How can you know the Bible speaks with more than human authority? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper opens 2 Peter 1:20–21 to show the nature of Scripture.

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How should Christians respond when an authority asks them to sin? Pastor John encourages believers to respect earthly institutions without compromising God’s word.

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I awoke in a dark wood. Spirits darted in the shadows, and death made easy prey of men.

How would anyone find the narrow path of safety in such an unbelieving world? Man, woman, and child stepped over the slain into the grave, one after another.

The Wood was named Without Hope and Without God. I heard the sighs, groans, and sobs of the Already Condemned. They moaned,

We hope for light, and behold, darkness,
     and for brightness, but we walk in gloom.
We grope for the wall like the blind;
     we grope like those who have no eyes;
we stumble at noon as in the twilight,
     among those in full vigor we are like dead men.
We all growl like bears;
     we moan and moan like doves;
we hope for justice, but there is none;
     for salvation, but it is far from us. (Isaiah 59:9–11)

How can such be saved?

“You are the light of the world,” a voice whispers through the trees. To whom does he speak?

Yes, now as I look closely, I can make out small breaks in the darkness. Three lights ahead act very strangely.

The first, a gentleman, Too Timid by name, had cloaked himself under a basket.

Me: Excuse me, sir, I believe the voice that spoke just now was perhaps speaking to you?

Too Timid: My dear fellow, you must have me confused. I am but a stump of the forest like any other in this Wood.

Me: But sir, though cloaked in a basket, I still see some rays peeking through the weave. This Wood needs light, sir. Will you not offer us any of yours?

Too Timid: I suppose you’re right. My Master has lit me and made me different from others, at least different from the one I used to be. Yes, maybe those words were meant for me.

Me: Very good, sir. Then let me remove this cumbersome basket from your back so you might be more useful for wanderers.

Too Timid: Unhand me, sir! I would shine brightly — I would — but if you only knew these wanderers in this desolate Wood and how they treat the light, you would never ask me to remove my basket. If they were agreeable to the light, I should flame as the sun, but these people hate the light and do not come to light lest their deeds be exposed. Instead, they abuse lamps, mock lanterns, and snuff out wicks — they are wicked. Perhaps the Master has other luminaries more daring. I’m sorry.

Traveling on, I see a second glob of light hidden behind a bush. A Mr. Too Modest is his name.

Me: Sir, I could not help but notice your dash of visibility in this world of midnight. But why, may I ask, are you crouched behind this bush? I saw a lampstand near the road a few paces back. If you climbed upon it, you should be mightily useful in this Wood. May I bring you to the higher seat?

Too Modest: I blush at your flattery, my good man, but I must decline.

Me: May I inquire why you would refuse to aid those dying in the darkness?

Too Modest: I am not after prominence, young man. Tempt me not with places of honor, for I have chosen the lowly place — here, behind this bush.

Me: You cannot go much lower than the ground, I suppose. But did you not hear that voice speak not too long ago, saying, “You are the light of the world”? Yet you appear but the light of this bush.

Too Modest: No long prayers on street corners for me — no sir. The best lights are not meant to be seen by men. My Father sees in secret, and there I shine for his eyes alone.

Me: But did not the voice go on to say that lamps ought not to be hidden behind bushes, but rather placed on a stand, so that they can give light to all in the area? “Let your light shine before others,” I believe it said. Should lamps hide from the eyes of those they are lit to bless?

Is it not more humble that one should shine as brightly as possible for the good of as many as possible, with the aim that all might see “and give glory to your Father who is in heaven”? Good works and words are for others’ good and another’s glory.

Too Modest: Nearly plausible, sir. I only hope for humble good for a humble few and concern myself not with elevation to any other seat. I would not presume myself to be any sort of blessing to the many. Planted in the soil behind this bush, I remain low, if not useful. Men exalted are men endangered. Good night.

Lost in thought and tripping over the tombstones, I came to the third light, a candle called Lord Too Lazy.

Me: Sir, I am delighted to have found you in a proper place! I had a rather odd conversation with one unwilling to take his stand. That said, may I ask why you burn so slightly? To be frank, I did not know anyone could flicker so faintly and still burn. I could hardly perceive you from a distance, and even standing close, I see more smoke than flame. May I fan you from this smolder?

Too Lazy: No, my dear boy, rest and relaxation is most strategic in the end. Others spark and flash — and fall, like shooting stars. They burn out because they blaze too quickly and glow far beyond wisdom’s moderation.

Me: But sir, you seem all but extinguished. What of others’ good?

Too Lazy: To the eyes of the overly ambitious and legalistic, a sufficient flame always looks spent and sooty. These expect a man to volunteer to be quickly consumed, soon a melted puddle of wax, for “the good of others.” Candles are not meant to burn themselves out or diminish into nubs. No. I shall not exert myself to death even for the good of others. The good I offer is a flicker, long living.

I did not get to respond because just then I awoke out of that dim land.

The Bible still lay open before me on my desk:

You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven. (Matthew 5:14–16)

God fulfills his purpose for the church by his work in the church: He magnifies his grace by beautifying his people.

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Before I became a missionary, I assumed missionaries were supposed to be super-saints — un-caped crusaders faithfully following God anywhere and everywhere. I (almost) imagined them arriving on the field with a voice from heaven introducing them: “Holier than your local pastor. More powerful than a legion of demons. Able to speak the gospel in many languages. It’s the missionary!”

I knew that missionaries — even greats like William Carey, Lottie Moon, and Jim Elliot — were sinful humans like me, but I found it easy to suppose they had entered a higher level of spiritual life that equipped them for the powerful things God did through them. I doubt I’m the only one to think that way.

The church I grew up in did a wonderful job emphasizing the importance of missions, but it also tended to aggrandize the work of missionaries in a way that made them seem spiritually elite. Similarly, many of the missionary biographies I read deeply edified me by recounting their unique callings, significant challenges, and fruitful legacies, but they often seemed to be missing a chapter on how missionaries were fallen humans who continued to struggle with sin even as they ministered. It wasn’t until my own calling to become a missionary that I came to grips with a surprising fact: Of all the significant challenges missionaries face in seeking to minister the gospel in unreached places, our own indwelling sin might be the biggest challenge of all.

Sin Doesn’t Stay Home

I didn’t expect to become instantly holier when I first committed to serve as a missionary. My wife and I sensed a call to minister to an unreached people group in Asia, and the Lord led us to an amazing ministry. I knew that I still struggled with sin, but I think I hoped to grow into the super-saint image I had of a missionary. So, I was genuinely surprised to find that my battles with sin and temptation actually got harder instead of easier. In retrospect, however, this makes perfect sense.

Moving across cultures is stressful, and people tend to struggle with sin more under stress. The process inevitably includes loss and sadness, and people often cope with emotional weariness through sinful means. On top of that, missionaries normally leave situations of robust spiritual support (like good Christian friends and strong churches) to serve in places that lack such community (or where a language barrier prohibits access). Missionaries sign up to minister in these kinds of situations, but it means we face greater spiritual darkness and spiritual warfare with fewer resources, more emotional weariness, and more stress than ever before.

It is always discouraging to be confronted with one’s sin, but things get even messier if a missionary feels inner or outer pressure to be a super-saint. When anyone sins, we know that Jesus is our advocate, and we know that, when we confess our sins, God is “faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). But it is common for missionaries to feel like they need to pretend, hide, or perform so as not to let others down (back home or on the field).

Ugliness Exposed

I would like to say this struggle with sin as a missionary is a temporary issue that only rookies undergo. However, after years of serving as a missionary, working with other missionaries, and leading missionaries, I can confidently confirm that the battle with sin does not cease.

Cultural stress can still spark anger in our hearts. Anxiety can still cripple us — and not just in situations when our lives are in danger but sometimes for no apparent reason at all. There are still regular temptations toward animosity with colleagues, irritability with national partners, and impatience with sending organizations. Marriage struggles don’t disappear either; they often feel amplified. Parenting struggles don’t go away; they get more complex. And envy, perhaps the greatest temptation facing missionaries, can emerge even after years of faithful service, when others seem successful and we do not.

It’s not that becoming a missionary makes people sin; rather, as John Owen writes, “Temptations and occasions put nothing into a man, but only draw out what was in him before” (Works, 6:169). The challenges of serving as a missionary expose sins that might otherwise have stayed hidden in less challenging settings. Seeing this ugliness in our hearts may lead us to exclaim with the apostle Paul, “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24).

He Saves and Sanctifies

However, neither mission senders nor goers need be discouraged by this reality. Yes, serving as a missionary (like serving as a pastor or deacon) requires a measure of spiritual maturity, and churches are wise to discern which men and women are qualified for the task. But God does not expect missionaries to be super-saints. Instead, he calls them to cherish the very gospel they proclaim.

The chapter missing from many missionary biographies could be titled, “Missions Is Sanctification,” revealing missions as one of the most powerful means of holiness a Christian can enjoy this side of eternity. Missionaries may find themselves struggling more with sin rather than less, but God delights to use missions to draw them closer, inviting them to relish the goodness and power of his gospel.

Paul assures us “that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6). God always finishes what he starts, and he cares about the sanctification of the missionary as well as the salvation of the unreached. And in God’s marvelous and wise providence, he chose to knit these two together so that even as a missionary seeks to evangelize, God works to sanctify the missionary and deliver him from indwelling sin.

Missionaries need the gospel too, and when they hear and respond with repentance and faith, they make Jesus look even greater and more glorious. They declare with the psalmist, “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73:26).

Paul could have commanded Philemon, with all the force of an apostle, to treat his runaway slave with love. So, why does Paul prefer to appeal to Philemon’s faith?

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If you were to name a book that profoundly shaped your life and ministry as a pastor, which would you choose? For me, one answer comes easily.

I first read God Is the Gospel soon after its release in 2005. At that point, I think I had read everything John Piper had written (and had been profoundly affected by Desiring God, When I Don’t Desire God, and Future Grace in particular). I lapped up the biographical addresses he delivered at the Pastors Conferences. But none of these matched the impact that God Is the Gospel had on my life and ministry.

One passage in particular (on page 56 of my well-thumbed and heavily marked copy) sums up the message that struck me so powerfully:

The ultimate good of the gospel is seeing and savoring the beauty and value of God. God’s wrath and our sin obstruct that vision and that pleasure. You can’t see and savor God as supremely satisfying while you are full of rebellion against him and he is full of wrath against you. The removal of this wrath and this rebellion is what the gospel is for. The ultimate aim of the gospel is the display of God’s glory and the removal of every obstacle to our seeing it and savoring it as our highest treasure. “Behold your God!” is the most gracious command and the best gift of the gospel. If we do not see him and savor him as our greatest fortune, we have not obeyed or believed the gospel.

Why did this book have such a far-reaching impact on me? There are at least three reasons.

My Main Job as a Preacher

First, the book clarified the goal of my preaching.

I had been a pastor for about eleven years when I read God Is the Gospel. We had just come through a challenging season. In hindsight, I realize I was exhausted and worn down. So, what now? In the pages of this book, the answer hit me like a freight train: My job is to invite people to “Behold your God” in and through the gospel.

It’s not that I wasn’t trying to do that before. But, like many preachers, my preaching lacked laser-like focus. I longed to exegete the text in all its richness so that people would be thrilled, equipped, and strengthened, but my target often seemed slightly fuzzy. Piper helped to sharpen that aim immeasurably.

Reading this book triggered a gradual but profound shift in my preparation. I still labored to understand and explain the text, but I poured more and more energy into thinking through the impact this text should have on the people in front of me and, in particular, how this sermon might help them to see and savor God in Christ more. More explicitly than ever, my goal became helping people to gasp at, glory in, bow before, delight in the Lord Jesus.

God Beyond the Means

God also used this book to recenter my own life.

I suspect I am not alone in tending toward the cerebral. Reading theology or musing over exegetical problems has always come more easily to me than engaging with God himself. God Is the Gospel provided me with a timely reminder of the fact that God gives us himself. When Piper (channeling Jonathan Edwards’s 1733 sermon “The Christian Pilgrim”) asked, “Would you be happy in heaven if God were not there?” he exposed a long-hidden deficiency in my thinking. He continues,

Propitiation, redemption, forgiveness, imputation, sanctification, liberation, healing, heaven — none of these is good except for one reason: they bring us to God for our everlasting enjoyment of him. . . . The gospel is not a way to get people to heaven; it is a way to get people to God. It’s a way of overcoming every obstacle to everlasting joy in God. If we don’t want God above all things, then we have not been converted by the gospel. (47)

I realized that in much of my thinking (as well as my preaching), I had been attempting to help people marvel at the means God uses, rather than pointing them to the end of all his activity: delighting in God himself as the “greatest treasure of my longing soul” (as the song “O Lord, My Rock and My Redeemer” puts it). For that alone I am deeply grateful.

Key Ministry Signature

Finally, God Is the Gospel may have even changed the key signature of my ministry.

I am aware of the danger of exaggerating the difference one book can make. It’s certainly not as if my life and ministry pre-2005 were bereft of the gospel or any hint of “sovereign joy,” and reading God Is the Gospel suddenly changed everything. That was not the case. But it would also be a mistake to underestimate the impact that this book had on me.

Looking back, I can see this was a season when something terribly important shifted. I had longed for people to come to God, and even to come to know God, for many years, but after reading this book, I yearned for people to come to delight in God through Christ. Because of this, the tone of my preaching and conversations began to change, as a dominant note of enjoying God — Father, Son, and Spirit — enhanced and enriched my proclamation of the gospel.

In addition, the insights summed up so beautifully in God Is the Gospel provided both a rich biblical framework and a vocabulary for ensuring that my ministry remains genuinely Trinitarian, as the sovereign initiative of the Father, the decisive intervention of the Son, and the intimate ministry of the Holy Spirit work together to enable us to glorify and enjoy God forever. This is no small thing.

In the providence of God, God Is the Gospel has had a significant, lasting impact on my life and ministry. I thank God for it with all my heart.

Why should believers live without fear? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper opens Romans 8:1–8 to show how the Spirit’s presence gives us courage.

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God’s children are set apart as saints, given the privilege of sharing in Christ’s moral beauty. Pastor John explains how God’s holiness draws us to him.

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How can finite sinners learn to delight in God? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper turns to John 17:26 to show how the Spirit is God’s own love given to us.

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