Yesterday was a remarkable and horrifying day in the history of the United States, and especially for those Americans who claim Christ. A collection of people calling themselves Christians, Republicans, conservatives, QAnon supporters, and whatever other term they might identify with, stormed the Capitol building in Washington, D.C. in an attempt to disrupt the final tallying of electoral college votes. The desire was a foolish last-ditch attempt to preserve the presidential authority of Donald Trump.
What has followed has been a remarkable clarity of growing division among Christians between those who believe Trump must be supported at all costs, and those who may have been on the fence before, but who now believe that to support him is to abet insurrection. This podcast is among the latter group.
That doesn’t mean we’re throwing in with the Democrats and Biden. But it does mean that we are warning, vigorously, of the dangers of trusting to political power for hope. We are warning those mourning loss of the dangers of miserable hopelessness and bitterness. We are warning those celebrating victory of the dangers of self-righteousness and reliance upon any foundation other than Christ as hope. And we are encouraging everyone to pursue unity in Christ – true unity, that transcends the divisions we find so often driving us to war amongst ourselves.
Take a listen to this podcast and share your thoughts below. If you want to read more of the book I read, Advancing Christian Unity, you can find a copy here on Amazon.
Happy New Year! Dave and Jarod are kicking things off with a discussion of the dangers Christians enter into when trusting to earthly political power, and the lure of conspiratorial thinking for people trying to understand why things aren’t going the way they want. Listen and share, and please consider supporting us on Patreon.
2020 is coming to a close, and with it I thought it was fitting to read a sermon intended to fix our eyes upon the true object of our worship. The audio is a little rough, but I hope this ministers to you as we enter the new year.
He who said, “all things work together,” will soon prove to you that there is a harmony in the most discordant parts of your life. You shall find, when your biography is written, that the black page did but harmonize with the bright one—that the dark and cloudy day was but a glorious foil to set forth the brighter noon-tide of your joy. “All things work together.” There is never a clash in the world: men think so, but it never is so. The charioteers of the Roman circus might with much cleverness and art, with glowing wheels, avoid each other; but God, with skill infinitely consummate, guides the fiery coursers of man’s passion, yokes the storm, bits the tempest, and keeping each clear of the other from seeming evil still enduceth good, and better still; and better still in infinite progression.
The end of the Job series has truly been a long time coming, especially with the delays I’ve had between episodes, and for which I do apologize. But this isn’t a sermon from Job – it’s a sermon on Romans. How can this be the conclusion to Job?
I said way back when I began this series that my intention after all was said and done was to conclude it with a sermon on Romans 8:28, for I can hardly think of a New Testament passage that summarizes the truth found in Job more succinctly. “All things” – how many things? All of them. This is probably one of the rare circumstances where “all means all, and that’s all all means” is actually a true statement. “Work together” – there is not conflict with God’s great guiding hand even in those darkest moments. “Work together for good” – now that is where so many stumble. It isn’t a struggle to think of where this is hard to conceive of. War and peace, working together for good? Murder and life? Tyranny and liberty? These are incompatible ideas, yet the guiding hand of God rules over them all and creates through them a world that glorifies Him as God above all others.
But it’s not just a generic good smeared across creation. It’s good for God’s people, for “those who love God, who are called according to His purpose.” God’s grace and mercy shines on all creation, on all mankind, but on those who are in Christ a special goodness shines. We walk in this world as beacons of God’s light, and as salt in a world whose taste has turned to evil.
Giving thanks with Job
Job confessed in chapter 42, after Elihu’s and God’s remonstrances of his self-righteousness, that his wisdom was faulty and his justification lacking, and confessed that his faith was truly in God and His wisdom. After that, after everything he had been through, Job found himself standing before the King and had nothing to say, except to confess that he had been mistaken about himself. And in that, he found God’s grace to abound. Job found that when he confessed that he was “dust and ashes,” that God valued that dust more than he ever could have when looking to His own righteousness. God blessed Job richly with a renewed family and wealth.
So often this year I hear people express frustrations about “2020” as though it is an entity unto itself. Certainly I’ve talked about my frustrations and the exhaustions of living life with the added restrictions produced by the pandemic, and the fear for the future that has resulted from growing economic uncertainty and governments that are using this opportunity to grow their levels of authority. Yet we as Christians, no matter our thoughts on the pragmatic realities of day to day life, must confess that this does not change the truth that all things will work together for good for us. We look at what’s changed about our lives even if we haven’t personally seen the virus touch them and say with Job, “God gave, and God has taken away. Blessed by the name of the Lord.”
Honestly it wasn’t my intention to have this land the week of the American Thanksgiving holiday, yet after reflecting it seemed remarkably fitting. The story of the first Thanksgiving, after all, sees the Pilgrims and their neighboring American Indian tribe coming together for a feast that was intended to give praise to God for bringing them through that first deadly year and helping their colony to begin to grow and thrive. The suffering that our world brings often presses, the injustice of life infuriates and takes away what we believe ought to be ours, yet God promises that even this will serve for good in the end.
Do we walk in a way that reflects that we believe this? I struggle to. I suspect I’m not alone in that. Yet I think this year more than any other, whether we join with family or not, we ought to give thanks to our great God that He has led us through this time and allowed us to better know Him through it, and give glory to Him. Even if you are not living in the United States and don’t join in this holiday culturally, the end of this year is a good time for all of us to reflect on the blessings of God as they are revealed, and in the mercies that are renewed each morning.
A time of giving thanks is a time for all of us to not simply be grateful for the good things we have, though we certainly should be. But more than that, it’s a time for us to reflect on all that God gives us. I look at where I am in my life–with my family, my wife and I with a little baby on the way, with my job, with a whole world of uncertainty from my perspective, but I know I have a God that is both perfectly loving and perfectly sovereign over His creation. For that, I am truly thankful, and I hope that all of us are taking time during this season to reflect and consider that.
You’d think I would have given up on regularly scheduled programming after all the years of producing this, but I persist. Today we are finishing the book of Job, and I think that there couldn’t be a more appropriate time to think about such a book than during the time leading up to the Thanksgiving holiday.
I’ll get into that more in the upcoming Spurgeon Audio episode which, God willing, will be going up tomorrow. In the meantime, do you have ideas for the next book you’d like to hear read? If so, please comment here or drop me a line!
We sat down at our favorite cigar bar for another chat, which we’re hoping to get back up to more frequent happenings again. As we bear down on the American presidential election we gave our reactions to John Piper’s recent article at Desiring God entitled “Policies, Persons, and Paths to Ruin.”
Without ruining your listening experience, I will simply say that our take certainly does not line up with the common angry reactions of the conservative Christian Twitterati. Take a listen, let us know what you think, and pray for your pastors as they continue trying to guide their churches through rough and divisive waters.
Sorry folks, we haven’t had as much content produced lately and I’ve been a bit behind uploading it when we’ve made it. Here’s the podcast from a couple weeks ago where we discussed, among other things, the phenomenon among especially younger Christians that is known as “deconstruction.”
This is often perceived as a threat by more conservative believers, and as two men who stand solidly in the Reformed tradition we certainly sympathize with that. But with current events exposing the huge inconsistencies in American Christendom, it shouldn’t be any surprise that many young Christians are looking to untangle their faith from political identities that clash with it. Take a listen, and let us know your thoughts. How has this impacted your own walk with Christ and your church?
I charge you rest not, be not content until by faith you can say, “Yes, I cast myself upon him; I am his, and therefore he is mine.” I know that full many of you, while you look upon all else that you have as not being yours, yet can say, “My Redeemer is mine.” He is the only piece of property which is really ours. We borrow all else, the house, the children, nay, our very body we must return to the Great Lender. But Jesus, we can never leave, for even when we are absent form the body we are present with the Lord, and I know that even death cannot separate us from him, so that body and soul are with Jesus truly even in the dark hours of death, in the long night of the sepulchre, and in the separate state of spiritual existence. Beloved, have you Christ? It may be you hold him with a feeble hand, you half think it is presumption to say, “He is my Redeemer;” yet remember, if you have but faith as a grain of mustard seed, that little faith entitles you to say, and say now, “I know that my Redeemer liveth.”
The truth of this sermon title is the truth that rings in the heart of every believer when suffering comes. When we find ourselves pressed upon, feeling the pain of loss and doubt, and anger, and we know deep in our hearts that our God is just and holy, we look to this. Not in a “brush the dust off your hands and go on like nothing’s happening” way, because usually that is neither helpful nor practical. We do it in a way that says “My suffering is real. My pain is real. But God is just as real and He will give it purpose.”
I talked before about how the psalms of lament echo this same cry, where they call to God in real pain, in turmoil and suffering that doesn’t fade with the night and vanish in the morning, but continues for years, even generations. They don’t blame God, but they do recognize the truth, which is that God rules over even their times of suffering, and they call out to Him not because they are ungrateful or bitter, but out of faith:
Wake up, Lord! Why are you sleeping? Get up! Don’t reject us forever! Why do you hide and forget our affliction and oppression? For we have sunk down to the dust; our bodies cling to the ground. Rise up! Help us! Redeem us because of your faithful love.
Psalm 44: 23-26
I want to share some more from the book I mentioned last time as well, Rejoicing in Lament by J. Todd Billings:
In what sense, exactly, does the psalmist blame God amid crisis? The psalmist does not “blame” God in the sense of a judge who blames a defendant as he delivers a verdict and dismisses the defendant from the courtroom. If the psalmists had already decided the verdict–that God is indeed unfaithful–they would not continue to offer their complaint. They would have a solution to the problem of evil that silences the questions of lament: that God is not trustworthy, not wholly good. Instead the psalmists blame God in the interrogative, with raw, unanswered questions that cling to the hope of God’s covenant promise: Why am I in this crisis if the Lord’s covenant promise is true? In the context of covenant fellowship, God’s people can cry out to their covenant Lord–in complaint, even in protest and open-ended blame–until God shows his faithfulness according to his covenant promise.
J. Todd Billings, Rejoicing in Lament, p. 59
Faith expressed in times of doubt
Job may not fully understand at this point the nature of God’s redemptive plans, but he does have the right target in view. If he were hanging on the side of a mountain, he would have grasped the right handhold. If he were in the water after a shipwreck, he would be clinging to the best life preserver there is: the promise and truth of God’s work to redeem His people. And as Charles Spurgeon said, how much more ought we who live in this time between Christ’s first and second comings look to that in faith?
God does not say to His people, “Ah, you don’t have it so bad, quit whining.” He does not dismiss them or punish them for crying out in need. He listens to them. He has sent the Comforter to minister to His people, and provided His Word to lead them. Let us rest in that, and in who He is: our loving Father, who never leaves us even in greatest darkness and deepest valley. He is our God.
If there’s one idea that is missing a lot from the current national discourse, it’s the idea of what peace can look like in the midst of all the turmoil and anger that is the currency of our emotional economy these days. Jarod and I wanted to talk some about what real peace looks like–not simply a lack of conflict, or not what happens when some group asserts itself as the new dominant force above others, but actual peace. And the answer, as always, lies in the words of Scripture:
Let all bitterness, anger and wrath, shouting and slander be removed from you, along with all malice. And be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving one another, just as God also forgave you in Christ.
Ephesians 4:32 CSB
Now you may say, “What does this have to do with peace?” And truth be told there are dozens, even hundreds of verses I could have quoted that underline what a biblical view of peace is from different angles. But this one is particularly at the forefront of my mind right now because, for all reasons, it just happens to be trending on Twitter, and it’s getting the expected response on there. When you have a bunch of people whose righteousness is rooted not in the work of Christ for unworthy people who He gives Himself for willingly, but rather is rooted in their own correct thought and speech (at least, correct for the moment), then it should be no surprise that a command from Scripture towards an attitude of love, forgiveness and generosity that is itself pointed back to the work of Christ is angering to them.
But as Christians who do believe that, Jarod and I want to take the time to point to Christ as the only real, lasting, meaningful foundation of peace. We want to love our neighbors well. We want to see the sin in our own lives put to death. And we want to hold our own hearts up against this standard, not the standard of the world. Take a listen to this conversation, and let us know through email or in the comments below: how do you wrestle with this idea? What does it look like for you to put the desires of the flesh to death and to live in obedience to commands like the one above?