's move to the bottom-line. This whole area of faith and trust provides yet more rich and verdant pastureland for Christianoid nonsense. Like other pious nonsense phrases ("The Lord told me...."), we're supposed to just grunt and nod piously. We certainly shouldn't ask questions.

But — as with Schuller, as with Chan, as with random anonymous Charismatic-types, as with the Blackabys — I think we should ask questions. I think we must.

In this case, it really isn't rocket-science. I just don't (and never have) seen Biblical Christianity as a "Get-out-of-thinking" ticket. Quite the reverse; I think Christians who practice their professed faith are hard, rigorous thinkers. Have to be.

So in this particular, two questions. Just two simple, straightforward, perfectly-Biblely questions. To wit:

1. For what?
2. On what specific Biblical basis?

Let's apply.

Brother Arni M. Pulsive announces he's quitting his job, packing his family up, and hitting the road with the Gospel. How will he feed, clothe, and care for his wife and children?

"We're just trusting God," Arni grins.

And so you cock an eyebrow and ask: "For what?"

Is Arni "trusting God" to drop food into their mouths, clothes onto their backs, and medicine into their glove compartments? Or is he "trusting God" to move people with real jobs to foot his bills? Well then, let's have him say so. Let's press him to be specific, shall we? Why not?

And then, if that's what Arni answers, we follow up: "On what specific Biblical basis?" Because "God" is not another name for "My Good Luck," or "Omnipotent Rubber Stamp of Me." I mean, it simply does not make sense to "trust" a person to do what that person has never promised to do, does it?

Suppose you seminarians "trust" me to write your theses for you. Or you husbands "trust" me to teach your sons for you. Or you pastors "trust" me to compose your sermons for you. I suppose that I could do those things, you know. I have the ability.

So what's missing?

Well, what's missing of course is that I have neither offered nor promised to do any of those things for you. You have no grounds, no basis for that "trust." So the concept of "trusting" me to do something I never said I'd do — well, it's just absurd and silly. You would end up looking ridiculous.

Or not? Suppose a nightmare Bizarro world, where everyone imagined that I was obliged to come through for everyone who concocted some scheme, and then committed me to it in absentia. Why, in that case, I would just look more and more pathetic as people across the globe announced things they were "trusting" me for, and I kept failing to deliver, over and over again.

It could ruin my good name, my reputation, if people were lazy and sloshy-minded enough not to think through what "trust" implies and assumes.

Hold that thought.

So we have asked Arni to identify where God promised to foot the bill for any scheme Arni "imagineered." That's where Arni's going to be in trouble. See, he's going to be confronted with a Bible that puts a grand premium on people making careful and responsible plans (Proverbs 16:1, 3, 9), and commends hard and skilled labor, while warning of idle dreaming (Proverbs 12:24; 14:23; 28:19). He'll have to answer to texts that say that men who don't provide for their family are worse than infidels (in the KJV of 1 Timothy 5:8; or, as a lady I once knew appropriately had it, "imbecile"). Arni will have to imagine explaining how he is "trusting" the Lord who urged people to count the cost (Luke 14:28ff.) for his refusal to do that very thing.

Examples could be multiplied until this column would be measured by the foot rather than the inch, but I trust (hope?) that you take my point. Think about it, take it, keep it.

For yourself, don't shame the name of God by broadcasting that you are "trusting" him for things He has not specifically promised (the in-this-life healing of an ill loved one, the numeric growth of a church, the salvation of a friend or child). Do glorify Him for trusting Him in those areas where he has left us precious promises — such as trusting the utter sufficiency of His word for all of Christian life (2 Timothy 3:15-17).

For others, when you hear someone say that (s)he is "trusting God" for X, just nicely ask two questions.

You know which two.

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