Note: What follows is adapted from a message originally delivered to the Chapel Downtown in Winchendon, MA on August 13, 2022. This post is written from the outline of that message and may not be exactly what was said in person.

My dad has, a few times, told me a story from when I was a kid, no older than 4. I was apparently laying on the floor watching Looney Tunes while he was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper, when something about watching Wile E. Coyote fail again to catch Road Runner stood out to me.

"Dad," I asked, turning to him, "if the coyote can buy all this stuff from Acme, why doesn't he just buy food?"

Now, as my dad tells it, he'd never thought about that before, and wasn't sure what to tell me. So he simply replied, "I don't think you're supposed to think about that." I accepted that answer and went back to watching the cartoon with no further objections.

Dad usually tells that story to highlight the way that I've always thought about the world in a different way than he does, but I want to highlight something else. Because in that moment, that word from my dad was all I needed. All of my concerns, about plot holes and the show's structure and whatever limited understanding I had of money at that time, were completely overshadowed by the trust I had in my dad and his explanation of the experience I was supposed to be having. This isn't a strictly personal thing; it's personal to each of us, of course, but it's fairly universal that kids tend to trust their parents simply because of who their parents are in relation to them, unless and until they are given sufficient reason not to. The default state of kids toward their parents is trust.

Jesus calls His followers to absolute trust in the Father; to the point that even our absolute necessities have no power to weigh us down. Now, there are two primary ways I've seen this passage put into practice. First, by taking it as a means of condemning anxiety as a whole. This approach treats worry as a sin and emphasizes what is treated as a command in verse 34, "do not worry." The second seeks to comfort those worrying about things, by focusing on the promises of provision and the comparisons to birds and grasses and, through this, treating the passage as fundamentally a reminder that God will provide.

I submit that both approaches miss the point precisely because they call for a self-focused application. That Jesus was not, in fact, calling His people to look at their worries and handle them in a specific way at all. Consider the statements that bookend this passage and give it definition:

The "for this reason" at the beginning is calling back to the previous statement, in which Jesus told His disciples to serve God and that they cannot serve worldly concerns and wealth in the process. That is, that statement, and indeed this whole section, is an expansion on what Jesus means when He tells the disciples to focus on God in all things. In both verses 25 and 33, Jesus is emphasizing the need to look beyond our worries to see the Father working in our lives. So this passage isn't concerned with how we look at our worries at all! it's concerned with the need to stop focusing on our worries and turn our gaze to God. And to explore that, I actually want to set this passage aside for now and look at the example of Thomas.

I've always liked Thomas. I felt he got a bad rap when all we focus on is his doubts about the resurrection, especially given that he voiced (what I believe to be) reasonable concerns. Unfortunately, the Bible doesn't say a whole lot more about him than that story. In the Synoptic gospels, he's only ever mentioned as one name in lists of the disciples. He doesn't really come up directly in Acts. But in John, we get four stories in which he's specifically brought up. The last, in John's final chapter, lists him as one of the few disciples fishing with Peter and John when Jesus cooks them breakfast. But the first three all give Thomas the chance to speak; and it's what he says, and how Jesus responds to him, that I want to dwell on here.
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John 10 ends with an account of Jesus narrowly avoiding death at the hands of the Pharisees on charges of blasphemy. It's the kind of encounter that would make most people lay low for a while, and sure enough, Jesus and the disciples leave Judea entirely. But they're not laying very low; chapter 11 finds them performing public ministry at the Jordan River and receiving word that a close friend, Lazarus, is sick. So Jesus assures the disciples this is all part of the plan, stays two days, then calls on them to head back to Judea with Him. The disciples, reasonably, point out that Jesus is talking about just walking right back into a place filled with people who want to kill Him. There's some confused discussion until Jesus outright tells them that Lazarus is dead and He has work to do, and then comes verse 16.

Now, this seems pretty worst-case-scenario thinking. Thomas seems to fully believe they're walking straight to the gallows, and he's not the only one with concerns (see verse 8). But he is the one who puts to words that this threat is not, in the end, his ultimate concern. He's expressing a concern, and may very well have worries about that concern, but it isn't his focus. His eyes are on Christ; and if Christ is leading him to the slaughter, then he's just going to walk right into the slaughter. And Jesus doesn't address that. We have no indication in scripture that Jesus told Thomas or the others that it wasn't quite time for His death. We have no records of Him assuring Thomas or the others that when He does die, they won't die beside Him. We have nothing to suggest that the danger they perceived was softened in any way. What we have is this statement that shows Thomas had his eyes fixed on Christ rather than the danger ahead, and that the disciples (including Thomas) walked with Jesus right back into Judea.
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John 14 is part of the Upper Room discourse, in which Jesus talks to His disciples during and after the Last Supper, leaving them final instructions, clarifying issues He wants them to understand, and looking forward to the path ahead of Him and them. Jesus has, by this point, told the disciples that one of them would betray Him, watched Judas leave into the night, told them to love one another, and prophesied Peter's denial of Him. Chapter 14 opens with Jesus assuring the disciples that they don't need to be troubled, for Jesus was going ahead and they knew the way to follow. To which "Thomas said to Him, 'Lord, we do not know where You are going, how do we know the way?'" which leads to Jesus' famous reply that He is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:5, NASB).

Verse six, which we repeatedly cite and point to as it applies to our understanding of salvation, was originally stated as a response to Thomas asking for clarity about the way forward. Jesus responds to Thomas' concern with Himself. "Look to Me. See who I am, see where I go. Look to Me, Thomas!" The statement that Christ is "the way, the truth, and the life" isn't just a statement on the nature of salvation; it is a call to seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.
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As mentioned in the introduction, the most famous story of Thomas happens in John chapter 20. Jesus was resurrected in the morning of the third day after His death, and that evening, He shows up where the disciples are hiding. Jesus greets them, but before He continues the conversation, He does something I've too often overlooked. "And when He had said this, He showed them both His hands and His side," that is, Jesus provided the evidence for them that He was really the Jesus they saw crucified, now risen from the dead, before saying anything else to them (​John 20:20a NASB).

We don't know where Thomas was at this point, and we aren't even told he was absent until verse 24. But he was absent, and he returns to the other disciples to hear a fantastic account of their teacher and friend risen from the grave. This is an incredible claim! And while the Bible does later highlight the faith of those who did not see the risen Christ with our own eyes, at this point, Thomas is not only being told that Jesus is alive again but that He provided evidence to the other disciples while Thomas was away. And what does Thomas ask for? He gives his terms as "unless I see in His hands the imprint of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe" (John 20:25b, NASB). Thomas asks for the same evidence the other disciples received, with the addition that he would like to verify the wounds are real.

He has his chance eight days later. Eight days, and despite having nothing more to go on than the claims of the other disciples, Thomas is still there. He hasn't left them, he hasn't returned to his life; unlike the other disciples, Thomas doesn't know for a fact that Christ is risen, and he's still there. And then Jesus shows up, offers the same greeting, and turns to Thomas. In this moment, unique among all the other interactions recorded, He answers Thomas' concern with concrete evidence. He offers His hands and side to Thomas' scrutiny, and Thomas doesn't even take Him up on it. Seeing the risen Christ stand before him, hearing the voice of his friend and teacher, is enough for him. Thomas has, this whole time, been looking to Christ enough that he can recognize his Lord when faced with the wildest claim he's ever heard. He needs only to set his eyes on Christ once more to know everything he needs to know about the dangers and fear and doubts of the last week and a half.

Every time Thomas wants to focus on the negative, every time Thomas doesn't see the way forward, every time Thomas is confronted with frightening or confusing information, he's offered Christ. Never platitudes, not even encouragements; always the person of Christ. Never more, and certainly never less. Which brings us back to Matthew 6. Jesus is not telling us to put on a brave face, to force the worries down, to power through or suck it up or anything of that sort. He isn't focused on comparing us to birds and grass. Jesus is, in Matthew 6:25-33, telling us to look beyond our circumstances to see Him. He's there, He's for us, and He knows what we need. We can bring our concerns to Him and trust that He not only can, but will, meet them. He's turning our attention away from our worries, even away from what we can do about our worries, to fix our eyes on Him. It's the 'who' in those examples that matter. Who feeds the birds? Who clothes the grass? Who lays out the length of your life? In answering these questions, we are turning our eyes to Him.

This passage is not, fundamentally, about what we can or can't do. It's about who He is. It's a reminder of who God is and what He does. It's an encouragement to behold our God, to see the truth of His hand working in our circumstances. So don't take this passage as a demand to try and make yourself act like you aren't anxious. It isn't a condemnation calling you sinful for having worries. It isn't a platitude trying to convince you that everything will work out. It's a reminder of who God is, who He is to you, who you are to Him. It's a call to look to Him in all we do, to rest in the knowledge of who He is, and step forward in faith. Even when we're anxious, even when we're afraid, even when we don't have the answers. We go where He goes, we do what He has called us to do, and we do it all looking to Him for our strength and comfort.

A couple weeks before I first preached this passage, a young man was in attendance at our house church gathering after Sunday morning service who had written a song about Psalm 88 (below). This is a psalm of lament, and if I recall correctly, the only one that neither opens nor closes with a declaration of hope. But God put it in scripture anyway. Why? As he discussed why the psalm stood out to him, he noted that there was hope in the psalm; not in the words the psalmist wrote, but in the very fact that he was writing it. That is, the hope in the passage is inherent in the fact that, rather than bottling it up or pretending to be okay, the psalmist is crying out to God.

That's what all this is about. It's all about going to Him. When God is calling us in a direction we fear, we look to Him. When we don't know what God is doing or where He's going, we look to Him. When we feel that God doesn't hear us, that we're being left out, that we aren't enjoying the blessings He has promised, we look to Him. Just like Thomas, just like the psalmist. And in looking to Him, we will find our rest.

I don't remember what my experience of Pentecost is for most years. Between church planting activities and moving fairly often for my entire adult life, sometimes I'm in a church that acknowledges it and sometimes I'm not. But Pentecost 2015 stands out in my memory, because I distinctly remember it being the same weekend as Memorial Day. I had, at that point, only really considered myself to hold a view called Christian Nonviolence for a matter of months, so it was still a fairly raw concept in my head. The process had been going on for some time; I grew up in an environment steeped in Just War Theory, and had taken to heart that a just government could take lives if they did so in a just manner and for a just cause. But as I grew older and examined the question more carefully, I found myself in a sort of limbo space, in which I believed that the claims of Just War Theory were correct (that is, a just government could indeed kill people in a just manner for a just cause), but I also believed it was a practical impossibility as there were no truly just governments. This put me in a position where I conceptually believed in justified killing, but had to oppose it in every practical application. Really, by the time I read a case for Christian Nonviolence, I was primed to receive that case, if only to ease this tension. I found, however, that it did much more good for me than that.

And as I was considering what this view was all about and how it applied to the world today, I found myself sitting in a church service where we were splitting time between honoring the work of God in sending His people to reconcile His enemies to Himself, and honoring those Americans we send to kill the enemies of our nation. It seemed to me that we couldn't view both as equally valid pursuits. If we truly believe we are in the business of calling the enemies of God to restoration, how can we believe it a suitable exercise to also celebrate robbing people of their chance at restoration for something so minor as opposing a mortal nation? The problem in trying to frame this question, I've since found, is that there's a lack of understanding for what Christian Nonviolence actually is and how these things relate to one another.

I was sitting in my brother's office while he finished writing that week's sermon when he asked me to explain this nonviolence thing I was on about. He wanted to know how I could justify pacifism when the Bible clearly includes God carrying out violence and calling His people to do the same. It can't possibly be a sin if God does it, right? And if I'm saying it's wrong, it must be a sin?

"I'm not a pacifist," I said, for the first time. It has since become something of a refrain in my life, as I mostly circulate in spaces where I find myself needing to explain the concept fairly often. I told him that I don't believe killing is a sin, necessarily, just that we aren't allowed to do it. I define the difference as this:

Pacifism is the belief that violence, or at least violence against people, is inherently evil. The reasoning may vary on this. Perhaps it comes from a belief that all life is sacred, or the belief that humans are the highest known moral beings and therefore acts against us are naturally evil, or the inalienable right to life. Maybe it stems from an idea that violence against an image-bearer of God is in some way violence against God. Whatever the reasoning, the basic idea is that violence is evil simply because it is violent. That there is no acceptable or redeemable use for violence.

Christian Nonviolence is the belief that Christians, specifically, are not given license to endorse or participate in the taking of human lives for any reason. That is, it isn't a question of sin, but a question of mission. As Christians, we are tasked with serving in the mission of reconciliation, and we know that no one gets a chance at reconciliation after death. To look at someone you know or suspect is going to Hell, and then send them to the final judgement or encourage someone else to do so, is fundamentally opposed to the mission of offering salvation to them.

​As my brother showed, raising a Biblical argument against pacifism is relatively easy. Results may vary, but you don't have to read far into the Bible to find something that seems to contradict it. I submit that Christian Nonviolence is not so easily dismissed; but I must admit there are some basic ideas that need to be understood to see why.

1. Christians have no rights
​​Let's get this one out of the way first: when you submit to Christ, you give Him everything. Christ will not have half measures. It is one thing to recognize that we lay down our lives, our careers, our loved ones, our idols, and all kinds of other things at the foot of the cross; it is quite another to accept that we may not get some of them back. Christ is under no obligation to give us any of the rights our government promises. He is going to put us on the mission He has for us, and will give us everything we need to accomplish it. We can expect no less than that; but we can also ask no more than that.

Jesus calls us to extraordinary humility. It is not enough to give over what is demanded of us, but we must give over even that which no one has any right to take. Our rights to strike back, to build our identity on things like ethnicity or sexuality, to keep some minimum of worldly possessions, or to give only that labor which is required of us are all thrown out the window. We lay all that we are and all that we have at the feet of Jesus, and that includes any notions about who we ought to be and what we ought to have.

The fact is, Jefferson was wrong to claim that life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are God-given rights. It is, of course, good for a government to behave on the understanding that they cannot strip these things from any person or meaningfully hinder them (though few, if any, actually do operate in that way; the United States certainly doesn't), and our call to defend the widow and the orphan (that is, the defenseless, which includes sets of people now that it may not have included at the time) certainly means that we demand a high standard of treatment on their behalf, but from a theological standpoint the claim for ourselves is nonsense. There are only two rights for humans spelled out in scripture as coming by the declaration of God. First, all mankind is born into sin and has only the right to die under the weight of that sin. Second, that "as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God" (John 1:12-13, NASB), and this latter right supersedes the former. If we understand that everything else, including our earthly lives, is a gift rather than an entitlement, we would be far more prepared to experience joy in our trials and sacrifices than we now are.

2. Christians have a Kingdom mindset
Now, there is some dispute about the nature of the Kingdom of God and whether or not it is present on the Earth today. I have a post in the drafts that argues that it is initiated on the Earth and that Christians are already part of it, and I will not attempt to fully recreate that argument here. The shortest possible way to make that argument is that, as baptism and communion and marriage are material images meant to showcase a deeper and current but not-yet-complete reality, so the church is a material image meant to showcase the deeper and current but not-yet-complete reality of the Kingdom. Just as those other images point to something that is already in place and will be fully realized later, the Kingdom is already in place and will be fully realized later. As we enjoy and live out the truth of salvation now while recognizing that the full benefits of salvation are pending, so we enjoy and live out the truth of the Kingdom now while recognizing that the full benefits of the Kingdom are pending. It is necessary to our present topic, however, to say something of what it means to claim that we are already citizens of that Kingdom.

The belief that we are already citizens of the Kingdom in some way requires the belief that we are to act like citizens of the Kingdom. We are beholden to the dictates of that realm first; no offense against any other body demands more of our wrath than an offense against the Kingdom, and no ideology of this Earth can be elevated over the ideology of the Kingdom. As described by Christ, the Kingdom's issues are not fundamentally resolved through Earthly combat, but through the redemptive work of Christ, who submitted Himself even to death on a cross. This is reflected in the Southern Baptist Convention's doctrinal statement, which includes:

Note that the idea that the true solution to war is the conversion of all men to the way of Christ, and praying for that result, comes after the statement of taking action. Those who seek to follow the teachings and example of Christ, and desire to see the world do the same, are here recognized as not having the freedom to sit back and say "well, this won't end until hearts are saved," nor are we described as having the freedom to toss up some prayers for a better future and then go about our day.

We must have a practical involvement in the establishing of peace, and we cannot do that while endorsing or engaging in violence against our fellow man. We cannot live out the life of the Kingdom, whether you believe it already exists or not, without working to make that life a reality, and we absolutely cannot live out the life of the Kingdom while celebrating its exact opposite. The life we now live, in light of our new citizenship in Christ, requires laying down our weapons and being more willing to die than to kill.

3. Christians have a mission focus
I mentioned above that this is a mission issue, and that is really the core of the whole thing. The fact is, we as Christians are called to put the mission of Christ above all other pursuits, even at the cost of our lives. Nothing, no practical consideration, no rights, no threat, no ideal, nothing holds higher sway over our decisions than the mission to which we have been called. This mission is to live out the way of Christ in such a way that we invite others into a saving knowledge of and relationship with Him and together grow ever more as His disciples. As bearers of this mission, we cannot kill any human; we cannot kill those apart from Christ because doing so actively prevents us from calling them to Christ, and we cannot kill those in Christ out of love for His body. No one on this Earth falls beyond these two camps, and both can, in the name of our mission, expect to be safe from the grave in our dealings with them, even when they mean us, or our loved ones, or our nations, harm.

A few objections tend to arise at this point that warrant consideration.

1. Do you honestly believe Christians cannot defend ourselves?
Christian, your life is forfeit. Even so, there are ways to defend yourself that do not involve taking the life of another. If, however, such options fail, then no. If we absolutely must choose whether we die or we kill, then in the name of Christ, we die.

2. Do you honestly believe Christians should not defend others?
I believe Christians should do everything in their power to remove others from danger, provided they do not take any lives in the process.

3. Didn't Christ tell His disciples to take up swords?
No. Luke 22:36 reads in the NASB, "And He said to them, 'But now, whoever has a money belt is to take it along, likewise also a bag, and whoever has no sword is to sell his coat and buy one," and this is sometimes used as justification for Christians to arm ourselves. After all, Christ literally did say to sell your coat to buy a sword, didn't He? Well, no. Not to the disciples, anyway. Look more carefully at that first part of the verse. "But now, whoever has a money belt...likewise a bag" is a very strange statement here when divorced from the verse before it. What does Luke 22:35 say? "And He said to them, 'When I sent you out without money belt and bag and sandals, you did not lack anything, did you?' They said, 'No, nothing" (NASB, first emphasis mine, second emphasis is a translation artifact). That is, Christ recalls to their memory that they, in actively serving Him on mission, were sent out without money belt and bag, trusting in His provision, and then He directly contrasts that with those who do have a money belt and bag. In essence, Christ tells them, "let those who do not trust in my provision arm themselves." But that description should never be accurate of Christians. Christ is not telling the disciples to take up swords, He is contrasting them with those who have no hope but a sword.

4. But John the Baptist didn't tell soldiers to give up being soldiers!
John the Baptist is an Old Testament prophet, that is, he operated outside and before the establishment of the church. He also didn't tell people about the Holy Spirit, as recorded in Acts 19. The fact is, John the Baptist was not laying down the expectations of the church, he was preparing people to receive Christ. The work of living in Christ is defined by Christ and the New Testament authors, and not one of them ever advocates for Christians to engage in or endorse the use of lethal violence; instead, they repeatedly call for us to be people of peace.

5. Doesn't Romans 13 give the government the option to use lethal force?
You are not the government.

5a. But what if I am?
Your call as a Christian is more important than your rights as a member of government.

The first few things I would want to affirm will be fairly straightforward, as I hold pretty orthodox views on the basics of Christianity. These are things that, for the most part, are not really contested within Christianity, and I would go so far as to say that these cannot be laid aside without abandoning Christianity. As such, I'm just going to toss all of these into one post and then focus on more secondary and/or controversial topics for the remainder of the series.

The Christian faith stands or falls on the resurrection of Christ, and this is where I started when I began my deconstruction phase. I did not consider anything short of a literal, physical resurrection from the dead to be acceptable; if Christ was dead, or never existed, then I was prepared to throw the whole religion out as baseless and false. If Christ did not exist, then all of Christianity is built on a lie; if He died and stayed dead, He failed to prove Himself to be God in flesh, and therefore Christianity is built on a lie. A symbolic or metaphysical resurrection is not even worth considering, as it cannot be verified and means essentially nothing. I recently saw a tweet where someone asked, "if it was absolutely, undeniably, 100% demonstrated tomorrow that Christ was still dead in a grave, how would that affect your faith?" and I read through response after response of people saying it wouldn't do anything to their faith.

I don't know what their faith is, but it isn't the one Paul declared would be in vain if Christ had not been raised.

I looked at the gospels as historical documents, because that's fundamentally what they claim to be. I could go into detail in another post, but I was convinced that they were faithful recollections of real events, with Luke and John having the most convincing lines of argument for me. Luke because of his research; the number of details that Luke includes that support his claim to be operating from eyewitness interviews was staggering. Luke stated outright that his goal was to ensure his reader(s) could have confidence in the teachings they've received, and he makes sure to name sources, include stories that other gospels didn't include that show Christ interacting with people beyond the disciples, provide geographic and cultural details that improve clarity, and (as he continues into Acts) distinguish between the things he personally witnessed and the things he didn't. John stood out to me for his honesty and intimate familiarity with the story, how he really turns his focus to who Christ is and lets the person of Jesus stand out on the page even more than the specific things Jesus did or what order exactly He did them. The bit where John and Peter run to the tomb and John is the only writer who records that, well actually, he won that race, but that's an aside; details like that drove home that this was a real person telling real stories about his own real experiences, show a bit of the character of a man who wants to note that he ran faster than his friend, but is willing to admit hesitance to actually enter the tomb.

Incidentally, and this isn't a core doctrine, it's just a side note here, but John is also why I believe in a very early dating of the gospels, which was important to my acceptance of their claims. There is no dispute among scholars, Christian or secular, that John was written after the synoptic gospels, and almost certainly after Acts. Everyone agrees that John wrote last. A great many people, however, put John after 70 ad, and I don't. My reason isn't historical or based on any specific papyrus or anything--so take it how you will--but rather it's literary. As a writer, I am struck by the fact that John has no apparent sense of dramatic tension. He shows throughout his writings that he is a writer who cannot allude to something and then wait to reveal what he's alluded to. Consider this segment of John 2:

I want to note two things about this passage. The first is that John, at the very beginning of his gospel, gives away the ending because this is the type of writer he is. Jesus has alluded to His resurrection and John, writing about it later, simply cannot contain the urge to tell us exactly what this is a reference to and exactly how you, dear reader, should respond to that. The second is that the writer who cannot hold onto spoilers, who cannot help but point to the fulfillment of anything hinted at in his text, does not connect a conversation that predicts the destruction of the temple to the actual destruction of the temple. Even when he points out that Jesus' primary point here was to talk about Himself rather than the temple, he doesn't contrast that with the natural post-70 reading of the passage that would remind people of the temple's destruction. It gets no mention, not even as a thing to be corrected. If John is the kind of writer that I have claimed he is, if he's the kind of writer I see when I read him, the only explanation for this oversight is that John did not yet know about the literal destruction of the temple when he wrote it. This, in my mind, dates his gospel to before 70, which means all the other gospels are even earlier, and this serves to help the case of gospel validity. That Matthew, Mark, and Luke all wrote and distributed their accounts, with names and sources and identifying details, during the lifetime of eyewitnesses and people who knew where Jesus had been buried, and no one trotted out His body or wrote any damning contradiction or managed to show any evidence to the contrary, is a fact that I cannot ignore. If Jesus was a fictional character, or still dead, then the opponents of the church would have held all the cards and could shut these claims down just as quickly as they shut down the claims of other contemporary false messiahs. That they didn't means that the story of Jesus Christ was different in a way that ensured they couldn't. And that way must be that the accounts were true. Jesus Christ really walked the earth, really taught crowds, really performed miracles, really died, and really rose from the dead, and those closest to Him really had their entire lives changed to such a degree that they couldn't help but tell the world what they'd experienced in His presence.

Everything else is built on this.

In the most recent sermon I've delivered, I claimed that everything we know of God the Father we know through Christ. This is because I was specifically talking about knowing God the Father at that time; it would be more accurate, as a general statement, to say that everything we know of the Godhead, the supernatural, and even our own fundamental natures, we know through Christ. When God the Father speaks, it is Jesus' voice we hear. When God the Spirit makes us aware of truth, it is God the Son He is delivering. When human writers sat down to put the scriptures into writing, it was the Eternal Living Word that filled their minds and found translation in the act of recording. This is, I maintain, the fundamental nature of God the Son's function in the Godhead: He reveals and realizes. His death and resurrection are revelatory at their core, displaying the weight of our sin and the love of God for us and the grace that He has available to cover that sin; and in doing that work, He realizes (that is, makes into reality) the salvation of God's people. As the means by which all things are created, He reveals the creative purposes of God and realizes them, and as the One for whom all things are made, He reveals the God-centered order of creation and realizes the God-directed purpose of creation. He is both the light that shows us what God intends us to see and the means by which the revealed is made concrete. The credibility of God the Son, then, is paramount. If there was any deceit or falsehood in Him (and, therefore, in His words), if anything we know of Him is false, then we can know nothing He speaks on with certainty. The resurrection of Christ proves that He is who He says He is and will do what He says He will do. By proving Himself to us, He assures us that He is the credible source of all His other claims. Now, having come to understand that credibility, we can look at what He has revealed.

Third, that a proper relationship with the Father is characterized by allegiance* to Him alone, through Christ, empowered by the Holy Spirit. God will not split our affections, and will be second to nothing. Submission to Him is submission of all that we are, and we become all we were designed to be in the process. I tell people that I'm evangelizing to that I'm not just giving them a chance to escape Hell someday, but rather, I'm asking them to lay absolutely everything at the feet of Christ; our lives, our histories, our skills, our goods, our relationships, our bodies, our identities, our views and habits and desires and goals, everything that defines our sense of self, absolutely everything is given over and nothing is held back. All that we can rightly have when He sends us into the world as a redeemed soul is that which He gives back to us, which always includes a body to stand with and a Father to love and a King to bow before and an eternity to enjoy all of it. I am asking them to consider the person they have been so far utterly dead, and to start a brand new life, whatever that may mean in God's plans for us. Everything else, everything but Him, falls in line behind this overarching drive to be who He has called us to be and live as He has called us to live and do as He has called us to do; and anything that contrasts with that purpose, regardless of how comfortable or important it has been to us so far, must be dropped aside. In salvation, we are not merely recipients of a transaction, we are adopted, and while I will go into this more in the next post, the basic idea here is that we are brought into a new family and held to the expectations and identity of that family.

These, I believe, are the basics of the Christian faith. Everything else stems from them or explains them in more detail. All our models, all our atonement theories, all our theological frameworks and terminology find their soul here. Here we have creation, fall, and redemption; here we have God and man and our need for Him and His love for us. Here we have the Bible, in which God the Son reveals God and ourselves and what God has done and how we respond to that work, which can have no falsehood without sacrificing its essential purpose. In these things we must have unity and unwavering adherence; any deviation from this, any different Christ, any other gospel, any allegiance placed equal or higher than God, any ultimate source of truth other than the Father revealed through the Son through the lens provided by the Holy Spirit, is not Christianity. It may share many things with us, but it is not of us.

There is a lot happening in my life right now that is making it difficult to write posts for this blog, but I am trying. However, during this period, I've had another opportunity to preach, and that is now available below! Video captured by Stephen Hemenway, audio edited by Quenton Chestang-Pittman, video edited by me.

I would like to take this opportunity to clarify a point in the sermon that I am aware I did not adequately clarify when delivering it, regarding church membership and participating in mission. I stated at one point in the sermon that if the mission God has called an individual to and the mission of their church do not align, they should ask if they are at the right church. I stand by that statement, but I did not give any indication on what to look for when considering that issue, which feels irresponsible of me in hindsight. I do, however, have more room to explore that issue here than I would have as a tertiary point in a sermon, and I intend to take advantage of that fact.

What I mean by that statement is this: if God has called a person to a specific work, and called a person to a specific church body, then the person is also called to contribute to the specific mission that church is tasked with, and certainly not to hinder it. Likewise, the church is called to contribute to the specific mission the person is called to, and certainly not to hinder it. The Biblical statements about every member of the church needing every other member and every part of the body having a necessary function attest to this. If that is true, then it must also be true that a person who feels called to a mission that hinders, or is hindered by, the mission of their church is either on the wrong mission or at the wrong church or, in some hopefully more rare occasions, the church has the wrong mission; and it is vitally important that they find out which it is and correct it. The question is how to do that.

The first step is always going to be prayer and scripture, by the way. Going to God for wisdom and clarity, digging into the Bible for anything that may grant that wisdom and clarity, and earnestly listening for Him to speak will be necessary if you want an honest, usable answer. Every piece of advice that follows assumes you are only implementing it after spending some time in prayer and the scriptures. Also remember that this is only advice; the Bible does not give us a check list for this, and I can only share as much wisdom as I have so far.

The mission for which you are called is one which you, powered by the Holy Spirit, can do. This doesn't necessarily mean it is one you can finish, but it is certainly one you can perform for the season in which you are called to it. This simple statement gives us a few key things to look for:

• Your spiritual gifts can give you some clue as to your mission, because your mission will be something God has equipped you to do;
• Your trained skills can give you some clue as to your mission, because your mission will be something you have been prepared to do;
• Your interests can give you some clue as to your mission, because your mission will likely be something you can recognize and be drawn to;
• Your context, including where you are physically and where you are on your specific life journey, can give you some clues as to your mission, because God has been molding and placing you to perform it;
• Your limitations can give you some clue as to your mission, because it will not be something you will be capable of or comfortable doing without leaning on God's power and guidance.

As stated in the sermon, your mission will also always be something that serves the larger mission that Christ gave to all Christians. Working through this list can give you a certain amount of clarity into the question of whether or not the thing you feel called to do is actually something God has called you to do, but you will need help. Do not work through these questions alone, seek out people who know you well and are invested in the advancement of God's work and let them give you insights you can't have come to by yourself.

Consider Moses. His gifting and skills enabled him to lead a large body of people, to judge fairly and honorably, to write the texts they would need going forward, and to face great trials. His interest in protecting his fellow children of Jacob enabled him to see their need and desire to find some freedom for them. His life experiences gave him access to Pharaoh, knowledge of the Midian desert, the skills he used leading Israel, and an unshakable faith that God would do exactly what He said He would do. His difficulty at speech meant he needed always to lean on God for his words and on his brother to deliver them, and his willingness to run when things got hairy meant he had to rely on God to be the example of strong leadership Israel needed.

Note first that this advice is only about mission compatibility. Nothing said in the sermon or here should be taken as an encouragement to leave a church over differences in style or preference. There may be times when you must leave a church for other reasons, and some of what follows may help in those situations, but this section is for a specific issue and should not be generalized.

Some initial questions:

• Have I submitted to the church leadership?
• Do I understand the church's mission?
• Do I understand my calling?
• Am I actually performing my calling, or at least seeking opportunities to do so?
• Have I invested in this church? Do I care about the people here and  the work they do?
• Am I bitter about something and finding it difficult to work with the church because of that?

If none of these resolve the issue (and sometimes even if they do), you need to talk to the church leadership. The exact person will vary based on your church's leadership structure and your relationships to them, but identify someone in a position to handle your questions and who you feel comfortable receiving honest answers from. Ideally, you will have been already talking to this person while analyzing your calling.

Personal mission and church mission do not have to be identical to be compatible. Our church hosts a growing food pantry which some members feel strongly called to lead or participate in; the mission statement of the church does not include that, but it does serve the church's mission goal of serving the community in a Christ-centered way that enables opportunities for us to share the gospel. Take the time to find out whether or not your calling and the church mission are actually incompatible. It is entirely possible that the church leadership will know about directions the church is going, ministry opportunities, or just detail about the mission that you don't know for one reason or another, and they can point you to a way to do what you are called to do under the umbrella of the church's mission. It is, in fact, entirely possible that what you are called to do is something that doesn't exist at the church yet because they are waiting for someone called to do it.

Seek ways to serve. Use your spiritual gifts under the guidance of the church and for the building up of the body. As much as possible, seek ways to be an active, contributing part of what your church is doing. But if all of this is not working, and it becomes apparent that you are simply not built for what the church is doing, then it may be time to prayerfully look into places where you can be active and invested.

Look, regardless of the church leadership structure where you are, the fact is that God puts leaders in His churches for a reason. The actual task of analyzing this matter should be handled primarily by the church leadership. By calling them to leadership, God has also called them to see the mission and push forward in that; and by becoming a member of a church, everyone else has submitted themselves to trust the leadership to do exactly that. There are times when questioning or even challenging the leadership is necessary, but if it is a habit or something you feel no hesitation to do, going to God about your relationship to leadership should come before your challenge is delivered.

That being said, when the leadership revisits the church mission, it will generally follow pretty similar steps to those for analyzing personal calling, with the additional understanding that church missions are generally paired with church visions; the latter being where the church is going, and the former being how it will get there. Wise church leaders will look at how the people God has called to that body can do a work that uses the available gifts, skills, and interests to engage with the church's context to participate in a work that only God can bring to fruit.

This Sunday I had the pleasure of preaching John 1:14-18 as part of Advent. I'm experimenting with some video editing for other projects, so this video will have more going on than usual. Audio is taken from the Highland Baptist sermon podcast, with music and editing by Quenton Pittman.

The final session of the October 19th summit was delivered by both Stephen Witmer and David Pinckney, and focused on some of the ways our joy is hindered in ministry. This was not an exhaustive list--we were asked to discuss our own joy-killers in groups after the presentation--but they are common ones to arise in small-place ministry. This will also serve as my final post on the event; normal blogging will resume next week.

In almost every post so far, I've noted something that makes small-place ministry difficult. It's worth noting that I doubt small-place ministry is more difficult than any other kind of ministry, simply that there are difficulties one type of ministry faces that others may not. But when you're in the thick of one kind of ministry, it can become very easy to see the difficulties you face and not the difficulties others face. This is a fairly mild issue, and is common to almost any kind of work; the problem arises when our eye is pulled so often to the benefits of another's ministry that we grow envious.

The big question raised when discussing envy in the session was, "what does my envy say about who or what I actually value?" The very nature of envy is such that it reveals our desire for something other than what God has granted us, and this raises the question: are we seeking after Him and His glory, or are we seeking after something else? Are we more concerned with fame or money or validation than faithfully serving our Lord in whatever capacity He has determined? When we grow envious of the ministry someone else has been called to, we reveal that something about their ministry is so valuable to us that the gifts of God in our own lives don't quite make up for not having it.

So what do we do about it? ​Fundamentally, they said, envy has pride at its root. We fall into envy because our idea of ourselves says that we deserve what these other people have. So the first step in fighting our envy is to fight our pride.

How often do we fall into this trap? Even if we believe our work must make much of God, we can still think it should also make much of us. Are we willing to actually decrease if that will better glorify God?

But addressing our pride is just the first step. We cannot simply remove the desire to be great and not replace it with something else. That there is joy in serving God and serving others in His name, and we can pursue that joy as something greater than our markers for success or our own ideas on what a perfect ministry would look like. Ultimately, the cure for envy is the joy of the Lord in whatever we do.

Small churches also tend to have very few staff, so a lot of work falls on the shoulders of the people who are serving. It can be easy to get so wrapped up in all the responsibilities of the mission that we fail to take time to rest. Even taking one full day off per week can be difficult, but this is necessary. Our health, and our ability to do the work God has for us, rely on our taking time to rest. We must be good stewards of our time, and that includes not using so much of it up that we burn out and cannot continue.

Taking time to rest also glorifies God in its own way. It was noted that taking time to rest reminds us and others that God doesn't actually need us; He can see to it that the church is tended, even on our days off. It also showcases the fact that we, as Christians, rest in the completed work of Christ. We are not constantly striving and pushing and breaking ourselves to honor Him, but rather we can trust, and rest, and enjoy Him in all that we do.

Ministry is not a field that is designed to bring a lot of glory to the ministers, if it's done right, and small place ministry may be even less likely to do so. These do not tend to be the pastors who draw big crowds and have books to sign or thousands of devoted followers on their podcast and twitter. And, of course, limited resources in small places have led to the rise of the bivocational (or covocational, in some circles) pastor, who works part-time at a day job to pay the bills and ministers the rest of their time. If we let ourselves expect good things to come our way as ministers in small places, we will likely face much disappointment. Envy or disappointment, left unaddressed, can quickly lead to bitterness. How do we prevent that?

They pointed out that Jesus is, ultimately, the One who will both honor us and provide our needs. These are things He promises to do in His word, and when we put weight on our churches to do that beyond their ability (or ours, often in the case of honor) we feed that disappointment and encourage bitterness. Ultimately, what we want from our churches when we go down this road is something that only God can provide, and we need to repent and trust in Him to do what He has promised to do.

What things do we allow to steal our joy? What does it look like to repent, and to trust God?

The church of Ephesus comes first, and the promise they receive goes all the way to the beginning of scripture. Mankind is created and placed in the Garden of Eden, this paradise where they can live in community with God Himself, but they allow sin to enter into their lives and the world and have to be removed. Now, we tend to talk about how they had to be removed because they couldn't remain in God's presence, and there's truth to that, but the passage actually describes a more specific motive: Adam and Eve needed to lose access to the Tree of Life.

Now, we see later in Revelation that this is not a return to the literal Garden of Eden. The New Jerusalem is a city, not a garden. But it does have the streams of flowing water, it does have the Tree of Life, and most importantly, it has the people of God living in the presence of God without sin. It is in this context that Hebrews, which concerns itself with a significant section on the day of rest coming for the people of God through Christ, presents the fullness of that rest being realized.

This rest, according to Hebrews, is found in Christ for those who will believe on Him. This is placed in contrast to the generation that wandered in the wilderness after the exodus from Egypt, who contended with God and failed to trust in His promises and provision. But it is in the presence of God, in true community with Him like there was in the Garden and will be again in the New Jerusalem, that the rest God promises will be fully realized. This is our first point about salvation: it is a restoration, a return to the perfect design of God and community with Him.

Revelation paints a very vivid picture of those who remain enemies of God being cast into the lake of fire, called the second death, followed immediately by the redeemed going to dwell with God forever. The fundamental promise being made to the church of Smyrna, then, is that the saved have no fear of final separation from God and can trust in the eternal life He offers. The contrast is set forth in the narrative of Revelation, and promised here in chapter 2, but is given in a very clear and concise way by Peter. In his second letter, Peter talks about how unrighteous people and the corrupted natural order will be destroyed by fire, and then promises that those who are in Christ need not fear that because they can look beyond to the new life that awaits them.

At a quick stroke, the promise to the church of Pergamum seems a bit odd. What is this hidden manna, and why a stone with some name on it?

The manna is a theme that gets some development earlier in scripture, though it isn't as strongly recurring topic. In fact, there are really only two places we need to go to get the general thrust of the story so far. The first is during the wandering in the wilderness after the exodus from Egypt, when the people of Israel were in a barren place and hungry. God sustained them with provision in the form of a miraculous bread that appeared with the morning dew that they simply gathered. While there is very little discussion of the manna after that point in scripture, it certainly left a mark on the culture, because it gets cited after Jesus feeds the 5,000. He performs the miracle, He and His disciples ship out at night, and the people find them the next day and ask for more bread as a sign. A relevant part of that conversation includes:

Later, they grumbled among themselves about Jesus proclaiming that He was the bread that came down from Heaven. They got Jesus' point, even if they didn't like it: while the manna was a very real and effective sustenance for the people of God, there is a better sustenance delivered by God in the person of Jesus Christ. The promise of hidden manna, then, is a promise that ties back to the earlier promises of eternal life, with a focus on Christ as the giver and sustainer of that life. In 1 John, the author of both the epistle and the gospel revisits this topic when he tells us, "And the testimony is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. He who has the Son has the life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have the life" (1 John 5:11-12, NASB).

Thus, the promise delivered through the church is Pergamum is not simply some bread and a stone, but an imperishable life founded on Christ and a new identity found in Him. The redeemed can trust that our lives are grounded on the solid rock of Christ, because He is both the giver and sustainer of life as well as the author of the promises that life contains.

The message to Thyatira is a bit more straight forward. Jesus promises authority over the nations and, as the morning star frequently represents, a position of some glory. 1 Peter 1:12 notes a similar theme, in recognizing that the saints of old looked forward to the fullness of salvation and that the nature of what we receive is so great that even angels long to see it. But while the idea of us receiving authority and glory will be revisited here, they are not widely common themes in the general epistles. When they arise, in fact, they are generally pointing beyond us. Consider, for instance, John's words just one chapter earlier, during his greeting.

Any glory or authority we may receive is second in importance to that which Christ receives. We can trust that this promise is true, that God will grant us to rule with Him and that He will glorify us in the end, but there seems to be an almost subconscious hesitance by the authors of the general epistles to let us ever think about that without immediately turning our eyes to the One who deserves all authority and all glory. This is a stark reminder that not only is Christ the means by which our salvation comes, but that salvation is ultimately for His glory and not our own. I would do us no favors in presenting it any other way.

The book of life, again, points to eternal life; confession of the name includes both glory and endorsement, and we can ask for no greater endorsement than that of God the Son. Instead of revisiting these concepts, though, look at the first clause in that sentence, that we will be clothed in white garments. This is a promise of purity, that we will be washed clean, that the one who overcomes (that is, the one who believes on Jesus as per our opening verse) will be sanctified and made whole. Hebrews, a book largely about salvation and redemptive history, touches on this a number of times but few as concisely as "by this will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all" (Hebrews 10:10 NASB). The blood of Christ washes us clean, this is the means by which we are sanctified, and we have assurance given to the church of Sardis that this will be perfectly completed.

We have here new information on the new identity we have in Christ, that it involves being marked as one of God's, but this talk about being a pillar in the temple ties back to the promise in the message to Ephesus. Philadelphia's portion includes residing in the presence of God, but the temple language ties back to the apparently false form of Judaism they were dealing with. These people lived in the midst of what appears to be a false temple or synagogue, and are promised a place in the true temple of God.

This, the eternal temple where Christ stands forever, always in the presence of the Father and without need for further sacrifice or washing, is the temple that the redeemed can look forward to calling home. Where Ephesus was given an emphasis on the perfection and the closeness of God to His people, Philadelphia is given a picture of life in perfect and continual communion with God.

The church of Laodicea is a rich body. In the message to them, they have to be reminded that the wealth they have on Earth makes no dent on the poverty they have in spiritual matters, and that they are 'lukewarm' in their devotion to God. There is much that can be said about what it means to be lukewarm, but turning to verse 21 we see that the church is given a vision of something far greater than the riches they are relying on. After all, the throne of Christ is no small seat of power, but as Peter describes it:

Angels, authorities, and powers are subject to the throne of Christ. The things of this world that we seek are too small, they are as nothing compared to the vast riches we have in Christ. To the church of Laodicea, and any of a similar mindset, the desire for earthly wealth is a distraction from the fullness of what awaits those who put their hope in Christ.

The overarching thread of salvation woven throughout the general epistles, though, is that this is all through and for Christ, and as He is better than anything we have on this world, so His salvation is greater than anything we can have through other means, and the weight of our treatment of salvation is greater than how we handle any other subject. This is why false teachers are viewed in such a harsh light: what they do with the gospel is objectively far more important than what they do with anything else. We cannot honor God or do any ultimate good if we will not handle this matter well, and we cannot handle it well if Christ is not the focus of all of it.

In Christ, through the salvation He offers, we have a new and better identity, one that is pure and washed free of all sin and corruption, that includes authority and coming glory, that allows us to reside joyfully in the presence of God forever, without fear of further pain or death. This is founded on the work of Christ and grounds everything we are and everything we do. Let us look forward with joy and expectation, patiently awaiting the fullness of this great salvation, as James reminds us:

If we are truly grounding ourselves on this promise and on patiently waiting for it, our lives will be impacted. This will be the focus of the final post in this series.