Kevin DeYoung:

Perhaps I am a wishful thinking bibliophile, but I just don’t think the physical book is going the way of the dodo bird. No doubt, many scholars and students will house parts of their reference libraries on an electronic device. Some frequent flyers will stick books on their tablets instead of in their brief cases. And some techno-geeks will conclude that everything is better on an Apple product. I’m sure  ereaders will make inroads. They serve a useful purpose. But only to a point.

Old books are like old friends. They love to be revisited. They stick around to give advice. They remind you of days gone by. Books, like friends, hang around.

And they prefer not to be invisible.

Also Worth Reading

What kind of men does God use?

Nostalgia Is the Enemy of Faith: Learn from Your Heroes’ Warts

Friday Questions: An Interview with Ted Kluck

Saved By Jesus, Not Doctrine

In Case You Missed It

Here are a few of this week’s notable posts:

The Problem with Labels and the Need for Clarity (and Charity)

D.A. Carson: Do Not Adopt a Pollyannaish View of Things

Walter Marshall: The Strange Forgetfulness of Urging Others to Practice the Law

Making Assumptions

R.C. Sproul: Sheer Madness

Book Review: A Cross-Shaped Gospel by Bryan Loritts

We are all, by nature, void of all strength and ability to perform acceptably that holiness and righteousness which the law requires, and are dead in trespasses and sins, and children of wrath, by the sin of our first father, Adam, as the Scripture witnesses (Rom. 5:12, 15, 18, 19; Eph. 2: 1-3; Rom. 8:7, 8). This doctrine of original sin, which Protestants generally profess, is a firm basis and groundwork to the assertion now to be proved, and to many other assertions in this whole discourse. If we believe it to be true, we cannot rationally encourage ourselves to attempt a holy practice, until we are acquainted with some powerful and effectual means to enable us to do it. While man continued upright, in the image of God, as he was at first created (Eccles. 7:29; Gen. 1:27), he could do the will of God sincerely, as soon as he knew it; but, when he was fallen, he was quickly afraid, because of his nakedness; but could not help it at all, until God discovered to him the means of restoration (Gen. 3:10, 15). Say to a strong healthy servant, ‘Go’, and he goes; ‘Come’, and he comes; ‘Do this’, and he does it; but a bedridden servant must know first how he may be enabled. No doubt the fallen angels knew the necessity of holiness, and trembled at the guilt of their sin; but they knew of no means for them to attain to holiness effectually, and so continue still in their wickedness. It was in vain for Samson to say, ‘I will go out as at other times before, and shake myself,’ when he had sinned away his strength (Judg. 16:20). Men show themselves strangely forgetful, or hypocritical, in professing original sin in their prayers, catechisms and confessions of faith, and yet urging on themselves and others the practice of the law, without the consideration of any strengthening, enlivening means – as if there were no want of ability, but only of activity.

Walter Marshall, The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification (Kindle Edition)

About two years ago, I heard Dr. D.A. Carson give a series of lectures on Christian faithfulness in the last days, which have recently been compiled into a little book for Christian Focus called From the Resurrection to His Return. I’ll be posting a review on March 13th, but I couldn’t resist sharing one of my favorite passages:

Christians should never, ever, be surprised by evil. While we should always be horrified by evil, we should never be surprised by it. Do not adopt a Pollyannaish view of things. Do not be surprised by evil. Hold few illusions about the world. There are many times we should be horrified – surprised, never. . . . This world is constantly trying to convince itself that we are all pretty good, that we are all saying the same things, that evil is not an endemic and systemic part of us, and that if we are nice, everything will be all right. Certainly there is no merit in being un-nice! But to hide the disagreements, idolatries, greeds, injustice, God-defying arrogance, materialist hedonism, unbelief, and just plain malice of the world is worse than naïve – it is blind. Christians will look at the rawness of history and the prevalence of evil people who become worse and worse, and they will hold few illusions. This is an essential element of faithful living in the last days

D.A. Carson, From the Resurrection to His Return (Kindle Edition)

Today, I had the pleasure of filling in for my friend Matt Svoboda (one of the pastors at The Bridge in Spring Hill, TN) in his Theology Thursday series. Here’s an excerpt:

There was a time when if you used the term “God,” the vast majority of people would know who and what you were talking about. Generally speaking, the West was “Christian;” people had at least a passing familiarity with the Bible and the majority of the population went to some form of Christian church (it was, after all, expected of polite society). But today, things are very different. While the studies show that the majority of Americans profess to believe that there is some sort of “other power,” it cannot—and must not—be assumed that we’re talking about the same thing anymore. “God” could mean anything today—it could mean the God of the Bible, the god of Islam, the earth… it could even be you. The existence of a personal God, and specifically as described in the Bible, is no longer an assumed concept in our spiritual-but-not-religious world.

So let’s talk a bit about God in the way the Bible does for a moment as we discuss his nature.Consider the psalmist’s joyful proclamation, “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens”(Psa. 8:1). David gives praise to God because his name is “majestic in all the earth” and his glory is “above the heavens.” In theological terms, he is describing the transcendence and immanence of God—that is, he is both far above and beyond us and yet he is intimately involved with us.

Head over to The Bridge’s blog and read the rest.

Generally speaking, it’s unwise to make assumptions about a person or situation. While on occasion, our assumptions turn out to be correct, they most typically wind up being hurtful or creating an unrealistic expectation.

And about no one is it more critical to not assumptions than God.

Yet, we do it all the time.

When we understate our sin, we make an assumption about God—that being, that He doesn’t really care all that much.

When we do what God commands out of obligation or fear of punishment, we make an assumption about God—that He’s capricious and mean-spirited, looking down on us and just waiting for us to screw up. And when we do, oh, boy…

Reading the parable of the ten minas in Luke 19:12-27 reminded me of this:

A nobleman went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom and then return. Calling ten of his servants, he gave them ten minas, and said to them, “Engage in business until I come.” But his citizens hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, “We do not want this man to reign over us.” When he returned, having received the kingdom, he ordered these servants to whom he had given the money to be called to him, that he might know what they had gained by doing business. The first came before him, saying, “Lord, your mina has made ten minas more.” And he said to him, “Well done, good servant! Because you have been faithful in a very little, you shall have authority over ten cities.” And the second came, saying, “Lord, your mina has made five minas.” And he said to him, “And you are to be over five cities.” Then another came, saying, “Lord, here is your mina, which I kept laid away in a handkerchief; for I was afraid of you, because you are a severe man. You take what you did not deposit, and reap what you did not sow.” He said to him, “I will condemn you with your own words, you wicked servant! You knew that I was a severe man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? Why then did you not put my money in the bank, and at my coming I might have collected it with interest?” And he said to those who stood by, “Take the mina from him, and give it to the one who has the ten minas.” And they said to him, “Lord, he has ten minas!” “I tell you that to everyone who has, more will be given, but from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away. But as for these enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and a slaughter them before me.”

There’s a lot here, but take a look at this: “Then another came, saying, ‘Lord, here is your mina, which I kept laid away in a handkerchief; for I was afraid of you, because you are a severe man. You take what you did not deposit, and reap what you did not sow’” (v. 20-21).

What is this servant doing? Making assumptions about the character of the nobleman (he who represents Jesus in the parable).

How do we know this?

The nobleman’s incredulous response: “I will condemn you with your own words, you wicked servant! You knew that I was a severe man, taking what I did not deposit and reaping what I did not sow? Why then did you not put my money in the bank, and at my coming I might have collected it with interest?” (v. 22-23, emphasis mine)

Here’s the big idea—When we make assumptions about the character of God, and we fail to repent of our false assumptions, we show that we do not truly know God at all.

This is a very scary thought, isn’t it?

We know what God is like, because He has revealed Himself to us in the person of Jesus Christ, and in the pages of Scripture.

But we don’t think He’s actually who He says He is. Think about it:

If we truly believed that He is loving, we wouldn’t shake our fists at the sky every time we get dumped on in life.

If we truly believe that He is good, we wouldn’t continually try to obey because we’re afraid of punishment.

If we truly believed that He is holy, we wouldn’t simply accept sin in our lives as often as we do.

The wicked servant did not do anything with the mina because he did not believe he needed to do more than just maintain it. He made an assumption about his master’s character—and as a result, everything he had was taken away from him.

I’m not writing this pointing my proud finger at anyone else but me. I struggle with these issues almost every day, because, honestly, it’s often easier to just make an assumption than do the hard work of putting my sin to death.

So let’s not make assumptions about God. Let’s not assume that He’s cool with whatever our pet sin is. He’s not. Let’s not assume He’s fine with us not using our gifts to build up the church and glorify Him. He’s not. Instead, let’s actually take what He has made known to us, both about His character and the demands He has for us, at face value—accept that He is sovereign, that He is holy and that He is good—and allow that to motivate us to pursue greater conformity to the image of Christ.

Originally posted 08/09

I have committed many sins in my life. Not one of my sins has ever made me happy. None has ever added a single ounce of happiness to my life. Quite the contrary. Sin has added an abundance of unhappiness to my life. I stand amazed at those famous personalities who, in the course of television or magazine interviews, declare that if they had their lives to live over, they would do nothing differently. Such foolishness staggers my imagination. There are multitudes of things I would love to have the chance to do over. Now it is quite possible that with a second chance, I would make the same foolish mistakes, but I’d still like the chance to try.

My sins have not brought me happiness. But my sins have brought me pleasure. I like pleasure. I am still very much attracted to pleasure. Pleasure can be great fun. And not all pleasures are sins. There is much pleasure to be found in righteousness. But the difference is still there. Sin can be pleasurable, but it never brings happiness.

Now if I understand all this, why would I ever be tempted to sin? It seems silly that anyone who knows the difference between happiness and pleasure would continue to trade happiness for pleasure. It seems utterly stupid for a person to do something that he knows will rob him of his happiness. Yet we do it. The mystery of sin is not only that it is wicked and destructive but also that it is so downright stupid.

I smoked cigarettes for years. I never really kept count, but my guess is that during those years, hundreds of people called my attention to the fact that smoking was not a good thing for me to be doing. They were merely pointing out to me the obvious, telling me what every smoker in America already knows. Before I was ever converted to Christianity, I knew full well that smoking was harmful to me. I knew it before the surgeon general ever put a warning label on cigarette packages. I knew it from the first cigarette I ever smoked. Yet I continued to do it. Sheer madness. That is what sin is.

R.C. Sproul, The Holiness of God (Kindle edition, location 1615)

The last several years have seen numerous books asking the same question: What is the gospel? Some maintain a clear distinction between the life, death and resurrection of Jesus and how the gospel works itself out in our lives, where others wind up confusing the gospel with those implications. Given how important this question is, it’s no surprise that another author would attempt to offer an answer. In this case, it’s Bryan Loritts with A Cross-Shaped Gospel: Reconciling Heaven and Earth. In this book, Loritts covers a lot of ground at a break-neck pace as he strives to show the inseparable nature of the vertical aspects of the gospel with it’s horizontal outworkings in our lives and communities.

Throughout the book, Loritts does a wonderful job reminding readers that the vertical and horizontal aspects of the Christian faith go hand-in-hand. “When love for neighbor (orthopraxy) is tripped away from love for God (orthodoxy), I will eventually fail to genuinely love my neighbor,” he writes early in the book (p. 36). And again, “without a vertical relationship with God, our horizontal relationships with others are devoid of power and any eternal meaning” (p. 38).

Perhaps the most challenging and encouraging chapter for me was that on the gospel and ethnic diversity (“The Gospel and O.J. Simpson”). While the content of the chapter is really solid, particularly his challenging question, “Could it be that the reason so many churches express a desire to be ethnically diverse but fail to experience it is because they are unwilling to challenge people to sacrifice and give up their preferences?” (p. 71) I’d suspect that, if we’re being honest, most of us would have to answer “yes.” As much as we here in Canada like to pat ourselves on the back for being unabashedly multi-ethnic in our culture, we’re very good at segregation. In my city, we’ve got multiple hispanic, Chinese and Korean congregations, but very few churches are genuinely multi-ethnic. Ours, by God’s grace has become very ethnically diverse in recent years, and I’m grateful that this seems to be continuing.

But it’s not even this challenging question that caused me to appreciate this chapter so much—instead it’s his opening illustration that was most poignant. Loritts shares how he and his coworkers were all watching the O.J. Simpson trial, waiting for the verdict to be revealed. When the “not guilty” was issued, it was met with high-fives and celebration. What moved me as I read it was the humility of his confession, admitting that God revealed to him “a racist heart and an ugly dimension of my life that causes me to cringe today. . . . While there still remains a residue of racism in my heart, I’m walking the road of repentance. I’m a recovering racist” (p. 59). It takes both real courage and a confidence that comes from setting your hope in the gospel to actually admit something like this. I wonder how many of us would admit such a thing without being asked? I can’t say that I would, as uncomfortable as it is for me to admit that.

As much as I appreciated this and other portions of the book, it is not without its weaknesses. Frequently Loritts makes bold statements that border on caricature (“the church’s historic failure to live out the horizontal dimension fo the gospel has… made Christians quiet accomplices to such sociological injustices as classism, racism and sexism” is the most obvious [p. 30]). But the greatest weakness of the book actually comes from its basic premise—in desiring to show the need for a “cross-shaped” gospel (which is a clever illustration, by the way), Loritts winds up doing the thing that (I think) he sought to avoid: confusing the finished work of Christ with its implications (even as he desires to remind us that the vertical aspect is primary [p. 38]).

Perhaps I’m being too nitpicky, but his chapter on reconciliation, “Declaring the Whole Truth,” seems to most clearly demonstrate this. In this chapter, he writes that the gospel “is both my relationship with God and my relationship with others” (p. 109) and that it’s “through the blood and shame of [the cross] that a new community could be created where the orthodox and immoral can sit side by side, embracing one another. This is what Jesus envisioned and labored toward. This is the gospel” (p. 111). While there’s a great deal of truth here—the gospel does reconcile us both to God and man, changing our relationships with both forever—those are the fruit of the gospel.

The problem seems to be that Loritts is using Jesus’ summary of the Law, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. . . . You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Matt. 22:37, 39) as a summary of the gospel itself. But when we do this, it changes the emphasis of the Christian faith to what we do and not what God has done, even as we are reminded that “the gospel says we’re not the center, God is” (p. 98).

The other concern I had as I read the book, even as I starred and highlighted the many wonderfully helpful things in it, really comes down to one question: What is the place of the Holy Spirit in Loritts’ cross-shaped vision? I see him writing much about how “the power of the gospel, and the source of the church’s effectiveness, only happens when we, the bride of Christ, love God with our total being” (p. 39), but there’s (to the best of my recollection) no mention of the one who makes that possible. In reading the book, more often than not, I didn’t feel provoked to action by any sense of godly discontent, but burdened by a weight that I cannot carry.

In saying this, I really hope that I’ve simply misread the book itself as the last thing that I’d want to do is misrepresent what Loritts is actually saying here. There is a great deal of good in A Cross-Shaped Gospel—however, much of it is said with more clarity in the works of other authors. And while I certainly wouldn’t tell someone not to read this book (because there are some helpful points in every chapter), it would not be my first recommendation.

Title: A Cross-Shaped Gospel: Reconciling Heaven and Earth
Author: Bryan Loritts
Publisher: Moody Publishers (2011)

Last week I wrote a post about reasons for not continuing to follow “celebrity” pastors and what to do instead. Little did I know that it was going to start spreading around to the degree it has. And, in all honesty, if I’d thought about that possibility, I’d have said a few things differently because there are a few things that are a tad ambiguous or confusing. So I want to take a moment and clarify a couple of issues that have been brought to my attention.

1. The problem with labels. In the article I used the label “celebrity,” forgetting the baggage that comes with it. Many, when connecting it with a pastor, suggest that this is a person who is pursuing the stuff of fame and personal glory. Others hear “celebrity” and think of those to whom God has simply given a greater degree of influence. And sometimes (given our sinful proclivities) the two have moments where they appear to intermingle. Whatever amount of influence that God gives can stroke the ego and, when left unchecked, trouble follows. This is why I’m grateful for the example of men like CJ Mahaney, Kevin DeYoung and a number of other pastors who done a fine job of modeling how to steward influence well (even, as in Mahaney’s case, in the midst of significant controversy).

Back to the problem of the label “celebrity.” I was kindly reminded that this term is too frequently used to shoot or disregard certain high-profile leaders whose methodology they disapprove of. As easily as one could call Mark Driscoll, Francis Chan or James MacDonald a “celebrity,” one could just as easily apply the term to John Piper, John MacArthur or Bill Hybels. In the end, it probably wasn’t a helpful term to use at all.

2. Am I talking about someone specific? Whenever any of us write something like this piece, we’ve always got someone in mind as an example. And there are some people that I have grave concerns about. But here’s what I’m doing in their cases: I’m pursuing opportunities to actually talk to them as God allows, not in an accusatory fashion, but out of a desire to not have ill will toward a genuine brother.

While public error does not always demand a private response (though we should always be very wary of airing our dirty laundry for all—especially unbelievers—to see), it’s better to address our specific concerns with specific people whenever possible. But even when that’s not possible (as is the case with many high-profile church leaders), I’d rather pray for them than trash them publicly.

3. The need for charity and careful (appropriate) response. In writing the post (and hopefully this came through) my goal is to help each of us think less about the actions of those we may find troublesome and more about our response. How we respond to those who come across as contentious, mean-spirited and divisive says a lot about our witness and integrity—especially in the public realm. We should not seek to tear down a professing believer, even under the guise of defending the faith. We should admonish and confront wrong thinking when and where appropriate, but we ought to be careful that our desire to defend and contend does not contribute to further controversy, folly and frustration.

Ray Ortlund:

The problem is not reformed theology per se.  Inherent within that theology is a humbling and melting and softening and beautifying tendency.  The problem is when that theology is not allowed to exert its natural authority.  Instead, in the name of reformed theology, our own native religiosity creates a culture at odds with that theology.  And our religious culture, whatever it is, reveals what we really believe as opposed to what we think we believe.  If we are cold, hard, harsh and ruthless — and can we say this does not occur among those who wave the reformed banner? — if we are ungracious in our relationships and ethos and demeanor and vibe and culture, then we are betraying the doctrines of grace and only using them for covert purposes of self-exaltation.

The Gospel Project for Kids

Looking forward to learning more about the Gospel Project (both for kids and adults) in about a month. Here’s Lifeway’s description:

The Gospel Project for Kids follows a chronological timeline of Bible events. Each week, these stories come to life through video, music, activities, and more as children connect biblical events to God’s ultimate plan of redemption through Christ.

The Gospel Project for Kids features:

• Three versions: Preschool, Younger Kids, and Older Kids
• Videos that bring Bible stories to life
• Music for all ages
• Coloring pages for Preschool and Younger Kids
• Fun-filled activity sheets
• Low-prep lesson plans
• Digital or print resources
• Customizable parent resources

Also Worth Reading

Some Questions to Ask Before You Contribute to the Next Online Controversy

Is Your Sin Bigger Than Jesus?

The Lion Who Died February 16

But I Don’t Hate Anyone

Nathan W. Bingham’s moving to America—and he needs your help!

In Case You Missed It

Here are a few of this week’s notable posts:

Book Review: Friends and Lovers by Joel. R. Beeke

Why I Quit Following (Most) “Celebrity” Pastors on Twitter and Maybe You Should, Too

Walter Marshall: The True Morality of Which God Approves

Unworthy of Assistance?

The Gospel and Marriage Explain One Another

What’s the Deal with One or Two?

The principal duties of love to God above all, and to each other for His sake, from whence all the other duties flow, are so excellent that I cannot imagine any more noble work for the holy angels in their glorious sphere. They are the chief works for which we were at first framed in the image of God, engraven upon man in the first creation, and for which that beautiful image is renewed on us in our new creation and sanctification by Jesus Christ, and shall be perfected in our glorification. They are works which depend not merely on the sovereignty of the will of God, to be commanded or forbidden, or left indifferent, or changed, or abolished at His pleasure, as other works that belong either to the judicial or ceremonial law, or to the means of salvation prescribed by the gospel; but they are, in their own nature, holy, just and good (Rom. 7:12), and suitable for us to perform because of our natural relation to our Creator and fellow creatures; so that they have an inseparable dependence on the holiness of the will of God, and an indispensable establishment thereby. They are works sufficient to render the performers holy in all manner of conversation, by the fruits which they bring forth, if no other duties had ever been commanded; and by which the performance of all other duties is sufficiently established as soon as they are commanded; and without which, there can be no holiness of heart and life imagined; and to which, it was one great honor of Mosaical, and is now of evangelical ordinances, to be subservient for the performance of them, as means which shall cease when their end, this never-failing charity, is perfectly attained (1Cor. 13). They are duties which we were naturally obliged to, by that reason and understanding which God gave to man at His first creation to discern what was just and suitable for him to do, and to which even heathens are still obliged by the light of nature, without any written law, or supernatural revelation (Rom. 2:14, 15).

Therefore they are called natural religion, and the law that requires them is called the natural law and also the moral law; because the manners of all men, infidels as well as Christians, ought to be conformed to it and, if they had been fully comformable, they would not have come short of eternal happiness (Matt. 5:19; Luke 10:27, 28), under the penalty of the wrath of God for the violation of it. This is the true morality which God approves of, consisting in a conformity of all our actions to the moral law. And, if those that, in these days, contend so highly for morality, do understand no other than this, I dare join with them in asserting that the best morally principal man is the greatest saint; and that morality is the principal part of true religion, and the test of all other parts, without which faith is dead and all other religious performances are a vain show and mere hypocrisy: for the faithful and true Witness has testified, concerning the two great moral commandments of love to God and our neighbor, that there is none other commandment greater than these, and that on them ‘hang all the law and the prophets’ (Matt. 22:36-40; Mark 12:31).

Walter Marshall, The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification (Kindle Edition)