http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15312753/grace-from-start-to-finish
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Pray This First
I grew up singing about God’s glory. Now I sometimes wonder what, if anything, went through my head and heart as I mouthed those words.
In church, we sang the major chords with gusto: “To God be the glory, great things he has done.” And I remember the more prayerful, “Father, we love you, we worship and adore you. Glorify thy name in all the earth.”
Such is the unspeakably precious, yet also challenging, heritage of being raised in a Christian home and in a faithful church — a gift I would not trade for any alternative. Many of God’s greatest gifts in this present age come with dangers. One danger in singing such (literal) glories from an early age is that priceless phrases like “the glory of God” can become mere religious slogans and church-talk — empty, in an immature mind, of the content that has led others, in generations before us, to take up such language with wonder and delight.
I was almost 20 years old when God opened my eyes (in a new way, if not altogether) to the meaning of his glory: its centrality in his creation and providence and in all the Scriptures, and the privilege and joy it is, in Christ, to daily consecrate one’s human life to glorify his name.
When You Pray
Luke 11:1 tells us that, after observing Jesus praying, one of the disciples said to him, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” Don’t let the weight of this moment be lost on you. The disciples have seen and heard him pray. They have observed his life, his manifest normalcy as human and yet his striking holiness that almost seems otherworldly. The request to receive Jesus’s instruction on “how to pray” must have rung in the disciples’ ears as a stroke of genius. Yes! Why didn’t we ask him sooner?! What will he say? Perhaps a few, picking up on his pattern of answering questions in surprising ways, braced themselves for some unexpected angle — and then found themselves surprised again that this time he would answer so immediately and directly.
How thrilled might they have been when he opened his mouth, with no delays or rabbit trails or disclaimers, and simply began to answer: “When you pray, say . . .” (Luke 11:2).
Matthew 6 reports another instance when Jesus modeled the same essential prayer, but this time in the context of his famous Sermon on the Mount. Here too his introduction had the same wonderful directness and immediacy: “Pray then like this . . .” (Matthew 6:9).
Unique First Petition
Before making any request or plea, Jesus first startles them with his address: “Our Father in heaven.” He is indeed modeling prayer for us, saying not “my Father” but “our Father.” And he draws together two seemingly opposite realities in doing so: the nearness and tenderness of God as Father, alongside the majesty and power of a Father who is in heaven. We might see here an anticipation of the six requests to come (Matthew 6:9–13) — in heaven, the magnificence of the first three pleas (verses 9–10), and in Father, the mercy of the final three (verses 11–13). A kind of three-and-three structure follows Jesus’s striking address.
Yet, as John Piper has observed, “There is something unique about the first petition.” Not only is there a genuine three-and-three, but also a one-and-five.
What Jesus Asked First
Again, imagine that priceless moment with the disciples, or during the Sermon on the Mount, with his followers on edge: What will Jesus pray first? This is it, his model prayer. This is how he himself prays, and how he says we should pray when we ask him to teach us to pray! Of all that Jesus might pray first, not just in any given prayer, but in the model prayer for us to learn and imitate, what will it be?
Hallowed be your name.
To clear away the Old English word hallowed and put it more directly into the modern tongue, “Father, let your name be made holy.” It’s an odd construction, though more typical in Greek than English: a third-person imperative, and in the passive voice. That is, instead of saying, “Father, make your name holy,” Jesus says, “Father, let your name be made holy.” It’s a request for God to see to it that others take action for the sake of God’s name.
So, this first petition includes two actors: not only the explicit one (God himself) but also implicit ones (the countless humans who will “sanctify him” or “make him holy” in their minds, hearts, mouths, and lives).
His Name Holy
What, then, of this word holy? How do we think about that, and does it relate, or not, to God’s glory?
Holiness, it is often summarized, relates to God’s separateness or otherness. He is separate from his creation and people, even apart from sin, and all the more with sin in view. As God, he is not common to our world and race, but holy. He is not just distinguished and different, but other — other, as Creator, from his creation and creatures, and other, as God, from sinners. In a sense, holy is an adjective for this unique otherness and distinct separateness of God the creator in relation to everything he has made.
“Holy means not only ‘separate’ but also ‘better.’ Our God is not just different from us, but we adore him for it.”
But beware, holiness is not mere separateness from creation, creatures, and sin. Holy implies other and better. Our God is not just different from us, but we adore him for it. He is distinct and marvelous.
The way his holiness, then, relates to his glory, is that his holiness is who he is as separate from us and better, and his glory is the visible and audible making known of his intrinsic value and infinite worth. Which means that to pray, as Jesus does, for God’s name to be made holy is to pray, in essence, for him to be glorified. “Father, may you be glorified! May your name be made holy! May you be seen and appreciated and praised, in my own eyes and in the eyes of all the nations, for your divine uniqueness and infinite superiority.”
Made Holy How?
This petition not only is the first out of Jesus’s mouth, in his model prayer, and thus assumes a kind of priority and importance, but it’s also distinctive in an important sense. Piper continues,
In this petition, we hear the one specific subjective response of the human heart that God expects us to give — the hallowing, reverencing, honoring, esteeming, admiring, valuing, treasuring of God’s name above all things. None of the other five requests tells us to pray for a specific human response of the heart.
Jesus’s prayer, and ours, that our heavenly Father’s name be hallowed doesn’t mainly refer to his glory in the skies above, or as seen in mountains and oceans below, or in plants and animals. Rather, the main referent is humans — thinking, feeling, willing humans. May his name be made holy, be glorified, in human minds and hearts and mouths and lives, beginning with the one who is praying, and extending into all the earth, across mountains and oceans, to all who dwell beneath the sky.
So, this first petition is both for the Father’s glory and for us to be instruments of his glory — that our Father in heaven be made holy first in our thoughts of him and our feelings about him. That we know him truly and enjoy him duly. That he be honored as holy in our mental perceptions of truth and in our emotional receptions of his beauty and worth. That we cherish him, delight in him, treasure him, value him, adore him, worship him.
Which leads, then, practically to how we might go about following our Lord’s lead, and doing so for a lifetime, but without language like “be glorified” and “hallowed be your name” growing old and becoming the very heaping up of empty phrases that Jesus warns about just breaths before his model prayer (Matthew 6:7).
May It Never Grow Old
One way to keep our daily prayers fresh and real, and particularly Jesus’s “pray this first” example of our hallowing the divine name, is to avail ourselves of the great breadth and depth of biblical and modern language at our disposal for both God’s objective value and glory as well as our own subjective God-honoring responses to him.
“His glory is far more precious than our repetition of the word ‘glory’ can adequately account for.”
So, we press into service a breadth of language for his glory: his honor, his praise, his name, his fame, majesty, splendor, dominion, power, strength, and beauty. We reach and stretch for words and concepts, from Genesis to the Psalms to the Gospels to Revelation, and in our own experience of God’s created world and redeeming grace. His glory — the shining radiance of his out-streaming holiness — is far more precious than our repetition of the word glory can adequately account for.
So too, in seeking to honor him, we press into service a depth of language for our joy in him: we adore him, marvel at him, stand in awe of him, delight in him, enjoy him, treasure him, cherish him, reverence him, esteem him, even hallow his name.
And as our hearts align with this plea — the hallowing of God’s name, which Jesus said to pray for first — the rest of our prayers (for both material and spiritual goods) will begin to fall into their proper place and proportion. God will indeed see to it that his name be made holy, that he and his Son be glorified, and that it begins in us, even as we pray.
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How Might Jesus Do Counseling? Four Roads into the Human Heart
As one who consistently responds to other peoples’ suffering and sin, sometimes I find myself at a loss for what to say. Other times, I know exactly what I want to say, but the person to whom I’m speaking doesn’t seem able to listen. I know I’m not alone in this experience. And I’m not just talking about professional counselors either, but anyone who tries to counsel others, whether at home, at church, in the workplace, or elsewhere. What do we do when we can’t seem to break through?
Let me offer a fourfold framework by which we can both listen and respond to others with Christlike wisdom. We see this framework in Christ’s own counseling — specifically as he counsels the churches in Revelation 2–3.
Counseling in Four Perspectives
The four elements of this framework are commendation, comfort, conviction, and challenge. Before I explain each below, first let me give a caveat: this is not a formula for counseling. Though I will present these components in an order — the order that occurs in my own counseling most frequently — there’s no strict progression. Each conversation may have a different combination of these four elements — or may, in fact, focus on only one or two of the four. These four elements are not so much a pattern or a formula as a multifaceted perspective by which to view the counseling task.
That sort of flexibility is exactly what we see in Christ’s counsel to the churches. As many commentators have noted, two of the seven letters lack any words designed to convict (Smyrna and Philadelphia), and yet with other churches (Sardis and Laodicea), Christ leans hard on convicting language and nearly eliminates commendation. Why the variability? Because the particulars of the situations vary. It’s often when we as counselors become formulaic (relying too much on a specific method), or we try too hard to force one particular element (because we trust our own evaluation), that we find ourselves stuck. In other words, when we become slaves to our own comfort or pride rather than servants of Christ, our counseling becomes inefficient and stale.
Commendation
The first component of this framework is commendation. By commendation, I mean finding thoughts, feelings, and behaviors that are in accord with scriptural wisdom and giving them attention. Quite honestly, commendation can be the most difficult of the elements with which to become competent. Often, we need to hunt through the muck and mire of obvious sin to find a small gem of Christlike behavior. Commendation also requires genuinely knowing the person in front of us in order that our words don’t come across as mere platitudes. Yet finding the praiseworthy in a situation can be key for both building confidence and bringing hope.
Jesus does this with the church of Ephesus when he says,
I know your works, your toil and your patient endurance, and how you cannot bear with those who are evil, but have tested those who call themselves apostles and are not, and found them to be false. I know you are enduring patiently and bearing up for my name’s sake, and you have not grown weary. (Revelation 2:2–3)
“Finding the praiseworthy in a situation can be key for both building confidence and bringing hope.”
Though Jesus will move on to tell the church what they need to correct, he takes a moment to commend them for what they have done well. Often, before others can hear constructive criticism, they need to know their situation isn’t hopeless, that they’ve been doing something — anything — right.
Mark Dever cautions that young pastors often lead with critique rather than encouragement when they first begin preaching — and the same is often true for young (or inexperienced) counselors. In many cases, we find it easier to sniff out what others are doing wrong than to identify what they are doing right, especially if they are turning to us in a time of failure. Yet in nearly every situation I’ve faced, I could find at least one quality to commend in my counselee. And typically, I find much, much more.
Comfort
The second component of this framework is comfort. By comfort, I mean finding appropriate words that bring peace, relief, and consolation. Comfort is especially fitting when we speak to the suffering, but even in situations where others need conviction, it is not uncommon that, without first receiving some amount of comfort, they will not be able to hear the conviction. In other words, rather than hearing the one thing we think they so desperately need, they will hear nothing at all.
Notice how Christ gives his suffering church in Philadelphia words of comfort:
Behold, I will make those of the synagogue of Satan who say that they are Jews and are not, but lie — behold, I will make them come and bow down before your feet, and they will learn that I have loved you. Because you have kept my word about patient endurance, I will keep you from the hour of trial that is coming on the whole world, to try those who dwell on the earth. (Revelation 3:9–10)
Before he exhorts them, he comforts them with the coming public recognition of his love for them and his promise that they will be spared a future trial.
Offering the comfort of God’s word requires genuinely understanding what is causing another person pain and applying God’s specific promises. The glorious assurance of Romans 8:28 will comfort many, yet some will need to know the comfort of fellowship — that not only they but the whole of creation groans with pain (Romans 8:22). Others will need the comfort of an active God of protection: “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). Still others will need the comfort of a God of forgiveness, in whose Son there is no condemnation (Romans 8:1). And yet others will need the reassurance that their suffering is not in vain, and that “the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). All of this comfort comes from a single chapter of Scripture! And God has so much more to give.
“True Christian comfort combines sympathy and action, not settling for one without the other.”
The dark side of comfort is that it can become an all-too-comfortable trap. The willingness to endlessly sympathize and pacify without the ability to convict or challenge allows sin to fester, slowly choking out the desire for righteousness. True Christian comfort combines sympathy and action, not settling for one without the other.
Conviction
The third component of this framework is conviction. By conviction, I mean making others aware of how they have transgressed God’s law by their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors — either in the doing or the not doing.
Paul tells Timothy, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16). Note the dual emphasis on reproof and correction. It is part of Scripture’s nature that it shows us where we have fallen short of God’s glory. Conviction rarely feels good; however, conviction need not be harsh. Paul describes his own ministry of conviction to the Ephesians with these words: “For three years I did not cease night or day to admonish every one with tears” (Acts 20:31). We would do well if kind, compassionate tears marked our ministry of conviction as well.
Jesus himself admonishes the Ephesians when he writes, “I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first” (Revelation 2:4). Here and elsewhere, he speaks earnestly to the churches and does not spare honest and difficult words for fear of hurting his hearers’ feelings. Indeed, what a gift that he would be so forthcoming!
As mentioned above, in all but two of the seven letters to the churches, Christ has some form of conviction to bring. Yet notice that he does not convict all of them: that in and of itself is instructive. Did those other two churches (Smyrna and Philadelphia) have no sin? Of course not. They were made up of sinners. Yet for his own reasons, Jesus felt no need to bring conviction there and then. Similarly, there are times when those we counsel do not need our conviction.
When do I prioritize conviction? When others are either unaware of their sin or are making excuses for it. In situations like these, I emphasize the unsurpassed goodness and mercy of God in his willingness to forgive (1 John 1:9), yet I also remind them that God’s forgiveness requires honest and earnest confession. As I often tell my counselees, one theme in Scripture is that he who repents first wins.
Challenge
The fourth component of this framework is challenge. By challenge, I mean helping others come up with a plan for how they can begin to think, feel, and act in harmony with their design according to Scripture.
Jesus does not leave the seven churches to fumble for a way forward. Rather, he exhorts them clearly — as when he tells those in Sardis, “Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it, and repent” (Revelation 3:2–3). Action words saturate this small section: wake up, strengthen, remember, keep, repent — a biblical battle plan if ever there were one!
A challenge helps others walk away with an action plan; it gives them some assurance that this week can be substantively different than the previous one. Nearly all of my counseling has some challenge at the end — a plan we devise in accord with Scripture about how we are going to move forward rather than spinning our wheels or moving backward. I have needed to learn over the years to have realistic expectations for these plans: often, growth happens gradually, one small step at a time. But without challenge, growth is far less likely to happen.
Four Doors to the Heart
Each of us will have greater facility with some of these elements than with others. We may find that we easily see where others are going astray and what they need to do; therefore, conviction and challenge come naturally. Others may be natural encouragers with strong compassion; thus, commendation and comfort come easily. We don’t want to fight our natural strengths; however, we do want to recognize the need for all four of these elements in our various relationships.
It’s easy to get stuck when we are trying to give good scriptural counsel, and sometimes that’s not the fault of the counselor. Before we walk off assured that others’ hard-heartedness is to blame, however, we can try reframing our counsel using one or more of the elements above. We may find that a door opens that allows us to speak truth into a heart that seemed all but locked just moments earlier.
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Entrusted with Agony: How to Love a Suffering Soul
Recently, a friend asked me to share some advice for how to be a caring presence for people experiencing deep emotional pain. He didn’t ask this because I’m a trained counselor or therapist — I’m not. He asked because, even from my high school days, people have sought my help in dealing with all manner of difficult, complex, and sensitive afflictions.
As I thought back over decades, dear faces and names came to mind — most of them remarkable, loving, spiritually earnest, bright, kind Christians — who at some point found themselves facing the kinds of tribulations that afflict and sometimes overwhelm us as fallen humans. I’ve had the painful privilege of walking alongside them as they endured debilitating depression, suicidal despair, tormenting mental illnesses, deep inner wounds from past sexual abuse, various kinds of undesired and dismaying sexual dysphoria, spiritually dark and disorienting faith crises, and more.
I mean it when I say it’s been a privilege. It is no small thing when others entrust us with some of the most tender, vulnerable parts of their souls.
None of this, however, qualifies me to speak as some kind of expert soul physician — because I’m not one. This is something I think I can speak to not because I’m an expert, but because I have some extensive experience. And since we’re all called at times to the ministry of being a caring presence for someone in pain (as well as receiving such care when we’re in pain), we can share lessons we’ve learned with each other. So, what might I say to my 20-year-old self if I had ten minutes to counsel him on how to be a caring presence for sufferers?
Caring Presence
In the Christian sense, a caring presence is someone who listens carefully and sympathetically to troubled souls in order to accurately understand the nature of their affliction and struggle, and then eventually seeks to help them put it in biblical perspective and see (or remember) how their suffering fits into God’s redemptive, providential purposes. In other words, the primary care we’re called to offer a suffering saint is hope.
“The primary care we’re called to offer a suffering saint is hope.”
When our souls are in turmoil, we all crave peace. And the peace we crave doesn’t come from having all our why questions answered, but it’s a peace that surpasses understanding, a peace that comes only from the God of peace (Philippians 4:7). This peace comes from the hope that God is working all things, even (especially!) our suffering, together for our ultimate good (Romans 8:28) — a hope that comes only from the God of hope (Romans 15:13). Good Christian soul care always aims to help a hurting person “hope in God” (Psalm 42:11).
In such a short space, I can’t give much specific advice on how to counsel a suffering soul, because so much depends on what someone is suffering and why. I can share some brief reflections about being the kind of caring presence a hurting person can turn to in dark moments. And to do that, I’ll use Micah 6:8 as a framework:
He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of youbut to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
A deeply just, kind, and humble person has the fundamental qualities required to be the caring presence a suffering person needs. But for reasons that will become clear in a few moments, I will address these requirements in reverse order: humility, kindness, and justice.
Discernible Humility
I’m beginning with humility because of these words from Jesus:
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (Matthew 11:28–29)
Weary, burdened souls didn’t come to Jesus just because he proclaimed himself “gentle and lowly.” They were already coming to him because they could discern, from observing and listening to him, that he was someone who offered them the rest and safety they craved. Jesus had a gentleness about him that sprung out of a fundamental lowliness that made him approachable — a safe person to come to for those longing to escape the burdens they bore from external oppression and internal sin and disorders.
A fundamental humility is also what makes a disciple of Jesus approachable. A disciple who walks humbly with God shares with Jesus a high view of God’s holiness (Psalm 130:3–4; Hebrews 12:28–29), the doctrine of sin (Romans 3:23), the fallen nature of the world (Romans 8:20–21), and God’s fathomless mercy in the gospel (Romans 5:6–11). This disciple “can deal gently” with other struggling souls “since he himself is beset with weakness” (Hebrews 5:2). Having a clear-eyed grasp of our own depravity and desperate need for God’s mercy means we won’t be shocked when we’re confronted with someone else’s.
If weary souls burdened by false teaching, disorders, and sin discern in us, as many did in Jesus, an authentic humility that manifests in the ways we gently deal with others, they are likely to come to us for the help — the hope — they need.
Loving Kindness
In 1 Corinthians 13, what were the first words Paul chose when describing the nature of Christlike love? “Love is patient and kind” (1 Corinthians 13:4). Scripture, of course, teaches that love is far more than patience and kindness, but it’s worth keeping in mind that these were foremost on the apostle’s mind as he, under the Spirit’s inspiration, wrote his profound, beautiful description of what it looks like when we love one another.
Such descriptions of Christian love are laced through Paul’s writings. For instance, Colossians 3:12 says, “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” It’s clear that God’s children are to love kindness.
That’s because God loves kindness. Not only do we see this in Jesus, but we see it in God’s most famous Old Testament self-description: “The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth” (Exodus 34:6 NASB 1995). It is, after all, the kindness of God that leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4).
So, if distressed souls discern that we, like God, love kindness, that we have a disposition to extend mercy, grace, and patience to those who need them, they are likely to come to us for the help — the hope — they need.
Judicious Counsel
What does it mean “to do justice” to a person experiencing significant emotional pain? One crucial thing it means is to be as judicious — as wise, prudent, honest — as possible with any counsel we give. What does this look like?
A judicious counselor is careful. Whenever we are ministering to another soul, especially a suffering soul, we must remember that “death and life are in the power of the tongue” (Proverbs 18:21). Our words can heal or wound, reveal truth or obscure it. Therefore, it’s imperative that we be “quick to hear [and] slow to speak” (James 1:19). I’ve learned from experience that there is often more going on in a person than I initially perceive. To adequately understand the nature of someone’s struggle and situation requires patient listening and good clarifying questions.
A judicious counselor is truthful. There are many dimensions to truthfulness, but I’m going to focus on one common pitfall for counselors: the temptation to speak more than we actually know or to claim that we identify with the sufferer’s experience more than we actually do.
“When others come to us for help, that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re the best person to help them.”
When others come to us for help, that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re the best person to help them. Perhaps God has equipped us to provide them some helpful insight, or perhaps our calling is to guide them toward someone better equipped to help them. Either way, we must be honest and forthright about the limits of our knowledge and experience and not speak authoritatively about topics of which we have little understanding. This is why I addressed the qualities of humility and kindness first. Humility helps guard us from the pride of presuming we are wiser than we are or of desiring the admiration of suffering people more than we desire their well-being. And kindness helps us keep the well-being of sufferers — their finding hope in God — our foremost priority.
Lastly, a judicious counselor is trustworthy. As I said earlier, it is no small thing when others entrust us with tender, vulnerable parts of their souls. Therefore, we must vigilantly guard what they share with us in confidence, even if it requires us to “swear to [our] own hurt” (Psalm 15:4). For “a gossip betrays a confidence, but a trustworthy person keeps a secret” (Proverbs 11:13 NIV). Only in the most extreme and rare cases, when someone’s safety is at stake, do integrity and love demand that we share necessary information with the appropriate parties and authorities.
If souls in anguish over sensitive kinds of suffering discern that we are a judicious counselor and will handle what they confide in us carefully, truthfully, and in a trustworthy way, they are likely to come to us for the help and hope they need.
Where Care Begins
Obviously, volumes more could be (and have been) written about how to care well for those suffering significant emotional pain, but it all begins with being the kind of person that others can trust with their suffering. That kind of person hopes in God, is discernibly humble, loves kindness, and is judicious in the ways he or she treats suffering saints. That kind of person is very likely to be a caring presence for weary, burdened souls and to help them find the peace and hope that only God can provide.