How does God make death serve his saints? John Piper shows from Acts 7:54–8:1 how the Spirit turned Stephen’s death into a doorway to Jesus.

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On a trip to Ukraine in 1991, my pastor friend and I spent the evening with a large family, feasting, singing hymns, laughing, and exalting Jesus together. We felt guilty when we learned our hosts had served an entire month’s ration of butter at the meal, but they assured us there was nothing they would rather have done to serve their brothers in Christ.

To the selfish person, the generous giver’s behavior appears foolish. (Why part with a month’s worth of butter to serve rich visitors who have unlimited amounts of butter at home?) Scripture says the opposite: “Give freely and become more wealthy; be stingy and lose everything. The generous will prosper; those who refresh others will themselves be refreshed” (Proverbs 11:24–25 NLT).

A life characterized by greed and stinginess is neither Spirit-filled nor Christlike — nor is it happy. If we know Jesus, we will become more and more like our generous God.

Stinginess Displeases God

Proverbs 23:6–7 says,

Do not eat the bread of a man who is stingy;
     do not desire his delicacies,
for he is like one who is inwardly calculating.
     “Eat and drink!” he says to you,
     but his heart is not with you.

The stingy person calculates, “What will sharing cost me?” In contrast, the generous person asks, “What can I give to bless others?” While the stingy person sees giving as a burden and a loss, the generous person knows that giving is a blessing and great gain.

Scripture warns us to avoid a stingy person, and it also instructs us not to be a stingy person. In ancient Israel, every seventh year was the “year of release,” when all debts were canceled (Deuteronomy 15:1–3). In the sixth year, any loans would probably be gifts because of the upcoming year of release, but people were still commanded to lend generously to the needy:

Be careful that there isn’t this wicked thought in your heart, “The seventh year, the year of canceling debts, is near,” and you are stingy toward your poor brother and give him nothing. He will cry out to the Lord against you, and you will be guilty. Give to him, and don’t have a stingy heart when you give, and because of this the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and in everything you do. (Deuteronomy 15:9–10 CSB)

God sees our hearts and knows us well. We can be doing all the “right things” outwardly — staying debt-free, living within a budget, and giving regularly — yet still be inwardly greedy and stingy toward both our loved ones and those in need. That’s why Jesus warns us, “Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness” (Luke 12:15).

Tight-fisted stinginess, whether motivated by selfishness or fear, is as dangerous as careless self-indulgence. Our goal is not to be penny-pinchers fretting over every expenditure but joyful, responsible, and generous money managers. Carefully stewarding the money God has entrusted to us, with the goal of having more to give to his kingdom, is wise; stinginess, which focuses on self-preservation, is profoundly unpleasing to God.

Our Generous God

Understanding God’s own generous nature is key to fighting stinginess. Charles Spurgeon wrote, “Let me be bountiful and liberal, for so shall I be like my Lord. He gave Himself for me; shall I grudge Him anything?”

Our giving doesn’t come out of altruism or philanthropy — it’s a result of the transforming work of Christ. We give because he first gave to us: “In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (1 John 4:10). The greatest passage on giving in all Scripture ends not with “Congratulations on your generosity,” but “Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift!” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

God is not stingy. His generosity abounds — it’s overflowing, even excessive. (Aren’t we glad God doesn’t calculate how much grace to give us?)

In the middle of instructing the rich, Paul took a moment to describe God not as demanding or begrudging but as a God full of joy who provides all things with our delight in mind: “As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides” (1 Timothy 6:17).

D.A. Carson likewise points to Christ as the root of our generosity:

The highest possible incentive to be generous, in a self-denying way, is found in the Lord Jesus Christ himself, who “though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9). For Paul, it is unthinkable that anyone who really delights in knowing this Christ could be stingy.

Gaze upon Christ long enough, and you will become a more generous giver.

Provision for Givers

A fear that God won’t provide what we need if we give openhandedly can motivate our stinginess. But Jesus teaches that generous giving isn’t a cause for insecurity and worry. It’s a cure for it.

After Jesus tells us not to worry about life’s necessities, he says, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). According to our Lord, giving is part of the solution to our material needs — because God promises to provide for givers (Malachi 3:8–11; Luke 6:38).

Paul experienced this reality firsthand. He told the Philippians, “I am well supplied, having received from Epaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God” (Philippians 4:18). Since they gave so generously to provide for him and his work, Paul was confident God would provide the same for the Philippians: “My God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).

Christian financial planning expert Ron Blue finds Paul’s insight relevant for modern-day giving. “When we give to those in need,” he writes, “we acknowledge God’s ownership and His power and His provision. We are able to remember that God will provide for us as He uses us as agents of provision in other people’s lives.”

God graciously gives us money and possessions to meet real needs, both our own and those of others. He doesn’t call all disciples to give away everything, but he does call us to put everything at his disposal, freeing us to live under his lordship. Over the years as we learned to give, my wife Nanci and I were amazed to see him come through again and again. The more you experience the wholehearted adventure of following Jesus, the greater your delight and trust in God.

A Lesson from Scrooge

A friend once asked me, “Do you know any generous person who’s unhappy?” I gave it a lot of thought. I know many generous people. Some have been through great tragedies or dealt with seasons of depression. But would I, overall, describe any of them as unhappy? No. Their generosity, which reflects the Lord they love, infuses joy into their lives.

I asked myself another question: “Do I know any stingy person who’s happy?” The answer came quickly: “Not a single one.” If you want to be miserable, greed and stinginess are the perfect recipe. Think of Ebenezer Scrooge from the classic Dickens tale A Christmas Carol. At the beginning of the story, the wealthy miser is caustic, complaining, stingy, horrendously greedy — and profoundly unhappy.

But after a radical transformation from his three visions, having been shown his sins of stinginess and greed, Scrooge walks through the streets of London freely distributing his wealth to the needy. He’s giddy with delight. (Grace will do that to you!) This man, who only one day earlier scoffed at the idea of charity, now takes great pleasure in giving.

Scrooge is the fictional counterpart of Zacchaeus, who, after his encounter with Christ and radical transformation, said he would give half his money to the poor and pay back fourfold those he had cheated. In response, Jesus did not merely say, “Good idea.” Instead, he said, “Today salvation has come to this house” (Luke 19:9). Jesus acknowledged the reality of this man’s salvation based on his cheerful eagerness to part with his money for the glory of God and the good of others. Zacchaeus understood God’s generosity toward him, and his heart responded accordingly.

May it also be so with us. As we fix our eyes on Christ, may we search our hearts for the sins of stinginess and greed, confessing them to our gracious Father. And then, like the transformed Scrooge and Zacchaeus, may we experience the gospel joy of generous giving!

Why does having the Holy Spirit make such a difference in how we judge between wisdom and folly? Only those with the Spirit can see God’s wisdom as true wisdom.

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ABSTRACT: The frontiers of missions are less clear than we might imagine. Complexities surrounding languages, geopolitical tensions, remote access, and a globalized, urbanizing world present fresh challenges for missions strategies. The church cannot rely only on the concepts and plans that others used before us. Faithful engagement in missions requires ever-fresh thinking as the church seeks to obey the risen Lord’s command to proclaim the gospel of the kingdom to the ends of the earth.

When Paul declared his desire to preach in the places where Christ had yet to be named (Romans 15:20), he whetted the missionary appetite for frontier missions. Many contemporary missionaries adopt Paul’s desire as their own, noting that it flows out of the biblical anticipation that one day the knowledge of the glory of God will cover the earth “as the waters cover the sea” (Habakkuk 2:14) — and that one day believers from every tribe, tongue, nation, and people will surround God’s throne (Revelation 7:9). In anticipation of these promises being fulfilled and following Paul’s desire, contemporary missionaries often ask the question, “Where are the current frontiers of missions?”

At the end of the 1700s, the search for the missions frontier focused on geographic places and geopolitical nations that had little to no access to the gospel. Nearly two hundred years later, Ralph Winter pressed the global church’s thinking further than mere geography when he coined the term “hidden peoples.”¹ This term recognized more barriers — linguistic, sociocultural, ethnic, and tribal — to gospel access than mere geography or nationality. Such an approach prompted global research and the production of various lists of apparently distinct people groups.² Following Winter’s “hidden peoples” approach, the frontiers of missions came to be defined as those people groups with the least access to the gospel.

In our globalized, urbanizing, digitally connected world, however, locating the frontiers of missions proves more difficult than one might think. In this essay, I will examine four issues that make determining the frontlines of ministry complex today. I will also highlight some ways that pastors, churches, and aspiring missionaries might consider, assess, and address various frontiers of missions labor. This assessment is best conducted in conversation with churches around the world, recognizing that the Great Commission is a global church responsibility.

Difficulty 1: Defining Missions

The first difficulty with locating the frontiers of missions is upstream from sociological research and demographic study. Before we can determine whom we need to focus on in missions, we need to define what we mean by missions. How we define missions will determine who we believe needs missionary attention.

On the one hand, some take Paul’s desire from Romans 15:20 as the baseline for their definition, simply considering the places where we think Christ has not been named as the frontier targets for missions. Along these lines, some take Matthew 24:14 to define the missionary task as the proclamation of the gospel of the kingdom to all nations. Thus, one finds the frontier of missions wherever this gospel has not been proclaimed.³

On the other hand, a holistic or integral vision of missions includes every good endeavor a Christian is commanded to do as a component of the missionary task. For those of this persuasion, the frontiers of missions work are not only where Christ has not been named but also where economic or ecological injustice has not been addressed.⁴

While I do not claim to define missions in a way that would be satisfactory for all, I think that the Great Commission in Matthew 28:19–20 both centers the need to proclaim the gospel and extends the task beyond evangelism. We are to make more than converts; we are to make disciples. We are to teach everything that Jesus commanded; instruction is the centerpiece of the church’s mission. Therefore, I define missions the way we do in our classes at Cedarville Seminary:

local churches sending qualified missionaries to bring the gospel and its implications to places and people lacking access with the aim of making disciples who will make disciples, training leaders who will train leaders, and establishing churches that will plant churches and send missionaries.

With that definition, we can acknowledge at least two realities. First, many places and people have basic access to the gospel, but missionary efforts are still necessary there to see the missionary task accomplished. Missionary efforts to train local leaders toward maturity and to equip national churches to plant churches are necessary even when the Bible has been translated and there is an emerging or developing church in place.⁵

Second, it remains helpful to consider places with significant barriers to gospel access as a specific kind of frontier, because Bible translation, literacy training, and remote living require specific skills and abilities that entail specific preparation. Such frontiers need not determine where all our missionary labor goes, but the significant barriers they pose require international effort to identify, address, and overcome. Perhaps most obviously, if the church’s mission centers on proclaiming Christ and his gospel, then places whose languages have never been used to name Christ represent frontiers to which the global church must attend.

As missionary candidates attempt to steward their lives strategically, these two missional realities are often made to compete with one another. Missionaries who do not want to waste their lives can be stymied by the question, “Is my life best invested among those with access but not maturity or in places with no access?” Yet, both are necessary for complete obedience to the Great Commission. Both also encounter significant difficulty in assessing barriers to gospel access. In what remains, I want to observe three such barriers and then conclude with some guiding thoughts to help pastors and potential missionaries steward their lives toward addressing the frontiers of missions without the pressure of needing to establish whether they have identified the choice that will lead to “maximal kingdom impact.”

Difficulty 2: Defining Language Frontiers

One of the essential elements of the above definition of missions is the need to communicate the gospel and its implications. Such communication requires a shared language. While those following Ralph Winter have at times been prone to excess in how they distinguish one socioculturally distinct people group from another, recent efforts have homed in on the linguistic distinctions between peoples.⁶ Following this line of thought, a language that has not been used to name Christ may represent a frontier for missionary effort.

However, making a list of those who truly lack linguistic access to the gospel is not as simple as identifying the languages into which the Bible has yet to be fully translated. Many cultures are multilingual. Those living in monolingual cultures often believe that every person has a “heart language,” and that those who do not yet have a Bible translation in their “heart language” remain without full access to the gospel.⁷ However, the reality is often more nuanced.

Of course, multilingual societies often have a preferred language of discourse for various topics. Likewise, in places where subcultures have been subsumed by dominant cultures, the use of a dominant language can carry the stigma of having “sold out” to the culture represented by that language. However, that is not always the case. I recently heard of a believer from a West African nation who speaks at least eight languages fluently and claims that none of those languages is more of a “heart language” than the others. For this brother, if the Scriptures are available in just one of the eight languages he speaks, he does not lack access to the gospel.

Not only is it true that in some places the sociological concept of a “heart language” does not represent reality, but employing it can also prove divisive. For example, one missionary related a story of a Russian city in which Russians lived alongside ethnically Tartar people. Though the Tartar community spoke Russian as a trade language, they preferred to use a different language in their homes. In a well-intentioned effort to reach this particular people, a missionary moved to the city intent on planting a church to reach the Tartars in their heart language. However, a local Russian pastor asked the missionary to reconsider because he thought that approach would split his Russian-speaking church, drawing away the Tartar community and undoing the display of the gospel’s ability to create unity out of diversity.

Had the missionary followed his original plan, this community of Tartar-speakers would likely have been tempted to withdraw from their Russian brothers and sisters out of preference rather than a lack of access. In a globalizing and urbanizing world, multilingual communities are far more common than they were a hundred years ago. Of course, just because a contingent of a language has urbanized and become multilingual does not mean that the non-urbanized speakers have access. However, insisting that every “heart language” that does not have a translation of the Scriptures represents a current missions frontier oversimplifies a more complex set of circumstances.

Of course, this does not imply that these communities lack need or that engaging in these specific, targeted ways is not valuable. It is simply to acknowledge again that flattening complex circumstances tends to obscure, not clarify, the frontiers of gospel access.⁸

Difficulty 3: Defining Access Frontiers

Many engaged in the discussion about contemporary barriers in missions aim to discern where they should serve or invest their resources. This is a noble and appropriate process for churches to undertake. However, there are multiple types of barriers to gospel access that should be taken into consideration.

First, we have already considered language barriers. If the Bible has not been made available in the languages a people speak, then they have no permanent access to Scripture. These are serious and urgent matters for the global church to consider as we seek to address gospel need with missionary intention.

Second, geopolitical factors can create barriers to access that stand as frontiers of their own. For instance, the Scriptures and many other theological resources are already translated into Korean. In fact, Kim Il-Sung, the supreme leader who was in place during the separation of North and South, was raised in an active Presbyterian family.⁹ Still, since the middle of the twentieth century, it has been illegal to own a Bible in North Korea, and Christians are persecuted without mercy, being labeled as “hostile elements in society.”¹⁰ Even with the Bible in their language, such a gospel-hostile place certainly qualifies as a frontier requiring intentional targeted work to make and mature disciples.

Third, there are barriers related to harsh geographic considerations. Many will be familiar with the efforts of John Chau to access the Sentinelese people on an island off India.¹¹ Such people are geographically difficult to access and occasionally (like the Sentinelese) protected by laws intended to allow the people and their culture to avoid the impact of foreign contact. Other countries with minimal Christian presence (like Bhutan) have proved notoriously difficult to access, being hard to reach and, once reached, hard to remain in because of residency restrictions.¹²

Pastors and missionaries considering how to steward their efforts would be wise to consider factors that make an individual missionary candidate fit to overcome specific barriers. Age, health, and willingness to put off creature comforts make some uniquely suited to targeting remote locations. For others, non-Western nationality could provide access across political borders closed to US-passport holders. Still others have an affinity for and ability in language study, thus being best suited to addressing those language frontiers that require translation and perhaps even literacy training. Wise stewardship requires considering which candidates best fit different frontiers rather than using a one-size-fits-all strategy.

Difficulty 4: Defining Frontier Mobilization

The final difficulty relates to the previous one — namely, who should be mobilized to meet frontier needs. Often, those who have the information assume that they should meet the need. However, in a world where we have far more knowledge than ability to act on that knowledge, assessing frontiers may not always mean mobilizing people from our own congregations to meet those needs directly.

This tension especially applies to my brothers and sisters from the United States. Our passport gets us into many different parts of the world; it also precludes us from some of the neediest places. Places like North Korea are incredibly difficult for Americans to access, and our knowledge of existing believers and churches there is quite limited. However, in the case of North Korea, there are other nations whose passports are more readily admitted. In such circumstances, we should be quick to consider whether it might be most advantageous for Americans to partner with Russian or Chinese Christians, for instance, mobilizing them to serve as the tip of the spear in North Korea.

This consideration is also relevant in nations where extremely remote areas — places most likely to contain monolingual, indigenous communities — are not open to foreigners or where foreigners would be scrutinized more heavily by gospel-hostile governments. In such places, mobilizing national believers, who will be less conspicuous than Americans, might be the most advantageous and strategic way to address those gospel-access frontiers. If that is the case, then the American missionary will need a different set of skills to raise up, train, equip, and partner with local believers than if he intended to do the frontline work. By God’s design, each part of the body functions differently (Ephesians 4:16), and the urgency and complexity of frontier missions requires that we pay careful attention to those skills, strengths, and desires with which he has equipped and positioned the global church.

Targeting Frontiers with a Sovereign God

Given the complexities charted above, it is not surprising that many pastors and aspiring missionaries feel overwhelmed at trying to steward the one life they have been given for maximum kingdom impact. While we should be thoughtful, intentional, and even strategic, allow me to alleviate some of the pressure by reminding us that we serve a sovereign God. In fact, he has promised that one day the knowledge of God will cover the earth “as the waters cover the sea” (Habakkuk 2:14) and that the end will not come before the “gospel of the kingdom [is] proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations” (Matthew 24:14).

Our sovereign God has entrusted us with the task of making disciples of all nations. This task involves attempting to overcome barriers to the gospel wherever they occur. As we have seen, those barriers are manifold: Unreached languages are often frontiers requiring translation efforts. Gospel-hostile nations present frontiers requiring creative partnerships. And remote locations filled with image bearers are frontiers worthy of the efforts it will take to engage them because Christ deserves to be worshiped in mature churches even in the mountains and on the islands we are prone to overlook.¹³

All these frontiers are important to consider alongside the skills and gifts that the Lord has bestowed on his people as stewards entrusted with precious resources to be leveraged for his glory. However, we lack the ability to ensure that the decisions we make will result in “maximal kingdom impact” and “the greatest stewardship of our days.” While we want to approach these decisions with a fitting weight of responsibility, the ability to choose what is best and what will lead to the highest impact belongs to God alone.

So, pastor, aspiring missionary, church — do your best to leverage your resources to overcome the barriers and address the frontiers that God puts before you. But do not become paralyzed, worrying whether spending your life among ten thousand who have never spoken the name of Jesus is more or less strategic than spending it among 1.5 billion whose access to the gospel is limited by a gospel-hostile government. Frankly, it is not possible for us to adjudicate which is of greatest value; we have not been asked to do that. Relieving this pressure, I hope, will help us avoid the sad stories I hear of missionaries who arrive in a place only to go back home when they realize that it was not quite as unreached — and therefore not as strategic — as they thought. Instead, if you arrive on the field only to find that the people group you planned to reach is less unreached than you thought, praise the Lord and get to work alongside those who got to work before you.

Our Lord is sovereignly mobilizing his global people to proclaim his word at the frontiers. He is guiding all of history to its awesome culmination in the joy-filled worship of all peoples before his throne. This certainty enables us to confidently jump the gospel-access barriers in front of us without worrying whether they are maximally strategic.

Does suffering kill the sin within us? Pastor John argues from 1 Peter 4:1 that believers die to sin with Christ so we can live to his righteousness.

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Does the accuser have the last word when you fall? John Piper opens Micah 7:8–9 to show how God disciplines his people while pleading their cause.

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If gossip didn’t taste good, we wouldn’t gossip.

The other day, I nearly forwarded (what I saw as) a silly message from a friend. How ridiculous of her! I thought as I selected my husband’s name as the recipient. But before I could press “send,” my thumbs froze. God’s grace had numbed them with the needle of conviction. Then he thumped my heart on the head with a question: Why? Why would I talk this way — in secret, with equal parts pride and disdain — about another?

With a twinge of shame, I realized the answer. It’s the same answer for the person poised over a cruel text, the person murmuring a nasty word, and the person eager to read cruel texts and hear nasty words: “The words of a whisperer are like delicious morsels; they go down into the inner parts of the body” (Proverbs 26:22).

We gossip, and entertain others’ gossip, because gossip tastes good.

The Death-Cap Mushroom of the Mouth

Read the Bible for just a few minutes, and we know the kind of meal gossip makes for God. Scripture calls the whisperer a friend-separator (Proverbs 16:28), a “simple babbler” to avoid like raw meat covered in mold (Proverbs 20:19). One minute too long, and hot oil starts to smoke; one instance of whispering, and a whole house or neighborhood or office or school or church can catch fire with quarreling (Proverbs 26:20; James 3:5–6). Gossip isn’t like deep-fried foods, fine now and then. Gossip is like the death-cap mushroom — poisonous upon the first bite.

God promises to do more than distance himself from the one who chews on noxious rumors as if they were bubble gum. Through King David, we hear an echo of King Jesus’s anger against the habitual gossiper: “Whoever slanders his neighbor secretly I will destroy,” he says (Psalm 101:5). God despises the gossip — and the one who hankers to hear gossip: “An evildoer listens to wicked lips, and a liar gives ear to a mischievous tongue” (Proverbs 17:4). When Paul lists the deeds on which the unregenerate heart loves to feast, he mentions gossip and slander alongside murder and hatred of God (Romans 1:29–30). No wonder gossip disgusts God.

Yet how great a shock that too often, gossip doesn’t disgust us.

Catching All Crumbs

How can we Christians care more about keeping Red Dye 40, aspartame, or hot dogs from our tongues than we do rumors, secrets, and slander? We’ve let our flesh rule our mouths for far too long. If we are born again, already the Father has given our souls new taste buds — his Son’s very own perfect taste buds. (It was these taste buds that saved me from relishing the disparagement of a friend.) The trick is actually using them, daily, by the Spirit.

Surely, we use them by praying for God to “set a guard” and “keep watch” over any bitter use of our lips (Psalm 141:3). Christians take seriously the command to “let no corrupting talk come out of [our] mouths” (Ephesians 4:29) — not one morsel of gossip, not one crumb of a secret. In the fight to fully and finally stop slandering, biting our tongue is part of the battle (James 1:26).

At the same time, we can only bite our tongue for so long. Adults can be just as terrible as kindergarteners at the quiet game, and for good reason. God created us to speak! So, when our speech runs sour, we can’t vow just “never to talk again.” But we can plead with God to fill our speech with so much sweetness that there’s simply no room for vinegar. To remove gossip from our mouths, we both clamp down on deceit and command our words for good.

The Sweet Words We Need

To speak sweet words, we must know sweet words. And the sweetest of words all shoot from one root: the Scriptures.

The law of the Lord is perfect,
     reviving the soul;
the testimony of the Lord is sure,
     making wise the simple;
the precepts of the Lord are right,
     rejoicing the heart;
the commandment of the Lord is pure,
     enlightening the eyes;
the fear of the Lord is clean,
     enduring forever;
the rules of the Lord are true,
     and righteous altogether.
More to be desired are they than gold,
     even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
     and drippings of the honeycomb. (Psalm 19:7–10)

Only God’s words are perfect, sure, right, pure, true, clean, and righteous altogether — without qualification or nuance. God’s speech alone can be said to “[revive] the soul” and “[make] wise the simple” and “[rejoice] the heart” and “[enlighten] the eyes” and “[endure] forever.” The Bible outweighs the glitziest gold in worth; it outdoes the ooziest honeycomb in sweetness. What God has spoken in Scripture is just that good.

Do we know his word like we know the smell of candied pecans roasting at a Christmas market? Can’t forget it. Do our souls wake up and want his word like our stomachs wake up and want their pancakes and coffee? Gotta have it. Do we roll his word around in our minds like we do our dinner menu? Planning on it. If we do, then God’s word won’t stay in his mouth; it will fill ours.

From His Mouth to Ours

And when it does, our mouths will bless others. First thing in the morning, our spouses will hear us praise him for a good night’s sleep or put our trust in him for the lack thereof. How great a trajectory for a wife’s day, for a husband to talk about God’s faithfulness right as he rolls out of bed. At the office, our coworkers will listen as we thank them — and thank them sincerely — for the smallest tasks. They’ll wonder where our gratitude comes from — “We’re in the middle of a deadbeat workday, of all things!”

We’ll send our friends more than memes and “Did you watch the game last night?” texts as we take every modern communication tool captive for the purposes of praying for one another (James 5:16), caring for one another (1 Corinthians 12:25), comforting one another (2 Corinthians 13:11), encouraging one another (1 Thessalonians 4:18), and instructing one another (Romans 15:14). How our default conversations with friends will shift, from talk of mere weather to mutual worship. At the dinner table, our children will hear us pray for God to satisfy our family with himself even more than with the homemade meal before us (Psalm 63:5). How a son’s life will change as he grows up and listens to his parents pray for more of God more deeply than they ask for more good things in this life.

All along, as we are busy praising and trusting and uplifting and thanking and praying, the urge to gossip will grow as stale as five-year-old cereal. (Trust me, it exists in certain unnamed pantries.) Compared to exalting God and encouraging others, gossip just doesn’t taste good anymore.

Do you believe that the apostles were spokesmen for God, taught by the Holy Spirit? Paul did. He depended on it for both authority and impact.

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The road of sacrifice took William Tyndale from the Roman Catholic Church to the translator’s desk, giving us the first ever English version of the Greek New Testament.

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How would you define living your best life?

I once thought a perfect life would mean no physical disability, no chronic pain, and having everything I wanted. But I’ve come to see that the best life is anything that draws me closest to Jesus.

My easy years did the opposite. My once-vibrant college faith gave way to an all-consuming career. I still went to church, believed in Jesus, and even led a small group, but life was going so well that I no longer sought him daily. I could talk the talk, but I didn’t realize this successful life cost me the one thing that mattered most.

We all face this danger when life goes well. We tend to fear seasons of suffering, wilderness, and waiting, but these are not the worst threats to our faith. The greater danger is that in times of prosperity, when we finally receive what we want, we won’t think about God at all.

The Offer We Should Fear

In Exodus 32, the Israelites waited forty days after Moses went up the mountain, and in their impatience, they told Aaron to make them gods. That’s the heart of idolatry: desiring gods who support whatever we want, gods we can control. Israel took the gold that God had provided, melted it down, made a calf, and then credited it with their deliverance: “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!” (Exodus 32:4).

God threatened to destroy the people and start over with Moses. But instead, he relented and made them an astonishing offer: He would give them the land he had promised, drive out their enemies, and even send an angel to lead the way. But he would not go with them (Exodus 33:1–3).

God offered Israel every earthly gift they had waited for: Land flowing with milk and honey. The end of wandering, the end of boring manna, and the end of total dependence. A future where they could thrive on their own.

Just without God.

Your version of the promised land may be a healed body, a restored relationship, financial security, or the life you’ve been praying for. If God offered it to you and said, “You can have it all, but I will keep my distance,” how would you respond?

Why Moses Said No

Moses refused the offer. He wanted nothing to do with a land void of God.

When God pledged, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest,” Moses took hold of it: “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here” (Exodus 33:14–15). He preferred manna and daily dependence to vineyards, ease, and a God who kept his distance.

Moses knew the mark of God’s people was not geography or prosperity but the nearness of God. “Is it not in your going with us,” he asked, “so that we are distinct . . . from every other people on the face of the earth?” (Exodus 33:16). He knew what the people couldn’t fully understand yet: God himself was their promise. Not the land. Not the blessing. Not the life that finally worked. God. Without him, no amount of milk and honey could satisfy their hearts, for only in his presence is there “fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11).

Years later, before Israel finally entered the promised land, Moses warned against the danger awaiting them should they forget this truth: “Take care lest you forget the Lord your God . . . when you have eaten and are full and have built good houses and live in them” (Deuteronomy 8:11–12). He knew the promised land without God can be a life so full of good things that we no longer feel our need for him.

Wilderness as Mercy

The wilderness, on the other hand, destroys the illusion that we can provide for ourselves. It’s where tomorrow is uncertain, our strength fails, our plans unravel, and we finally discover that underneath our struggles are his everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27).

Moses told the Israelites that God fed them with manna “that he might humble you and test you, to do you good in the end” (Deuteronomy 8:16). He carried them all the way “as a man carries his son” (Deuteronomy 1:31). And the manna itself preached a daily sermon: It covered the ground every morning with just enough for the day and a promise of more tomorrow.

Your wilderness may be a terminal diagnosis, heartache over a loved one, the long ache of singleness or childlessness, the loss that doesn’t seem to heal. But looking back over your life, what has truly drawn your heart closest to God? Has it been his miraculous rescues, or his daily, sustaining help?

In my story, God has answered prayers that once seemed impossible. Meeting my husband was one of those precious answers. But the disability and pain I once longed to escape are still with me and intensifying. As I reflect on both kinds of seasons, I see that what has most satisfied me, what has taught me to love God for who he is, has not been deliverance. It has been sustenance. The daily manna of his word. The hidden strength he gives when I cannot go on. The comfort of his presence when nothing around me changes.

The wilderness is not a sign that God has abandoned us. It is the battlefield where we learn to love God — a mercy that refuses to let us be satisfied with any of God’s gifts without being satisfied in him.

A Friend in the Battlefield

My friend knows this battlefield well. At his lowest, he felt it was easier to die than to live one more day with his debilitating chronic pain. Then a line from Charles Spurgeon convicted him that he had been asking God only for his own ease, with no thought of God’s glory. He saw that while his needs mattered, they were not the center; God’s glory was.

He went on to share, “I realized that my physical pain was just the battlefield, but the real battle was for my heart.” That’s true of us as well. Whatever we’re facing, whether it’s prosperity or pain, the battle is always for our hearts. Will we live for our own ease or for God’s glory? Will we settle for a life that finally works without him, or will we say, “Hallowed be your name,” even from a hospital bed?

The Better Portion

Psalm 73 puts language to what Moses knew at Sinai. The psalmist watched the prosperity of those who ignored God while his own obedience cost dearly. But when he entered the sanctuary and saw their end, he declared,

Whom have I in heaven but you?
     And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
     but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:25–26)

This was Moses’s anthem at Sinai. This is what my friend is clinging to in his illness. This is what the Spirit can teach us in our own wilderness and promised lands.

And this is what Christ has secured for us. Moses could only plead for God’s presence; Jesus purchased it. He was forsaken so we could be brought near. Because of him, God does not merely go with his people but now dwells in us by his Spirit. The true promised land ahead of us is defined by one hope: “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man” (Revelation 21:3).

The greatest danger in your life is not that you will suffer long or wait in the dark, but that you will finally get what you want and find you can enjoy it with very little of God. To be satisfied in the gifts and not the Giver is to miss everything and not even realize what you’ve missed. Better manna with God than milk and honey without him.

Moses saw God’s glory, and once you have seen it, no land — however rich, however safe, however long you waited — will ever be enough on its own. May God so meet us in our wildernesses that we can say with Moses, “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring me up from here” — and mean it.