One of the most important habits you can develop is the habit of accepting that life is full of disappointments. One of the best ways to grow in contentment is to accept the inevitability of discontentment. One of the ways you can be most joyful in life is to be realistic about life, to know that the people in it will so often fail to meet your expectations. Having admitted all of this, you can embrace it as the way life is and even the way God means for it to be.

Your church will disappoint you. The pastor will preach some weak sermons, the elders will make some poor decisions, and the members will fail to share every one of your burdens and minister to every one of your sorrows. You will be tempted to become discontent with your church and begin to cast wistful eyes toward other congregations. You will begin to wonder if the path to joy involves picking up and moving on.

Your husband will disappoint you. He will fail to please you, fail to fulfill you, fail to be all you want him to be. You will be given too little attention, sinned against too often, hear too little of your love language. You will be tempted to become discontent with him, to demand more, and to insist that peace will come only on the other side of his personal reformation. You may even be tempted to leave him altogether and start over with someone who promises more.

Your sex life will disappoint you, the wonder of the early days soon giving way to the struggles that come with too little opportunity or too little willingness, too much demand or too much distraction. How many people have made shipwrecks of marriage, family, and ministry because they could not accept the disappointment of a sex life that is imperfect and less than completely fulfilling?

Your parents will disappoint you and so too your children. Your friends will disappoint you and so too your relatives. All will fail you at many times and in many ways. And, of course, you will do the same for them. Your church will disappoint you and you’ll disappoint your church. Your spouse will disappoint you and you’ll disappoint your spouse. Your sex life will disappoint you and it will disappoint your spouse as well. No one will ever fully meet your hopes, desires, and expectations. No one ever can fully meet your hopes, desires, and expectations. And you can’t meet theirs.

I acknowledge that this could all sound discouraging and depressing. I acknowledge that it could be taken as a call to apathy, an excuse to give up effort altogether. But that would be the wrong response. The right response is to accept the reality of imperfection and to be content with discontentment. The right response is to understand that nobody and nothing can live up to your expectations and that nobody and nothing is meant to.

Christians speak often of the ways that beauty and pleasure are meant to direct us beyond themselves to what is ultimately beautiful and ultimately pleasurable. Beauty evokes wonder and wonder evokes worship and worship evokes longing. In that way, the beauties of this earth direct us to the perfect and complete beauties that we will experience in God’s presence. The longing and the ache are a feature rather than a bug, for they point us to the time and place when our hopes will finally be realized and our longings finally satisfied. And it seems to me that there is a way in which disappointment can function in a similar way.

Instead of being discouraged by disappointment, would it not be better to allow it to remind you of the state of this world and, better, the state of the world to come? Would it not be better to allow it to remind you that this world is not meant to completely fulfill you and not meant to satisfy your every longing? Would it not be better to let it increase your desire to be with God in that place where all disappointments will be taken away? And then to enjoy life as it is, not as you long for it to be?

God’s gifts are good and are meant to be enjoyed. Yet none of them can deliver all that they promise. Each of them brings a level of satisfaction but also a level of disappointment, a sense of beauty but also a sense of longing for more. We need to be wary of that longing for more because it can motivate us to make poor decisions or even depraved ones. It can lead us to forsake the ones we love and be discontent in even their greatest efforts and best attempts to love. It can lead us to act rashly and in ways that hurt others and dishonor God.

So when you encounter life’s disappointments, do not be surprised and do not be dismayed. Do not allow them to cause you to turn aside or turn away from those who love you and those God has called you to love. Learn to accept them as an inevitable reality of life in this world. Instead of resenting them, embrace them and allow them to deepen your love and your longing for the only One who will never let you down.

Has anyone ever lived in times that were normal? Probably not, I suppose. Every time and every context has its peculiarities, I’m sure. Regardless, there’s no doubt that we are currently living in unusual times—in what seems like a transitionary phase during which old traditions, old morals, and old ways of understanding the world are giving way to new. There are new questions, new concerns, and new challenges to those who want to live well in a world like this one.

Where do we go to learn to live well in new times? There is no better place to turn than to old wisdom—to the very same book that guided our forebears as they lived through the challenges that defined their own eras. The Word of God is, after all, living, active, and powerful, able to teach and to guide us no matter our times and no matter our circumstances.

In The Christian Manifesto, Alistair Begg takes an extended look at Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain (which, though it bears certain similarities, should not be confused with his longer Sermon on the Mount). “This sermon,” he says, is “Jesus’ invitation to you to experience life at its very best. It is his description of what life in his kingdom—a kingdom where all that is wrong is being put right—looks like as we live in this world.”

In this book, we’re going to look at what can be helpfully seen as a “Christian manifesto.” A manifesto is a public declaration or proclamation issued by a monarch or head of state, or by a representative of a company or organization. Here is a manifesto for the Christian life, straight from the lips of Jesus… It is a manifesto that is not oriented towards the political arena, but towards the relational and individual one.

That’s not to say this sermon (and therefore this book) has nothing to say about how we live and relate to others in the political arena, but that this is not its primary purpose. Rather, it is a manifesto that calls us to live significant, meaningful, and distinctly Christian lives in our everyday affairs and our very normal interactions with others.

An especially important word in this manifesto is “blessed,” one we all recognize from the Sermon on the Mount. In this context “blessed” means “How happy!” “How fortunate!” or “How privileged!” Being a follower of Jesus Christ unlocks a happy, fortunate, privileged life and this Manifesto is aimed at helping us achieve it—to live the kind of blessed life Jesus offers.

The Christian Manifesto is simply an extended exposition of the Sermon on the Plain, and one written by an especially skillful and proven expositor. Though the book may have had its genesis in a series of sermons, it has been well adapted for the new medium. Begg shows how Jesus calls us to so reverse the values we hold dear that they became practically upside down to what they were before. He calls us to an exceptional kind of love—a love that would be impossible if it was not first modeled by Jesus Christ. He helps us understand how to live by the Golden Rule and how to freely and genuinely grant forgiveness, even when it is costly and even when it seems impossible. Along the way he writes with passion and conviction, often pausing to help the reader do some appropriate application. He is vulnerable about his own life, his own struggles, and his own tendencies to fail to do what Christ commands. It makes for a powerful product.

“We are not called to be like the world,” he insists, “and the world does not need us to be like the world.”

We have something better to say because we have someone better to follow. That means the call of Christ to you and me is both greatly exciting and deeply challenging. The call is not to be comfortable but to be Christ-like—to discover the surprising means of experiencing real blessing, and in doing so to point others the way to it too.

This book, and the great sermon that lies behind it, provide a powerful manifesto for living well, living courageously, and living in a way that honors God in uncertain times. I would encourage you to read the sermon, to read the book, and to apply them both deliberately and prayerfully.

The son of King Jeroboam had fallen deathly ill. His father was understandably worried, concerned to know whether his child would live or die. He knew just where to go for a trustworthy answer. Yet he also knew that he could not go himself.

He came up with a devious plan: he would send his wife in his place. He would send her in secret, he would send her in disguise. And she, in the guise of a disinterested commoner, would ask the prophet on her husband’s behalf. So, taking the gift of a peasant rather than the gift of a king, and wearing the clothes of a laborer rather than the clothes of a queen, she set out on her journey.

She eventually arrived at Shiloh, at the home of the prophet Ahijah. Yet she quickly learned that this prophet was not fooled by her disguise, for God had told him that she would arrive. And God had also told him what message he must deliver. “I am charged with unbearable news for you,” he said—the unbearable news that Jeroboam’s line would come to a tragic end and that, of all his household, this child alone would receive a proper, dignified burial. “When your feet enter the city, the child shall die. And all Israel shall mourn for him and bury him, for he only of Jeroboam shall come to the grave, because in him there is found something pleasing to the LORD, the God of Israel, in the house of Jeroboam.”

There is much we ought to learn from this tragic story. But today my heart is drawn to one simple lesson: There are times when royalty passes before us and we do not see it. There are times when we are in the presence of kings and queens, of princes and princesses, and we do not identify it. We do not acknowledge it.

Jeroboam’s wife passed through the land and no one knew or even suspected that she was anyone other than a commoner. Yet she was as much a queen walking to Shiloh with dust on her feet as she was sitting in the palace with diamonds around her neck. Her simple clothes and humble demeanor may have masked the reality, but they did not negate it.

A few weeks ago, I stood in the humblest of villages in the distant reaches of rural Cambodia. This is a village that has not yet been reached by electricity or running water. Yet it has been reached by the gospel and all but a scant remainder of its people have believed and become royalty—sons and daughters of the King. They wear the disguise of farmers who tend to rubber plantations and cashew groves. But even though their homes are tiny and unadorned, and even though they wear no crowns and own no robes, they are most truly princes and princesses who simply await their full inheritance.

A week later, I found myself in Fiji, making friends with men who have traveled from across the great expanses of the Pacific to be trained as pastors. Some have come from locations so remote that until they arrived at the seminary they had never even seen a car. They are humble men who have little and who may never own so much of what you and I are certain we could never live without. They pass their days in the guise of students who attend a seminary few have heard of so they can become pastors in places few will ever visit. No one greets them with honor and no one bows in their presence. Yet they, too, are royalty, made by God, known by God, loved by God, adopted by God.

And so, it strikes me that as you worship this Sunday, as you gather with your church, you should keep in mind the reality that you are surrounded by royalty. Maybe you will begin the service with a song like:

O worship the King all-glorious above,
O gratefully sing his power and his love:
our shield and defender, the Ancient of Days,
pavilioned in splendor and girded with praise.

Give praise to your King! And perhaps as you do so, look around, look beyond the disguises—the suits and ties or the jeans and t-shirts—to see God’s family before him, God’s family joined together in worship, God’s sons and daughters rejoicing together in the Father who has made them his own, the Father who is worthy of their most heartfelt praise.

There are some Bible verses that seem to go just a little bit too far. “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children … he cannot be my disciple” comes to mind, or “rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” And then there’s this one: “Only let your manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ…” (Philippians 1:27). We read a verse like that and rightly ask, “Is it actually possible to live a life that’s worthy of the gospel? Is that a realistic goal? And what would it even look like to say ‘my life is worthy of the gospel?’”

Help comes in the form of Sinclair Ferguson’s new book Worthy: Living in Light of the Gospel, which is the second volume in a series by Union School of Theology titled “Growing Gospel Integrity.” This series, edited by Michael Reeves, is meant to explore the Christian’s call to Christlikeness based on Philippians 1:27-2:3.

Ferguson begins the work by explaining why Christians can find the command “live worthy of the gospel” a confusing one. And really, the answer is quite obvious: “the gospel teaches us we are unworthy. We are saved by grace, not by worth.” Besides that, we are rightly attuned to the creep of legalism and can fear that a call to “live worthy” can be a call to emphasize outward actions ahead of an inward posture of the heart. Yet “Paul well knew that emphasizing God’s grace in Christ in reaction to legalism is not necessarily the same thing as understanding the grace of God in Christ.” In fact, “the richer and fuller the exposition of the grace of God in Christ, the safer it is to expound the all-demanding commands that flow from it as a result.” It is when we have the fullest and most confident understanding of the gospel that we will understand what it means to live a worthy life and be most eager to do so.

Those who are familiar with Ferguson’s writing will recognize how he helps the reader understand the way grace relates to obedience. “The basic idea is that a life that is worthy of the gospel of Christ expresses in the form of a lifestyle what the gospel teaches in the form of a message. Such a life takes on a character that reflects the character of the Lord Jesus Christ.” With that groundwork in place, he writes about “The Grammar of the Gospel,” explaining the role of moods (focusing on imperatives and indicatives), prepositions (focusing on Paul’s way of speaking about believers as being “in Christ”), tenses (focusing on what the gospel has done in us and what it will do), and then, finally, the role of negatives and positives—what the gospel tells us to do and not to do and what the gospel tells us to be and not to be.

With this in place, he explains the “instruments” God uses to work change within us, to put sin to death and bring righteousness to life. God uses both his Word and his providence to work change within us—a truth displayed powerfully in the life of Joseph. Suffering introduces the “friction” into our lives that shapes us into Christ’s likeness. There is a kind of “productivity” that suffering brings to our lives that produces endurance and character and hope (as per Romans 5). Meanwhile, God’s Word does not just tell us to change, but it actually works change within us as it is preached. “God’s word preached does not merely tell us to work; it does the work. The preached word works on us and in us even while it is being preached, as well as afterward.” Thus “every exposition of Scripture is an extended personal counseling session in which the Holy Spirit shows us the wonder and power of the gospel and also exposes the secrets of our hearts. … The exposition of a passage of Scripture is not intended to be a popular-level commentary in spoken form but an encounter with the God who speaks.”

A final pair of chapters discuss what it looks like to live with “A Worthy Mindset” and how this kind of life actually comes about for people like you and me (and, by illustration, Saul of Tarsus—a section that provides a fascinating explanation of how Stephen’s example was instrumental in the conversion of Saul).

The Bible calls us to the responsibility and the great privilege of living a life that is worthy of the gospel. Ferguson’s book briefly but oh-so-helpfully explains how this is possible and what this should look like. Written briefly and simply, it’s a book I gladly recommend to any Christian.

There is an undeniable intricacy to God’s world. There is an inescapable predictability to the universe God has made. The stars and planets follow their course day after day, year after year, millennium after millennium. We can predict with absolute certainty the next time we will have a full or partial eclipse. We can gaze thousands of years into the past or future and know when human beings did see (or next will see) Halley’s Comet. We can forecast down to the second when the sun will rise and when it will set whether days from now or centuries, whether on this side of the globe or the other. The heavens declare the glory of God not just in their immensity but also in their orderliness.

God is nothing if not concerned with details, an artist whose hand is displayed not merely in broad strokes but in fine lines, a designer whose mind is exhibited in both the greatest macro and the smallest micro. Any field of science depends upon this consistency, any field of engineering, any field of construction. None of these would be feasible if there was the least element of randomness in the universe, the smallest element of the arbitrary.

A new year has opened before us and like a watchman gazing into dense fog, we see just a few steps ahead and only vague shadows looming beyond. We do not know what the year will bring, whether great triumphs or great failures, great joys or great sorrows, great gains or great losses. It could be the best of all years or the worst, the easiest or the hardest, the most heart-warming or the most heart-breaking.

But this fog is a blessing for it compels us to shift our gaze from our circumstances and to fix them on our God. For if this God is so concerned with precision in the functioning of his universe, wouldn’t it stand to reason that he is equally concerned with precision in the unfolding of his providence? If he has planned the finest details of the structure of his creation, shouldn’t we also believe that he has planned the finest details of our circumstances?

If this is the case, we can have tremendous confidence in all that the year will bring.

If it brings unparalleled pleasures, these will come by God’s decree and must be accepted with joyful humility. If it brings singular sorrows, these will equally come by God’s decree and must be accepted with meek submission. The hand that guides the stars also guides our circumstances and it does so with meaning and purpose.

If this year brings significant successes, we can be certain that these are God’s will for us and we must return all praise and thanks to him. If this year brings grievous failures, we can be certain that these, too, are somehow part of God’s will for us and we must bow the knee and receive them with willing hearts. The mind that has planned the structure of the universe has also planned the unfolding of our lives.

If this is the year of our dreams or our nightmares, the year we have longed for or the year we have dreaded, the easiest year of our lives or the most difficult, we can be certain that in some way God is involved in our every circumstance, that the very same precision that keeps the stars following their courses is keeping the events of our lives unfolding according to his plan. We can have every confidence that there is no event beyond his jurisdiction, no joy or sorrow unknown to him, no gain or loss that falls outside of his will. We can know beyond any shadow of a doubt that whatever this year brings, it will be exactly the year God has planned for us, exactly the year God means for us to live out for the good of others and the glory of his name. And with all that in mind I can truly say: Happy new year.

Inspired in part by the works of F.B. Meyer

The Christian faith is counterintuitive in any number of ways, but perhaps none so much as in its perspective on suffering and, particularly, its perspective on suffering persecution. We may see this most clearly in the actions of the apostles who, after being imprisoned and beaten, “left the presence of the council rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name” (Acts 5:41).

Of course they must not have been surprised to suffer persecution because, as I’ve pointed out in a couple of recent articles, Jesus had told them to expect it and evaluate it. But he did more than that, and he does more than that to us. Jesus tells us to embrace persecution—to embrace it as his will.

I thought of softening “embrace” to “endure.” It’s certainly true that we need to face persecution with patience and perseverance. But Jesus seems to calls us to even more than this. He says we should go so far as to embrace persecution. That’s not to say we should never pray for it to be lifted, or that we should never flee from it, or that we should never turn to the courts where we can appeal for justice, for these may all be good and honorable actions to take. But it does mean that as long as we face true persecution, we should rejoice in it. Jesus says “blessed (or happy) are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” He says even to “rejoice and be glad” in persecution. (Matthew 5:10-12).

Is this really possible? Is this really reasonable? It is! It is because we know that our God is sovereign and that nothing happens apart from his plan, which means that in some way our suffering is God’s will. It’s not a mistake. It’s not meaningless. It’s not nothing. It’s an opportunity to respond to God’s sovereignty with hope, with trust, and with godly character. It’s an opportunity to shine God’s light in the midst of darkness.

6 Reasons to Rejoice in Persecution

We need to consider: How is it possible to rejoice even during something as painful as persecution? Let me offer six reasons you can rejoice and be glad even when persecuted.

The first is this: persecution proves your citizenship. You are a follower of a Savior who was persecuted. Even though he lived a life that was perfect and unblemished, still the religious authorities, the civil authorities, and the common people all turned against him and put him to death. If that was his story, why wouldn’t it be yours? He told you it would be yours. He said, “Take up your cross and follow me.” We should expect to suffer like our Savior suffered. In that way persecution is proof of your citizenship in his kingdom, proof of your alignment with Jesus.

And then there’s this: persecution displays your faith. Passing through the test of persecution proves the validity and the strength of your faith. You’ll never know how strong your arms are until you have to lift something heavy, and you’ll never know what your faith is made of until it is put to the test. James says “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life” (James 1:12). Many fall away when their faith is tested; but those who truly love the Lord will persevere and emerge with their faith tested, proven, strengthened. They can rejoice!

Also, persecution shapes your character. In Romans 5 Paul says, “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Romans 5:3-4). It takes tremendous heat and pressure to form a diamond deep in the ground and it takes suffering and even persecution to form Christian character deep in your heart. Persecution is a means God uses to conform you to the image of Christ.

There is another reason: persecution equips you for service. Through persecution God is equipping you for deeper service to him. As he writes 2 Corinthians Paul has suffered deeply and this is what he says: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction…” Why does God offer this comfort? He goes on, “so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” He knows that in his suffering he has been comforted so that he can now extend that comfort to others. He has been made more useful to God’s purposes because of this persecution. And that’s true of you as well.

And then there’s a fifth reason: persecution produces communion. In your suffering you experience a deep fellowship with Christ because you are actually joining in his suffering. In the very next verse Paul says this: “For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too” (2 Corinthians 1:5). You are being persecuted because you are united to Christ. You are suffering in him and for him and with him. And God meets you in your sorrows, he draws close, and he ministers his comfort to you.

And then there’s still another reason you can rejoice in persecution: persecution provokes longing. It causes you to look forward, to elevate your gaze beyond this world. There is nothing that more clearly shows that this world is not your home than persecution. There is nothing that makes it more obvious that you don’t belong here. And so there is nothing more likely to shift your gaze from the kingdom of this world to the kingdom of heaven. When everything in your life is great, when everyone around you loves and affirms you, it’s easy to say “this world isn’t so bad.” But when you are hated and mocked, you understand: These are not my people. This is not my place.

And if this isn’t, then what is? The kingdom of heaven. Persecution makes you exercise your faith to believe that the kingdom is real and the kingdom is coming and the kingdom is your true and final home. You rejoice that your heart is being uprooted from this kingdom and planted in the kingdom still to come. You rejoice and are glad in all that God has promised and will very soon fulfill.

For these six reasons and many more you can rejoice even when you are being persecuted. God gives you your suffering in trust that you will embrace it and honor him through it—that you will steward it well, that you will pass through it in such a way that you hear him say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

We have just come through a time of suffering that extended across almost the entire globe. Through the pandemic some lost their jobs or had to battle troubling matters of conscience; many got ill or lost loved ones; many had friends or family members turn on them for their decision to accept or reject a vaccine; many were forced into isolation for extended periods of time; some went to prison. We all suffered. I have spoken to some Christians from around the world who are convinced there was an element of persecution in this suffering and to others who are convinced there was not. But whatever your conviction, I think this is worth asking: Did you pass through that time of suffering with joy in your heart? Can you say “in my suffering” or even “in my persecution (if that’s your conviction) I rejoiced and was glad, just like Jesus said?” In this suffering or any other you’ve gone through, can you say you imitated Jesus who: “When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly?” Or did your joy go into a tailspin? Did you suffer with bitterness, with grumbling, with complaining?

It sure seems likely that there will be more suffering and even persecution in the years ahead. How will you meet it? I know how God tells you to meet it—you are to meet any suffering with confident submission and even the fiercest persecution with rejoicing and gladness. God means for you to emerge from it with your faith not only intact, but strengthened, your joy not only present but amplified. He means for you to marvel like the apostles that “I have been counted worthy to suffer dishonor for the name of Jesus.” And to rejoice.

Even in your worst suffering, even in your darkest valley, even in the most agonizing persecution, you can rejoice and be glad because God is with you, because God is accomplishing his purposes, because this light and momentary affliction—even if it leads all the way to death—is preparing you for an eternal weight of glory that is far beyond all comparison. And so expect to be persecuted; when it appears to have come, honestly evaluate your persecution; and if you are convinced this is, indeed, suffering for righteousness’ sake, then embrace your persecution as a means through which God is at work for the furthering of his kingdom, the good of his people, and the glory of his name. And rejoice that you have been counted worthy to suffer dishonor, or even death, for his sake.

Jesus tells us to expect persecution. This is something I attempted to prove in an article a couple of days ago when I showed that at both the beginning and the ending of his ministry he warned that there would be a cost to following him. Yet Jesus knows that not everything that may look like persecution is actually persecution. And so he tells us that, when we come to times of suffering, we need to evaluate it to see if we are truly being persecuted.

There are times when Christians are put in prison because they refuse to follow the unjust dictates of an unjust government; but there are also times when Christians are put in prison because they break good and necessary laws that the rightful authorities have put in place. Sometimes Christians are shunned by family members because they refuse to bow down to the family’s idols; but sometimes Christians are shunned because they fail to honor their parents, or because they treat family members badly, or because they act like sanctimonious, entitled brats.

In the opening sentences of his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says his people are blessed when they are persecuted “on my account.” And immediately before that he says, “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake.” And so Jesus tells us that we need to evaluate our suffering to ensure it is actually persecution and not just the consequence of our own sinfulness.

Peter, a man who knew a thing or two about suffering, offers some helpful guidance here in 1 Peter 4:12. Like Jesus, he says that we should expect to face persecution. Here’s what he says: “Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.”

It’s clear: persecution is the normal course of the Christian faith. It’s not strange and should not be unexpected.

I know many people who have suffered for their faith. Some have been disowned by their families because they have rejected the family’s religion; some have fallen out with friends because they couldn’t participate in activities they invited them to; some have had troubles at school or at work because they wouldn’t take pride in what others deem worthy of celebration; some have been imprisoned for their religious convictions. And I know the Lord is proud of these people. He told them before they came to him to count the cost. They did, and they have been willing to pay that cost. I pray that God will continue to bless them as they honor him, even at a personal cost. Peter says not to be surprised when this happens.

But then he goes on in verse 15 to say, “But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler.”

He wants to be clear that not all suffering is persecution. He lays out a spectrum here that extends from very serious sins to ones we might consider minor—from murder to meddling. We can’t play the persecution card if we murder people or steal from them, and we also can’t play it if we are being meddlesome or treating people badly. In either case, we have brought suffering on ourselves for our sinful living, not for our blameless living.

Peter finishes up this way: “Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name.” And so Peter does what Jesus does—he distinguishes between suffering for unrighteousness’ sake and suffering for righteousness’ sake. If we are suffering what appears to be a kind of persecution, we need to honestly evaluate it to see which it is.

So what does it mean to suffer for righteousness’ sake? It’s simple really—it means to suffer for living and behaving in distinctly Christian ways. It’s interesting to me that when Jesus gave his first warning about persecution his public teaching ministry had included little more than a few sentences—the opening sentences of the Sermon on the Mount that we call The Beatitudes. This means that the persecution he is speaking about must be connected to them.

So, people who suffer for righteousness’ sake are poor in spirit—they are living with a humble awareness of their spiritual bankruptcy; they are mournful—they are repenting quickly and forgiving freely; they are meek—they are living before God and man with a gentle and quiet spirit; they are, righteous—they long to obey God’s every word and are laboring to see his justice extend throughout society; they are merciful—because they have received mercy they are gladly and deliberately extending it to others; they are pure—they are fully committed to honoring God and are submitting themselves to his purposes; and they are peacemakers—they aren’t fighters but reconcilers who long to bring reconciliation between God and man and between man and man.

This is how God is calling his people to live as faithful citizens of his kingdom. And it is these very virtues that lead to his final beatitude—that lead to persecution. It is after Jesus calls his people to live this way that he tells them they will face terrible consequences.

And so the calling on us is clear: as we face insults or slander or prison or death, we need to evaluate it. We need to ask: Am I suffering because I am exemplifying these virtues? Am I truly being persecuted for living as a citizen of the kingdom of heaven? Am I truly suffering for righteousness’ sake? Or am I suffering because I am behaving badly and out-of-step with God’s commandments?

I have one other thing I’d like to say about persecution but, once again, I’ll have to leave that for another day.

There’s an old story that tells of a missionary—a missionary who became convinced the Lord had called him to go to a foreign land. Obviously, he first needed some training, and as part of that, he collected books about the country and he studied them very closely. He began to learn its language and to speak it; to learn its customs and to adopt them as his own; to learn about its dress and to wear those clothes; to learn about its values and to exemplify them in his life.

Something interesting happened: The more he behaved like a citizen of his future home, the more out-of-step he became with his current home. The people around him would sometimes mock him for acting like the citizen of one country even while he lived in another. But he held firm and over time he became more and more like a citizen of the land he knew God had called him to.

Then, finally, the time came when his preparation was complete and he was ready to depart. When he arrived in that new country and took up his work there, he found that all his preparation had been worth it. His transition was easy and his ministry was effective. Why? Because he was already living like a citizen of his new land.

Just like that missionary, we are to live in this world as citizens of another—to live according to the customs and values of a different kingdom. And just like that missionary, this means we will sometimes be out-of-step with the people around us—we’ll act differently and live differently, we’ll hold different values and set different goals. And what will that do? That will, at times, make people angry. It will at times make them hate us and even persecute us.

Such persecution should not take us by surprise. Jesus, after all, made it clear that this would be part of the cost of following him. He expressed this at the very beginning of his teaching ministry when, in the opening words of his Sermon on the Mount, he said “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:10). Even as he laid out the very basics of kingdom living, he expressed that it would bring about persecution. Then, at the very end of his public ministry, he said something similar when he told his disciples, “Remember the word that I said to you: ‘A servant is not greater than his master.’ If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20).

He makes it very clear that those who follow Jesus will be persecuted like Jesus. Those who imitate Jesus will suffer like Jesus. If we live as citizens of the kingdom of heaven—which is to say, if we live like Jesus—we will be out-of-step with the values of the kingdom of this world and people will hate us for it.

It’s worth asking why. Why will living as a Christian bring about persecution? It’s not like we are harming anyone with the way we live. It’s not like we are demanding that others live as Christians. We are just going about our business while living quiet, humble lives. Perhaps an illustration can help.

A few years ago one of my neighbors drank a bit too much and the next day he had a pretty bad hangover. He must have been lying in a darkened room with an icepack on his head while outside our kids and the neighbor kids were laughing and playing and enjoying some innocent childish fun. They were being good kids and having a good time. But suddenly the neighbor threw open his window and screamed “Make those kids be quiet!” His condition made their joy painful to him; it made their expressions of happiness intolerable. And something like that happens when we become Christians and begin to live out God’s true design for humanity before other people. Our holiness confronts their sinfulness. They see Christians living as God truly made us to live, living in the joy of the Lord—and it challenges them; it confronts them; it convicts them. And many respond with hatred, with persecution.

This persecution can be shown in attitude and insults; or it can be shown in imprisonment and death. But either way: it is the normal course of normal Christianity that we suffer for our faith. Citizens of the kingdom of heaven should expect to face persecution.

But Jesus does more than tell us that we should expect to face persecution. He also tells us how we should face it. But since this article has already gone on plenty long, I’ll turn to that subject in a couple of days. (See: So You Think You’re Facing Persecution, Do You?)

A number of weeks ago I shared an article titled 40 Random Pieces of Advice for the Christian Life. This isn’t something I intend to do often but did want to follow up at least once with a sequel of sorts. I hope there is something here you find helpful.

Be appropriately skeptical about new movements, new terminology, and new methods. If the church has gotten along pretty well without it for the past 2,000 years, it’s unlikely that it’s actually a key to success in the Christian life. This is as true of phenomena in the wider Christian context (e.g. The Prayer of Jabez, Purpose Driven) as in the narrower Reformed subculture (e.g. the terms “missional,” or “gospel-centered”).

One of the best ways to show love to your friends is to show love to your friends’ children. Take an interest in them, love them, and be a friend to them.

You can count on it as a general rule that what you gain from a church service will relate directly to your level of expectation and preparation. Expect little and you are likely to gain little. Prepare little and you are likely to benefit little.

Don’t put too much stock in parenting books written by parents who haven’t yet successfully launched their kids into independence. None of us really knows how we’ve done until our kids have moved beyond our oversight and authority.

Understand that if you will only follow those in positions of authority over you when they do the things you want them to do anyway, you’re not actually submitting to their leadership. Sometimes submission to our leaders means joyfully following their leadership even when we disagree with it. (Which is not the same as saying we should obey our leaders when they tell us to sin.)

In your personal devotions, try listening to the Bible if you typically read it, or try reading the Bible if you typically listen to it. Both are good and both are modeled in Scripture. Each engages the mind in different ways.

Remember that you may share the blame for your children’s sin. You may have exasperated them to such a degree that you bear at least part of the responsibility for their sinful response to your poor leadership. And because this is true of parenting, it’s true also of other positions of leadership. (See Ephesians 6:4 and Colossians 3:21)

Be aware of the natural human tendency to consider what a given Bible text does not say before focusing on what it actually does say. Your first consideration should be “how do I obey this?” rather than “what are the exceptions?” This happens most often when it comes to passages about honoring parents, submitting to the government, waging total war against sin, being constant in prayer, and so on.

Be sparing in criticisms of the local church or its leaders in the presence of your children. Your grumbling could teach them that they ought to relate to the church as critics more than participants. It could turn them against the local church as an institution.

Distinguish between reading the Bible for depth and reading it for breadth. In other words, invest some effort in going deep into particular books, chapters, and verses, and also some effort into gaining an overview of the entire book. Read fast sometimes and slow other times; read huge passages on some occasions and small ones on others.

It is a wise habit to pray for your children with your children. It is a blessing to children to hear your heart for them. (Also, pray for your spouse with your spouse, for your church with your church, and so on.)

Embrace diversity in the local church, acknowledging the tendency to eschew it. Also, understand that diversity comes in many forms—racial, cultural, political, ideological, theological, and so on.

Relational problem-solving is almost always best done face-to-face. When that’s not possible, FaceTime or a phone call is second best. Email and social media are usually about as bad as it gets. Fight the tendency to attempt to solve problems at a distance instead of close-up.

When you are at your best, plan for your worst. In those times when you are spiritually healthy, make plans for the times when you may be spiritually weak or despondent. In those times when you are zealous, make plans for the times when you may face fierce temptations to sin.

It is good to train children to work. However, they will spend the rest of their lives working hard, so it’s not a bad thing to go a bit easy on them and let them enjoy their childhood. Life is long and it will only get more difficult.

Learn to say “I love you” to more people than merely family members.

When someone suffers a sore loss, grieve with them and offer them your condolences in a way that is appropriate to your relationship. But then also put the anniversary of that loss on your calendar and get in touch with them a month and a year later to say that you remember them and are praying for them.

One of the rare virtues in the workaday world is the ability to take things to completion. It takes little skill to begin something, but often takes great skill and perseverance to complete it well. Be known for finishing what you start.

Try to learn a good number of hymns by heart. They will serve you well throughout your life.

Pray through your church’s directory. Make it one of your ministries to the local church that you pray for each person specifically and by name. The directory is the perfect guide for this.

If wives are to submit to their own husbands, husbands are to live and lead in such a way that they make such submission natural and easy. If husbands are to love their wives, wives are to do all they can to make themselves easy to love.

Occasionally ask yourself, “If I was Satan how would I tempt me?”

It’s almost impossible to ruin a child when they are young, so don’t despair if you aren’t perfectly consistent or sometimes have to veer away from your philosophy of parenting. The kids will be alright—they are nothing if not resilient.

Before you visit a country or culture that is not your own, ask someone what customs you should practice and what customs you should avoid in order to prevent offense. What is polite in your culture may be downright insulting in another (and what is insulting in your culture may be courteous in another).

At least occasionally, visit a church in which you are a clear visible minority. This may help you better understand the challenges and discomforts people may face when they visit your church. Even better, you may learn how other traditions worship in ways that are different but no-less-faithful.

Pray with your spouse before you go sleep at night, even if only very briefly.

When you vacation far from home, and especially in other countries, don’t neglect attending church, even if the service is in a language you don’t speak. You may be surprised at how much you gain even if you can’t understand much of what is being said or sung.

Read biographies written for children or young adults. They will give you an easy-to-read, compact, nothing-but-the-essentials overview of a life. If you are intrigued, you can advance to a grown-up, full-length biography.

Every Sunday, try to speak to at least one child at church who is not your own. It’s generally best to get down on their level to do this, so be prepared to hit the floor.

Terms like “introvert” and “extrovert” may be helpful descriptors of personality types, but they should never be used as an excuse to neglect opportunities to love and serve others. Whether introverted or extroverted, be dutiful in all God calls you to, even when it cuts against the grain.

In all the duties and responsibilities that comes with raising children, don’t neglect to just plain enjoy your children.

If you find yourself struggling to pray in your times of personal devotion, try praying out loud. The car is an ideal place for this, perhaps especially if you have a commute.

Have an awareness of those times when emotion tends to overwhelm reason and determine that you will not attempt to have hard conversations in those times. This may mean instituting something like a “10 PM rule” in which you set issues aside at that time and pick them up again the next day.

Commend parents who are parenting well but who may not have a lot confidence in themselves. Few parents really believe they are carrying out their task well.

Less important than complimenting a fellow Christian is identifying evidences of God’s grace in that person’s life. It is always encouraging to hear how others see God working in us and through us.

Don’t whine about the “greet one another” time at church and don’t be anxious about it. Rather, embrace it and make the most of it, whether you naturally love it or dread it.

Read catechisms and confessions. You may be surprised to learn how many issues they speak to with thoughtfulness, clarity, and deep biblical grounding.

Embrace your finitude—the fact that you are limited and weak and in so many ways insufficient and incapable. This is a feature of your humanity rather than a bug.

If you begin each day asking “What is my God-given duty today?” and then do your best to carry it out, you will not go far wrong in life.

And, to end this time where I did before, always be certain to distinguish between what the Bible mandates and what a mere human suggests. Apply human wisdom only when it complements and applies what the Bible demands.

Not every idea is worthy of an entire article. Hence, this one contain a long list of brief, random (and unsolicited) pieces of advice for living the Christian life, most of which I’ve gleaned from others over the course of the past 45 years. I hope there is something here that benefits you.

When offering counsel to others, always carefully distinguish between what the Bible says and what is simply your best attempt to apply wisdom to a particular situation. Get used to saying, “This is me, not the Bible.” There is a reason I have made this the first in a long list of pieces of advice.

Learn to appreciate the ways in which other people are different from you, not just the ways in which they are similar. Contrary to the way you tend to the think, the world would actually not be a better place if everyone was just a little bit more like you.

Learn to apologize. Learn to apologize first. Learn to apologize often. Learn that to apologize is a mark of strength of character, not weakness.

Remember that your children are sinners who are beset by the fierce enemies of the world, the flesh, and the devil. Be gentle with them and have pity for them. Don’t be yet another enemy to them.

Don’t let yourself slip into believing that growing older will magically confer you some gift of godliness. Who you are now—or who you are becoming now—is a pretty good predictor of who you will someday be. If you want to be godly then, you have to learn to be godly now. This is true of young men and women as they ponder marriage and parenting; this is true of middle-aged men and women as they ponder retirement and old age.

Understand that you don’t need to have an opinion about everyone and everything. In fact, it is a mark of maturity to deliberately not have opinions about things that don’t concern you and things you know nothing about.

Find a couple whose grown children you’d be proud to call your own. Ask that couple if you can spend some time with them to either ask them questions about parenting or to simply observe life in their home. This may prove more valuable than any book on parenting. (Make sure their children are old enough that the parents have proven they can do more than raise obedient toddlers or submissive tweens.)

Change churches as seldom as possible and only when necessary. Never change churches without seeking the counsel of the church you are considering leaving and the church you are considering joining. When you do leave, it is almost always best to leave in a quiet and dignified way that preserves the church’s unity.

You get no free pass from the sin of slander when it pertains to an enemy, a heretic, or a politician. Each of these people is made in the image of God and each of them deserves to be spoken of in a way that befits their humanity. Only ever speak of them what is demonstrably and provably true.

Try raising your hands in worship at least once. It’s okay to get used to the idea in private first. Perhaps you’ll find that a little bit of physical expression engages your heart in unexpected ways.

Don’t put your hope in a particular method or system of parenting. Put your hope in the gospel, then consistently teach it to your children and consistently model it for your children during the 18 or 20 years they are in your home. It is the gospel that is the power of God, not any method. But we are easily confused.

In any given situation, it’s always good to ask “What does the Bible tell me to do?” or “what does the Bible say about this?” A great follow-up question is “why am I not already doing it?”

When the church service ends, make it your goal to meet someone you don’t know or connect with someone you don’t know well before you spend time with friends. Make a beeline for anyone who is alone or who looks awkward.

Embrace the tension between knowing that you are called to steward the wealth God provides for you and the fact that life is insanely expensive. Budget your money, control your expenses, give generously to the church, set some aside for the future, and use some to occasionally treat yourself to something nice. But also get used to saying, “it’s only money” as you swipe your card when yet another big and unexpected expense has come along.

Spend lots of time considering how God relates to his children, then imitate that in your parenting. When asked who most influenced your parenting, “God” is a pretty good answer.

Read The Pilgrim’s Progress at least once. If you find you are struggling to read it, try listening to it instead. There is a reason that it is the best-selling fictional work of all-time. (I recommend the recording narrated by Nadia May.)

Think often about that well-worn definition of character: character is who you are when no one else is looking. Consider whether who you are when you are all alone is consistent with who you are when other Christians are present.

It is good and necessary to shelter your children from the world. It is also good and necessary to expose your children to the world while they are still under your care and you can help them interpret what they are seeing and experiencing. Do that with wisdom. Your task as a parent is to prepare your children to live and thrive in this world, not some other one.

Acknowledge that in most friendships one person will be the main pursuer and the main initiator. Don’t feel sorry for yourself if you are that person.

Listen carefully to believers who come from cultures other than your own. You may learn valuable critiques of your own culture with all its presuppositions and you may learn valuable insights from another.

Foster relationships between your children and other trustworthy adults. Confidently direct your children to those adults when they have questions or disagreements with you. Don’t be upset if your friends give them counsel that contradicts your own. It’s possible that you’re the one who’s wrong.

Be loyal—loyal to your family, loyal to your friends, loyal to your pastors, loyal to your church. Loyalty is a beautiful virtue; disloyalty is an ugly vice.

If you find that your children are rebellious, take the time to honestly assess if you are modeling rebellion or submission to the sources of authority in your own life—whether in government, workplace, church, or home. There’s no reason to expect submission in your children if all they see is rebellion in you.

Sing loud in church, especially if you are a man. Don’t be content with mumbling as if it’s somehow embarrassing to have a male voice.

Never disrespect your spouse, or speak disrespectfully to or about your spouse, in the presence of others. (Or outside of the presence of others, for that.) If you need counsel or advice about your spouse or marriage, speak to a friend in a way that respects your spouse’s dignity.

Imagine your children as some day being close friends. Relate to them today in such a way as to make that vision come true. This will look different when they are toddlers, teens, and young adults.

Open your home to other people often. Help foster a culture of hospitality within your local church by being the one who invites people over on a regular basis. The living room is one of the best contexts in the world for friendship, discipleship, and evangelism.

Be appropriately romantic and affectionate with your spouse in the presence of your children. It’s okay—good even—if they know the spark is still alive. It’s okay—good even—if they occasionally say “oh gross.” You can do that without ever crossing a line.

Embrace singleness rather than resenting it. Pursue joy and contentment knowing that the God who withholds no good thing from his children also dispenses to them no ultimately bad thing. This is his good and perfect plan for you and he means for you to embrace it, whether it is a temporary state or a permanent one, whether it is involuntary or chosen.

Find common interests with your spouse. Learn to enjoy what your spouse enjoys, even if it’s a sport you wouldn’t otherwise care for or an art form you aren’t naturally drawn to. (Do the same with your friends and children.)

It is good to read widely but also good to read deeply. Find at least one author whose writing particularly helps you and commit to reading as many of his or her books as possible.

Expect to be sinned against even by people who love you. Don’t over-react when it happens. You’ve probably sinned against them many times as well. Remember that is the glory of a man to overlook an offense and that love covers a multitude of sins.

Nobody wants to be part of a church that doesn’t pray, but also, (almost) nobody wants to attend the prayer meeting. Believe in the power of a praying church enough to attend and champion that meeting. Make prayer instrumental rather than supplemental to your church.

Don’t feel the need to finish a bad book, or a mediocre one, for that. There is no shame in tossing it aside and trying something else.

Pursue friendships with people who are different from you. The deepest compatibility is often not easily visible.

Make it your habit to find something positive in the sermon and tell the pastor how it benefitted you. He probably gets less encouragement than you think.

It’s almost never the wrong time to say, “Let’s pray.”

Believe in the big picture of family devotions even when it’s hard to believe in the day-by-day results. Trust that a time of reading the Bible and praying together, repeated on a near-daily basis, will leave a deep and positive impact in the family as a whole and in each of its members.

Don’t let the sun set on your anger. Bitterness grows in the dark and harms you more than it harms anyone else, so the proper time to stop it is before it starts.

Distinguish between what is mandated by God and what is simply a matter of wisdom or prudence. Much of what Christians advocate with such strong words falls under the latter category more than the former. The Bible says nothing about date nights, the Billy Graham Rule, sleep training, and so on. Don’t hold strongly to what the Bible holds loosely (or vice versa). And that includes pretty much everything I’ve included in this article…

I recently read an account of one of the world’s most dangerous and demanding races. Over the course of a week, participants must run nearly 300 kilometers over scorching desert terrain. Once they set out, they are expected to remain mostly independent and to follow a track that has been staked across flatlands and dunes, dry river beds and infrequent oases. To ensure participants have the provisions they need, the race organizers leave stores of food, water, and medical supplies at a number of locations. The racers set out smartly with great pomp and vigor, then stagger and stumble bedraggledly across the finish line 6, 7, or even 8 days later.

These being modern times, each of the racers carries a GPS tracker with him so he can later trace his route and analyze his progress. Each of the racers sets out with his mind fixed firmly on the finish line, and each would insist that he has spent a week exerting superhuman effort in running straight toward it. Yet the GPS would show that while his route has led from beginning to end, it actually led through each one of those supply stations. And, in fact, both are true. His single-minded devotion to the race led him to each of the locations where he could be resupplied.

The Bible often compares this life to a race—a race in which we are to be every bit as focused, every bit as single-minded, every bit as driven to reach the finish line. “One thing I do,” says the Apostle Paul. “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” “Let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,” says the author of Hebrews. The Christian life is a long and grueling race through a wearying desert world.

I expect that when we, like the Apostle, have fought the good fight and finished the race and kept the faith, we will also be able to trace the route we have taken between the day of salvation and the day of glorification. I expect that we, like him, will be able to say that we fixed our minds on the great prize of being delivered from all sin and weakness and being delivered to the presence of Jesus Christ. We will be able to say that we ran in such a way as to obtain the prize given to those who persevere.

But then I also expect that as we look back on the course we ran, we will see that God sustained us by laying out great stores of provisions along the way. We will see that our course led from storehouse to storehouse, cache to cache, oasis to oasis. At one point we may have been ready to quit, ready to give up and drop out, but, by his Spirit through the Word, he provided the encouragement we needed to press on for another day, another stage. At another we may have been tempted to follow an illicit route, to veer from the narrow way to the broad, but he arranged to have one of his people gently warn or even sternly rebuke us. At another we may have convinced ourselves that we ought to turn back and find an easier race, but through the mysteries of his providence, he steered us straight.

As we look back on the race we ran, we will see that the God who planned our days, the God whose providence knew the end from the beginning, laid out his provision for us at exactly the points we most needed it, the points we would otherwise have been most likely to be disqualified. We will see that his provision came through the kindness of God’s people, the words of his scriptures, the illumination of his Spirit. We will see that the straightest course was actually the course that led past every one of the storehouses of his providence. We will see that the God who called us to the race provided all we needed in the race. We will know that we never truly ran alone.

Far down a desert road, far from the swarms of people crowding Bryce and Zion and the other big attractions, far from just about anything and anyone else, we pulled over and got out. Beneath us was parched ground, above us a vicious sky, before us a towering cactus. And there, under the dark clouds, there against the stark desert, there before the sharp thorns, we gazed at the bright beauty of gentle, precious flowers. We saw flowers in the desert that told of the might of their Maker.

God has created this world in such a way that there is some kind of flower that blooms in almost every kind of condition. We are never far from displays of his beauty, tokens of his mercy, reminders of his creative genius. And just as God suits flowers to every climate, he suits Christians to every circumstance. No matter what unfolds around us and no matter what is done to us, we are able to bloom for him—to display the truest love, the greatest gentleness, the highest reaches of Christian character.

Like flowers in a botanical garden, professionally guarded and perfectly groomed, we bloom in times of tender care and great ease. When all is well, we display the goodness and glory of our God.

Like flowers in the desert, we bloom when it seems we have been abandoned. Even when circumstances are as sore as we can imagine, even when it seems like we are being deprived of the very stuff of life, even when our very souls feel dry and barren, we continue to serve and to worship.

Like flowers on a mountaintop, we bloom in circumstances where it seems like the conditions must surely be too harsh. Far beyond the point where it seems that spiritual life should be sustainable, far beyond the point where hearts break and faith fails, we survive and even thrive.

Like flowers along the edge of a landfill, we bloom even when surrounded by the muck and mire of the world. Just as a flower can remain bright and unsullied by the mess around it, we can remain unstained by the anger, clamor, and filth of a depraved world. Though we may be growing in a landfill, we are never of that landfill.

Like flowers on the edge of a volcano, we bloom amidst the heat of the most fiery trials. With eruptions of persecution exploding around us, with the hot lava of reviling flowing beside us, still we think God’s thoughts, still we speak God’s words, still we act as God’s emissaries. Still we are faithful and true to him.

God has created flowers for the forests and jungles, the mountaintops and wetlands, the plains and deserts, the peaks and valleys. Everywhere they declare his glory. And just so, God has saved his people to display his glory and sing his praises in every time, every trial, every situation, every circumstance. No matter our surroundings, no matter our context, no matter our joys or sorrows, we must, and by his grace we can, bloom for him.

We sometimes make the Christian life more complicated than it needs to be and more complicated than it ought to be. For when it comes right down to it, God calls us to nothing more, and nothing less, than to obey. The only thing that really matters in any context or any circumstance is obedience to God’s will as it is revealed in God’s Word. Thus it is always necessary, and never superfluous, to search the Bible to know the mind of God. Thus it is always right, and never wrong, to pray, “Lord, teach me to obey you in this.”

If God calls us to possess great wealth, then he calls us to live with great generosity toward others and great care toward the state of our own souls, knowing that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. It falls to us to pray that we would be obediently and faithfully rich.

If God calls us to possess scant wealth, then he calls us to live obediently with reliance upon him and trust in his provision, knowing that the God who clothes the grasses of the fields will much more certainly clothe those whom he loves. It falls to us to pray that we would be obediently and faithfully poor.

If God calls us to experience times of great joy, he calls us to enjoy them, to rejoice in them, to acknowledge them as a blessing from his hand, to eat and drink and take pleasure in the good things of this world and the good times in life, knowing that each is a gift from God. It falls to us to pray that we would be obediently and faithfully joyful.

If God calls us to undergo times of sore loss, we are to acquiesce, to raise hands of worship rather than fists of rebellion, to lament our sorrows but to never charge God with the least wrong. We are to pray our longings and fears, our sorrows and griefs but ultimately, like Jesus, to say “not my will but thine be done.” It falls to us to pray that we would be obediently and faithfully sorrowful.

If God calls us to experience great physical strength, we are to use that strength to love and support others, to bear their burdens, to use our strength to support them in their frailty. It falls to us to pray that we would be obediently and faithfully strong.

If God calls us to suffer weakness, then we are to undertake the kinds of ministry that weakness permits and invites—prayer, encouragement, love, support. We are not to see our weakness as the end of our usefulness to God but as the gateway to a whole new kind of usefulness. It falls to us to pray that we would be obediently and faithfully weak.

There is no circumstance in which God has nothing for us to do, no situation in which we cannot be faithful to his calling on our lives. He calls none of us to uselessness and calls none of us to another man’s life or ministry. He calls each of us to be obedient in the context he has ordained for us. For the end of the matter, when all else has been heard, is that we are to simply fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the sacred duty of every man, the kind expectation of a loving God.

I am a master at identifying sin. I might be tempted to brag about that fact, except for this: While I’m a master at identifying the sin in other people, I’m a mere novice at identifying the sin in myself. And I don’t think I’m the only one. There seems to be something deeply embedded in sinful humanity that gives us the ability to spot the sin in others but to ignore it in ourselves. We can provide a thorough accounting of someone else’s flaws, but often only a cursory account of our own.

I recently found myself pondering logs and specks—the funny little parable Jesus uses to make a dead serious point about that very disparity. “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye?”

While some of Jesus’s parables require historical context if we are to picture them properly, this one’s simple enough. You’ve been outside with a friend doing a little home improvement project. Suddenly there is a major collapse and when the dust settles you see your friend holding his eye and you hear him saying he’s got a bit of sawdust in there. You rush over to see if you can help. But as you approach, he backs away and tells you that you need to get some help of your own. What he knows (and you’re ignoring) is that amid all the fuss you got something in your eye too. But it’s not a little speck of sawdust. It’s a log. It’s a plank. Actually, the word Jesus uses here describes the roof beam, the single biggest piece of wood in the whole house. So while you’re trying to get a microscopic speck out of your friend’s eye, you’ve got a 30-foot beam jutting out of your own. It’s an illustration that is deliberately hyperbolic, deliberately absurd.

And here’s what Jesus says about it: “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.” That’s obvious. You can’t do microsurgery on someone else’s eye when you’ve had major trauma to your own. You need to deal with your own major mess before you can deal with someone else’s minor mess. But what stands out to me as especially significant is that Jesus describes this as hypocrisy. That’s interesting to me because hypocrisy is a moral word, which means you haven’t just made a mistake, you’ve committed a sin.

Hypocrisy is when you have a high standard for everyone else but a low standard for yourself. Hypocrisy is when a politician says, “everyone needs to wear a mask,” but when she is spotted in public, sure enough, her face is bare. Hypocrisy is when a prosperity preacher tells people to give generously so he can spend lavishly. And, in the context of what Jesus is saying here, hypocrisy is when you care more for other people’s sin than for your own. It’s when your foremost concern is not your own flaws, but the flaws of other Christians.

Here’s the thing. Jesus is not making the point that there’s never a time to go to another Christian and to help him see his sin. We actually need other people to help us in that task. Most of us can think of times that our eyes were opened to some sinful habit or pattern only after someone took the time to point it out to us. But it’s a matter of putting first things first. Maybe it’s helpful to think about it in this way.

It’s miserable to have a speck in your eye. When you have even the smallest particle of sawdust in your eye you’re desperate for someone to help you get it out. But if you go to the doctor and find she has a roof beam sticking out of her face, you’ll probably find another doctor. Why? Because the beam in her eye doesn’t just make her unqualified, but actually incapable. She doesn’t have the vision. She will mess it up and make it worse.

And just like it’s miserable to have a speck in your eye, it’s miserable to have a sin in your life. And just like you want someone to help you find the speck, you want someone to help you identify the sin. But that person needs to be qualified, and the qualification is that she herself has put sin to death, that she herself has pulled that metaphorical plank out of her eye. It’s when she has done that that she’s qualified and capable.

It may be your responsibility to help another Christian spot a sin and repent of it. But your first priority must be dealing with your own sin. Your first priority must be demanding holiness of yourself, not of everyone else. Your first priority must be to admit that you’ve got some planks in your eye and to be far more concerned with getting them out than going after the specks in someone else’s. Because if you try to help a friend while that sin is still firmly embedded in your life, you’ll be unqualified and incapable; you’ll make it worse.

You’ve probably heard the famous quote from Robert Murray M’Cheyne who said: “For every look at yourself take ten looks at Christ.” What he meant to point out is that the way to grow in godliness is not to fixate on your own sin, but on Christ’s glory, Christ’s beauty, Christ’s holiness. This is good and wise counsel. And maybe in light of Jesus’s parable we can add to it something to this: “For every look at someone else, take ten looks at yourself.” This will align your priorities. For every one look at someone else’s sin you’ll be taking ten looks at your own and 100 at Christ’s glory. The point, of course, is not to follow mathematical formulas but to admit spiritual weakness and establish godly priorities. It’s to admit that while you can be tremendously helpful in the lives of others, you can also be recklessly harmful. It’s to establish that your first priority is not to dig out their specks, but to haul out your logs.

The great daily challenge I face in Christian living is not a challenge of knowledge—I know what I need to know in order to live in a way that pleases God. It is not a challenge of discernment—there is rarely any great difficulty in distinguishing truth from error and right from wrong. It is not a challenge of ability—there is no temptation I cannot resist and no sin I cannot turn away from when I am indwelled by the Holy Spirit of God. I have what I need to live well before God and man.

But so often I don’t. So often I fail to live out God’s two great commandments. So often I fail to love God with my whole heart and to love my neighbor as myself. Why? Why do I fail to live the way I want to live, the way God tells me to live, the way God enables and equips me to live? What is the great daily challenge?

The great daily challenge of Christian living is the challenge of simply taking hold of what is mine in Christ. It is the challenge of presenting my whole self as a living sacrifice to God, knowing that this is holy and acceptable to him, that it is an act of true worship. It is the challenge of not being conformed to this world, but of being transformed by the renewing of my mind so I can do the will of God—all that is good and acceptable and perfect.

The great daily challenge is, on the face of it, so very simple: to think like a Christian, to speak like a Christian, to act like a Christian. It is to think in ways that reflect a renewed mind, a mind that sees the world as it truly is and a mind that is determined to think God’s thoughts after him. It is to speak in ways that reflect a renewed heart, to understand that life and death are in the power of the tongue and that my words can be fresh water or brackish, a blessing or a curse. It is to act in ways that reflect renewed desires, to act in ways that faithfully deploy my gifts, talents, time, energy, and enthusiasm for the good of others and the glory of God.

The great daily challenge is to earnestly desire to live in a distinctly Christian way. It is to pray that I actually would live in a distinctly Christian way. It is to pray “God, in the day ahead I pray that I will think like a Christian, that I will speak like a Christian, that I will act like a Christian.” It is to trust that this is a prayer God is pleased to answer.

What I wanted was a sofa. What I got was a tale of woe. As I stood in awkward silence, listening to her talk about everything but sofas, I realized she was illustrating a lesson I need to learn as much as she does. I mentioned a couple of days ago that I have been struggling with this ongoing medical issue and the pain that comes along with it. I do not intend to make this a regular theme on the blog, but so often the Lord uses our real-world circumstances to teach us important truths, and this seems to be one of those times.

I need a new sofa. I need something I can sit on or lounge in and be comfortable. That sofa will need to have at least one key feature—it will need to have a high back that offers adjustable neck support. As we walked into the nearby furniture store, and as the saleswoman approached, I thought it would make sense to get that one feature on the table right away. Why look at all the couches when only a few could fit the bill?

But then it happened. The moment she heard “neck support,” a look came over her face, and I could tell she had something she wanted to talk about. And, sure enough, for the next several minutes, she told me how to fix my condition. Because she has experienced neck pain in the past, she knew what was going on with me, she knew all I had done wrong in my attempts to treat it, she knew why the doctors had failed in their attempts to treat it, and she knew exactly the solution—hydrotherapy, a course of true Eastern-style acupuncture, and a diet free from all gluten and processed sugars. I stood and listened patiently like a polite Canadian ought to do. Then another potential customer caught her eye, so she waved us in the vague direction of the few sofas that would meet our criteria, and hustled off to help someone else. We meandered for a few minutes then slipped away and went elsewhere.

It’s just a silly and harmless situation, but it’s one I understood as God’s helpful way of illustrating where I can go just as wrong. After all, I am often asked to provide counsel to friends, family, and fellow church members, and know I am prone to making many of the same mistakes.

The first is the most obvious: She did not ask any questions. The sum total of her data was “neck support,” but from that starting point, and without knowing the least detail of my condition, she talked for a solid few minutes. She assumed so much, but knew so little. And it reminds me that in order to speak helpfully, I need to diagnose accurately. And in order to diagnose accurately, I need to ask good questions. There’s not only one kind of neck pain. There is not only one kind of emotional trauma. There is not only one kind of spiritual pain. I need to patiently and carefully draw people out before attempting to recommend even the least action. To quote Solomon, “The purpose in a man’s heart is like deep water, but a man of understanding will draw it out.”

The second thing that stands out is she somehow made my problem all about her. She herself had experienced neck pain, and the great majority of what she said in our brief interaction was a description of all she had endured. Her problem was of a completely different nature than mine, but she didn’t know that because, as I said, she asked no questions. And I know this is a temptation in any interaction—to make a subtle switch from listening to speaking, from attentively listening to someone else to proudly speaking about myself. It’s too easy to make any conversation all about me.

And then there’s this: She failed to offer the help she could uniquely offer. I did not need a doctor or a counselor. I needed a sofa salesperson. What she had the unique ability to do for me, she failed to do. Instead of solving the problem she could solve, she attempted to solve a problem she could not solve. She missed the opportunity to sell a sofa and earn a commission, but even more so, she missed the opportunity to put her unique knowledge and ability to work. And I know I’ve too often done the same—instead of being who God has called me to be (and, therefore, admitting the many limitations of my knowledge and abilities) I’ve tried to be something else. Where God has gifted me, I can and should offer those gifts for the benefit of others. But I serve best when I serve within my gifts and abilities, not outside them.

It’s not that difficult, is it? Listen. Draw out. Empathize. Listen some more. Then take action or make recommendations only as I am equipped and in a way consistent with my vocation.

It’s for good reason that the Apostle Paul is considered one of the greatest leaders among the first generation of Christians. He was the early church’s foremost theologian, pastor, missionary, and church planter. He was also the Christian faith’s chief exemplar. Through the descriptions of his life in the book of Acts and the biographical details contained in the various epistles, we see him setting an example of how a Christian is to live. In fact, he lived such a godly life that he could, in humility and under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, tell others, “Be imitators of me.” Those who closely follow his instruction and example will be living lives that are pleasing to God.

In his writings, Paul addresses a host of issues related to both Christian doctrine and Christian living. He describes what Christians are to believe and then tells how, on the basis of those beliefs, they are to live. In Philippians 2:14–15, he discusses grumbling, an issue of enduring relevance. Knowing that the church in Philippi is encountering a time of trial that may soon turn to an outbreak of persecution, Paul is eager to ensure that the believers there endure it without sin. He knows that their attitudes and actions through this challenging time will honor or dishonor the gospel of Jesus Christ. Not only that, their attitudes and actions will either attract or repel the unbelievers who witness it.

As Paul calls on these believers to endure persecution well, he pairs two related words in instructing the church to “do all things without grumbling and disputing.” Both of these words refer to interpersonal conflict. At this point, Paul’s foremost concern is not that these believers will rebel against the providential sovereignty of God in their circumstances but that the trial will cause them to turn on one another. Attacks from outside will soon be paired with disputes on the inside, and the church will inevitably collapse into chaos. Thus, when he refers to grumbling, he warns against making negative comments about other members of the church behind their backs. When he refers to disputing, he warns against senseless debates or confrontational quarrels. The first threatens unity through sinful gossip while the second threatens unity through sinful confrontation. To the degree Christian unity is disrupted, Christian witness will be undermined.

There are at least two kinds of grumbling that are popular in our culture today and that are a temptation to contemporary Christians. The first is what I refer to as “casual grumbling.” This is a pseudo-serious way of expressing discontent about other people, and it is most often done under the guise of humor. It’s meant to evoke a laugh, but the humor actually masks the fact that we have uttered dead-serious gossip destructive to Christian unity. Then there is what we might call “direct grumbling,” which eschews any guise of humor or attempt at respectability. Here we directly speak to one person about another person who is not present. Grumbling meets gossip as we openly complain about their actions or attitudes. Rather than following biblical guidance and speaking directly to a person who has offended us, we speak to anyone or everyone else. This invariably erodes relationships in the church and foments disunity.

Then, of course, there is what Paul refers to as “disputing.” Disputing is the stuff of angry hallway confrontations or cutting comments on social media. It is approaching another person and dealing sinfully with his sin or with what may be perceived as an offense. It is making public what should be kept private and handling with anger what should be handled with grace. It is furthering disunity instead of pursuing peace. In both cases, we see that grumbling and disputing are not merely actions but evidences of a disposition. They are not just words of our mouths but attitudes of our hearts. They do not simply reflect something we do but broadcast something we are.

As Christians, we are responsible to maintain the unity of our local churches, and to do that, we need to protect our relationships with our brothers and sisters. When we face the temptation to grumble and dispute, we need to look—to look back, look up, and look forward. We first need to look back to the cross, to Jesus, who, though He was God, uncomplainingly “emptied himself, by taking on the form of a servant” and humbled Himself “by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). If anyone had reason to complain, it was Jesus, yet He uttered not a word of grumbling. Having looked back, we can look up to see the good purposes and kind providence of God in our lives. Even the most difficult circumstances have been ordained by the One who promises He is working “all things together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28). And then we can look forward to the coming consummation, when we will know that “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (v. 18).

As long as sin remains in us, conflict will remain in the church. Though it is unfortunate, it is also inevitable. There will be times when we disagree with others. There will be times when we need to confront other people for their sinful actions or attitudes or to dispute with others to contend for the truth and guard the gospel. But both must be handled with love and grace. Both must be seen as opportunities to further unity rather than further disrupt it. Both must be seen as threats to our calling to shine as lights in this dark and needy world.

This article was originally published in Tabletalk magazine.

The West is becoming increasingly post-Christian. Many of the more progressive nations are not merely overlooking or ignoring their Judeo-Christian heritage, but actively destroying it. They are making their way through their laws and constitutions, their definitions and traditions, to divest it all of any remnants of the biblical principles and assumptions upon which these nations were built. There is nothing that is sacred, nothing that can’t or won’t be touched in this great scouring.

Those of us who live in these nations are having to operate with some new assumptions. Some of these pertain to the way churches operate: We have always assumed that when we give money to churches and ministries we will receive a tax receipt, but those days may soon be over for organizations that will not bow before one of society’s sacred cows. Some of these pertain to family: We have always assumed that as parents we have the right to educate our children as we see fit, but it’s not hard to foresee a future in which that is no longer the case. Some of these pertain to marriage: We have always assumed that marriage is between one man and one woman, but now marriage has been extended to same-sex couples and many assume polygamous relationships cannot be far behind. It extends through education, business, politics, and everything else. Because Judeo-Christian values are so deeply embedded in the warp and woof of our nations, there is really no area that can’t or won’t be changed.

As so many nations revoke their heritage, Christians will need to learn how to live in a post-Christian world. We will need to learn to live in a world where the laws inhibit our ability to worship freely rather than assist it, where traditions oppose the Bible instead of complement it, where the assumption is no longer that Christian people and their churches are a help but a hindrance to a thriving, prosperous society.

It may be an intimidating time, but we won’t be alone in it. There will be help for us if some of our brothers and sisters are willing to offer it and if we are willing to receive it. Though the West is becoming post-Christian, much of the rest of the world is either pre-Christian or a-Christian. Much of the rest of the world is either just beginning to embed Christian values in their laws or constitutions, or never has. And the believers in these nations already have a lot of knowledge and a lot of wisdom about how to live the Christian life in contexts where that is far more difficult than it has traditionally been in the West. They have never enjoyed many of the privileges we take for granted—respect, tax receipts, the Ten Commandments on the walls of our courthouses, national anthems that proclaim the name of God, the option to educate at home or in Christian schools. They have had to address issues that have not been pertinent to us—infanticide, polygamy, shame-respect culture, forbidden assemblies, and generosity that provides no tax benefit. In many ways, they have been where we are going. They’ve got knowledge where we’ve got questions. They can instruct where we are ignorant. They’ve explored and applied biblical truth we haven’t yet been forced to grapple with.

So I suppose this is a call for those of us in the West to take comfort and confidence in this: there are Christians who can assist us. There are believers elsewhere who can guide us into this territory that is foreign to us but familiar to them. And it’s a call for those of you outside the West to be willing to help. Where you have wisdom and experience, please share it. We will be looking to you for comfort, for wisdom, and for guidance.

This is a question that I get from time to time (in different variations): “I have come to differ theologically with my church in some significant ways, so should I leave, and if so, how?” This was asked at an Ask Me Anything event in the Philippines, and here’s my stab at an answer. (Context: This specific question involved leaving a non-Reformed charismatic church for a non-charismatic Reformed one.)

Transcript

I have come to differ with my church theologically – Should I leave? If yes – How?

Okay, so, maybe that’s another question where, in the abstract, you can answer one way but in the particulars of life there’s just so much you need to think about and so much you need to consider. So, first, I would say be very, very careful. You don’t want to destroy a church, right.

Let’s distinguish between a false church versus an unhealthy church. So that church you’re describing there, you could come to deeper theological convictions, you’ve come to see that that church does not share your convictions. And in fact, probably in some ways, you see that church as opposed to your convictions. I think you still need to ask, is that a false church? Are they teaching a false gospel? What would I say? You know, that’s probably an unhealthy church. I think they’re still preaching the gospel, but they have some unhealthy parts to this church, there’s some theology they’re teaching that’s wrong. Even though they still teach the gospel, they’re emphasizing these things or they’re endorsing this kind of theology or this kind of teacher.

So, let’s distinguish between those two things. If it’s a false church and they are preaching a false gospel and they are leading people to hell. Then absolutely, you need to get out of that church right away. And you need to talk to other people you love in that church and tell them to leave too, right. I don’t think it’s that kind of church, based on what you’re saying. So probably it’s a, what you might consider, an unhealthy church, right, your convictions have changed.

So I would say, first be very, very careful. It’s not your job to destroy that church. In fact, if you decide to leave the church, I think you need to leave really carefully. Simply withdraw from the church quietly and go to another church, but do all you can to leave respectfully, to leave kindly, not to burn bridges, not to feel that you need to drag other people out with you. Just step out of it, show humility, and show proper respect for people who, even if you believe they’re theologically misguided, are still sharing the gospel, still drawing people to Christ, we hope, even if their theology isn’t exactly what you believe in.

So, reformed people I think can have a bit of a burn it down mentality when it comes to churches like that. You know, they talk about the cage stage of Calvinism and stuff, right, where for a while, you’re just so excited about this theology you just want to share it with everyone you know and you just can’t believe other people aren’t seeing it. Just be very, very careful. Be very, very humble. Probably the best thing you can do is leave quietly. And understand that if you don’t have the pulpit in a church, you’re very unlikely to change the church, right. So if you’re the pastor of a charismatic church, you can probably lead that church, there may be a way you could lead that church into sound doctrine. If you don’t have the pulpit, you’re not an elder in the church, you’re not a pastor in the church, it’s very unlikely you’ll be able to change it. So, instead, if that’s your conviction, your conscience, and you’ve prayed about it, just quietly withdraw from the church and go to another church that’s closer to your theological convictions. And find ways to serve God and serve His people there.

Though we boast of great things and take confidence in our knowledge, we are actually finite little creatures bound by a million limitations. In fact, our knowledge is so limited we don’t even really know ourselves. We often lack clarity about the motivations behind even our best or worst actions. We can do great things for the Lord while still harboring sinful motives; we can do terrible things that dishonor the Lord while still harboring noble motives. Our hearts are deceitful and desperately wicked. Who can know them but God himself?

Yet we are so quick to assume the very best about our own motives and the very worst about others’. Surely this is some of what the psalmist cried for in Psalm 139: “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” Surely this is what Solomon wanted us to know when he said, “All the ways of a man are pure in his own eyes, but the Lord weighs the spirit.”

That’s hardly all the Bible has to say about motives. Though 1 Corinthians 13 is a popular wedding text, its foremost purpose is not to guide the relationship between a husband and wife, but the relationship of one believer to another. And in that text, God tells us what love demands of all of us. If we’ve been touched by the love of God, this is how that love ought to manifest itself as we relate to others: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Corinthians 13:7). Several of these words and phrases speak to the matter of motives.

Love bears all things, which means it never gives up. It never grows weary of bearing with another person in their best and worst deeds. Love believes all things, choosing to believe the best about other people rather than the worst. It puts aside sinful cynicism to assume others are operating out of good motives instead of poor ones. Love hopes all things by looking toward other believers with the sincere desire that they are operating out of the best of intentions and the hope that they will accomplish great things for the Lord. And love endures all things, by not giving up quickly, but persevering through sin or the appearance of sin. It is quick to forgive, quick to overlook an offense, and slow to cast doubt.

And if 1 Corinthians 13 does not already do enough to call us to examine what we assume about others, we can turn as well to James 3:17–18 where we read that “the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” We can turn to the sobering words of 1 Corinthians 4:5: “Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart. Then each one will receive his commendation from God.”

Here is what I conclude: It is sinful to assume bad motives; it is sinful to not assume good motives. So when you see a tweet that jumps out at you, don’t immediately interpret it as saying something contentious or defensive. When you read an article or see a video, choose to grant the grace of believing and hoping and bearing and enduring all things. Think of that person as a brother or sister in Christ and choose to look for the best possible, not the worst possible, explanation.

It’s good to make assumptions if the assumption is that a person’s motives are good; it’s sinful to make assumptions if the assumption is that a person’s motives are bad. When we look at other Christians—their beliefs, their words, their deeds—love calls us to assume the best rather than the worst. Love calls us to regard them with hope rather than suspicion. Out of love for God and our brothers and sisters, we ought to grant them the same mercy, the same grace, the same hope we grant ourselves.