How God gives us hope

by Dan Phillips

We read this in Romans 15:4 —

For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.

The end-product is hope. Hope is a vital theme for Paul. He says we were saved in hope, and live in hope (Rom. 8:24-25). But how do we have hope?

Many might say we should pray for it, and that's not in itself a bad idea. It could, however, become a bad idea if that's all we do. In fact, it could become a terrible idea if that's all we do, if we then go on to lament how distant and uncaring God is because He does not directly instill hope in our hearts by some mysterious unmediated ministry of the Spirit.

In the text cited above, Paul explains how a Christian comes to have hope. It's pretty simple, though the thought is foreign to too much of professed Christianity. To Paul's mind:

1. In order to have hope, we need Scripture
2. In order to gain hope from Scripture, we must read it
3. In order to gain hope from what we read, we must receive instruction

And there you have it. That is how God plants and cultivates hope in our hearts. We read Scripture, read the stories of the lives of past believers and what they suffered in faith (Hebrews 11). We read God's precious promises, and read of His mighty hand and impeccable character. We read, we think, we analyze, we apply, we memorize, we embrace, we cling, we boast.

We hope.

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Is "grace" the loveliest word? Perhaps not

by Dan Phillips

I have long heard (and long said) that the dearest word in a sinner's vocabulary is grace. Of course, I still believe it is a dear and a powerful word — but another word is challenging its place in my heart.

It's struck home as I have been preaching a series on the much-neglected letter to Titus. Among the many delights in this letter is Paul's repeated use of a particular title for Father and Son. Here are my translations of the relevant verses:

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1:3  but He made His word apparent in His own seasons, in the proclamation with which I myself was entrusted, by order of our Savior God;

1:4  to Titus, genuine child in accord with our shared faith: grace and[1] peace, from God the Father, and Christ Jesus our Savior.

2:10  not embezzling, but instead exhibiting all good faith, in order that they might adorn the doctrine of our Savior God in all respects.

2:13  looking forward to[2] the blessed[3] hope and appearance of the glory of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ;

3:4  But when the kindness and philanthropy of our Savior God appeared,

3:6  Whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior,

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[1] Many Greek manuscripts have “mercy” instead of “and.”

[2] Or “eagerly awaiting.”

[3] Or “happy.”

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There it is, the glorious, lovely word: Savior.

Note how Paul alternates: first, he calls the Father Savior, then the Son; then the Father again, then the Son; and yet again the Father, then the Son. One pair in each chapter.

It is a lone word, but so packed with meaning, with instruction, with assurance.

First, in that word Savior lies all my humiliation and self-denial. Savior tells me that I am lost, helpless, hopeless, and without resources within. Savior informs me that I do not merely need God's assistance or encouragement. I am not in need of a Partner, a Helper, an Enabler. I don't need a Co-Signer.

My case is far, far worse. My lot is not unfortunate or challenged; it is a disaster and a devastation. No part of this process can be left with me nor entrusted to me. God does not stand on the shore, calling to me "Swim harder! You can make it!"

No, Savior tells me that I am floating placidly on the ocean bottom, without the least ability to do for myself. A hand out or a hand up would be wasted on me. Nothing less than a Savior will do.

And, second, God is that Savior. This word tells me that Father and Son have undertaken — not merely to try to save me, not to offer salvation to me, not to call me to salvation, but — to save me. This puts the entire burden of the entire enterprise on their shoulders.

And such shoulders! This is the Father who authored the entire plan of salvation in the dim ages of eternity past! This is the Son who mediated creation and carries out the Father's plan, which involves the Father pouring out the Holy Spirit on me richly (richly!) through Jesus the Son. Other shoulders would buckle; other would-be saviors could fail, would fail.

But if Father and Son commit themselves to be my Savior, is there any chance of failure, any possibility of my ultimately being lost? Were that the case, given that God is "the unlying God" (Titus 1:2), He could not in all honesty have taken on Himself the grand and glorious title of Savior. He would have had to style Himself "Salvation-Attempter," or "Good-Hearted Would-Be Rescuer," or "Benevolent Halfway Helper."

But glory to His name, both Father and Son created, chose, and called themselves by a title that proclaims hope and assurance: Savior.

This is worth a moment's more reflection. Suppose you were languishing in despair, and one of  your fellow sufferers cried, "We're saved! Help is on the way!"

"Who?" you gasp.

"A bureaucrat!" came the reply.

Would you rejoice?

Then suppose instead that the answer was "It's... wait... yes, it's God! It's the God who called the universe into being with a word, who gives life to all, who holds all the stars in His hand, and carries everything by the word of His power! God is coming to save us!"

Would that be worth a cry of exultation?

That title Savior calls me to look away from myself, from my every effort and trait and attribute. It bids me leave off constant morbid introspections, incessant spiritual pulse-taking. It beckons me to look to Gethsemane, to see the Son committing Himself to drain every last drop from the cup. It points me to Calvary, where He hangs forsaken by the Father, not for His sins, nor to "try to" save me from my sins, but to be able to end it all with the glorious shout "It is finished!"

It directs me to look to Father and Son, and to call God not only Savior, which is marvelous enough; but, through the glorious Gospel, to call God my Savior.

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New hashtag: #EternalGloriesWithChrist

by Dan Phillips

Every day is a struggle of one size or another.  Irrationally, we recoil in surprised revulsion to some degree... unless I'm the only one. Though I've been here for 56 years and counting, it still seems as if each new battle with sin, internal or external, offends me. It is always unwelcome, it is always joyless in itself. It always feels like an uninvited intruder. It's always something of a shock.

Yet I know on every level (except that one) that this is simply the status quo for the entire stretch of history from the first crunch of the Garden's dark sacrament until King Jesus takes up His throne on this globe. The world and the devil remain the world and the devil, and thus unalterably opposed to God, to God's Word, to God's will, and to God's people.

And the flesh remains the flesh. Meaning: as long as you and I are this side of glory, though we be every bit as saved as the apostle Paul or John Calvin or John Owen or Charles Spurgeon, will have a daily, miserable grinding battle with our own remaining corruptions (Rom. 7:14-25).

BUT: the status quo for now is not the status quo forever.

The day will come when all that will change for us who have trusted Christ savingly. One day, we will depart and be with Christ, and that will be "far better" (Phil. 1:23). We will be absent from the body, and at home with the Lord (2 Cor. 5:1-9).

Or, one day Christ will descend, and the dead in Christ will be caught up, and we who live will be caught up as well to meet the Lord in the air, and to be with Him forever (1 Thess. 4:13-18). We will all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye (1 Cor. 15:51-58). We will go to Him, or He will come for us.

This is a settled, assured fact of history. "Huh? 'History'? But it hasn't happened yet." True enough; but when something is a settled fact to God, it is (or will be) a settled fact to the universe. There is no question of whether, there is only the question of when.

I don't know whether I'll have a job tomorrow, or what it will be. But I do know that those who die in Christ depart to be with Him forever. I do know that Jesus will come, raise and glorify His people, and reign over this universe bodily, in person, visibly, triumphantly and forever. I know it because God has revealed it as His sovereign will for the future, in His inerrant and abiding Word. That gives grounds for hope.

Hope is a big truth in Scripture. Paul preached it (Acts 28:20). We're saved by it, and we live in it (Rom. 8:24-25). We should boast in it (Rom. 5:2).

You need hope. I know you do. In this wide audience, some of you are battling diseases small and horrendous. Some of you are facing miserable tensions in your family, your church. You look at the course of your nation and you despair. You look at the "evangelical" scene and sigh, and pray. Your friendships seem fragile, your economics scary. If in this life only you have hoped in Christ, you and I are of all most miserable.

So, for that reason, because I personally need my hope refreshed, and because I know that you, brother and sister in Christ, need your hope refreshed, I've started a hashtag in Twitter called #EternalGloriesWithChrist. The point is for you and me to boast in our hope in Christ together, before God and everyone.

So let's boast. I know it can be abused — another "thorn" of this fallen creation! But if we approached this together seriously, and it widely-read, mightn't it make a great witness to the church and to the world?

Meta note: I will summarily and without further explanation delete any comment that strays from the things on which all Bible-believing Christians agree. As should be obvious (yet never seems to be), that includes timing and specifics of the Rapture, the Millennial Kingdom, or the timing of end-times events. Those are valid and decent topics, but as a rule they're always unwelcome on this blog, and specifically unwelcome in this meta. That should leave all Bible-believing Christians with plenty to talk and rejoice about together.

UPDATE: I've expanded on the theme of hope over at my place also, today. Do drop by.

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Promises, promises

by Dan Phillips

Reading through Mark last week, Peter's words arrested me: ὁ δὲ ἐκπερισσῶς ἐλάλει· ἐὰν δέῃ με συναποθανεῖν σοι, οὐ μή σε ἀπαρνήσομαι (Mark 14:31a).

Got that? Great! Let's close in prayer....

No seriously; let me tell you how and why this verse caught hold of me.

Peter spoke this during the last supper the apostles shared before Jesus' crucifixion. Jesus had just dropped the bombshell that every one of them would fall away from Him (Mark 14:27).

Peter, the Mouth that Roared, immediately leaps up to say, "Even though they all fall away, I will not" (Mark 14:29). Peter phrases it in such a way that indicates that it is perfectly conceivable to him that those other losers might bail. "But not I," he says tersely and emphatically — strong adversative (ἀλλ᾽) and no verb.

In response, Jesus agrees with Peter — sort of. Peter is right that he will indeed do differently from the others. But not the way Peter insists. Jesus tells Peter that he alone — Peter — would deny Him three times (v. 30).

Bringing us to Peter's retort given above, for which I'd offer this ad hoc translation: "But he very vehemently kept insisting, 'Even should it be necessary for me to die with You, I absolutely will not deny You!'"

Greekers will note the double-negative — a (pardon me) no-no in English, but in Greek a doubly-emphatic negation. Peter is saying that there is no way he will deny Jesus: "Not! Not!"

We all know the sequel, Peter's miserable failure and his heartbroken weeping.

Now, I don't for a moment doubt Peter's sincerity. Do you? Nor do I question the depth of feeling behind his words, nor the intensity of his intention and full expectation to fulfill them. Peter meant every word he said. Yet he failed. He could not deliver on his promises.

How did the Rock crumble? Where did Peter go wrong? In many ways, actually.

Mostly, Peter's estimations were all off. He did not put a high enough estimation on Jesus' words. He badly underestimated the fierceness of Satan's coming attack, and the intensity of the temptation he'd face.

On the other hand, Peter seriously overestimated his own strength of character and will, his resolve, his ability to withstand temptation in his own strength. So when the trial came, the pressure soared and Peter came up short — far, far short.

Now, turn from this to Hebrews 13:5, which I render thus: "Your way of life must be without love of money, being content with what is at hand; for He Himself has said, 'I absolutely will not abandon you, nor will I ever, ever desert you.'"

Another promise. Another emphatic promise — indeed, a very emphatic promise. The Greek student will count no less than five negatives in the last nine words: "Not, not will I abandon you, neither not not will I desert you." It is, I have heard, the inspiration for the hymn's wonderful words,

The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose
I will not, I will not desert to its foes.
That soul, though all Hell should endeavor to shake,
I'll never, no never, no never forsake.

"Another promise," you say. "Like Peter's." Yes; when I read Peter's double-negative, I thought of this quintuple-negative.

But consider the differences. When God makes this promise, is there any chance, any possibility whatever, that His estimations will be off? Is it possible that God did not know how difficult you would be, elect soul? Did He not know about your weakness, believer in Christ? Your flaws, your follies, your defects?

Did He not know of the difficult life you'd have — what kind of a spouse that person you dated would turn out to be? How your job would go? What would happen to your income, your neighborhood, your church, your health?

Is it possible that God overestimated the power of His grace to be sufficient for you? That He thought too highly of His ability to keep you, and control every last one of your circumstances (personal and impersonal; Psalm 115:3; Proverbs 21:1; Romans 8:28; Ephesians 1:11)?

If you have the false god of "open theism," yes, I suppose all of those things (and much worse) are possible.

But if you have the almighty God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ for your God, then no. His promises are better than the best solid gold.

You can bank everything on them.

Postscript: This truth is of great personal value. I had just written these words when one with a broken heart came to see me, weeping because of a faithless, treacherous person who had callously betrayed him (and many others) for love of a sin, and arrogant refusal to repent.

I had the opportunity sincerely to sympathize, and to share what a wonderful contrast such a person makes with God. Thank God that God never shifts, falters, flips, nor turns traitor. Thank God that "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved" stands good now and before the Throne, as surely as "I absolutely will not abandon you, nor will I ever, ever desert you."

Thank God that God is God, and not man.

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Unbelief is depressing [requested classic re-post]

by Dan Phillips

[Well, friends, I've finished the complete first draft. Now some select folks are reading and giving feedback, and I'm editing it in preparation for submission to the publisher. It's coming down to it! Also, I've a Bible conference in October to be thinking about. So... in this thread, commenter Deborah bids us reach back to November of 2006 for this re-post, slightly edited. It provides perhaps a balancing consideration to some thoughts I just offered on depression over at my blog, with attendant discussion, as well. Oh, and before you ask, I'm just fine, thanks!]

Sad to say, I have the personal resumé to write an extended series of articles about depression.

In reading through Numbers, I was reminded of one potent cause of depression. (No, I don't mean that reading through Numbers causes depression.)

The nation of Israel was dallying in the desert. They were there as a penalty for their unbelief. In these wanderings, they came to Kadesh, and ran short on water (Numbers 20).

This was their reaction to the situation:

And the people quarreled with Moses and said, "Would that we had perished when our brothers perished before the LORD! 4 Why have you brought the assembly of the LORD into this wilderness, that we should die here, both we and our cattle? 5 And why have you made us come up out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place? It is no place for grain or figs or vines or pomegranates, and there is no water to drink" (Numbers 20:3-5)

First, I'd observe that their concern had a basis in reality. I've lived in the desert. Water is nothing to spit at. (Pause for laughter to die down.) (It's a very short pause.) You just don't go anywhere without spare stores of water on-hand. And so here were many hundreds of thousands of people, in the desert, and they'd come short on water. This isn't an "Oh, well, what's on TV?" situation. It is a legitimate crisis. Without water, they would die.

Depression, however, doesn't need an objective cause. M'man Spurgeon spoke of causeless depression, and I may add my own thoughts someday. Dealing with free-floating depression is like boxing a deadly fog bank. But this situation was not of that nature. This depression was able to fix on objective realities.

Second, their viewpoint was incomplete, and that in two specifics. Glaringly, the Israelites had forgotten why they were still in the wilderness. They were stuck in the desert because of their own unbelief. Surely you remember the story, from Numbers 13-14. In sum:

God said "Go"
They said "No"
So God said "No go"
They said "Woe!"
(Some tried...
...they died)

So in their response here, they blame everyone — everyone, that is, except themselves. It's Moses' fault. It's Yahweh's fault (cf. 21:5). But of course the truth is that it was their fault, it was the fault of their unbelief. And so, having failed to learn from the previous lesson, they simply repeat their sin.

Let me underscore that point.

"For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction," (Romans 15:4), and we mustn't miss the lesson here. Refuse to learn from discipline for sin, and we will repeat both sin AND discipline. This is why Proverbs is so full of thunderous warnings and reproofs for the man (or woman) who bull-headedly refuses to accept discipline, rebuke, correction (cf. 1:24-31; 10:17; 12:1; 15:10; 29:1, etc.).

You and I may stop our ears, stiffen our necks, harden our hearts, and turn our backs. We may even eventually forget. But God doesn't. We can be sure that it will come up again, and again, until we either address the issue or fall under it.

I think of my kids in our home school. On occasion, some kid may give me a bunch of sloppy, slapdash, thoughtless homework. I take my red pen and (as my dear wife puts it) proceed to bleed all over it. Then, if nothing comes of that, I lecture. If there is no change in direction, I may add some stiff penalties in terms of lost privileges and/or extra work. It escalates.

And if that child then clearly seethes with anger at me, I say, "If you blame me for what just happened to you, I guarantee it will just keep happening to you, again and again. Today is a result of the decision you made when you were supposed to be doing your homework yesterday. Think and do the same today, and the same (or worse) will happen tomorrow, and for the exact same reason."

So why were these Israelite knotheads still in the desert, in the first place? Unbelief. So how do they respond to the crisis they face, here, in-the-desert-because-of-unbelief?

With more unbelief.

And in their unbelief, they had left God out of the equation. On the one hand, nobody could argue with part of their assessment of the situation. They were indeed short on water. Without water, an unpleasant death was certain. That's "dire" according to any dictionary.

But what of God? Their thinking did not include Him fully. That miscalculation, from the matrix of unbelief, was the cause and sustenance of their despair.

The essence of depression, and the unbelief that is so often at its root, is not that it is completely baseless. It may have a fragile and tenuous basis, or it may have a large and overwhelming basis. Either way, its vantage point is incomplete. It is incomplete in a way that makes it end up completely wrong.

Suppose I meet this little shrimpy old guy in an alley, and he tries to rob me. I say, "Dude, you're old, and I've got a hundred pounds on you, plus a green belt in karate. You're completely outmatched."

He shrugs and says, "True. Except for this gun."

"Yeah, well, except for that," I reply, noting sagely that one factor can alter the entire equation.

And so Israel, never having dealt with their sin head-on, never having confronted the abhorrent and appalling nature of their unbelief head-on, and never having estimated God correctly, once again miscalculates. They leave out one crucial factor. They leave out God. And they're depressed.

And so I suggest to you that, at the root of much (— not all!) of our depression is a similar miscalculation.

But while we're shaking our heads at what nincompoops those dumb Israelites were, we should reflect pointedly on our own unbelief. We have one thing they didn't have. We have their instructive story. Plus a truckload of additional revelation, including the whole New Testament.

So when our own unbelief casts us down into our own depression, let us learn from their example, that we not repeat it. Let us reach into our own coats, and pull out the precious key called Promise that let Christian and Hopeful out of Doubting Castle. Let us make it ours by faith, use it, escape from Giant Despair, and head for the joy that is our portion.

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At Home with the Lord (2 Cor. 5:8)

by Phil Johnson

Jackie and Mike Taylor

ike Taylor was the first friend I made when I came to work here at Grace to You in 1983. His office was right next to mine, and we almost immediately formed a mutual respect and deep affection for one another that did not diminish with time.

In those days, Grace To You operated under the oversight of Grace Church's elders, and I was the first non-Grace-Church person ever hired (from Chicago, no less) to work for the ministry. Mike was still a fairly new Christian—a one-time bartender and frustrated film-school graduate who had been hired to edit study guides. (The study guides were those simple outline-style curricular books Grace to You used to publish as companions to each new series we broadcast on the radio.) Mike's full-time employment began just two or three months before I arrived, so we were the newest employees in the building.

Ironically, although I had worked as an editor at Moody Press, my first job at Grace to You was answering listener mail. Mike was inexperienced as an editor but devoted to the task and committed to excellence. For the first year and a half or so, I deliberately kept my nose out of all editorial affairs. But I needn't have worried. Mike welcomed me heartily from day one, and there was never any tension (and not one cross word that ever passed between us) in more than 26 years of friendship.

As it turned out, Mike had numerous innate abilities that perfectly suited him for editorial work. He was an excellent writer with a powerful instinct for clarity and brevity. He was also a quick learner. Everything he ever wrote or edited was superb. He had enough natural talent and developed enough wordsmithing skills that he would have qualified to work for any publisher anywhere.

When Mike first started working for Grace to You, it was only on an hourly ad hoc basis. Even when he was first hired full time, I presume he still thought of the job as temporary and transitional; not exactly a promising career move. But as a new Christian, he was hungry to learn the Word of God, and that job gave him an opportunity to study Scripture for long hours and get paid in the process. He could hardly believe that Providence would bless him with such a privilege.

Many years later, more than two decades after Mike moved into management at Grace to You and embraced the job as his life's work, he still felt exactly the same way—utterly amazed at the thought that God took him from tending bar in a joint on Hollywood Boulevard to serving in such a strategic, far-reaching role of ministry alongside John MacArthur. Mike had a loud, infectious laugh that echoed daily through our hallways. He became more knowledgeable about doctrine and Scripture than many seminary graduates. He proved to be an excellent teacher himself and was a key person in the leadership of GraceLife (the group Don Green and I jointly pastor at Grace Church).

Mike met his wife, Jackie, at Grace Church in 1982 or so and married her shortly after I first met him. Jackie and Darlene became lifelong friends, too. The Taylors had two precious daughters, Amanda and Emily, who grew to adulthood alongside my three boys, attending all the same schools, riding in the same carpools, and going to all the same church activities together. All five of them are still active in young-adult activities at Grace Church. Amanda and Emily both serve on the church staff. My eldest son, now 29, found a kindred spirit in Mike. They loved going to hockey games together. Our families were close at every level.

Anyway, two or three years ago, Mike contracted Valley Fever, a fungal infection that in most cases causes nothing worse than mild flu-like symptoms. In a narrow percentage of people, however, it can be very serious, or even prove fatal. Mike seemed to recover from the worst of the fever after that initial severe bout, but a few nagging symptoms remained. By March of this year, he was feeling back pain and losing his sense of balance; his walk became slow and deliberate, and he finally began using a cane. By April, those symptoms worsened; Mike was experiencing a creeping paralysis, and he was obviously losing mobility at a disturbing speed. We were all concerned. Mike, however, remained upbeat. He answered all my concerns with reassurances that he was regularly seeing doctors and he believed they understood what was wrong and could treat it.

The problem, as I understand it, is that the fungus had invaded Mike's spinal column, causing scar tissue that constricted those central nerves and was gradually paralyzing him. The lead doctor proposed a heavy steroidal treatment to knock the fungus out.

About two weeks ago, Mike entered the hospital for ten days of treatment with powerful doses of anti-fungal medication and steroids. Apparently the medication had side-effects that caused massive internal bleeding. Doctors were unable to stop the bleeding, and Mike went to heaven Saturday morning.

The entire Grace to You staff is still in a deep state of shock over Mike's death, and we will all miss him greatly.

Mike and I went together from being the youngest rookies to being the longest-tenured employees in the whole building. I find it hard to believe so many years have gone by so quickly, and I can't imagine what life at Grace to You will be like without Mike's laughter echoing in the hallways.

Please pray for Jackie, Amanda, and Emily. The loss for them is surely even more bitter-tasting than it is for us, and that is almost unimaginable.

And yet in the midst of all that sorrow is a sense of unspeakable joy and rejoicing when we think of Mike. We know he is in the presence of Christ, basking in the glory of heaven, and surely more amazed than ever at by the grace that carried him from Hollywood Boulevard to heaven. Words can't possibly express the triumphant gladness the truth of the gospel brings in moments like this.

What a profound blessing assurance is!

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Your best life, later

by Dan Phillips

When Joel Osteen was just a little kid, there was "Reverend Ike." His sound-bite was, "Don't wait for pie-in-the-sky, by and by. Get yours now, with ice cream on top!" He was not the first to take this bold route, and he hasn't been the last.

But isn't that a violent perversion of the very heart of the Gospel? We look to a crucified Savior, not a man in a solid-gold Cadillac. We preach a crucified Savior. Crucifixion is the polar opposite of such triumphalism. Insofar as we breathe the apostle's spirit, we make a decisive determination to "know nothing ...except Jesus Christ and Him crucified" (1 Corinthians 2:2).

But of course, the Cross is not the end of the story. It was "for the joy that was set before him" that our Lord "endured the cross, despising the shame"; and so He now "is seated at the right hand of the throne of God" (Hebrews 12:2).

But our, our epoch is not the glory-days of triumph. That is, unless we count ourselves better than the apostles, who were put on public display "as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men" (1 Corinthians 4:9; read the following verses as well). The word to us is, "through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God" (Acts 14:22).

But it isn't pie we're looking for in the sky, or from the sky; "we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself" (Philippians 3:20-21). It's the hope of being rid of this body of death (Romans 7:24), being transformed (Philippians 3:20) — all "because we shall see him as he is" (1 John 3:2).

That is the dividing-mark of genuine Christian faith. Is that enough for you, for me? Will you and I put all your eggs in that basket? Can we gladly sacrifice a comfortable now for a glorious then? Is the prospect of eternity in the awesome and resplendent presence of Christ enough, that this life is deigned a relatively small and passing thing, of significance only insofar as we can invest it for him?

Christian faith is about our "best life." That much is true: gaining life out of death, by sovereign grace; living our best for God's glory now; and enjoying God's best in glory —

Later.

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