He was 31 years old. Born in modern Algeria, from all accounts he had an ambitious streak that could border on ruthlessness. But it was matched by a probing intellect and a thirst for reality that had the potential to unbalance him or even lead to perpetual disappointment. The combination had taken him to great cities and led him to inquire into world religions and philosophies. But now, barely into his thirties, he was on the verge of despair so extreme that one day, despite his pleasant surroundings, he could scarcely sit still or stem the flow of tears. And then he heard two Latin words — Tolle lege — that changed everything.

At first, he thought the words must be part of a child’s game. But he knew no game that included the mantra “Take it and read it.” But by what John Calvin would later call “a secret instinct of the Spirit,” he reached out for the copy of the Scriptures that lay beside him. Opening it randomly — as people in antiquity did, hoping for divine direction — he read the words that brought him to faith in Christ.

You likely have guessed his identity. Perhaps you recognized him from the first sentence: Aurelius Augustinus — Augustine. But do you know where the Scriptures “randomly” fell open, and the words that changed everything? Romans 13:14: “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”

Augustine would ponder and seek to apply these words for the rest of his life. For all the profundity of his grasp of God’s grace, he could doubtless say of them what he wrote of the mystery of God’s sovereignty: “I see the depths, I cannot reach the bottom” (Works of Saint Augustine, 3.2.108).

Gospel Grammar

Underlining the significance of Paul’s words from the vivid context of Augustine’s conversion hopefully serves to secure them in our minds and hearts — “like nails firmly fixed . . . given by one Shepherd” (Ecclesiastes 12:11). In fact, the words are so pointed that repeating them a couple of times may fix them permanently in your memory banks. And they need to be well secured there because they enshrine key biblical principles for living to the glory of God.

Paul’s words contain two imperatives. What is particularly striking about them is that they not only tell us what to do, but the first imperative contains within itself the indicative that makes possible the effecting of the second imperative. Their importance can be measured by the fact that the effect of Romans 13:14 on the history of the church through Augustine is rivaled only by the effect of Romans 1:16–17 on the church through Martin Luther.

“The biblical gospel has a grammar all its own.”

The biblical gospel has a grammar all its own. Just as failing to properly use the grammar of a language mars our ability to speak it, so an inadequate grasp of the grammar of the gospel mars what the older translations fittingly called the “conversation” of our lives. It results in lives that reflect Christ in a stilted manner.

So how are the substructures of gospel grammar illustrated in Romans 13:14?

The Balance

First, the emphasis on the positive (“put on”) is matched and balanced by an emphasis on the negative (“make no provision”). This is characteristic of Paul. Think of Galatians 5:24: “Those who belong to Christ [positive] have crucified the flesh [negative].” Or consider Ephesians 4:21–24: you were taught

as the truth is in Jesus . . . to put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires [negative], and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness [positive].

Perhaps the clearest and fullest example is in Colossians 3:1–12. Those who have died and been raised with Christ, those whose lives are hidden with him and who will appear with him in glory, are to “put to death whatever is earthly [negative]” and to “put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience [positive].”

The grammar lesson? There is no growth in holiness unless both the negative and the positive elements are present.

More Than Mortification

None of us is by nature “normal” or “balanced.” We sinners are inherently lopsided. Each of us has a natural bias either to the negative or the positive. If we have not discovered that, we probably have not yet come to know ourselves adequately. Thus, some of us tend to think of sanctification largely, if not entirely, as a battle against sin. John Owen’s eighty pages on The Mortification of Sin is the book for us! (In the circles in which I moved as a teenager, not to have read Owen on mortification was tantamount to apostasy! And after all, the addresses that lay behind it were probably first preached to teenagers — students at Oxford University.)

The mortification of sin is indeed vital. Owen was right: if we are not killing sin, it will be killing us. His memorable one-liner comes as a shock to much modern Christianity: “Let not that man think he makes any progress in holiness who walks not over the bellies of his lusts” (Works of John Owen, 6:14).

But sin is never truly mortified by mortification alone. To borrow from our Lord’s parable, if we only empty the house (mortify sin) without filling it (putting on graces), the devils will simply return in greater force (Matthew 12:43–45). We need to furnish our lives with the fruit of the Spirit. Repentance involves conversion; conversion means a reversal. So, we need to put on as well as put off.

Making no provision for the flesh (mortifying sin) by the power of the Spirit is not an end in itself. It is not the Spirit’s ultimate goal; in fact, on its own, it is not sanctification. It is a vital means to a greater end — and that end is that we may live in unclouded fellowship with our holy Lord.

Holiness Is Christlikeness

So, Paul always balances his emphases. We need to put on as well as put off. The works of the flesh need to be superseded by the fruit of the Spirit. This is the point of Thomas Chalmers’s famous sermon on 1 John 2:15, “The Expulsive Power of a New Affection.”

“Sanctification is not merely the process of overcoming our sin; it is, ultimately, becoming like the Lord Jesus.”

Sanctification is not merely the process of overcoming our sin; it is, ultimately, becoming like the Lord Jesus. For this is the goal of the Father who has “predestined us to be conformed to the image of his Son” (Romans 8:29). He will be content with nothing less. This is also the passion of the Holy Spirit, by whom we “are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18). For it is this — Christlikeness — that constitutes the “holiness without which no one will see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14). A staggering thought, but a wonderful motivation: nothing in us that is un-Christlike will be able to last in the presence of God!

Therefore, any less goal than pursuing the knowledge of Christ and growing into his likeness is not worth living for. Only that in you that reflects him will last forever. But it will last forever.

The Order

In addition to balance in Paul’s words — negative and positive — there is also order in his gospel grammar. It is not always the order of his words, but it is always the order of his logic. For gospel logic, and therefore gospel grammar, never changes. It has a fixed order. And as it happens, Augustine’s text is particularly helpful here because the order of the literary grammar is identical with the logic of the gospel’s grammar. Not only are putting on and putting off balanced, but putting on the Lord Jesus Christ is primary and foundational. It is always the first principle in Paul’s theological grammar when he writes about our sanctification.

But why? The answer is embossed on the pages of Scripture. Our fundamental need is not for “mortification” or even for “sanctification.” It is for the Lord Jesus Christ himself. Mortification and sanctification are but the pathway to “Christification”! And as Abraham Kuyper shrewdly put it, there are no other resources in heaven or on earth for the Holy Spirit to employ to make us Christlike outside of Christ himself. Only in him are there resources appropriate and adequate to transform sinful humans into Christlike ones. Sanctification is not deification, but it is transformation into the likeness of the holy humanity of our Lord Jesus, and glorification is the end of the process. For then “we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2).

Only when we are “in Christ,” only when we have “put on Christ” — “who became to us . . . sanctification” (1 Corinthians 1:30) — and have taken him as ours, receiving him as our clothing, wrapping ourselves in him, does becoming like him begin. Otherwise, we are merely seeking to remake ourselves according to the pattern of moral ideals (even if they are those of the Ten Commandments or the Sermon on the Mount). We are missing the point. For our chief need is to “be found in Christ” and to “know him and the power of his resurrection, and . . . share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible [we] may attain the resurrection from the dead” (Philippians 3:9–10).

So, all we need is found in Christ. Everything you need is found in Christ. Mortification, sanctification, and glorification all begin and end in Christ alone. When he fills our horizon, all the other elements in sanctification make grammatical sense: mortification and vivification are balanced in our “conversation”; sanctification develops like a well-crafted sentence. Yes, there will be punctuation marks, and perhaps even unfinished sentences (Paul knew all about that). But if we look elsewhere, our lives will not speak clearly of our Savior and Lord.

Give Me Christ

This was what Augustine saw — the very man who once prayed, “Give me continence, but not yet.” He had things the wrong way around. He needed first to say, “Give me Christ.”

This has perhaps never been better expressed than by the Reformer who wrote (albeit not completely accurately!) that Augustine was “totally ours” — namely, John Calvin. His words make a fitting closing meditation for us:

When we see salvation whole — and every single part — is found in Christ, we must beware lest we derive the smallest drop from somewhere else.

If we seek salvation, the very name of Jesus teaches us that he possesses it.

If other Spirit-given gifts are sought — in his anointing they are found.

If strength — in his reign; purity — in his conception; tenderness — expressed in his nativity, when he was made like us in all respects, that he might learn to feel our pain.

Redemption when we seek it, is in his passion found; acquittal — in his condemnation lies; and freedom from the curse — in his cross is known.

If satisfaction for our sins we seek — we’ll find it in his sacrifice; and cleansing in his blood.

If reconciliation now we need, for this he entered Hades; if mortification of our flesh — then in his tomb it’s laid; and newness of our life — his resurrection brings; and immortality as well comes also with that gift.

And if we also long to find heaven’s kingdom our inheritance, his entry there secures it now with our protection, safety too, and blessings that abound — all flowing from his kingly reign.

The sum of all for those who seek such treasure-trove of blessings, these blessings of all kinds, from nowhere else can now be drawn than him; they’re found in Christ alone. (Institutes 2.16.19)

So, let us “put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.”

What is Christian boldness? For some, the phrase conjures images of bravado, machismo, and swagger. For others, the phrase signifies a vague sense of courage and conviction in the face of opposition.

The fourth chapter of Acts provides an unusually clear picture of Christian boldness. The noun for boldness (parrēsia) appears three times in this one chapter (and only twice more in the rest of Acts) and here sets the context for Luke’s use of the verb speak boldly (parrēsiazomai) seven times in the coming chapters. He apparently intends for us to see the events of this chapter as a particularly poignant example of Christian boldness. By examining them, we can see not only what Christian boldness is, but where it comes from, and how we can cultivate it for ourselves.

Astonished at Common Men

The word first appears in Acts 4:13: “Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished.” What had the Jewish leaders seen that so shocked them?

Recall that Peter and John had been arrested following a miraculous healing at the temple (Acts 3:1–4:4). Peter had healed a man lame from birth, amazing the crowds. He followed the healing with an evangelistic sermon to the gathered crowd. The sermon is interrupted by the Jewish leaders, who, annoyed by the apostolic teaching, arrest the apostles and throw them in prison overnight.

The next day, Peter and John are brought before the entire council, including the high priest and his family. The rulers demand to know how Peter and John were able to do this miracle. And then Peter responds with the words that surprise the Sanhedrin and show us the meaning of boldness.

Three Elements of Christian Boldness

First, their boldness shines in a hostile context. The gathering of the entire council seems to be an attempt to intimidate these uneducated, common fishermen. Here are the elite, the educated, the men who have power. It is they who ask, “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

No doubt other uneducated men had stood before them and shivered, looked pale, and found their tongues tied in the presence of these religious leaders. But not Peter and John. Their answer to the accusatory question is as clear as a bell. “Let it be known to all of you . . . ,” Peter says (Acts 4:10). One imagines him lifting up his head and his voice so that he can be clearly heard by those in the back. This fisherman is unmoved in the presence of these leaders.

Second, their boldness manifests in their clear testimony about Jesus. It is by his name that the man was healed. It is by his name (and his name alone) that any man can be saved. This Jesus, whom God raised from the dead, is the cornerstone, and there is salvation in no one else (Acts 4:10–12). Thus, clarity about Jesus, and his power to heal and save, is at the heart of Christian boldness.

Finally, their boldness is displayed in their clarity about sin. This man, “Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified . . . this Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you” (Acts 4:10–11). You rulers, you who purport to be the builders of Israel, rejected him, the cornerstone who has become for you a stone of stumbling and rock of offense. Here is a turning of the tables. Peter and John are the ones on trial; they have been arrested. And yet here they accuse and condemn the powerful men who not a few months earlier had killed Jesus himself.

“Christian boldness is courage and clarity about Jesus and sin in the face of powerful opposition.”

So then, what is Christian boldness? It is courage and clarity about Jesus and sin in the face of powerful opposition. It is plain and open speech with no obfuscation or muttering. It is unhindered testimony to the truth, whether about Christ and his salvation, or about what he came to save us from.

Obey God Rather than Men

This understanding of boldness is confirmed if we consider the next chapter, when Peter and John are again arrested and hauled before these same leaders for their refusal to stop speaking in the name of Jesus.

The high priest questioned them, saying, “We strictly charged you not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching, and you intend to bring this man’s blood upon us” (Acts 5:28). But Peter and the apostles answered, “We must obey God rather than men. The God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit, whom God has given to those who obey him” (Acts 5:29–32).

‘God Raised Him’

“You have filled Jerusalem with your teaching.” What teaching? The teaching about the resurrection of Jesus. The apostles are preaching the lordship of the risen Jesus. “God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Savior, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins” (Acts 5:31). That’s what every sermon in Acts is about. God raised Jesus. God exalted Jesus. Jesus is Savior. Jesus is Lord. Jesus forgives sins. There is no other name by which we can be saved. This is the message the apostles preach in defiance of the Sanhedrin’s threats. They are determined to fill Jerusalem with the good news about who Jesus is and what God has done through him.

‘You Killed Him’

But not only teaching about Jesus. They also preach clearly and courageously about sin, and in particular the sin of betraying, rejecting, denying, and murdering Jesus. “You intend to bring this man’s blood upon us,” the high priest says (Acts 5:28). You’re trying to blame us for killing him. “That’s exactly right,” responds Peter. “You killed him by hanging him on a tree” (Acts 5:30).

It’s remarkable how often the apostles strike this note, in Jerusalem no less, only a few months removed from the crucifixion itself. The unjust death of Jesus is fresh, and yet the apostles make it a repeated and central note in their preaching, both to the crowds and to the Jewish leaders.

This Jesus, delivered up according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of lawless men. (Acts 2:23)

God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified. (Acts 2:36)

The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our fathers, glorified his servant Jesus, whom you delivered over and denied in the presence of Pilate, when he had decided to release him. But you denied the Holy and Righteous One, and asked for a murderer to be granted to you, and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses. (Acts 3:13–15)

By the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead. . . . This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders. (Acts 4:10–11)

And this clarity and courage about the particular sin of killing Jesus is one part of the larger apostolic clarity about all sin and the need to repent.

Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. . . . Save yourselves from this crooked generation. (Acts 2:38, 40)

Repent therefore, and turn back, that your sins may be blotted out. (Acts 3:19)

God, having raised up his servant, sent him to you first, to bless you by turning every one of you from your wickedness. (Acts 3:26)

“Every one of you [turn] from your wickedness.” Not your neighbor’s wickedness. Not the wickedness of those people over there. Your wickedness. This is Christian boldness — clearly and courageously testifying to the resurrection of Jesus and the need to repent, both in general and in the specific ways that we have rebelled against God.

Dare to Be Specific

This leads us to a key lesson for us about Christian boldness. If we are to be bold, we must bring the reality of Jesus to bear on the reality of human sinfulness. And not just generic sinfulness. While calls for repentance from generic sins have their place, true Christian boldness gets specific about sin and particular about context.

“If we are to be bold, we must bring the reality of Jesus to bear on the reality of human sinfulness.”

There is a perennial temptation for Christian preachers to gather a crowd and preach about all the sins “out there.” But faithfulness and boldness demand that we address the sins actually present in whatever room we find ourselves. And if we ever wonder which sins we ought to boldly address, we can simply ask which sins we’re tempted to ignore and minimize. Which sins do we tread lightly around? Where are we tempted to whisper? That context requires Christian boldness.

And Peter and John maintain this boldness in the face of threats and opposition, as they go from being a mere nuisance (Acts 4:2), to the objects of jealousy (Acts 5:17), to the objects of rage and violence (Acts 5:33; 7:54). The opposition escalates, and the boldness abides.

How Can We Grow in Courage?

Where then does this boldness come from? Fundamentally, it comes from the Holy Spirit. Peter, “filled with the Holy Spirit” answers the Sanhedrin’s question (Acts 4:8). In the face of threats, the early Christians “were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness” (Acts 4:31). Steven, “full of the Holy Spirit,” indicts the Jewish leaders who have arrested and falsely accused him (Acts 7:55).

But not only the Holy Spirit. The Jewish leaders, in recognizing the apostolic boldness, recognized that Peter and John “had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13). And while this no doubt refers to their engagement in Christ’s earthly ministry, it contains a word for us today.

We too, if we wish to be bold, must be filled with the Spirit and abide with Jesus. And the book of Acts shows us not merely the ultimate source of Christian boldness, but also the means for growing in it. After Peter and John are released and warned to no longer speak in the name of Jesus, what do they do?

1. Gather

“They went to their friends and reported what the chief priest and elders had said to them. And . . . they lifted their voices together” (Acts 4:23–24). Christian boldness is not an individualistic affair. It comes from gathering with God’s people to seek his face together.

2. Pray

“Sovereign Lord, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and everything in them . . . look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak the word with all boldness” (Acts 4:24, 29). Boldness comes to those who ask the Almighty Maker of heaven and earth for it. The Spirit fills them with Christian boldness because they petition the throne of grace to bestow it generously.

3. Ask God to make good on his promises

In their prayers, they repeat back to God what God has said. They quote Psalm 2 and celebrate God’s royal victory in Jesus. Christian boldness is a boldness built on the word of God.

4. Look for God’s Hand and Plan

Not only do they read the Bible and pray the Bible; they read their own story in light of the Scriptures, looking for God’s hand and plan in their lives. They see God’s hand and plan behind the Jewish and Roman opposition to Christ, and they see God’s hand and plan behind the continued opposition to Christ and his people. Jesus’s story is our story, and it is in the midst of that story that we gather and pray God’s word so that we, like the apostles, can speak God’s word with boldness.

Ah, Sunday. That majestic morning when my children awake to the aroma of eggs and bacon and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When they bound down the stairs, Bibles in hand and a song in their hearts. When I lead them in family worship over breakfast, and my wife plays the piano as we prepare our hearts for meeting with the people of God.

The only downside when we finish is that we still have time to kill. Oh well. At least we’ll be super early to church — again!

Reality Check

If you’re smirking, it’s because you know this is not reality. Many of us struggle just to get ourselves in one piece to church, much less an elderly parent or a gaggle of little ones. So often, we shovel in some breakfast and figure out what to wear and look for our keys and clamber into the car and lose our patience on the way until we arrive, distracted and disheveled — again. Though we walk smilingly through the doors, our minds and hearts remain miles away.

This scenario may be a little extreme, but it is less hypothetical than some of us — even some of the shiniest saints — may wish to admit. It’s one thing to be present at church, but it’s another to be prepared for church.

Before considering practical remedies for this rut, an important caveat is in order.

If you struggle with depression or are riddled with doubts or have been mistreated by church leaders or are raising kids by yourself, it’s understandable if attending church feels like an arduous ministry. For some Christians, simply getting out of bed requires courage and faith — how much more getting all the way to church. As Rosaria Butterfield has said, “We may never know the treacherous journey people have taken to land in the pew next to us.” So, if gathering with a healthy church is hard and you’re doing so anyway, God bless you.

That said, I am not writing mainly to those for whom church is painful but to those for whom church has become routine — the kind of believers who, when Sunday rolls around, are more likely to yawn than wince. Thankfully, there are many simple changes we can all make to maximize our Sundays. Consider just two.

1. Come Hungry, Leave Full

If your car has been sitting in freezing rain for days, it may take a while for the engine to warm up and run well. For so many years of my Christian life, I basically came to the sermon cold. Maybe I knew the passage to be preached, but I hadn’t read it beforehand.

Why not make it a practice to read the sermon passage before coming to church? It’s not difficult, and you have a whole week to do it. This habit will enrich your sermon-listening experience since you’ll be familiar with the passage. You will therefore lean in, curious to see how the pastor handles this doctrine or that verse. It’s also a habit you can easily practice with others — your family or roommate or friend. It will warm the engine of your mind (and hopefully your heart) so that you are locked in when the message begins, eager to learn and grow.

How often do you pray for your pastor as he’s preparing sermons for you? It’s good if you hold him to a high standard (1 Timothy 3:1–7; Titus 1:5–9), but do you hold yourself to a high standard of prayer for him? Sermon prep is hard. It’s lonely. It’s war. But you can join the fight by asking God to give your pastor insight, to guard him from distraction, to guide him in faithfully unleashing and applying God’s truth.

Don’t stop there, however. Come hungry, yes, but also resolve to leave full.

Sometimes, I tell my congregation that what they get out of my sermons is not just up to me. It’s also up to them. What’s your posture when the message begins? Is it essentially relax and wait to be entertained, or is it lean in, Bible open, ready to hear from the living God? Admittedly, this expectancy comes easier with some passages. I recently preached about an Israelite assassin stabbing a Moabite king, whose fat swallowed the blade as he soiled himself (Judges 3:12–30). The story is, let’s just say, captivating. But what about passages that are deeply familiar or almost elementary in their simplicity? If pride thinks, I’ve heard this before, humility thinks, Who here hasn’t? And if pride thinks, I know this already, humility thinks, I need this again.

Resolving to “leave full” presupposes, of course, that you’re hearing the Bible faithfully proclaimed in your church. (If not, find a different one.) To be sure, you may not be sitting under the greatest preaching in the world. But that’s okay, for as Harold Best once remarked, “A mature Christian is easily edified.” That quote challenges me so much. Let’s say the production quality of the music or the delivery skill of the preacher leaves much to be desired. Are the words true? If so, we should be easily edified. We should be able to leave full.

2. Come Early, Stay Late

The practice of coming early and lingering after is not always easy to pull off, but it can make all the difference. The needed resolve just can’t come on Sunday morning. That’s too late! As my friend Dean Inserra likes to say, Sunday-morning church is a Saturday-night decision. The only way you will ever find yourself there early is if you have forced yourself to be there early.

But arriving early — which of course means waking up early and adjusting your morning routine — yields all kinds of benefits. For starters, it prevents distraction. You’re not careening into the parking lot 43 seconds before the service begins. You’re not rushing through the doors, unable to really engage with anyone because, well, you have to get in there and find a seat (perhaps after dropping off a kid or three). When you do finally sit down — or not, because everyone’s already singing — your mind is racing. Announcements sail over your head. You absorb little from the prayers. Bottom line: you’re engaging from a deficit, trying to catch up, trying to focus, trying to worship. But because you didn’t come earlier, you don’t begin worshiping until halfway through the service.

Arriving early is only half the battle, though. It also helps to linger after the service.

If you’re a Christian, there is no day in your week more important than Sunday. Because it’s the day King Jesus got up from the dead, it’s the day on which his redeemed people have assembled to celebrate him. Sunday worship is the launching pad of your week — a God-designed opportunity to be replenished, receive instruction and encouragement, and catch your breath before stepping back into the duties and distractions of life in a chaotic world. Why rush to leave?

When you linger afterward, you open yourself to connect with others unhurriedly — which nowadays is a countercultural gift. You can ask deliberate questions and listen well. After all, as one person observed, “Being listened to is so close to being loved that most people cannot tell the difference.” If someone is visiting, you can greet him or her warmly, answering questions and exhibiting genuine interest in the exchange. If they’re a fellow member, you can draw him or her out (Proverbs 20:5) and perhaps speak a simple word of encouragement or of challenge — or, best of all, words of prayer, lifting up burdens on the spot to the God who hears.

Sticking around after church also gives you the chance to ask another member how the Lord just ministered to them. Posing such a question shouldn’t be perceived as super-spiritual — it should be normal. How tragic that we can stand in the lobby and feel comfortable discussing fantasy football or the latest show (which is fine) but awkward discussing the very thing we’ve come together to do. Church is not just an event we show up to; it’s a family we belong to. And since the family gathers to be changed, not merely entertained, why not seize the opportunity to debrief while the songs and sermon are still fresh, still ringing in our ears, still begging to be applied?

A mature Christian arrives with eyes for others, plotting to encourage and serve. On Sundays, we meet with Jesus Christ and these blood-bought people he’s placed in our lives — so it’s a privilege to come early and stay late.

Positioned for Success

In an age of customized DIY spirituality that values convenience and comfort more than any previous era in history, committing to a local church amounts to a revolutionary act — and a beautiful one.

By resolving to come hungry and leave full, we position ourselves to grow. And by resolving to come early and stay late, we position ourselves to serve.

Christianity is not a spectator sport. So, let’s get in the game — and stay there, side by side, Sunday after Sunday — until Jesus our King brings us safely home.