When Your Twenties Are Darker Than You Expected by Paul Maxwell

The human body starts dying at age 25. Our twenties slap us with the expiration date of sin’s curse (Genesis 6:3): slowly, in our ligaments; tightly, in our muscle fibers; subtly, checking for bumps; decimally, with a rising BMI. We feel death in our twenties; emotionally and relationally, in ugly and odious ways. Death latches its chain to our frame, slowly pulling us deep into an answer to the question “Death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55). Our twenties bring so many answers to that question — transition, failure, desperation, dependence, accusation, responsibility, moral failure, stagnation, unfulfillment. “Sting” isn’t sufficient. Our twenties can be a dark time.

Aspects of Quarter-Life Crisis

There are (at least) five feelings that overwhelm and disillusion the wandering young saints, day after day.

1. Disappointment

“I thought things would be better.”
“I thought I would be better.”
“I thought friendships would stay together.”

We show up at the doorstep of our twenties and mid-twenties hoping to meet our childhood dreams. It turns out that we oversold ourselves on our future. No astronaut missions. No presidencies. No spouse and kids. No house. “Wait, does life suck?” Expectations aren’t shown to be false — only shown to be miniature scales of what we’re actually hoping for; financially in dire straights, emotionally unfulfilled, professionally unimpressive, and spiritually stagnant. “I thought I would have grown out of this sin by now.” Shared, white-walled apartment spaces drag our nerves with doom: “This can’t be it. This can’t be all there is.” The doors of childhood are closed behind. Life, it seems, indicates that things will only be getting worse from here.

2. Despondency

“I’m just not as happy as I used to be.”
“I feel fundamentally unable to see the bright side of life.”
“My ability to feel joy is just broken.”

Each day — another day, and another — erodes the soul. Each day, a little less meaningful, a little more hazy; a few less moments of true beauty, a few more innocent pleasures to make it through. Unrelenting haze. Emotional nebula. Spiritual indolence. Slowly — down, sinking — down, twisting — down. Lethargic weight, myopic gaze. “Darkness” is not a sufficient word. Heavy. Weary. Vapid. Unaroused. Despondent.

3. Despair

“Nothing I do matters.”
“I’m going to be stuck here forever.”
“My parents are so disappointed.”
“All of my friends are doing so much better than I am.”
“Life just feels like a rat race.”

Despair is the emotional muscle of “Oh God, this will never end.” Pay up. You’re bulldozed. Despair is the overdrawn bank account — “Insufficient hope. Please deposit more faith to make a withdrawal.” And we have nothing. Rejection letters, romantic break ups, deaths of parents and siblings, bad news tailor fit to our most arresting anxieties. They’ve embarrassed us with empty hands. They are thieves of hope. Ruthless pillagers of dreams. Our circumstances, emotions, and relationships — we are fooling ourselves if we don’t think they are interwoven in the fabric of our beliefs. And when they die, despair comes alive.

4. Doubt

“The church doesn’t understand or address the issues I’m struggling with.”
“I feel judged by God all the time.”
“I’m not sure that God exists. And if he does, I don’t care.”

Doubt has been consecrated and crowned by the millennial generation of twenty somethings — hail, our new priest and king: incredulity. “God, if your people are so loving, then why . . .” “God, if you’re so great, then why . . .” “God, if you’re not a sadistic, disinterested deity, then why . . .” As we sink deeper into despondency, we lock arms with doubt. Our faith turns from “He will come again” to “That one time when . . .” — from “I believe” to “I once believed.”

5. Desolation

“I haven’t felt God in a really long time.”
“Friends are fake.”
“I don’t have a place that feels like home.”

Desolation — “Anguished misery or loneliness; a state of complete emptiness or destruction” — from the Latin desolare, “to abandon.” Loneliness can be the most crushing force in the universe. The heartache of leaving home requires more than wisdom and a coffee table — it can take and contort and dismember the soul. To lose for the first time the holding hand, the loving concern, the caring eye, the steady help — it can be grievous. Alone; therefore, alone forever; therefore, helpless. To be desolated is to be broken by the void. And we are being broken.

God and the Darkness of Our Twenties

God was a twentysomething once — Christ in the flesh. But there is more. He created twentysomething-ness. He died for twentysomethings and was raised for twentysomethings. I know, I know. It’s irrelevant. It doesn’t change anything. Jesus Christ doesn’t change anything, you might think.

Leslie Newbigin said, “I am neither an optimist nor a pessimist; Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.” Is Jesus irrelevant? How is wallowing in a dialectic of self-deprecation and self-pity going? Is that doing things for you? Is that doing more than Jesus has done? If so, get off this article. Get off the Internet. Go and drink and at the very least be merry, for tomorrow you die (1 Corinthians 15:32). But if you’re clawing for a grip — for something, anything — keep reading. Jesus actually changes quite a bit. Here are five things he offers.

1. Diligence

Responsibilities are scorching. Perhaps never more so than when we first feel their heat, and that they will never end. In order to feel a desire to move forward in a new stage in life, we have to do the hard work of letting go of our old life — a good life, as children, as carefree, as optimistic, as unjaded, as fearless and free to dream beyond our reach. That’s gone now. It’s not an overstatement to say that we may need to formally grieve our childhood, so that we can leave it behind. “We’re like shellfish that continue to open and close their shells on the tide schedule of their home waters after they have been transplanted to a laboratory tank or the restaurant kitchen” (William Bridges, “Transition”). We need to acclimate to our new surroundings.

In a dark and depressing transition, Ezra “made confession, weeping and casting himself down” (Ezra 10:1). The people gave him a mission — to make space for God: “Arise, for it is your task, and we are with you; be strong and do it” (Ezra 10:4). Before anything else, we need one thing in our twenties: a meaningful task. It’s part of our constitution as human beings — to seek and yearn for and mourn the absence of a meaningful task: “aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands, as we instructed you” (1 Thessalonians 4:11). Diligence sets the necessary rhythm for the gospel to weave its way into the crippling emotions that our twenties can bring. Diligence in grief, in moving on, in acclimating, in moving forward — diligence in meaning is the fundamental counteragent to the quarterlife crisis.

2. Dreams

First, if you see the darkness as a deathblow to hope, you’re already dead. There is no overcoming the darkness of despair if it meets a willing heart. But it is not a deathblow. Despair is a gauntlet thrown — here, in our twenties, we must learn the guerilla violence of the Christian life. “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” There are no points for style. Despair is not a prophet or friend — despair always speaks with a froward tongue, and it deserves bloody brutality. This is not a macho thing. It is a life-in-the-Spirit thing. Jeremiah’s prophet Baruch cried, “Woe is me! For the Lord has added sorrow to my pain. I am weary with my groaning, and I find no rest” (Jeremiah 45:3). God responds, “I will give you your life as a prize of war in all places to which you may go” (Jeremiah 45:5). God fights with us, if we would fight. The apostle John writes to the young because “you have overcome the evil one” and because “you are strong” (1 John 2:13–14).

Second, those dark feelings might not be so dark. They might actually mean something. They may be a flashing red warning: “Do that other thing.” Or “Don’t settle here forever.” Paul insists: “Let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him” (1 Corinthians 7:17). Are you following the dreams of your parents? Your community? Are your dreams a slave to your fears? The intimacy of our individual union with Christ allows us the freedom to stop living other people’s dreams. God has given you a personal call. It’s okay to take a risk on your own, and dream big for the glory of God.

3. Dissatisfaction

Are you dissatisfied? Good. The world is full of feasts that satiate the flesh in the moment, but starve the soul (Ecclesiastes 7:2). Believe better about yourself than “this present evil age” (Galatians 1:4). If we believe the world’s message that we are incomplete, inadequate, insufficient just to the degree that we can fix it — with enough Facebook, with enough money, with enough sex, with enough hobbies — then we are slaves to those things (Romans 6:16). We are both more hopeless, and have more reason to hope, than we would ever imagine. God endorses your dissatisfaction with the world’s self-concept package: “Large, with a side of self-doubt and a sprinkle of guilt — hold the Jesus.” How predictably joyless.

Self-hatred is self-perpetuating — it is not an isolated thought; it is a downward and accelerating cycle. We judge our desires: incomplete, unaccomplished, base, stupid, unrealistic. Don’t try to preempt your disappointment and abandonment with self-condemnation and self-abandonment. It is a cycle into a numb and catatonic existence. Find the fire. Our twenties can be an anesthesia — they can numb us to pain and motivation. If we can stop the morphine drip of despondency, we will find that our unbearable existential angst is not a prophet of doom — it is the pain of depressurization, rising out of the depths. “I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you. Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you hold my right hand” (Psalm 73:22–23). Dissatisfaction is what God uses to separate us from the beasts.

4. Dependence

God is a loving Father. Full stop. Part of that package: God cares about your parental issues. If you had an abusive, disappointing, harmful, traumatizing, or maladaptive relationship with your parents, that is a tragedy and a burden. And yet, God — your perfect Father — cares for you, and cares about your story. David Powlison explains, “Dynamic psychology [turns] the antique relationship with parents into a magic wand to explain all of life. The Bible offers . . . a more concrete and life-transforming explanation” (“What If Your Father Didn’t Love You?”).

God does not expect you to be a Wall Street executive. God does not wish you were making six figures. God does not wish you had a happy-go-lucky personality. God does not wish you would just “Get yourself together already!” We are not on our own. We are not broken beyond repair. We are not doomed to be our parents (2 Kings 21:21; 2 Kings 22:2). We are not condemned by our heavenly Father for being in process (2 Peter 3:15). He knows us and loves us and is working patiently in and with us: “I write to you, children, because you know the Father” (1 John 2:13). You can depend on him for love, affirmation, affection, correction, a guiding hand, and his never-forsaking care. Breathe.

5. Devotion

God is devoted to us. That may sound strange — aren’t we devoted to God? Isn’t “devoted” an inferior activity? No. God is devoted to Christ and we are one with Christ: “Do not be afraid or tremble . . . God is the one who goes with you. He will not fail you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6). To the extent that God is devoted to and present with Christ, he is devoted to and present with us (Ephesians 1:20). God will never be more devoted to us than he is today, even at his return: We have “salvation that is in Christ Jesus with eternal glory” (2 Timothy 2:10).

This may sound trite. That’s okay. God doesn’t promise that his truths will always carry the wit of that guy in your creative writing MFA that’s putting you $25,000 in debt. God says trite things — God repeats one single, unoriginal, overstated, overplayed truth again and again because we forget it just as often: “Work, for I am with you” (Haggai 2:4). “I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18).

God is with the lonely and the heartbroken. “Where? Where is he?” He is . . . he is there. Sometimes there is more to say, and sometimes there is not. You object: “Reproaches have broken my heart, so that I am in despair. I looked for pity, but there was none, and for comforters, but I found none” (Psalm 69:20). He will not stop repeating: “He who touches you touches the apple of his eye” (Zechariah 2:8).

Check Your Investments by Melissa Edgington

This week I’ve been spending some time with some senior adults from our church, going to some shows and eating way too much.  Today we saw a show that featured a whole family of wildly talented musicians.  The whole large family, down to the littlest children, could play multiple instruments, sing, dance, and act.  It was really remarkable to watch.

As we left we joked about how we only thought we were proud of our own children, until we saw what these little phenomena could do.  But, the truth is that there’s a clear reason why our kids can’t play the violin or dance a huge choreographed number on stage.  It’s because we haven’t invested time and resources into making them performers.  We haven’t awakened them early every day so that they could practice an instrument.  We haven’t paid for private dance or voice lessons.  The developing of these talents has not been a priority in our lives.  So, naturally, we aren’t seeing any results.

While we didn’t set out to make our kids superstars of the stage, I do pray that they grow to be champions of the faith.  Isn’t that what all Christian parents want for their kids?  To see them grow in their knowledge and love of Jesus?  To watch them discover all the delights of His deep and abiding love?

But, I really wonder what kind of results that we expect to get when we don’t invest time and resources to help them get there.  Think of how many ways that we fail to invest in our kids’ spiritual development.

When we sleep in on Sundays.

When we let sports and entertainment and, well, pretty much anything take precedence over church attendance.

When we don’t pray with and for our kids.

When we don’t teach them God’s word.

When we don’t teach them sound doctrine and show them how their theology should shape their worldview.

There are thousands of little ways to say to children, This isn’t that important.  Faith and spiritual growth is for grown ups. 

And then we turn around, and they’re grown. And we are shocked to find that they have little interest in the Christian life.

Young adults are dropping out of church at alarming rates.  Why, dear parents, would we expect our kids to be dedicated, faithful, spirit-led, gospel-centered adults when we know in our hearts that we have not properly invested the time and effort to make that happen? It would be like me putting Adelade on a big stage and handing her a violin, expecting her to play brilliantly.  The fact is that she wouldn’t even know how to hold the instrument in her hands.  She would quickly lay it down and walk off-stage.

We all want our children to be focused on Christ.  First, we have to be genuinely focused on Him.  Then, we have to spend the time training them, teaching them, advising them, guiding them.  We have to think of it as if they are part of a huge production, and it’s our job to prepare them to step onto the stage.

What we do here will have implications for generations to come.  Are we working to build that awe-inspiring, Christ-glorifying phenomenon in our own families, or are we too preoccupied investing in all of the stuff that doesn’t matter?  Today is the day to begin.

Proudly Humble by Tim Challies

Sometimes pride looks an awful lot like humility. There are times that our pride convinces us to put on a great show of what looks to all the world like humility so that we will be seen and acknowledged by others. We swell with pride when we hear, “He is humble.” It is a tricky thing, the human heart—prone to deceive both ourselves and others.

The Apostle Paul was a genuinely humble man. He had a deep awareness of his own sin and a profound sense of his own unworthiness before God. When he wrote to the church at Philippi, he went to great lengths to explain that he knew himself to be the chief of sinners. He remembered with shame that by persecuting the Lord’s church, he had persecuted the Lord Himself (Phil. 3:6; Acts 9:4). He had much to humble him.

Yet when he wrote to that church, Paul also told them, “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us” (Phil. 3:17). These might have been the proudest words he ever spoke. He might have been verbalizing the inclination of every heart, that the world would be a better place if everyone was just a little bit more like us. “Imitate me! I have this Christian life all figured out. Do things my way and you’ll be OK.” But was it pride that spoke? I don’t think so.

“Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.” These might have been the humblest words Paul ever spoke. When Paul looked at his life, he saw undeniable evidence of God’s grace, and all he could do was marvel. Once a Pharisee, he now saw the beauty of grace; once a persecutor, he was now willing to be persecuted; once proud of his lineage as a Jew of all Jews, he now knew that this gave him no advantage. His life gave evidence of God’s grace in its every part. Paul knew it, and Paul rejoiced.

As he looked at God’s transforming grace, he could humbly say, “Be like me.” He was not calling attention to his own innate skill or his own zeal. He was simply looking at what he had become through the mercy of God and telling the people he loved that they should display that same grace.

And how about you? What keeps you from calling upon that new Christian to use your life as an example in following Christ? What keeps you from speaking to that person you love and saying, “Follow my example here”? Could it be humility? It is possible, but unlikely. It is far more likely that pride is holding you back, that you are too proud to see grace where it exists, to acknowledge that grace as a work of God, and to call others to imitate it.

FAITHFULLY DELIVERING THE GOSPEL by Erik Raymond

Recently I’ve been thinking about the power of the gospel. As I do, I’ve been critiquing my own heart, “Do I really believe this?”

Remember, apart from Christ, humanity is not afflicted with a case of the spiritual sniffles, but rather is spiritually dead, utterly unresponsive to the things of God. Ephesians reminds us of this vividly:

And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you formerly walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, of the spirit that is now working in the sons of disobedience. Among them we too all formerly lived in the lusts of our flesh, indulging the desires of the flesh and of the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.

So what are you, the evangelist, the Christian, to do? Talk to people about Jesus. The power is neither in you nor the sinner, but in the gospel!

In Romans chapter 1 we read of Paul who is eager to preach (v.15) and not ashamed of (v.16) the gospel. Paul simply says that he is not ashamed because the gospel is the power of God for salvation. The gospel is the power of God. The gospel is wired with omnipotence! And when believers proclaim this message it comes bearing both divine authority (Matt. 28.19) and divine power (Rom. 1.16).

I love to remind my own heart as to what it is powerful to do: “for it is the power of God for salvation” The gospel brings salvation. The gospel is the exclusive means by which the universal problem of sin is remedied.

But notice the particularity of the salvation, it is not for everyone, but only for “those who believe”(Rom. 1.16). Hence the strong exhortation to evangelize; people must believe in order to be saved. The simple but complex message of Jesus brings salvation to sinners. In this message the sinner is humbled and God is exalted, and this is the way it should be.

If we really believe that the gospel is the power of God for salvation we probably would not mess with it. It is not wise to edit perfection; we have not been given proofreading writes by God to add or delete elements from his masterpiece of Christ exalting truth.

Christians are to simply be minimum wage table servers, taking the masterpiece from the award winning chef and bringing it to the tables. It would be just as absurd to edit the gospel as it would be for a waiter at a five star restaurant to sprinkle on some hot sauce, pull off some asparagus and dump some Splenda in the soup. We just need to faithfully deliver the goods with reverent zeal remembering it is not us that converts but God and his means is the powerful gospel of Jesus.

Be the faithful waiter–deliver the gospel!

The Seed of Divorce by Tim Challies

I recently sat with a group of young adults, men and women in their late teens and early twenties, and we spoke about singleness, dating, and courtship. Eventually the conversation advanced to marriage and to both the joys and the difficulties of marriage. We realized together that as these young adults are considering relationships and begin to pursue marriage, they are wondering how they can divorce-proof their marriages. Many of them have grown up surrounded by divorce and its effects. Some are afraid of commitment because they are afraid they may not be able to keep that commitment.

One young man asked how to ensure that a couple does not bring into their marriage a seed that could bloom into divorce. And it did not take me more than a moment to realize that in my marriage and in your marriage and in every marriage, there is already the seed of divorce. In every marriage is an issue, a belief, a habit, a heart idolatry—indeed, many of them—that can lead easily and naturally to the complete destruction of the union. The world, the flesh, and the devil are all committed to the destruction of marriage, and each of those enemies brings its own evil seeds. The question is not whether those seeds are or will be present in a marriage, but what we will do with them.

It may be that in your marriage, you have allowed the seed of divorce to grow. Perhaps it has already put down roots and is digging in. Maybe it has already poked its head through the soil and begun to grow to full bloom. Do not despair. There is still hope for your marriage. A marriage is not ruined by the presence of such seeds but by accepting, ignoring, or embracing them.

The very same seeds that may lead to destruction may also lead to increased strength and growth. Though powerful forces are arrayed against marriage, God is the creator of marriage, and He is far more committed to its growth than Satan is to its destruction.

Each of those seeds that may lead to divorce represents an opportunity for health. Each is an opportunity for a couple to have open and honest discussion, to identify these seeds, to talk about them, and to commit to stand firmly against them. Each represents a matter to take to the Lord together in prayer, to seek God’s strength and protection. And, of course, each represents an area in which the Bible can and must speak. Those seeds of error are countered and overcome by the truth of Scripture.

Stuart Scott says it well: “The more each mind is renewed (changed) by the Scripture, the more similarly a couple will think (Rom. 12:2). One of the worst things a couple can do is work to change one another into each other’s likeness. They are to be changed, rather, into Christ’s likeness.” And they are changed by going together to God’s Word day by day, week by week, and year after year.

5 Ways the Gospel Transforms Your Work

I’ll be honest: I’ve lived most of my life with a pretty low view of work. Being a pastor was fine – but I’m talking about NORMAL jobs, for NORMAL people. I thought, “Why would you be making widgets when you could be transforming souls?”

As it turns out, that attitude toward work is infectious. We pastors generally communicate in myriad ways that church is where the real work happens…we demand large hours invested within the church building, and do very little, if anything, to equip our parishioners to think through work specific issues.

This attitude has left many in the workforce feeling that the only justification for their work is their piggy bank. Recent studies have shown that very few Christians work any differently from their co-workers (see Amy Sherman’s Book, “Kingdom Calling” for the stats). That, of course, ought to be true in a sense. The way to be a good mechanic, after all, isn’t to plant tracts in the engine. It’s to FIX THE CAR.

But in another sense, the way a Christian works is radically different from those around him or her. The gospel ought to transform the way a Christian works from the inside out. How?

Here are five principles, taken from Tim Keller’s lecture at Redeemer Church to businessmen and women:

1. Faith gives you an inner ballast without which work could destroy you.

There are two potentially destructive outcomes in our work. We can succeed, in which case our work goes to our head. We start feeling as though our competence in one specific area of life entitles us to expertise in all areas of life, and look down on others without similar success.

Or, we can fail, and be devastated.

The reason for both of these is simple: without the gospel, our work is often our identity. Keller quotes from NY Times writer Benjamin Nugent, speaking of his transition into a writing career: “When I made writing who I was, it was warping,” he says, “It was conducive to depravity, and I mean the old Calvinist kind. When good writing was my only goal, I made the quality of my work the measure of my work…I couldn’t tell whether something I wrote was good or bad because I needed it to be good to be sane.”

The gospel frees us from work-as-identity syndrome.

2. Faith gives you a concept of the worth and dignity of all work without which work could bore you.

In past generations, work was seen as a necessary evil. For millennials and beyond, however, work is romanticized. If we’re not “saving the world”, using our gifts, and experiencing the mythological bliss of a thornless calling, we feel entitled to move on.

But the gospel dignifies all types of work, not just the visible jobs. Martin Luther famously pointed out that when God provides milk for us, it doesn’t appear out of thin air – He provides through the milkmaid. The milkmaid, then, is doing the work of God. The same is true for anyone doing real service for others, no matter how small or thankless.

3. Faith gives you a moral compass without which work could corrupt you.

We live in a funny culture. On the one hand, we teach our kids that there is no right or wrong. But when they cross the line (which we said didn’t exist), we punish them. We decry Enron executives, even though we taught them that morals are institution and culture specific. As C.S. Lewis has written in his Abolition of Man, “We castrate them, then bid the geldings be fruitful.”

The gospel teaches us that there really are moral standards which go beyond what we can “get away with” legally. We are competitive, but not ruthless. We increase wealth, but not without genuine service toward others. We seek the success of our company, but not by cutting corners. Christians go beyond the law at work – we seek to model Christ.

4. Faith gives you a new world and life view that shapes the character of your work, without which work could use you and master you.

One of the lies we’re told in society is that we can somehow bifurcate our religious beliefs from our workplace. On the one hand, this ought to be true for Christians: a good pilot doesn’t pronounce John 3:16 during an inflight passenger announcement. A good pilot lands the plane.

On the other hand, many professions require a deep understanding of human nature – a foundation which can’t be found outside of scripture. How do we educate children? How do we tell stories? How do we decided what is just? Without a biblical anthropology, we can’t think through these issues properly. The gospel allows us to escape the false narrative created by the idols of our workplace, by replacing it with the true narrative of human flourishing found in Christ.

5. Faith gives you a hope in the frustration of work without which work could harden you or crush your spirit.

Finally, the gospel assures us that there is something beyond our work. We will never accomplish all we want in this life. Those in law will never see the full vision of justice they strive toward. Those in art will never quite create the masterpiece they envision. Those in city planning will never see the city they dream about.

But there is a new city coming – God is renovating heaven and earth, and He will take our unaccomplished works, and accomplish them. He will see them through to completion. When we stand before him in a renovated heaven and earth, we will see the justice, the masterpiece, the city we had always envisioned. And, despite our frail and flawed efforts here, God will say to each of us: “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful with a few things. Now I will give you charge of many.”

PAUL WAS INSPIRED, YET HE WANTED TIMOTHY TO BRING HIM BOOKS TO READ! by Justin Taylor

(I am partial to this blog due to my love for books - DOC)

Writing around AD 64-65, the Apostle Paul appended a request in his letter to his pastoral protégé and friend Timothy:

When you come, bring the cloak that I left with Carpus at Troas, also the books, and above all the parchments. (2 Tim. 4:13)

Charles Spurgeon’s comments are worth reading about the implications for us today:

We do not know what the books were about, and we can only form some guess as to what the parchments were. Paul had a few books which were left, perhaps wrapped up in the cloak, and Timothy was to be careful to bring them. Even an apostle must read. . . . A man who comes up into the pulpit, professes to take his text on the spot, and talks any quantity of nonsense, is the idol of many. If he will speak without premeditation, or pretend to do so, and never produce what they call a dish of dead men’s brains—oh! that is the preacher. How rebuked are they by the apostle!

He is inspired, and yet he wants books!

He has been preaching at least for thirty years, and yet he wants books!

He had seen the Lord, and yet he wants books!

He had had a wider experience than most men, and yet he wants books!

He had been caught up into the third heaven, and had heard things which it was unlawful for a men to utter, yet he wants books!

He had written the major part of the New Testament, and yet he wants books!

The apostle says to Timothy and so he says to every preacher, “Give thyself unto reading.” The man who never reads will never be read; he who never quotes will never be quoted. He who will not use the thoughts of other men’s brains, proves that he has no brains of his own.

Brethren, what is true of ministers is true of all our people. You need to read. Renounce as much as you will all light literature, but study as much as possible sound theological works, especially the Puritanic writers, and expositions of the Bible. We are quite persuaded that the very best way for you to be spending your leisure, is to be either reading or praying. You may get much instruction from books which afterwards you may use as a true weapon in your Lord and Master’s service.

Paul cries, “Bring the books”—join in the cry.

Religious Liberty Is Not Freedom from Ridicule by Russell Moore

About a year ago, I found myself seething, over a compliment. Someone in Washington political circles said, “It’s really amazing; you’re a real-deal born-again type, and yet you are really intelligent and thoughtful.” I rolled my eyes, because I have seen this before. When I showed up in Washington as an 18 year-old congressional intern, a colleague from Massachusetts said, “You’re from Mississippi and you sure read a lot; good for you!” In both cases, I simmered inside, because both compliments were really forms of ridicule.

In my mind, I was upset because I was protective of the reputation of evangelical Christianity. I thought: “Are you so ignorant that you’ve never heard of Augustine or Justin Martyr or Blaise Pascal or Carl Henry?” And, years ago, I thought I was protective of my home state. I thought, “Yes, I think maybe William Faulkner and Eudora Welty and Tennessee Williams read more than I do.” But in both cases, I was wincing at a personal slight. I’m a born Mississippian and a born-again Christian. When one insults these categories, one is insulting me—and I didn’t like it.

In recent weeks, we’ve seen an unprecedented and nasty turn in American culture against basic religious freedoms, freedoms that once were at the bedrock of the American consensus. In the years to come, we will be called upon to advocate for religious liberty and soul freedom for everyone, over and against a government and a media culture hostile to the very idea. In order to do that, though, we must learn to differentiate between persecution and insult, between religious liberty and freedom from ridicule. They are not the same thing.

Religious liberty matters because religious liberty is an issue of worship. The state is given the power of the sword to coercively act against threats to public order and justice (Rom. 13:1-7). The state does not have the power of the sword to regulate what is owed to God (Mk. 12:17). What God requires is not forced or feigned worship but that which flows from an open and pure conscience (1 Tim. 1:5; Heb. 9:14). A state that forces a person to act against conscience is a state that has overstepped its bounds, a state that is attempting violence on persons at a Judgment Seat at which the state is not a party.

Moreover, in an American system of government, religious liberty is everyone’s problem because the state is accountable to the people, who are, ultimately, the governing authorities. A Christian, then, who doesn’t care about working for religious liberty is a Christian who is not only wishing to be persecuted, and to consign others to persecution, but is also a Christian who wishes to be, by his silence, a persecutor of others. This is contrary to the way of Christ (1 Pet. 2:12-17).

That said, there is always a temptation to conflate the right of soul liberty with the idea that we should be outraged when we are marginalized or ridiculed in the public square. We should fight this temptation.

When we work for religious liberty, we are working in the interest of the common good; we are not just protecting ourselves. We are working to keep ourselves from participating in the evil of a conscience-restricting coercive government. The apostles denied the authority of a decidedly non-democratic authority to intrude into such matters (Acts 4:19-20), much less should we expect it of a government with constitutional guarantees of the natural rights of religious freedom.

This doesn’t mean, though, that we should vent outrage when we are ridiculed or insulted or slighted by the culture around us. In fact, this impulse will leave us less equipped for contending for religious liberty. Behind our hurt at insults, after all, is a desire to be seen as “normal.” If people just saw us as we are, we think, they would see that we’re not as stupid or backward as they think. Nowhere in the gospels does Jesus have such a concern. He is accused of drunkenness, of insanity, and even of demon possession, and through it all Jesus is frustratingly tranquil.

As a matter of fact, whenever Jesus is received well, he presses on with his strange talking until people are outraged by the weirdness or subversion of what he has to say (Lk. 4:22-28; Jn. 6:22-70). Jesus didn’t hide the strangeness of the gospel because he knew only a gospel strange to the course of this world can save us (1 Cor. 1:21).

We should seek to keep our conduct honorable “among the Gentiles,” as the Bible tells us (1 Pet. 2:12), but we shouldn’t chafe at being strangers and aliens to them (1 Pet. 1:11). When we are ridiculed and mocked, it’s probably a sign that people are starting to actually hear what we are saying. Our gospel isn’t safe and normal. Our gospel is a strange message of turned cheeks and bloody crosses and empty tombs, of coming judgment and of poured-out mercy.

Some will point out, rightly, that the ridicule is part of a cultural wind that brings with it religious liberty violations. That’s true. But we can combat bad laws with better laws. We don’t combat ignorant insults with better insults (Rom. 12:14-21).

If we are a free people in a constitutional government, we should expect our government to leave consciences free. We will work for liberty and justice, for all. But that means that we should also expect many free people to jeer at us as crazy or stupid. We will walk with Jesus and bear such reviling, without reviling back (1 Pet. 2:22-23).

As citizens, we should expect freedom of religion. As Christians, we shouldn’t expect freedom from ridicule.

I Pray This for My Children Gregory Harris

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The Bible clearly shows that, during our Lord’s earthly ministry, there were parents who wanted Jesus to bless their children:

Then some children were brought to Him so that He might lay His hands on them and pray; and the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, “Let the children alone, and do not hinder them from coming to Me; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” And after laying His hands on them, He departed from there. (Matt. 19:13–15)

Though Jesus is not currently visible (1 Pet. 1:8), nothing has changed for believing parents. We still want—and so desperately need—the Lord to bless our children. This shows both our continuous looking to Him and the realization that our capacities as parents are limited.

As with most items related to discipleship—and parenting is definitely a God-ordained and commanded aspect of discipleship (Eph. 6:1–4)—prayer plays a vital role.

When our children were younger, they would frequently accompany me many places I went, including the seminary where I taught. I was asked dozens of times, “How do you get kids at that age to be so well-behaved and be such a blessing?” Always the answer from the heart would be, “My wife and I are not perfect parents, and our children are not perfect children.” Though we certainly did see God’s blessing on our children, we knew they were still quite young and had not yet faced the teenage and adult years with all the temptations and snares and dangers ahead of them (Prov. 1–9).

While seeing God’s hand of blessing, I realized the battle was only just beginning for us—and at times it was indeed a battle, and a very intense one at that, as both the world and the evil one actively worked to attract them to the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the boastful pride of life (1 John 2:16).

Part of my answer to those who asked me about raising our children would be that we repeatedly prayed for them and tried to raise them as God would have us do, especially as shown in Scripture. Even then, my wife and I knew we were not in full control; you cannot save your own children; you cannot live their lives for them.

We would stand on the sidelines and actively watch as our children walked with God, or, in one case, did not walk with Him for a prolonged period. I have been both the Prodigal Son and the father of a prodigal—and by the sheer grace of God—I have been the rejoicing father of a prodigal who has returned to the Lord.

As I talked to other parents about raising children, a similar question would repeatedly be raised, especially by younger parents:

“What do you pray for your children when you pray for them?”

This article is drawn from my response to that question. It is not necessarily exhaustive, nor does it mean that each item noted below must be included in every prayer session. Seasons of life often necessitate changed elements of emphasis as children grow older. But I trust this list will be encouraging and motivating to Christian parents as they intercede on behalf of those under their care.

Here is what I prayed (and still pray) for my children:

I pray . . .

— as a child to my heavenly Father before praying as a father for my own children (1 Peter 1:17).

— for my own walk with God (Eph 4­–6) before I pray for their walk; it starts with me, not with them.

— for my wife Betsy’s walk with God (singular) and ours collectively as husband and wife.

Any true ministry (and parenting most certainly is a ministry, and an incredibly responsible ministry at that) is merely an extension of your walk with the Lord (or lack thereof). And though we fail miserably at this at times, my wife and I pray that our children will see our relationship with God (Eph. 5:22­–33), and that it will be a natural carryover to our working with them (Eph. 6:1–4).

I pray . . .

— for our marriage.

— for our parenting.

— for wisdom and discernment in each of these areas (James 1:5–6; 1 Pet. 5:5–9).

— for what to say; for what not to say.

— for godly discipline that will not exasperate (Eph. 6:4).

— that God will bless our children beyond our capacities and limitations as parents.

I pray for my children . . .

— that they will come to a saving grace of God early in their lives (1 Sam. 3:7).

— that their hearts will always be tender before God (2 Chron. 34:27).

— that their hearts will always be inclined to God (Josh. 24:23).

— that they will fear God and turn away from evil (Job 1:8).

I pray for my children . . .

— that God will raise up godly influences for them, and

— that they will become godly influences.

— that they will have godly friends and be godly friends to others.

— that true biblical Wisdom will be their close associate (Prov. 1-9; 1Cor. 1:22-24; 1Cor. 1:30).

I pray for my children . . .

— that God will make them be/become blessings to others (Philemon 7).

— that they will be thankful to God and to others (Luke 17:11–18; Col. 3:15).

I pray for my children . . .

— that God will grant them an insatiable hunger and thirst for Him and His Word (1 Pet. 2:1–2).

— that they will worship God in spirit and truth frequently (John 4:23–24).

— that they will have a Second Coming mentality (1 John 3:1­–3).

— that they will live their lives with eternity in view (Phil. 3:20–21).

I pray for my children . . .

— that they will come under strong conviction when they sin (Ps. 51), and

— that they will confess their sins to God (1 John 1:9) and to others (James 5:16).

I pray for my children . . .

— that God will protect them from themselves, violent people and the evil one. (I received these three prayer requests from a godly uncle of mine who has since gone home to be with the Lord).

I pray for my children’s spouses, if they are to have them (1Cor. 7:7), . . .

— that God will cultivate godliness and the same traits already mentioned within them.

— that God will bring them together at the proper time.

— that they will honor Him in the courtship and keep them pure before Him.

— that God will be the center of their home and that this will become evident to others.

— that God would bring them to a godly, Bible-centered church, where they may grow in their walks with the Lord, both individually and collectively.

— that my daughter will become a Proverbs 31 woman and my son an Ephesians 5 man whether God grants them spouses or not.

I pray for my children . . .

— that God will be at work within them both to will and to do according to His good pleasure (Phil. 2:13).

— that God will grant them a sense of excellence in doing things unto the glory of God in the everyday activities of their lives (1 Thess. 4:1 and 4:10; 1 Cor. 10:31; 2 Cor. 1:20).

— that they will know experientially that He alone is worthy to receive all glory, honor and praise and live their lives accordingly (Rev. 4:11; Rev. 5:1–11).

I pray for my children . . .

— that they will not be conformed to this world, but instead they will be transformed by the renewing of their minds (Rom. 12:1–2) and the washing of water with the Word (Eph. 5:26).

— that they grow in the grace and knowledge of their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (2 Pet. 3:18), and

— that they grow in favor with God and man (Luke 2:52).

Simply put, I pray for my children . . .

— that they will walk with God all the days of their lives (Judges 2:7; 1Sam. 1:11;Ps. 23:6), and

— that we will see the fruits of a lifetime of walking with Jesus before His throne (Rev. 4:9–11).

*****

For more information about Dr. Harris and his writing ministry seewww.glorybooks.org.