I trust you are enjoying God’s grace as you prepare to remember Christ’s death and celebrate his resurrection this weekend.

Today’s Kindle deals include at least a couple of interesting titles.
Meat from the Sky and the Resurrection’s Plausibility
“In 1876, a Kentucky grandmother was making lye soap on her front porch. Suddenly, an odd series of thuds in the field beside her house interrupted the silence of her labors. She sent her grandson out to see what was happening. He claimed it was snowing, but the weather was too warm and clear for snow. So Mrs. Crouch stepped off the porch to see for herself. What the grandmother saw when she walked across the field still sounds unbelievable.” In a strange way, this leads to an argument for the plausibility of the resurrection.
One of the Most Overlooked Arguments for the Resurrection
Michael Kruger approaches the same topic from a different angle. “It is an often overlooked fact that provides the necessary context for the discussion. That fact is simply this: the earliest Christians came to believe, against all odds and against all expectations, that Jesus of Nazareth had been raised from the dead.”
Register Now For RMC22-Earlybird Discount Ends Apirl 30TH
June 29-30, 2022, with Kevin DeYoung, Alistair Begg & others. The Radius Missiology Conference is an ideal opportunity for pastors, missionary candidates, and church leaders to become better informed on the state of modern missions and learn how Radius can assist local churches in equipping their members to take the gospel where it has never been. (Sponsored Link)
Rowan Williams and Our Sentimental Age
“Today, as in the days of Plato, rhetoric is what moves the crowd. But as Plato knew, truth, not rhetoric, is the task of philosophy and philosophers. That is why the latter are so important. Sadly, many in today’s philosopher class—the intellectuals—seem to have forgotten Plato. They now find rhetoric more attractive than truth.” Carl Trueman considers a very recent example.
Who will speak up for the transgender kid?
Denny Burk: “Gender affirming care requires parents and medical professionals to follow the instincts of children who are confused about their gender. Rather than helping children to resolve their psychological distress in a way that affirms their bodies, gender affirming care requires destroying a child’s body. This ‘care’ can include blocking a child’s puberty, the infusion of opposite sex hormones, and sometimes destroying healthy reproductive organs through surgery.”
“One Another” Ministry for the Homebound
This is a helpful look at “one another” commands that can help us minister to the homebound.
The Prosperity Gospel Loves God’s Gifts, But Ignores God Himself
This is one of the markers of the prosperity gospel—it loves what God gives, but could do without God himself.
Flashback: Proudly Humble
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 have a Christian duty to encourage one another. Many a time a word of praise or thanks or appreciation or cheer has kept a man on his feet. Blessed is the man who speaks such a word. —William Barclay

We had a child who was afraid of the darkness. When night fell, when the lights went out, when the house got quiet, she would lie in her bed terrified of every noise and petrified of every shadow. For a time she would even take certain objects out of her room before she went to bed—objects she had come to fear because of the scary shadows they would cast upon her floor and upon her walls. Often she would cry out in the night and we would have to stumble out of bed to quiet her, to investigate strange shapes, to try to convince her to go back to sleep.

She’s a lot older now and no longer so terribly fearful. After all, it’s children and not grownups who are afraid of shadows. As we grow up, as we mature, as we come to understand how the world works, we eventually realize that shadows have no substance, they have no reality, they have no ability to hurt or harm us. We set aside childish paranoias and no longer fear mere shadows.
But even with all of that being true, we do not live free from fears. Though we may stop fearing mere shadows, we realize there is plenty of substance and plenty of reality that is intimidating in its own right. This is a hostile world full of enemies who wish to do us harm. There is one enemy greater than any other who looms before us, not in the dark of night but at the end of our lives. Death looms in the distance as the great and final enemy, the one none of us can escape. Each of us knows we must eventually approach it, each of us must grapple with it, each of us must pass through it.
Yet the Bible assures us that we need not fear this enemy, for death itself is merely a shadow. At least, it is merely a shadow for those of us who have put our faith in Jesus Christ and received his salvation. We do not need to face the true substance of death because Christ faced it on our behalf. He took our sin upon himself, he faced the holy wrath of God, he served out the complete sentence it deserved. In this great sacrifice he took death’s claws, he took its fangs, he took its strength. And because of this, we need to face no more than the shadow.
Shadows can do no harm. The shadow of a dog cannot bite. The shadow of a cobra cannot strike. The shadow of a giant cannot tear limb from limb. And the shadow of death cannot destroy. Though it may claim our bodies for a time, it cannot touch our souls and cannot sever them from God. Though we must pass through it, we need not fear it. Though it stands before us, it has no true claim on us.
When we are called to approach death, then, as each of us will, it should comfort us to know that we face no more than a shadow. And it should comfort us as well to know that where there is a shadow there is always a light, for shadows cannot exist in total darkness. Beyond the grave a light shines brightly, a light of hope that guides us to Paradise and guides us to Christ, the one who has defeated death and who has assured us that where he is, we too shall be.

Inspired by the writing of F.B. Meyer.

Like so many Canadian boys of his era, Nick went through a pretty significant Nerf Gun phase when he was 8 or 10 years old. Between several birthdays and Christmases he built up quite an arsenal and, for a time, most of his play would in some way involve these guns. There was one game he especially enjoyed. When he found out that guests were on their way over, he would hide outside and watch for their approach. When they walked down the pathway leading to our home, he would pop out of his hiding spot and unleash a fusillade of foam bullets. He loved nothing more than a successful ambush. And though his guns are no longer in his hands and he is no longer in our home, he still sets ambushes, though only inadvertently.

The unbearably sharp pain of those earliest days and months has over time given way to something that is perhaps closer to a dull ache. The loss still hurts, but not quite as badly as it once did. I still cry, but not every day. The path is still hard, but not as hard as it was months or even weeks ago. If time does not heal all wounds, it does, at least, soothe them.
One of the ways the pain has become more bearable is simply by having Nick less on my mind now than in the early days. As I get on with a life that has begun to feel like a new kind of normal, I associate him more with the past than with the present or immediate future. My love for him is undiminished, of course, as is my longing to see him. But he is not as constant a presence in my mind now as he was before. I still think about him every day, but no longer every moment.
But there are still times when he ambushes me, when a situation arises in which I’m once again forced to confront my loss head-on. And this, as it happens, is one of them. We are in Louisville, Kentucky this weekend for two significant events. Today we will attend the ceremony in which Nick’s fiancée Ryn and a number of his friends will graduate. On Sunday we will celebrate Abby’s wedding. We anticipate that it will be a weekend of great rejoicing.
Yet behind the joy we know there will also be some sorrow. After all, this would have been Nick’s graduation as well. Though he had enrolled in a program in which he would complete both his undergraduate degree and his Masters of Divinity in five years, he was scary smart and very hard-working and was on track to complete it all in only four. And so this is the day he would have graduated twice over, once from Boyce College and once from Southern Seminary. This is the day he would have finished up one phase of his life to begin another—to finish up his studies and begin his ministry. Yet, in God’s providence, his name will go uncalled in the long roll of young men and women who step up to receive their diplomas, who throw their caps into the air to celebrate the end of one phase of their lives and the beginning of another.
As soon as the graduation ceremony is over, we will change our focus to Abby and Nathan’s big day. We know, of course, that Nick will be conspicuous by his absence in the wedding party, in the family photographs, and in the speeches. He, after all, was Abby’s close confidant and dear friend and would have had a prominent place at the wedding. He, after all, was immeasurably precious to each of us. Yet, in God’s providence, he has joined into a different kind of celebration and has taken his place at a different kind of feast.
But whether in graduation ceremonies or wedding celebrations, we intend to rejoice rather than weep, to celebrate rather than lament, to look forward rather than back. We believe that God calls us to enjoy his good gifts, even when our hearts have been broken. And we can do this, for one of the paradoxes of life in this world is that in our deepest sorrows we are never without joy and in our highest joys we are never without sorrows. We learn that there are times to rejoice with those who rejoice and times to weep with those who weep—and that we have no right to demand that the rejoicing weep or that the weeping rejoice. There is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”
And so this a weekend of laughing, not weeping, of dancing, not mourning. There may be some ambushes along the way and the tears that come with them, and that’s just fine. But we are certain that the joy of these days will be far more prominent than the sorrow. We are certain that God means for us to embrace and enjoy the pleasures he has provided, to celebrate what actually is rather than to lament what could have been. For each of these celebrations in its own way points us forward to a future in which there will be no pain left to lament. Each of life’s pleasures in its own way gestures us toward a time in which there will be no sorrow left to grieve. Each of God’s blessings calls us to rejoice. And by his grace we will.
(Here’s a precious picture that was taken just a couple of days before Nick died. Nick and Ryn had recently gotten engaged while Abby and Nate had recently begun dating. It was Abby’s birthday, so they all went out for dinner together. I’m so thankful they thought to ask the waiter to snap a photo.)