Is there anyone who knows you completely and still loves you? John Piper shows from John 2:23–25 that Christ sees every heart and gives covenant love to those who believe.

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True freedom means our desires align with God’s; we want what he wants. Pastor John answers three questions from Galatians about Christian liberty.

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In December 1914, a small ship set sail on a perilous voyage. The aim of the expedition? To be the first in history to make a land crossing of Antarctica. The leader, an Anglo-Irish explorer named Ernest Shackleton, had gathered a crew of 27 courageous men who were willing to risk all in the venture. Shackleton’s legendary advertisement captures the heart of the expedition:

Men wanted for hazardous journey. Low wages, bitter cold, long hours of complete darkness. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in event of success.

The advertisement is (most likely) a fable; the expedition and the spirit captured in the advertisement were not. Shackleton’s voyage ended in disaster, with the ship sunk and the crew battling for survival. All hands miraculously survived the failed attempt, but they came close to losing their lives in the venture.

They certainly did not succeed — at least, not in the way we normally think about success.

Catechesis of Comfort

In the contemporary Western imagination, the voyage of the Endurance and her crew makes little sense. Aside from the fact that anyone with an Internet connection can casually peruse the frozen continent from the comfort of the couch, warm coffee in hand, the prospect of risking life and limb in a venture that offers so little gain seems, well, uncompelling. The comforts of daily life, mixed with a strong dose of individualism, present a potent tonic against any such far-flung adventuring.

Furthermore, the risk-to-honor ratio does not compute. Rather than counting glory in trackless miles of ocean and ice, we mark reposts, likes, and followers. We would rather be social influencers than intrepid explorers. We bank on rapid returns and quick success, not on ventures whose return is marked “doubtful.” Taught to seek the quickest path to comfort, we eschew trails that appear treacherous.

Such patterns of thinking become apparent in increasingly prevalent trends such as delaying marriage or waiting to have children until careers and finances are well-established. It is simply too risky to get married young or to welcome a beautiful little money-pit into the world. The trend also showed up recently in a friend’s third-grade classroom, in which the vast majority of students aspired to be not doctors, police officers, teachers, athletes, or other such expected professions — pursuits that require many years of difficult, devoted effort — but YouTubers. The same tendency manifests in more personal decisions too. For example, I sometimes fight the temptation to stall or ignore hard (and usually necessary) conversations to preserve at least the semblance of tranquility.

These cultural patterns that make the deck of the Endurance feel so foreign also put us out of touch with Scripture. When we look at what our Lord calls his people to, we see that the call to life in the kingdom of God bears a striking resemblance to Shackleton’s fabled advertisement, for included in the promise of honor and inheritance is a stark warning: “Safe return doubtful.” We are called simultaneously to expect final victory even while we expect our own death, for embracing the summons of the King entails picking up a cross (Luke 9:23–24), a biblical call that clashes sharply with our cultural catechism.

One particular passage of Scripture leads us deep into this dissonance.

‘Lest You Die in the Battle’

In Deuteronomy 20, we see Israel march to battle under the banner of the Lord of hosts. Even if outnumbered, Israel was to go with confidence into the battle, “for the Lord your God is he who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory” (Deuteronomy 20:4). What greater encouragement could there be than to march under the banner of the One who smashed the power of Egypt, blotted out Amalek, and crushed the armies of Sihon and Og, the kings of the Amorites?

Yes, Israel went to war under the banner of the Almighty. God himself promised he would fight for them and give them victory. The outcome of Israel’s battles, resting in his hands, was secure.

Individual lives were not.

The same passage that boldly declares both battle and victory belong to God, and which therefore commands the people of God four separate times not to fear, also, with provocative symmetry, allows four different groups of men to turn back from the line of battle, warning them that death on the field is a real possibility (Deuteronomy 20:3, 5–8). The subtext under the promise “the battle belongs to the Lord” is “safe return doubtful.” For those soldiers who marched to battle, getting back home was not guaranteed.

At this, our individualistic, success-centered sensitivities flare up. “Hold on,” we object. “I thought we fought under the Lord’s banner. Isn’t victory assured?” The answer is yes. “But my death is a possibility?” The answer is, again, yes.

Individual Survival

If we feel dissonance here, it’s likely because we tend to conflate victory with gaining our share of the spoils; we are prone to misunderstand what victory under the banner of the Almighty might mean for those called to fight in his service. Beneath our comfortable lives and individualistic thinking lies an unnamed subtext. Seen in its more obvious forms (like the unbiblical teaching of the prosperity gospel or the fake lives of the rich and famous displayed in “reality” television), we recognize the evil and rightly reject it. But it’s harder to hear the whisper in our everyday lives, that insidious message running beneath much of what we have come to expect in life: “Safe return assured.”

Once again, Israel’s warfare opposes the whisper.

God’s instructions for Israel’s warfare form part of his broader commands concerning the promised land. Throughout Deuteronomy, the Lord repeatedly describes the land as an inheritance given by God to the people of Israel (Deuteronomy 12:10; 19:14; 26:1). Conquering the land was for the good of the whole nation, so that the people might be established in a country free of pagan enemies who would lead them astray from the living God. Individual battles aimed, not at the gain of individuals (as Achan and his family discovered), but at the furthering of God’s purposes for Israel as a nation. The loss of life in battle did not mean the battle was lost, not even for those fallen men. Their shed blood played a crucial part in the greater victory achieved by the Lord. In other words, God did not define success primarily in terms of individual lives saved.

Thinking in such terms is foreign to those raised in the context of Western individualism and the empty promises of flourishing as defined by the world. First, we don’t naturally envision ourselves as a part of a whole. Instead, we tend to think about how “the whole” can serve us. Second, joining a venture whose outcome might not include our safe return is out of the question. If “survival” is doubtful, we politely excuse ourselves from the planning table. Yet it is precisely to such self-denying, community-oriented ventures that God called the armies of Israel.

Costly Discipleship

Christians today do not belong to the physical nation of ancient Israel. And many will never serve in armed forces of any kind. So, what could God’s rules for warfare against idolatrous and wicked nations possibly have to do with us?

It can be easy to slip into thinking about our lives as disciples of Christ in self-oriented terms. We see such patterns of thinking in, for example, discipleship programs and books that emphasize becoming a “better you.” They show themselves in Christians who repeatedly move from church to church, never quite finding the one that best suits their needs. They get voiced in prayer lists that center on personal ambitions. The emphasis on a sure “gain of the spoils” distracts us from considering our place on the battle line.

Recognizing these patterns of thought can prove especially difficult for young believers just entering the workforce. So-called “liberal” education orients graduates toward technical proficiency and career advancement. Rather than fostering a love for the good and a desire to cultivate virtue, the pursuit of which requires the intentional sacrifice of personal comfort and ease, students are often trained to think of themselves in mercenary terms, willing to lay down life and limb, perhaps, but only if the price is right. In the mad scramble to jump-start careers, every aspect of life gets drawn into an orbit whose gravitational center is the success and safety of the individual.

The call to life in the kingdom decenters the self and reorients priorities. No longer is the battle about our own self-oriented gain. We do not ask for God to establish our kingdom but his (Matthew 6:10). No longer is life about achieving personal glory — rather, “Yours, O Lord, is the glory forever and ever.” This does not mean that we lose everything; in fact, in losing ourselves, we obtain the greatest treasure of knowing Christ himself (Philippians 3:8). And as coheirs with Christ, his eternal glory will be ours. In fact, the great apostolic assertion is that death in this life results in gain (Philippians 1:21). Joining the ranks of those who follow Christ means that we belong to Someone Else. And it means that we live to serve his purposes. “You are not your own” (1 Corinthians 6:19).

Nothing could be more un-American! But, like the armies of Israel, this is the path Scripture directs us to follow. Living as a disciple of Christ means heeding the call to be a part of something much greater than any individual believer. It is a call to join the joyful and costly advance of the kingdom of God. That may mean thirty years of faithful, laborious pastoring in a small church. It may mean decades of unrecognized service among an unreached people, seeing little immediate fruit. You could be sent by the Lord to teach in a local school, or move far from family, or adopt a child with special needs, or invite the unlovely into your home, or give your vacation money to the church, or put a long-held dream to death.

The call to happy service is a call to lay down your life in order that you might gain it, to surrender self-assured victory, and to spend your allotted days as an offering to the King.

‘Safe Return Doubtful’

For this life, the subtext of the Christian adventure is “Safe return doubtful.” In that regard, we are very much like Shackleton’s mariners. Mercifully, they survived, though not without many scars. Whatever honor or recognition they received on their return was slight, hardly noticed by an England in the thick of war. The life of kingdom citizens will often reflect their failed expedition, at least when measured by the values of contemporary Western society.

Perhaps surprisingly, even these men did eventually achieve some glory. Though they may not have enjoyed it in their own lifetimes, because of their connection to the name of Shackleton and the Endurance they continue to be remembered and respected by a few.

Christians look for a far greater reward. Unlike Shackleton’s “famous” mariners, our lives are not tied to a small schooner and the plans, or name, of a finite man. We belong rather to the final kingdom, one that cannot be shaken. Our lives are in the hands of the King of kings, whose victory is assured. He promises that those who lose their lives in his service will be welcomed by him as heirs of the kingdom prepared for them before the foundation of the world.

Our lives as Christ’s disciples are tied up with much greater concerns than personal survival and success. As his people, our safe “return” may be doubtful. What we gain is worth far more than every loss. May we gladly give our lives for his glory.

To his friends, George Müller embodied Psalm 23 even under the towering burdens of orphan ministry. What kind of communion with God made such peace possible?

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My mom’s daily delight was observing wildlife from her porch overlooking our country pond. One spring morning, she watched six fluffy ducklings trail their mother across the water. Gripping her coffee mug, she stared in disbelief as the sixth duckling at the row’s end suddenly vanished underwater, leaving only ripples. Moments later, as the mama duck and her entourage paddled obliviously onward, the smallest splash occurred near the end of the line, and the fifth baby duck disappeared. The predators of the pond, giant snapping turtles, had snatched and stolen those ducklings.

Christian families worldwide face the sorrow of dear prodigals being pulled off the path of righteousness. The enemy of our souls comes to steal, kill, and destroy. He comes at night and, yes, like those snapping turtles, sometimes in broad daylight. Our enemy isn’t flesh and blood, but rather Satan and spiritual forces of evil who prowl around, seeking someone to devour (Ephesians 6:12; 1 Peter 5:8).

Our precious ones may be captured right now. Our beloved may be wandering, willfully resisting Jesus. But unlike those drowned ducklings, hope remains for our ensnared and wayward kids. So how can parents care for prodigals and help guide them back to Christ?

Intercede in Prayer

Fight on your knees for your children. It’s gut-wrenching when someone we love, someone we’ve tended to and invested in for decades, strays from Christ. Some days will bring you to your knees. Stay there. The one who can recover what’s been stolen meets us on the floor.

Pray over every good thing God knit into your beloved: the seeds of faith, the kindness, the curiosity, the playfulness, the artistic talent. You know the list because you watched it develop and helped it unfold. God, who gave all of those gifts, can consecrate them afresh to Christ. Ask him to nurture every evidence of grace you can recall.

Pray Isaiah 43:12–13 when fear wakes you at 3:00am and whispers that your wanderer is beyond reach:

I am God. . . .
I am he;
     there is none who can deliver from my hand;
     I work, and who can turn it back?

From eternity to eternity, God is God. No one can wander beyond his reach. In dark hours, pray that your children would return to the Father’s keeping (John 17:11) and have a faith that doesn’t fail (Luke 22:32).

Pray according to who God tells us he is: compassionate and merciful, slow to anger, filled with unfailing love and faithfulness. Though he does not excuse the guilty, he forgives iniquity, rebellion, and sin (Exodus 34:6–7). Thank God that he is a relentless mercy-giver, and trust him to go where you cannot.

Extend Kindness with Truth

Be kind without compromise. “Above all, keep loving one another earnestly,” Peter tells us (1 Peter 4:8). If God’s kindness is meant to lead us to repentance (Romans 2:4), then our earnest love, extended through his strength, can become a path toward reconciliation and restoration. Serve your wanderer in creative, thoughtful ways, and say yes to requests whenever you can.

In our society, “affirmation” has been hijacked to mean validating someone’s feelings and choices, whatever they may be. Biblical affirmation is far richer: declaring God’s truth over others, calling out the good he has placed in them, and reminding them of gospel hope. One centers on the self; the other centers on the Savior. Look for evidence of God’s work in your wanderer, and find ways to say, “Well done!” often.

Extending kindness includes a caveat: We are to offer it without compromising truth. The apostle Paul says love “does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth” (1 Corinthians 13:6). If we compromise the truth of God’s word to keep the peace, we turn off the very porch light we pray will draw our wayward ones home.

Hope in God’s Sovereign Work

When you become weary, when you struggle to keep fear at bay and maintain quietness of soul, perhaps it’s time to rest under that same porch light.

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
     and in his word I hope. . . .
O Israel, hope in the Lord!
     For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
     and with him is plentiful redemption.

God’s willing, plentiful redemption frees us from despair to hope in his character (Psalm 130:5, 7).

Jesus has all power over physically and spiritually dead people. I am deeply comforted by Martha’s faith as she modeled resting in hope even after she prepared her brother’s body for burial. When Jesus arrived, Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Martha cried out in faith, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” She had still greater faith to continue, “But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you” (John 11:21–22).

On my daily prayer calendar, a yellow Post-it keeps my place. Every morning when I move it to the next day, I read the soul-steadying words written in permanent black marker: “Even Now.” I am emboldened by the faith of the woman who taught me to pray these two words. The same Jesus who called Lazarus out of a physical tomb can call your wayward child out of a spiritual one. No matter how far your wanderer has gone or how long he has been gone, even now Jesus is able to bring this precious one home.

Jesus defeated death. He walked out of his own tomb — which means no tomb, physical or spiritual, need have the final word. “According to his great mercy, [God causes] us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3).

Spiritually dead wanderers, prodigal sons, lost daughters, snatched children are not beyond his reach. Though our treasured ones have been captured by the devil’s snare to do his will, “God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth,” and they may escape (2 Timothy 2:25–26). Not all who wander are lost forever. By the mercy of God, even now, may your wanderer return home.

Paul wanted Philemon to welcome Onesimus back — but did it matter how? Paul’s radical reasoning has big implications for Onesimus’s status as a slave.

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Where do you go now to meet with God? John Piper opens John 2:12–22 to show that Jesus replaces the temple as the living meeting place with God.

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John Piper once wrote,

If our single, all-embracing passion is to make much of Christ in life and death, and if the life that magnifies him most is the life of costly love, then life is risk, and risk is right. To run from it is to waste your life. (Risk Is Right, 17)

I agree. I don’t want to waste my life; I want to run toward costly love, even if that means facing risk. I want the same thing for you. For some of us, costly love may require the right risk of cross-cultural church planting. For some, it may require the right risk of moving to an uncomfortable city or neighborhood.

And for some, costly love may require the right risk of pursuing a godly spouse.

He who finds a good wife has gotten a gift, a hearty smile from the King (Proverbs 18:22). A godly spouse is a wise investment, and children are the great return (Proverbs 31:10; Psalm 127:3). But from the garden onward, the foundation of marriage has been costly love.

Eve’s very genesis reveals this profound truth about the husband-wife relationship: It required from Adam a rib. Before sin ever entered the world, Adam had to enter sleep (a “death” of sorts), sacrificing part of his own body so that his wife could live. The name “Eve” denotes “life” in Hebrew, so it is not a stretch to say that life itself springs from costly love.

Man could not fulfill his glorious task of representing God’s rule through multiplication and dominion any other way. The fall and curse underlined this reality, but they did not cause it. It was sown into the fabric of man’s genesis. The first picture of Christ and his church included a price point and a stitched-up side. The mother of all living herself sprang from costly love; should we not expect something similar for her daughters? There is indeed a risk inherent to the realm of romance, but that risk is right.

Realm of Many Risks

The first challenge for many today is not how to pursue marriage but whether to pursue it at all.

Why? Well, some people are cynical. The marital institution has been corrupted over time. Others see marriage as implausible — not in this economy! But I suspect fear paralyzes the majority.

Modernity catechizes young ladies to pursue the gender-neutral path to “success” that lands them squarely in the 9-to-5, laboring for a corporation (rather than a household), submitting to a CEO (rather than a husband), and filling a checking account and 401k (rather than a womb). In short, they are being told to invest in a career rather than a spouse.

Many young ladies buy into this not because they despise the male sex but out of fear. What if she never finds “the one”? What if her fairy tale is written backward, and her “prince” turns out to be a toad? Even if she does find her prince, it’s a two-income society. So she works more and more, and she looks less and less, and she fears.

I know more than a few ladies who did not chart this course intentionally. They never outright dismissed the opposite sex. Some of them simply followed the career path suggested by their parents. Many of them are trying to be productive and make the best use of their time; they have bills to pay, skills to use, and talents to honor their Lord with. Many would say they still want to get married. But even if fear did not put them there, it may keep them. The longer you build a life and future as a single person, the harder it may be to imagine anything different — and the more it may feel like a risk to pursue a marriage that could change everything, though you yearn for companionship and family.

The guys have their own fears to deal with. The “Chads” love to quote the Stoics as they pour their soul into bodybuilding, but many of them are Epicurean when it comes to romance. Epicurus and the “incel” (involuntary celibate) share a striking similarity in their outlook: The “good life” is defined by maximally avoiding pain. So don’t even try to get the girl. Have you seen the divorce statistics? Have you seen the double standards and unrealistic expectations? No thanks. I’ll stick to my friends and my hobbies.

But just like with the ladies, most young, single men have not dismissed the institution or ideal. Many just fear the risk. Risk of rejection. Risk of wasting their time. Risk of the unfamiliar. Even the white knights are afraid of risk: What if he hurts her? What if he makes a mistake? What if he ruins the good friendship they have? What if he’s not ready — financially, spiritually, emotionally? And of course, our society incentivizes prolonged adolescence with Netflix, video games, and sports.

If I may point at extremities to make my point: Young women cope with their fear of risk by pursuing a career path that looks strangely like what used to be a man’s idea of success. And young men avoid the risk by black-pilling (deciding the game is rigged and the future is hopeless) and withdrawing altogether.

Risk Is Still Right

Here is the truth. Marriage is still good — and still part of God’s plan for filling the world with people who represent his rule. The Great Commission has not superseded or nullified the Cultural Mandate; they are compatible. Complementary, even.

Is it risky to bear fruit, multiply, and take dominion? Yes. A rib is the price of entry. And that was before the thorns. It will cost you far more, especially if you “win.” It will require death to self every day. You will risk embarrassment, failure, exposed sin, the needs of others, ingratitude, and, if you are abundantly successful, sleepless nights and dirty diapers. It will cost you. But cost is not always curse; sometimes cost is the point.

Remember David’s final words in 2 Samuel. Araunah offered to give him a threshing floor and oxen so David could make a sacrifice that would save the nation. “No, but I will buy it from you for a price. I will not offer burnt offerings to the Lord my God that cost me nothing” (2 Samuel 24:24). David knew the cost gave his action meaning. Life is not about avoiding pain. Life is about pain that purchases something worthwhile. Life is costly because love is costly. That’s not the curse. That’s part of what makes it good.

Not Riskless, Not Reckless

By all means, think about the right risk of devoting your life to singleness, so you can be single-mindedly devoted to the things of the Lord (1 Corinthians 7:32–34). Consider that a genuine option. But if it’s in your heart to get married, take a different risk that’s also right: the risk of pursuing a godly spouse.

If you are an unmarried woman, read the book of Ruth. Take note: It is not unspiritual to have a strategy for getting a spouse. Sometimes, we assume that if we just do all the spiritual stuff — read the Bible, pray, attend church, serve — God will drop off a husband on our front porch. But that’s like a married couple waiting on their front porch for babies by stork. I write to you what I would say to them: Friends, there is in fact something you can do about this!

It is okay to have a strategy, a game plan — in fact, it may prove necessary. You might need to change your schedule, rearrange weekly commitments, and ask married couples in your church for help. Ruth and Naomi were a couple of schemers. Boaz did not stand a chance because they had a thoughtful strategy that the Lord blessed.

Unmarried men, you too can plan. A good life is not riskless, but it is also not reckless. My encouragement is advice well-worn: Do not, first and foremost, focus on getting a girl; instead, focus on building the kind of life a woman would want to join you in. Are you the kind of godly man a godly woman would want to marry? Read Psalms 127 and 128. See what a great blessing a wife and a family are. See the connection between building a household and keeping a civilization. See the connections between family and fulfillment, between lineage and legacy. See how truly good it is. Desire it. Aspire to it. Pursue it. Let the mature married couples in your church know you’re on the hunt for a godly woman. Ask for their input.

And when wise counsel agrees you’re in a good and godly state to date, go for it. Ask her out. Do not make her make the first move. Don’t belittle her if she does — but take the lead from there. Seek wise counsel about how to date well. Maybe do some light reading.

Do you want a pain-free life? Save yourself from the pain of loneliness and irrelevance that will inevitably come from a youth squandered on isolation and entertainment. Do you want to avoid risk? Avoid the risk of wasting your life on self-serving comfort. Embrace the risk of laying yourself down for the sake of costly love. Life is love, and love is costly, so life is risky.

And that means, in the realm of romance, that risk is right.

What do we mean when we say God is sovereign? Pastor John traces God’s sovereignty throughout the Bible and draws out two big, soul-steadying truths.

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What was Jesus revealing when he turned water into wine? John Piper opens John 2:1–11 to show the Son’s glory in pointing from ritual cleansing to his coming hour.

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