“In Christ alone, my hope is found…” So begins the hymn In Christ Alone which is by far one of the most sung songs of the faith in the last two decades. The hymn walks the singer through the story of the gospel and serves as a reminder that, because of His death and resurrection, the believer can have a sure and certain hope in Christ. And we should hope in Christ – as the song says, Christ is, ultimately, our only hope.
And yet we continue to place our hope elsewhere.
Sometimes, for example, we tend to place our hope in leaders. We come upon an election cycle and we tell ourselves that if so and so were elected, then things would be different. We would see policy change, betterment of society, and an affirmation of moral values. While some of those things may be true, ultimately, no political leader is worthy of our hope.
Or we might place our hope in a change of circumstances. We tell ourselves that if we just made a little more money, or just had a little more freedom, or just didn’t have to report to our current boss, then things would be so much better in life. And while there might be an element of truth in that, ultimately, we cannot place our hope in a chance of circumstance either.
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These types of preachers were originally called “social justice warriors,” but it has come time to assign them a more honest label. They are, in all actuality, hate preachers. No, they do not call for acts of violence against anyone, but they are constantly calling people like me (i.e., straight, white, cis, male) to hate ourselves and to hate how our very existence oppresses others. This has caused psychological and spiritual trauma to millions of evangelical Christians, and you can hear it in the strange way they now talk: Virtue Signaling.

All the most popular preachers in America are now woke. They betray this sad fact in their frequent mention of the plight of the oppressed and also of our obligation as oppressors to make atonement for our historical sins. Remember, our “sin” in not something we actually did, but something we inherited from our fathers.
These types of preachers were originally called “social justice warriors,” but it has come time to assign them a more honest label. They are, in all actuality, hate preachers. No, they do not call for acts of violence against anyone, but they are constantly calling people like me (i.e., straight, white, cis, male) to hate ourselves and to hate how our very existence oppresses others. This has caused psychological and spiritual trauma to millions of evangelical Christians, and you can hear it in the strange way they now talk: Virtue Signaling.
Virtue signaling is when you modify your normal way of speaking in order to signal, or send a message, to others that you are sufficiently woke. For example, a normal person might say, “Hey, I was having dinner last night with a friend and he said the funniest thing…”
If you add a little wokeness to that conversation, you will end up with a virtue signal, “I was having dinner with a friend last night, who happens to be black, and he said the funniest thing…” The signaled virtue is obvious: I have dinner with black people, so I am obviously not a racist.
If you add even more wokeness to the conversation, you end up with even more signaling, “I was having dinner with a friend last night, who happens to black, and he said the funniest thing about his boyfriend…” Now the signaled virtue is twofold: I have dinner with gay black people, so I am obviously not a racist or a homophobe.
There is, actually, no end to the virtue that clever wokesters can manage to signal, “I was having dinner with a friend last night, who happens to be black, and he said the funniest thing about his boyfriend who’s running for a democrat seat in the Senate…” The signal is now threefold: I have dinner with gay black democrats. Notice that the joke has not even been told! What was the funny thing that he said? It doesn’t ultimately matter, because sufficient virtue has been signaled.
Listen for this kind of talk and you will be surprised by how prevalent it truly is. Virtue signaling is the Neo-Marxist’s twisted version of personal holiness or witnessing and if you do not learn to do it, you are doomed.
I am probably doomed, by the way, for writing these articles, but I do not care and cannot care because of a solemn vow I took on the day of my ordination, “Do you promise to be zealous and faithful in maintaining the truths of the gospel and the purity, the peace, and the unity of the church, whatever persecution or opposition may arise unto you on that account?”
I said, “Yes” to that vow. I plan on keeping it until the day I die and that makes me most willing to face the wrath of the Neo-Marxists. Yes, there is true wrath there, but this we will explore in the next article.
Christian McShaffrey is a Minister in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church and is Pastor of Five Solas Church (OPC) in Reedsburg, Wis.

Every day he breaks and tears down strongholds of rebellion, willfulness, egoism, self-reliance, and hope and comfort in earthly people and things—anything and everything that hinders us from trusting and loving him in our totality.

An old friend of mine has been telling me about her granddaughter, who is only ten years old and loves to play sport.
She fell off of a trampoline last year and shattered her ankle. The surgery was difficult, and her bones didn’t heal properly. Fearing that her leg might not develop properly, her medical providers re-operated and re-broke and re-splinted the bone. They are still not sure whether the bone is properly healing, so she faces the possibility of yet another re-break and re-splint.
My friend grieves for her little granddaughter’s suffering. She wouldn’t hesitate to take her place, to suffer in her place if only she could.
We understand why the orthopedic specialists do this. They must bring short-term distress and suffering for her long-term benefit—so that in years to come she might run and play sports again with her friends.
We see Joseph doing just this to his brothers in Genesis chapters 42 to 44. He wounds them and brings them to their knees, so that he can heal and lift them up to full health. It is a picture of what Jesus does time and again with his beloved.
Desperation brings us to the Savior.
“When Jacob learned that there was grain in Egypt, he said to his sons, ‘Why do you look at one another?’” (Gen. 42:1).
The predicted seven-year famine threatened to destroy the region, including the covenant family—the sons of Jacob from whom God would raise up a blessed people to be a blessing to the nations. We see their pasturelands desiccating, herds emaciating, silos diminishing, wells turning first to mud, then to dust. Anxious Jacob sends his anxious sons to Egypt. “Behold, I have heard that there is grain for sale in Egypt. Go down and buy grain for us there, that we may live and not die” (Gen. 42:2).
This is how the journey to Christian faith often begins.
A financial crisis, a terrible accident, or a deadly sickness cripples us. A broken marriage or family crisis brings us to our knees. A great life disappointment slays us. Or we commit a great sin: something that shatters our idea of who we think we are. Sometimes all of these at once.
You look around for help, but the deluge has swept away every earthly support and hope. You are forced to look beyond: “I have heard that there is grain in Egypt.” “I have heard of the one they call Jesus.”
God had revealed to Jacob’s family his special plan for Joseph: that one day they would bow before him to receive his sustenance. The dreams made them jealous; they dismissed them as hubris. When the opportunity came, they plotted to murder Joseph, tossed him into a pit, and then sold him into foreign slavery.
Now in their hour of distress God forced them back to the one they tried to destroy, the only one who could help them.
President Eisenhower said that “there are no atheists in the foxholes…. In times of test and trial, we instinctively turn to God for new courage and peace of mind.” There is nothing wrong with this. This is no less sensible than dialing 911 in an emergency, or firing a distress flare from the life raft.
The Savior may harshly test us.
His brothers were prostrate before Joseph, pleading for his help. Yet, Joseph did not immediately throw his arms around his brothers with shouts of comfort and joy.
He recognized them but pretended to be a stranger and spoke harshly to them. “Where do you come from?” he asked. “From the land of Canaan,” they replied, “to buy food.” “You are spies,” he replied, “You have come to see the nakedness of the land” (“nakedness of the land” meaning “where our land is unprotected”; Gen. 42:7–9).
So Joseph initiated a long and difficult trial for his brothers. Why?
When last he saw his brothers, Joseph was in distress and pleading for his life (42:21). They cruelly ignored his pleas and sold him as a slave, never to see his home or family again.
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