My wife and I knew we were different when we got married, even though public school hadn’t helped us much on that front. Our 1990s and early 2000s society tried to take the edge off our sense of difference, but still we knew.

Clearly our bodies, as male and female, were different. And our instincts, while complementary, plainly differed. Of course, we had differing life experiences and families of origin, and so we exhibited the typical variances between any two humans. But the main differences, the ones that mattered most, and had the most potential, corresponded to one simple yet complex reality: I am a man, and she is a woman. We knew this.

However, looking back now, twenty years later, I’m not sure we yet knew how different we were — on the outside, yes, but even more on the inside, the things you can’t see at a glance. We were not yet deeply aware of the complementary differences God had sown deep into our masculine and feminine souls.

We Know Deep Down

Two decades of adult life have taught us much about God’s powerful dynamic in our human similarities and our male-female differences. As co-heirs in Christ, we stand, side by side, on equal footing before God and at the foot of the cross. Together, as man and wife, we are created, fallen, and redeemed. Oh, what glorious equalities we share as humans and Christians!

And we are clearly different — profoundly different — as male and female, as husband and wife, as head and helper. These differences are features, not bugs. They are not drawbacks to be covered over or collapsed into each other. There is the majesty of the sun and the splendor of the moon. One glory of day, another of night. We need both. Neither is better than the other; both are essential. And these differences — glorious complementary differences — go far beyond emotional intuition, native aggressiveness, how much sleep we need, and how long we can bear up under trying circumstances.

People know that men and women are different. All of us know. Sure, sinners suppress the truth (Romans 1:18–23). Doubtless, many have been deeply deceived, perhaps even choosing the deception one moment at a time for years on end. But we all know. Being male or female, like being made in God’s image, is basic enough, foundational enough, plain enough to the very nature of our world and our own human lives, that we know.

Still, as societal confusion and controversy continue to blur the sense of our God-given complementary differences as men and women, it can be helpful to point out, with the objectivity of Scripture, the traces of what’s been clear from the beginning.

God’s Creative Order

Genesis chapter 2 zooms in on day 6, that climactic day of the creation week, and we learn about how God made man, and find a two-stage sequence: God first forms the man from the ground, then distinctly, at a later time, he builds the woman from the man.

God chooses to create with a plain order. He calls our race “man.” He forms the man first and orients him toward the ground from which he came, to work the garden and keep it (2:15). And God gives him the ground rules:

“You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.” (2:16–17)

At this point, then, God introduces man’s need for a “helper fit for him” (Genesis 2:18) — and God apparently takes his time. Not only does this create anticipation in the man for this helper; it also teaches a lesson. Then God forms the woman second, orienting her toward the man from which she came (2:22), to help him in God’s calling. The man names her Woman (2:23). They stand equal before God as human (Genesis 1:27–28). And God orders them in marriage as head and helper (2:20).

In 1 Timothy 2:13, the apostle Paul points to this ordered sequence in Genesis 2 as the first half of his reason for why mature Christian men are to be the pastor-elders and authoritatively teach the gathered church: “For Adam was formed first, then Eve.” God created these equals with an order. They are not the same but different — and these differences are God-designed complements.

Here an exhaustive list of the differences between the man and the woman (and men and women in general) is not necessary or relevant. God has his reasons for these differences — many of which are obvious, many that become plainer the longer we live, and many that remain subconscious for most in this life. But God’s design is intentional, and his order endures. And when we follow his order, we find that a lifetime of happy, even thrilling, discoveries await us. When you walk in light of the truth, lights go on everywhere. But that’s only part of the story.

Disorder in the Fall

Paul gives the second half of his answer (for why pastor-elders should be qualified men) in 1 Timothy 2:14: “And Adam was not deceived, but the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.” Now sin and Genesis 3 come into view.

Paul’s full explanation includes not just the order of creation, but also the (dis)order of the fall. God laid down an order; the serpent subverted it. The word deceive draws in the language of Genesis 3:13, where the woman says, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.” Paul’s point is not that women are more gullible than men, or more prone to deception. The point is the order: The serpent did not deceive the man. He went to the woman. Satan intentionally undermined God’s order, and the fall was the direct result.

Yet even though the fall of man (and woman) brought God’s righteous curse upon the world, it did not overturn his order. After Adam too has eaten, God comes knocking and asks for the man (3:9), not for his wife, who handed him the fruit (3:6). God again operates according to his order, not according to the serpent’s scheme.

Even through the curse itself, God’s order persists. His curse directed toward the man relates to the ground and his labor. It will take his sweat and overcoming many barriers to be fruitful. Meanwhile, the curse directed toward the woman relates to childbearing and childrearing, to the domestic sphere and the labor of multiplying the race to fulfill God’s mandate. Greater still, the curse will include the sinful desire in woman to control the man, and that he will, in turn, be sinfully domineering toward her (this is the meaning of “desire” and “rule over” in Genesis 3:16; compare with Genesis 4:7). Sin always seeks to destroy God’s order.

Order Restored and Glorified

Remarkably, when we rush forward to the coming redemption — to God himself coming to rescue his people in Christ — his created order is not abandoned in the church age but endures. Not only is the original order restored through Christ’s redemptive work in the church, but now it is glorified, exalted to a new register through life in Christ by his indwelling Spirit.

As man and wife stood before God as equals in Eden, so we stand together, side by side, at Calvary and in the congregation of the church. Among those who have “put on Christ” through faith, “there is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). Men and women stand together before Christ, as co-heirs of the grace of life (1 Peter 3:7) — glorious equals. Neither man nor woman has any inside track with Jesus.

Yet that does not mean that our God-designed differences go away in Christ. Rather, they are rescued, restored, and glorified. “The husband is the head of the wife,” as he always has been, yet now, he finds his model in Christ: “. . . even as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior” (Ephesians 5:23). Whereas sin may lead a husband to lord his authority over his wife, husbands in Christ love their wives and are not harsh with them (Colossians 3:19). As household head, a man owes his wife a special kind of care. Wives, in Christ, take the part of the church: “Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands” (Ephesians 5:24; Colossians 3:18).

This brings us back to Paul’s authoritative commentary on Genesis 2–3 for the church age. A team of mature Christian men serve the whole congregation as its pastor-teachers, according to God’s order in creation, now restored in Christ. And the glorious dance of our equality as humans and our differences as men and women, now rescued in Christ, not only gives order to our households and God’s household but also gives life and energy, beauty and power, to all of life, wherever we go and grow as those who image Christ in his world.

As my wife and I, and countless others, have discovered, our differences as man and woman are not less than they appear; they are even deeper. And that’s good. The more we are the same, the less rich an arrangement marriage is. But the more complementary we are, the more marriage becomes a strong and beautiful dance for making much of our God and his Son.

What’s the Difference?

This month at Desiring God, we are celebrating afresh the beauty and power of God’s design for men and women. We believe that sexual complementarity influences every realm of our lives — and we’re happy about how God chose to do it. Thin, narrow, and minimalist are not the adjectives for our complementarity at Desiring God. We love the God-designed differences in men and women, from the beginning, found in our households, celebrated in our churches, and displayed as a diamond next to the dull monotony of the world. We are thick, broad, and maximalist. We don’t stomach God’s design. We delight in it and hope you will too.

To that end, we’ve developed a new series of articles under the banner “What’s the Difference?” In this series, we’ll move through a sequence from our households, to our churches, to society, as we seek to celebrate God’s good design by pointing out what’s the difference — or more precisely, what are some of the countless differences we discern in our world and in ourselves and in Scripture.

We have a love-hate relationship with the human body. We see it in society. We feel it in ourselves.

Many, to be sure, are infatuated with their own bodies. It must not only feel but look as good as possible. Whatever exercise it takes. Whatever dieting. Whatever sleep. And eventually, whatever surgery. Love for the body can swiftly become self-worship. And much of the world’s vibes, and many of its tribes, stand ready to help us craft our own flesh into the idol of hearts.

On the other hand, countless souls despise their bodies. They look in the mirror and see a lost cause. Some, of course, even feel themselves to be a different sex than they are. The body haunts them and holds them back. In extreme cases, a surgeon may be called to the rescue. But for most, online platforms, with their avatars and carefully sculped profiles, can serve as treatment. Still, the end is idolatry. Now the craftsman carves his idol with a keyboard or a scalpel.

But Christians are called out of this twin darkness into his marvelous light. We are men and women reckoned holy in Christ and in the process of becoming holy in both body and soul, through the quiet, omnipotent, indwelling help of the Holy Spirit.

As people in the midst of our own sanctification, we are not immune to the world’s errors and temptations. We struggle. We wrestle with soul-weakening, joy-undermining versions of the world’s love-hate relationship with the body. And the battle is not new in our generation. Christians throughout history have had similar struggles.

Body Versus Soul

Historically, the most well-known tendency among Christians has been to undervalue the earthly body because of a priority placed on the soul. This tendency is understandable because it begins with a good instinct. Christianity does claim such stunning glories for the human soul that we should not be shocked if a good number of Christians, from various theological traditions, struggle with neglecting the body. After all, the apostle Paul acknowledges that “bodily training is of some value,” yet “godliness is of value in every way” (1 Timothy 4:8).

Mere bodily training related to eating, sleeping, and exercising does hold some promise for the present life, but godliness — that is, Christlikeness in soul and body, holistic maturity through the power of the Spirit — holds promise both for the vapor’s breath of this life and also for the life to come. If you’re doing the math at home, you see that godliness far outshines mere bodily training.

Still, understandable as its origins may be, the neglect or minimizing of the human body is far from Christian. We were created, soul and body, in the image of God — fearfully and wonderfully made, even with our indwelling sin and under the curse of all creation. And remarkably, God’s own Spirit has been given and dwells in those in Christ, and the New Testament holds out stunning hope that Christ’s disciples will honor him not by escaping their human bodies but precisely by enjoying him — and thus glorifying him — in their bodies.

Body Serves Soul

As much as our world oscillates between errors, and many Christians with it, there has long been another path: the one laid out so clearly by the apostle Paul (who wrote often about the human body in his letters). Francis of Assisi observed this road least-traveled, and C.S. Lewis paid him memorable tribute in the last century. Lewis recalls that Francis called the body “Brother Ass,” which Lewis defends:

Ass is exquisitely right because no one in his senses can either revere or hate a donkey. It is a useful, sturdy, lazy, obstinate, patient, lovable and infuriating beast; deserving now a stick and now a carrot; both pathetically and absurdly beautiful. So the body. (Four Loves, 93)

For Christians, the magnificent beasts that are our bodies are worthy of love but not worship; they are infuriating but not to be hated. We may have affection for them like a brother and find them stubborn as a donkey. “Pathetically and absurdly beautiful” indeed.

“Love for the body can swiftly become self-worship.”

However, the adjective that strikes me most in Lewis’s florid list is useful. Oh, the usefulness of these lovable, infuriating beasts. The human body is useful in giving us the priceless powers of seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching, lifting, pulling, and moving. If you have an able body, you are rich beyond compare. What wealth would a blind man trade for working eyes, or the deaf for hearing? Yet, apart from Christian faith, these bodily abilities facilitate a steady journey to hell. Even for believers, they can become avenues for wandering.

How, then, might our physical bodies be useful in the cause of the Christian life and the pursuit of spiritual joy in God?

‘Marked Effect’

When I Don’t Desire God might be John Piper’s “most practical book” (in his own words). In it, he writes plainly about everyday dynamics for the pursuit of joy in God, including the central place and use of God’s word and our prayers in the fight for joy (as well as the covenant fellowship of the local church).

What many readers may not expect, however, is the focus of his penultimate chapter: “How to Wield the World in the Fight for Joy.” Here Piper wrestles with the relationship between physical causes and spiritual effects and, in particular, “how to use the world of physical sensation for spiritual purposes” (182).

By world, Piper means the sights and sounds of nature, human art and music, poetry and literature, and even the commonplace in our everyday lives. And one vital aspect of this “wielding the world” is the use of our own bodies:

the proper or improper use of our bodies can have a huge effect on the way we experience spiritual reality. . . . Proper eating and exercising and sleeping has a marked effect on the mind and its ability to process natural beauty and biblical truth. (78)

What are these “marked effects,” and how can we wield them in the fight for Christian joy? To answer, we might follow Paul’s own treatment of the dinner table and the marriage bed, and take our cues from there for sleep and exercise as well.

Food and Marriage

Paul’s mention of “bodily training” in 1 Timothy 4:8 does not come out of the blue. In the previous paragraph, he warns Timothy about false teachers who (under demonic influence) forbid marriage and certain foods. They are ascetics who disavow the pleasures of good food and marital intercourse. Paul counters with creation and consecration (1 Timothy 4:1–5).

Creation: God created food and marriage, and he means for those who believe and know the truth (Christians) to receive them with thanksgiving. As Creator, he gives all. As creatures, we receive and enjoy the goodness of his gifts and should give him thanks that he may be honored.

Consecration: God means for us to enjoy his gifts (1) according to what he himself says about food and sex (“by the word of God”) and (2) through our speaking back to him (“and prayer”) in light of his word. This prayer would include words of gratitude to him as well as requesting that he would sanctify our use of his gifts — that he would make the enjoyment of them holy, occasions of serving both physical and spiritual needs. We consecrate our meals and our marriage to him so that he might use these common kindnesses beyond what good they bring to nonbelievers.

From here, Christians might cultivate habits of Scripture intake and prayer that would not only refine their understanding of food and marriage but also use these physical aspects of bodily life for the advance, and not detriment, of the soul.

Sleep and Exercise

Now, expand that to include sleep and exercise. Piper encourages Christians to use the physical world in such a way that our spiritual joy is “more intense and more constant” (183).

That’s amazing! I wonder if you’ve ever thought of it like that. We pursue joy in God not only with an open Bible, on our knees, and gathered in corporate worship. We also can honor God in our bodies by making use of them in our pursuit of joy in him.

Take exercise. Piper notes that “consistent exercise has refining effects on our mental and emotional stability” (203). And I speak from years of experience that while physical exercise does not, on its own, produce spiritual joy, it can indeed serve it. And a cascade of good effects follow (not just physical but spiritual) when sedentary humans get their bodies moving regularly and do some modest upkeep.

Or how about sleep? Here I have far more to learn, and I acknowledge there are some nights, and even rare seasons of life, when God calls us to sleep less. For instance, when parents have young children, particularly newborns, the call of love might leave us often without adequate sleep, even for some months. But few other seasons justify ignoring our creatureliness and the humbling fact that God made us to sleep. Faithful stewardship of our bodies requires rest, and proper sleep is indeed useful in the pursuit of spiritual joy. Says Piper,

For me, adequate sleep is not just a matter of staying healthy. It’s a matter of staying in the ministry — I’m tempted to say it’s a matter of persevering as a Christian. I know it is irrational that my future should look so bleak when I get only four or five hours of sleep several nights in a row. But rational or irrational, that is a fact. And I must live within the limits of facts. (205)

God made us for his goodness in meals and marriage, for the strain (and joy) of exercise and the recovery of sleep, that we might “make our bodies and minds as proficient as possible in their role as physical partners in perceiving the glory of God” (199). Your body matters in the fight for joy.

Audio Transcript

Let’s start off there in Isaiah 55. I want this to set the tone for our whole approach. I don’t know what kind of approach you bring to the spiritual disciplines. I want to bring an Isaiah 55 approach, which I think is not a one-time approach. I think it’s a lifetime approach of these habits of grace (or means of grace or spiritual disciplines). I would love to spend the whole time on Isaiah 55. That’s the plan tomorrow at a church in Pepperell, Massachusetts. I’m very excited about that. We’re just going to start with the first two verses (Isaiah 55:1–2) to set the tone for our conversation here about these habits of grace.

Look at verse 1: “Come, everyone who thirsts.” That’s you. You thirst in your soul. God made you that way — to thirst. The question isn’t whether you thirst. It’s whether you know it, admit it, recognize it, and own it. It continues:

Come, everyone who thirsts,     come to the waters;and he who has no money,     come, buy and eat!Come, buy wine and milk     without money and without price.Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread,     and your labor for that which does not satisfy?Listen diligently to me, and eat what is good,     and delight yourselves in rich food.

The context for this amazing invitation from God through Isaiah to Israel, seven hundred years before Jesus came, and to us in the church, is in Isaiah 53. This suffering servant has stepped forward in an enigmatic way — which we now see with far more clarity in Jesus — to bear our sins. And in chapter 54, the invitation goes to Jerusalem, to Israel, to God’s old-covenant people. They’re brought back from this predicted exile. And then, in Isaiah 55, the doors swing open to the Gentiles, non-Jews like me. As far as I know, there’s no Jewish blood in me. I’m not Jewish at all. I’m a rascal Gentile. Maybe most of you are Gentiles.

The invitation of Isaiah 55 has swung wide open to the non-Jews, to the Gentiles, and he appeals to us on the basis of a soul thirst, a soul hunger: “Why do you labor for that which does not satisfy?” The implication is, “I’m going to satisfy you. I’m offering you satisfaction for your soul. You are hungry; you are thirsty. Come eat; come drink.” You may say, “Well, that sounds good, but how do you drink God? How do you eat Jesus? I would like to take the invitation, but practically, what does it look like in my life today, tomorrow, or the next day? What are some of the actual initiatives and steps to drink God and eat God and receive this invitation? How do I come to the waters? How do I receive it? How do I seek my soul satisfaction in Jesus?”

Moving Toward the Means of Grace

The answer to that question in significant part in the Christian life is that God gives us means. God, in his sovereignty, has appointed to use means. Here’s our outline for these few minutes. I have three points to organize this, and then we’re going to do Q&A.

First, we’re going to talk about the God of grace. We have to start with God. Sometimes, discussions about spiritual disciplines get off on the wrong foot because we think, Spiritual disciplines — it’s my spirit, my discipline. I have to do this. This is all on me. This is my initiative. We’re starting with the God of grace.

Second, we’ll look at his appointed means of grace. God has appointed means, and he specified the means for us.

And third, we’re going to end with the end of the means. Do you get that? If you have means, they are means to an end. If they’re the means of grace, we need to say what the end of those means is.

God of Grace

Earlier today, we looked at 1 Peter 5:10. This is a great text about the grace of God:

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.

He’s the God of “all grace” — all kinds of grace. Earlier, we talked about various trials. But he has various graces, a bounty of various graces. Sometimes, we have our favorite kind of grace that we like to really emphasize, and we don’t avail ourselves of the bounty of his graces. We get into a singular grace and forget about the double grace and the triple grace. So let me spell that out.

Grace of Justification

The grace of God justifies by faith alone. Do you know the term justify? That’s about how you get accepted as a sinner by the holy God. What is the ground of your acceptance, of your being in right relationship with God? And the answer is the grace of justification, and that comes through faith alone. You don’t do anything to earn his acceptance. It is fully by grace, received by faith alone. This is Romans 4:4–5:

Now to the one who works, his wages are not counted as a gift but as his due. And to the one who does not work but believes in him who justifies the ungodly, his faith is counted as righteousness.

In other words, you are justified, you are accepted by God one hundred percent, through faith alone. That’s the grace of justification. Some people may say, “Well, that is so amazing. I’ll just walk away now. What other graces could I ever need or want?” But he’s the God of all grace. He has more grace. Isn’t this amazing? I mean, the grace of justification is phenomenal enough, and he has more grace.

Grace of Sanctification

He’s also the God of the grace of sanctification. You have a God of grace who sanctifies you, and he sanctifies through faith. But in sanctification, you get involved: you start to do things, desire things, will things, initiate things, act things, read things, pray things, and gather with believers.

This is Titus 2:11–12:

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age.

“The grace of God has appeared.” I love that expression. He’s talking about the incarnation. Isn’t that a great way to think about Advent? The grace of God has appeared. That’s what we’re celebrating in Advent and at Christmas. The grace of God has appeared, and some of us might expect he would next say that it’s the grace of justification of the ungodly. That’s not what he’s doing here. He did that in Romans 4. He could do that here, but here he says,

The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age.

And if you say, “Oh, that doesn’t sound like grace — ungodliness and worldly passions, I kind of want to live in those,” then you don’t know grace. It’s miserable to live in ungodliness and worldly passions. God is too gracious to just accept you based on Christ alone and then to leave you in the misery of sin. He’s more gracious than just to accept you apart from your being made holy, apart from the grace of becoming progressively more holy and godly. This is grace to be sanctified.

Grace of Glorification

And the grace of God glorifies. This is 2 Thessalonians 1:11–12:

To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power, so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.

What’s happening now in sanctification is one degree of glorification to the next, but a day is coming, at Christ’s second coming, when the body will be raised, and you will be fully glorified by the grace of God.

So, God’s grace justifies, sanctifies, and glorifies. That’s the God of grace. That’s the foundation. Everything we want to do here is not starting at the center point of us, but it is positioning ourselves based on the God of grace and what he has to say.

Means of Grace

Next is God’s appointed means of grace. What are the “means of grace”? What’s that? What’s that language? We’re used to hearing about spiritual disciplines, and that’s okay. I’m not on a campaign to rid the world of the term. It would be a fruitless campaign. There has been a particular emphasis in the last generation. There were some books in the late 1970s and early 1980s that really started talking about spiritual disciplines. D.A. Carson, a theologian I love and respect, says, “Means of grace [is] a lovely expression less susceptible to misinterpretation than spiritual disciplines.”

I like that. I think it’s right. Means of grace is an older term. This may be due to my own flaws and failures, but the term spiritual disciplines lands on me first and foremost as something I must do. It puts the center on me. The effort must be on me. But when the emphasis is on means of grace, then it starts outside of me. Now, what I’m doing is just positioning myself to get under the waterfall, under the flow of his grace. He’s told me where the grace is coming, and I’m just adjusting. That’s the work I’m doing. I’m adjusting.

Maybe my favorite means-of-grace quote is from a guy named J.C. Ryle a little over a hundred years ago. He was a bishop in the Anglican church — a man’s man. He was a cricket player and played some rugby, and he loved talking simply. He was very learned, but he loved talking simply. He was a good preacher. Here’s what he says about means of grace:

The “means of grace” are such as Bible reading, private prayer, and regularly worshiping God in Church, wherein one hears the word taught and participates in the Lord’s Supper.

Did you hear those? He said Bible reading, private prayer, and then he talked about church. And in church, the word is taught. He mentioned the Lord’s Supper. That’s part of the church. We’ll pick that up in a second. Ryle continues:

I lay it down as a simple matter of fact that no one who is careless about such things must ever expect to make much progress in sanctification. I can find no record of any eminent saint who ever neglected them. They are appointed channels through which the Holy Spirit conveys fresh supplies of grace to the soul, and strengthens the work which he has begun in the inward man. . . . Our God is a God who works by means, and he will never bless the soul of that man who pretends to be so high and spiritual that he can get on without them. (Holiness, 26)

If I walk around my house and want light, I don’t say, “Light on.” Well, I know you can train a computer to do these things, but that’s because you’ve trained it with a particular means. Or if I want some water, I don’t just walk around the house going, “Water. I’ll have some water.” And you don’t just walk around in the wilderness or in the Christian life going, “All right, God, I’ll take some grace. I’ll have some grace right here. Drop a package of grace.” There are means. If I want the light on, I hit a switch.

Now, that’s not a testimony to me. I haven’t done anything great. I don’t walk around the house flipping on lights going, “Look what I did. I turned on the light,” because I don’t have a clue how to do electrical work. The city is providing electricity. Electricians have wired it up. I’m not doing anything that redounds to my glory when I’m accessing these means. I’m just doing what the appointed channels that are given are supposed to do. I’m turning the lights on. I go to the faucet and turn it on. There’s no big celebration of my ability when I turn the faucet on, but I’m engaging the means.

Are you engaging God’s given means in the Christian life, or are you just wandering around the house hoping to have light and water at the appointed time, walking around outside hoping he’ll just hit you with grace?

Now, the question is, How do we put ourselves on the path of God’s grace? Let me give you one passage, and then let me give you a couple huge swaths that dominate the Psalms, and then I’ll give you examples from Hebrews. That’s how we’re going to set these up, in these three big categories.

Teaching, Fellowship, Bread, Prayers

The Bible verse is Acts 2:42. This is in the early church in this honeymoon period where it’s all exciting. The Holy Spirit has fallen. There are thousands of converts, and there isn’t persecution yet, and everybody is happy, and they’re sharing their stuff, and everybody wants in. What are they doing? People want the spectacular stuff. The Holy Spirit does the spectacular things and they’re adding to their number every day. We all want that stuff, but what were they doing when that exciting stuff happened? Acts 2:42 tells us what they were doing:

And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.

That’s pretty ordinary. These are not surprising answers when J.C. Ryle says Bible reading, prayer, church, and the Lord’s Supper. And when Acts 2:42 says “the apostle’s teaching” — that’s the word. “The fellowship” — that’s church. “The breaking of bread” — I take that to be both the celebration of the Lord’s Supper and the community sharing of a meal. And then there are “the prayers.”

So, you can take the pie of God’s means of grace, and you can cut it in four slices like Acts 2:42 — or like J.C. Ryle. I like to cut my pie in three slices, so it’s like a peace sign. I cut my pie in three slices, and here’s how I summarize the means of grace. I find this helpful for getting at practical application. First, hear God’s voice in his word. Second, have his ear in prayer. And third, belong to his body in the fellowship of the local church.

I find it helpful that at any stage of life, I can always think of the great spiritual disciplines to be doing. It’s easy to make a list of twelve, fifteen, or twenty and start to think, “How am I going to ever do these? I’m going to have to go monastic to be able to do all these things.” Or I can ask, “What are the operative principles of God’s grace? Am I hearing his voice in his word? Am I accessing the wonder of having his ear in prayer? Am I belonging to his body? Am I in real-life covenant relationships in the local church?”

Seeking God in the Psalms

Where else does this matrix come from? I’ve mentioned the Psalms. I’ll give you a little homework. Just read the Psalms and look for three things in the Psalms. It’s the longest book in the Bible. If you’ve read the Psalms and you know the Psalms, this will resonate right away. How often do the psalmists talk about God’s voice and his word? Psalm 119 is dedicated to the power of God’s word. How often they talk about God’s voice, his revelation, his word!

Second, how often do they plead to have his ear, and they express with confidence that he hears them? This is one of the amazing things in the Psalms — how much they’re talking about God’s listening and God’s ear hearing the psalmist. They say, “Hear my cry, O Lord.”

And then last, there’s often a fellowship context. There’s a corporate context. They often speak of praising him in the assembly of his people — with the great congregation.

So, I’m just taking the Psalms’ language of voice and ear, and I’m bringing in this New Testament metaphor of body for this little summary. But let me show it to you briefly in Hebrews.

God’s Voice, Ear, and People

I’m going to have to move quickly because I want to show you some texts in Hebrews for these categories, mention the end of all the means, and then do some Q&A. Here’s the pattern in Hebrews.

Hear His Voice

First, we hear his voice.

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son. (Hebrews 1:1–2)

Let me pull several things out here. First, how amazing that God speaks. He reveals himself. He is communicative. What can you say? God is talkative. He likes to talk. We have a nice thick book because God loves to talk, and he reveals himself in nature. God loves to reveal himself. One of the tragedies in our sin is how dull our ears and eyes have become to his self-revelation and how talkative he is. Open your eyes and your ears to his word.

So, God speaks, and he speaks climactically in his Son. The Gospel of John calls him the Word. It’s as if, if God had one thing to say, if he had one word to say to humanity, it’s Jesus, his own Son. The eternal second person of the Trinity came among us, revealed not just on a page but in a person. So, Jesus is the full embodiment of God’s self-revelation, his Word. God speaks. He reveals himself in his Son climactically. His Son has this group of apostles, and God has his prophets in the Old Testament, so that we have this book of revelation of God speaking to us. It’s a remarkable thing that God has revealed himself.

“Hear God’s voice in his word, have his ear in prayer, and belong to his body.”

And in that book, Hebrews 12:25 says, “See that you do not refuse him who is speaking.” When you access Scripture, whether you’re holding a paper Bible, whether you’re looking at it on your phone or computer, this is no mere record of what God said in the past. This is what God is saying to the world, what he is saying to the nations, what he is saying through his Spirit to his people — and to you. This is a living word.

The word of God is living and active. God continues to speak to his people, by his Spirit, in his word.

Have His Ear

We’ll focus on Hebrews 4:14–16 and then Hebrews 10:19–23. I’m going to read these two passages quickly and listen to the things in common. In common, there’s a mention of a great high priest. His personal name is Jesus. He’s passed through the heavens, so he ascended. He’s in God’s very presence. Therefore, he says, “Hold fast to our confession of faith in him,” and, “Draw near to God through him,” and do so with confidence. You can see that in both passages. Hebrews 4:14–16 says,

Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Prayer is a means of grace. We find grace to help in time of need. This drawing near is more than just prayer, but it is not less. Prayer is a fitting application of Hebrews 4 and Hebrews 10. Here’s Hebrews 10:19–23:

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.

We have a great high priest. He’s ascended. He’s seated at God’s right hand. Right now, in this moment, the risen and glorified God-man sits in glory in heaven, and he’s ready to provide fresh supplies of grace through his Spirit, by his word, and through this grace of hearing us. He not only reveals himself, but he would pause, he would stoop, he would say, “I want to hear from you. I just spoke; now what do you have to say?” That’s prayer.

Belong to His Body

Lastly, we come to fellowship. Belong to his body. The two best texts on fellowship are both in Hebrews. Hebrews 10:24–25 says,

And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

What’s significant in Hebrews 10 is that the many, the church, are instructed to watch out for “some.” Some are neglecting assembling together. And he says to the many, “Watch out for them; bring them in.” And the way he says to do this in the gathering, in the fellowship, is that they consider one another to provoke them to love and good deeds. That’s the language of how “to stir up one another.” It’s literally provoke. This is a good provoking. A lot of times, provoking is bad, like provoking someone to anger or something like that. This is provoking them toward good. You poke them and prod them. How would you provoke them? How would you stir them up not to anger but to good? How do you provoke them to do good?

And there’s this amazing power of words. He says, “encouraging one another.” You can encourage them by baking them a pie, or giving them some food, or helping them move. But often, we encourage one another through words. We have these weird holes in the side of our head, and words go into the hole and into the brain, and it can go down into the heart, and it can feed someone’s faith. It can give them spiritual courage when they’re weak, when they don’t have it in them. They might think, “Ah, I need to get myself into Bible study and do this intense study. I don’t have the energy to do that. I’m not feeding my own faith.” Well, you know what? You have a hole in the side of your head. I’m going to stick some words in there and try to give you some courage and try to feed your faith through these ears.

The second passage is Hebrews 3:12–13:

Take care, brothers, lest there be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart, leading you to fall away from the living God. But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.

Again, we have the power of words to speak into each other’s lives, to put grace in a soul through an ear, and to watch out for each other — to give each other grace. In God’s word, we’re receiving grace from him. And in prayer, we are receiving grace from him even as we reply back to him and express our needs in prayer. But in fellowship, there’s this mutual giving of grace. You’re receiving grace by the care, the words, and the provision of brothers and sisters in Christ. And now you’re being a means of grace. You have the opportunity to be God’s channel of grace to a brother or sister.

So, hear God’s voice in his word, have his ear in prayer, and belong to his body.

End of the Means

Let me finish before questions here on, third and finally, the end of the means. Very briefly, what’s the end? Why are we doing this? What’s the end? You might answer, “Growth.” Grow for what? Why do you want to grow? What do you want to grow into? Something that looks impressive for your glory? What’s the growth for?

Let me give you two texts in particular that get at the end. What is the end of the Christian life? Jonathan struck the note well in the last session in Philippians 3. Consider John 17:3. This is Jesus the night before he dies, praying to his Father for his disciples to hear it. He says, “This is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” That is such a stunning prayer. This is the great end. This is eternal life. This is the goal — knowing God and Jesus Christ — as he prays for his disciples before he goes to the cross the next day.

Here’s how Paul is going to say it in Philippians 3:7–8, which Jonathan quoted in that last session:

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.

That’s the end: knowing Jesus. There’s no greater end. Knowing Jesus is not a means to anything else the human soul was made for. We pursue the means of grace toward the end of knowing him and enjoying him. He’s the one who said, “I am the bread of life [keep Isaiah 55 in mind here]; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst” (John 6:35). And “on the last day of the feast . . . Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink’” (John 7:37).

And that’s how the Bible ends, with Isaiah 55. Did you know that? You thought, “Oh, it’s Revelation 22.” Well, Revelation 22:17 is Isaiah 55:

The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.

So, take the water of life. Take the bread through hearing God’s voice in his word, having his ear in prayer, and belonging to his body in the fellowship of the local church. There’s a framework and matrix in which you can evaluate God’s principles of ongoing grace in a season of life.

Now, I did not specify here exactly how you should hear his voice in his word. I didn’t tell you all you should do to pray. And your local church is going to establish those corporate habits in the local body.

Question and Answer

If you have a question, and you think it would be helpful for the group, then let’s ask the question and we’ll have some Q&A for a few minutes.

Question: What is the definition of grace?

It helps to put it in a context. Sometimes people will put it in the context of mercy. For me, in this context of these means of grace or habits of grace, it is the favor, the blessing, and the power of God. Despite your deservedness, he’s giving it to you in justification. It’s not just justification and your full acceptance, but it’s also power for the Christian life and power that’s coming. So, grace is very important. Grace for the Christian is not simply a past reality. Sometimes, we can have this sense of, “This is amazing grace that Jesus came and died at the cross. Wow, look at all that grace. Look at all that grace in the past. Therefore, out of gratitude, I need to expend my effort to thank him for his grace.”

But the God of all grace doesn’t leave grace in the past. There is grace in the past. But you also stand in the present through grace, and you will be glorified through grace. It is all of grace. You have entered a sphere of grace. The Christian life is lived in grace, and we press on in faith banking on God’s future grace. Grace is coming. The reason we keep going on the journey is not because the grace is so great in the past that we’re going to marshal our energy to get to the end, but because the grace of the past shows me the God of the present who will give grace for the next step, and the next step, and he will get me to the end by his grace. That’s not a precise definition, but it gets at the reality of God’s empowering of our Christian life and accepting us fully in Jesus Christ.

Question: What is the place of journaling in the habits of grace?

First of all, let me say this: you don’t have to. Nothing in the Bible says you should journal. When we talk about other means of grace, we need to say that prayer is not an option. Accessing God’s ear is not an option. The local church is not optional. Journaling is totally optional. If you want to try it, great. I am helped when I’m engaging God’s word to engage actively with a pencil in hand. I engage my whole soul better when I write some things out. It can be helpful to do some journaling.

There have been seasons in my life, especially when I was younger — before I had a wife, four kids, and a full-time job — and I made use of that for more journaling. Sometimes, I’d journal my whole devotional time. I’d read a passage and work through it and basically type out every thought. I would think, “Man, this keyboard is amazing because I can type things so fast.” Then I’ll go back and forth. Sometimes the digital engagement feels like it’s so mechanical. It doesn’t feel relational, like communion with God. So, I would go back to my written journal.

I’ve been all over the place over the years with journaling. I think the best headway I’ve made and the way that it’s been most useful is when I’ll just write a little bit and not try to set my standard too high. I think the places when I would journal for a while and then just kind of fall off the wagon or whatever is when I would start writing and writing and writing and peeling the layers of the onion of my soul, and then I feel like, “Oh man, I can’t even start journaling unless I have 45 minutes.” That’s not going to be helpful. That’s not going to work.

One thing I tried at one point, and I’ll often do this, is to try to write a sentence a day. If I have my Bible reading plan, I’ll go along with that. I think it’s really helpful to have a plan, not just to come to the Bible and flip open and say, “Oh, I’ll just read Titus again. I just always read a short one. Titus or Philemon every time, or Jude.” Have a plan that’ll get you through. And then at the end, what if you’re thinking in your time that you’d just like to capture something? It’s not an assignment. It’s not schoolwork. This is an opportunity to further enjoy what you are enjoying by making it into a single complete sentence. You might say, “Oh, isn’t it amazing that he is the God of all grace?” That’s it. That’s it for the day. That’s November 16, and then move on. Come back the next day and have one thought for November 17.

I had a Word doc called “Sentences,” and my goal was to write one sentence a day. It could be a prayer; it could just be how amazing a passage was. That may be one way to do it. Set yourself a really low bar. You don’t have to do this. Do a really low bar. Try a sentence a day. And you know what? If you get to the end of that first sentence and you think, “I’d kind of like to write a second sentence,” go ahead. Just go hog wild. That would be my advice. See if it’s helpful for you. It’s not helpful for everybody. It doesn’t have to be. As far as we know, Jesus kept no journal, and he did fine.

Question: Could you elaborate more on Bible-reading plans?

This is where you’re getting into habits, right? Sunday morning, you don’t want to think, “Hmm, should I go to church this morning?” Or when you get into a car, you don’t want to think, “Hmm, should I put a seatbelt on this time, or should I challenge the odds?” Good habits are things you don’t want to expend the mental energy on making decisions that you should have already made, and you should do. Put the seatbelt on when you get in the car; when you wake up, read the Bible; if it’s Sunday morning, go to church.

These are good habits. These are life-giving habits that save your life. So, when I get up in the morning, I don’t want to rethink it all over again like, “Huh, well, it’s a morning, what should I do? Should I read a Bible?” Just make the habit. I want to hear his voice first. What you do first each day is revealing. Is it news first? Is that what your god really is? That’s what the secular world would have you think. News is god. You can’t live this day if you haven’t done your news. Baloney. There was no news 150 years ago. It’s made up. You know what’s not made up? That God is still speaking by his Spirit through his word. That’s a really good voice to start the day with, the voice of God in the word by the power of the Spirit. Set the trajectory for your day.

If your day is crazy busy, like so many of us, we’re just being bombarded by the tides of the world’s pace and speed. One of my biggest thoughts in the morning is that I just want to engage God’s word without hurry. I don’t know if there are any computer programmers or those who are in the industry where you talk about getting into a “flow state.” I’m looking for something kind of like that. I want a devotional flow state where my phone is more than an arm’s length away. I’m not watching a timer. If some thoughts of to-dos come in my head, I’ll scribble them down and move them out of the way. I want to get into a flow state with God’s word. I want to have enough margin.

Sometimes people ask, “How long? How long in the word?” I want enough margin to lose track of time. I want enough margin that my heart would be warmed and not just information running through my head and then rush off to the day and check my box and move on. I want some heart work to be done. I don’t think you need to walk away every day with a life application. If those happen, that’s great. That’s gravy. The goal in engaging God’s word is, “Father, would you warm my heart? I pray that when I’m reading here in this chapter, in this paragraph, that it wouldn’t just be information through my head. Would you help me to feel how I should feel in receiving your word?” That’s the battle for me every morning. That’s the prayer. “Father, help me feel how you would have me feel from this text.”

Having a Bible-reading plan can be helpful to go right into what you will be reading that day. The plan I do is about three hundred days a year. You have 25 days a month. It’s called the Navigators Bible Reading Plan. That’s one you can use. I would say have a plan and then take the assignment of that plan as God’s will for you that morning. That’s what I do.

He orchestrates my life. He knows all the details, and he’s seen to it that I’m going to be reading these passages, and the Holy Spirit can work at those passages. I take that as God’s word to me for the day. And I want to find something I can linger over where there is not just mere reading, but what the old saints called meditation — which is not eastern meditation, where you empty your head and do a mantra. It’s meditation where you fill your mind with God’s word and seek to feel the significance of his word in your heart.

The Puritans would talk about having a sensible benefit from God’s word, that you have been in some way affected by it, in some way moved by it. It might be a holy fear, it might be a rebuke, it might be excitement, it might be the joy of comfort, or it might be a fresh sense of God’s goodness, but we should feel some sensible benefit. Often, I’ll read through those passages, and sometimes something will strike me as, Oh, that’s so good. Stop, pause, reread, think about it, pray about that, write that down as my one sentence in the journal. Or sometimes I’ll read through the passages, praying, “Father, what is your word to me today?” I’ll go back and look at those passages again. I’ll find some place to kind of camp out for a minute, to linger, unhurried, and to try to press into my soul in meditating on God’s word.

Question: Do you have any advice for prayer during spiritually dry seasons?

I think the main thing I would want to say about prayer is to bind it to God’s word. I’m trying to create this relational context here by talking about hearing his voice and having his ear. This is communion. This is what the Puritans would talk about as communion with God. It’s not just Bible reading and prayer; it’s Bible meditation and prayer together being communion. One great thing about prayer — and what’s so important about it — is that it’s a conversation with God. We don’t start the conversation.

When you feel dry in your prayer life, the first step isn’t I; the first step is him. I want to hear from him. How can I get access more to his word that my prayers might be responsive? I think sometimes we can feel this obligatory sense since we all know we should be praying. I mean, the Bible is just very clear: we should be praying. And because we know that obligation, there’s a sense of, “I need to be praying. I should be praying.” And we can lose sight that prayer is responsive. We’re the creatures; he’s the Creator. He’s the Redeemer; we’re the redeemed. I need something to feed on and respond to in prayer. So, I would say going to his word and slowing down in his word — to feed on it and meditate on it — is where we should start.

And then, the Puritans would talk about prayer being “the proper issue of meditation.” This is where meditation is going. As you linger over God’s word and seek to feel its effect in your heart, a warming of the heart — that naturally should lead to a response of prayer. That’s the point where prayer is fed and ready to respond. I think that’s the way I would encourage you to go about it individually.

But here are some other things on prayer. One of the greatest gifts in the Christian life is prayer together. If you’re feeling a dryness in prayer, it is a beautiful thing to be in a prayer gathering with fellow believers. Sometimes, in the rush of our modern lives, we maybe don’t avail ourselves of the prayer gathering in our local churches like we could. I don’t know that I’ve ever been to a prayer gathering and left disappointed. It seems to always go better than I was expecting.

It is a sweet thing to hear fellow brothers and sisters pray, to be there, to be in a spirit of prayer, to not have to be the one praying, to hear brothers and sisters pour out their heart before God, to get to know Jesus better because they know certain things about Jesus that I don’t. So I know him better through hearing them pray. Utilize corporate prayer, prayer with roommates, family, or with the church. Those would be some good ways to jump-start. But it’s all based on word. There has to be word there first to feed prayer.

Question: How might you respond to someone in your life — maybe a friend or family member — who is not appreciating the essential means of grace in the Christian life?

There were some people when COVID happened in 2020 who were ready for it, thinking, “We’re going to fight for this. We’re going to be on the phone; we’re going to be texting; we’re going to have gatherings in our home.” Some people thrived in 2020. And some kind of limped by and saw for the first time what an unbelievably rich and essential means of grace it is in the Christian life to have each other. And then others drifted away.

We have people that were in our church four years ago, and they haven’t come back. Those twelve weeks that we didn’t have services together were significant to them. It was the last straw of falling back. So, what might we do for somebody who doesn’t appreciate that means? I think I’d go back to the power of our own words. It is an amazing thing to not have to coerce somebody. You can’t. Christianity does not teach forcible church attendance or conversion (though you’d be surprised what some people might want to say today when they get down about things culturally). It’s not Christian to force someone, but everybody has these holes in the side of their head. And that’s what those passages in Hebrews are talking about.

It’s striking, this power of words. I would encourage you to seek to win them through words. Could you say, “Hey, would you come this Sunday with me? Let’s go out to lunch afterward and talk”? Or in a conversation, maybe you have a chance to share something that was fresh. What fed your soul that morning? How might that come out in the conversation? “You know what I read about Jesus this morning? It said, ‘No man in the history of the world has ever opened the eyes of the blind.’ Isn’t Jesus amazing?” And you know what? That got in their ear. And maybe the Holy Spirit would be pleased to give that a flame and to draw them in.

So, think about how your words could be a means of grace. Even though they’re not committed to having their words be a means of grace in your life and others in the local body, your words could still be a means of grace for them.

I would say pray for them and pray for the things you might say to them that could breadcrumb them along. And at some point, it’s worth having the conversation. It’s worth finding a resource that might be helpful toward saying, “This is an essential means of grace in the Christian life.” You might say, “It is often forgotten in our day. A lot of times, people focus on the individual things — individual Bible intake and individual prayer — and the corporate means of grace are neglected. That’s sad. I don’t want you to miss out on that.” Seek to win them and pray for them. But, yes, it’s hard. And that’s a significant issue in our day.

Question: To what degree should we confront people regarding the means of grace and exhort people toward them?

To the degree that God has given you influence in that person’s life, to the degree that you can speak. For example, if they’re a family member, if there’s some kind of friendship commitment there, and they’ll hear from you, I think you want to encourage consistency. I would say it’s also to the degree that it’s available in a church commitment. A lot of churches have a thing called membership. That’s a good thing. You commit to each other; you make covenants, because anybody can do life when it’s easy and it’s simple and it’s fun. You make covenant commitments because you need each other when it’s hard.

That’s one of the reasons for a marriage covenant. A local church covenant is not a marriage covenant. It’s not a “till death do us part,” but it’s saying, “I am going to be the church to you. You be the church to me.” I need people to be the church to me. I need other people in my Christian life (like Jonathan was talking about). You need them. So we say, “Let’s commit together. For however long God has us in this place, we’re going to be the church to each other — in good times and bad times, sickness and health, all of that.” Encourage, if it’s possible, a covenant membership in a local church. There’s an appeal there.

Sometimes, the only appeal to people is, “You have to do this. You have to be here for the church. You have to give.” And there’s never this appeal of, “You need this. You need this so badly. You’re joining this church. You’re covenanting with this church. And there’s great joy in being God’s means of grace to others. But oh my, how you are receiving. What grace for you to benefit from that now, while you’re in your right mind spiritually.” You’re saying to people, “Hey, watch out for me. Get my back. Don’t let me have a hard, unbelieving heart. If I start going nuts spiritually, will you come get me? Would you get in my face? Would you tell me to come back?” That is a precious grace that might save a soul from hell.

So, there’s a great hedonistic appeal to a brother and sister. This is not just me saying, “Do this for others.” There’s joy in that. But this is an appeal to you. You need this. If you’re in your right mind spiritually, you need this. And if you don’t think you need it, you may not be in your right mind spiritually.

Question: What would you do if your small group was spending time together but not getting into enough substance in the Bible and prayer? Or what if people were really extroverted and needed to learn how to be alone with God?

My experience in the Twin Cities has been that there is such inertia in modern life away from people gathering that usually we all have way too much individual time. I don’t know how much television has done that to us, or cars, or modern life in general.

Here’s the thing: these categories of introverted and extroverted are fairly recent. We all need people, and we all need time alone with God. Jonathan Edwards talked about how a soul that loves Jesus loves to get time alone with him, extended time alone with him to enjoy him. And he sends us back to bless others. There’s an amazing pattern in Jesus’s life. Watch this in his life. He retreats from the masses for prayer. They didn’t have their own copies of the Bible then, so he’s probably going on memorized Scripture and meditating on Scripture. He’s communing with his Father in prayer. Jesus is perfect, and he was retreating to pray by himself to get away. But then, what does he do? He doesn’t stay there. He doesn’t go to the monastic ideal. He comes back.

There are these rhythms in his life, and maybe that’s the way to go with fellow believers. You might say, “Hey, we need some rhythms in our lives like Jesus. It’s a great thing that we’re together all the time, and that’s awesome because most people in modern life are not together enough with fellow believers. We’re getting a lot of time together. This is really good for the Christian life. And I’d like a little bit of time to feed my soul too, like Jesus. Jesus got up and got away. He retreated and he came back. Can we do some Jesus patterns in here?”

You could say, “Give me a little bit of space, and when I come back, I’ll be much better for listening and loving and ministering.” Let’s talk further if I can add some more to that.

Where do you turn in moments of decision? To what, or to whom, do you look for help when you need to choose between two paths?

We live most of our lives spontaneously, without pausing to ponder one option or another. But we sometimes come to moments of decision. It might seem as small as a request to help a church member, or a text informing you of a friend in need. You pause, even briefly, to ponder, Will I give of my time and energy to help, or do I have a good excuse to kindly decline?

In such moments, where do you look for clarity? Specifically, as Christians, what might we put before our minds, and hearts, to guide us in these times of decision?

The end of Acts 20 gives us not just a Christian way to proceed but what we might call a Christian Hedonistic approach. Could it be that the best decision is also the most blessed?

Remember These Words

If you’re reading a red-letter Bible, you might expect the Gospels to have plenty of crimson, but not the book of Acts. Mostly Acts is black and white — with some exceptions for Jesus speaking to the disciples before his ascension, to Peter from heaven in a vision, and to Paul on the Damascus road. There we find some splashes of red. But Acts 20 is a strange place for color.

This is Paul’s last will and testament to the pastor-elders of Ephesus. He is making for Jerusalem, anticipating he will not see them again. Paul gives them a rich and moving farewell speech (verses 18–35), which culminates, surprisingly for many readers, with red letters.

As his message draws to its close, Paul reminds them of his own hard work, which they themselves observed, and which he wants to be a model to them:

In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35)

“It is more blessed” — more happy! — “to give than to receive.” This is strikingly hedonistic logic. What a parting word to leave in such a poignant moment!

Not only does Paul believe this truth, live by it himself, and quote it for others, but he adds that these church leaders should explicitly remember it. That is, bring it to mind, and keep bringing it to mind. Have it guide and motivate you. Turn here in key moments of decision. This is the sort of truth that deserves remembrance. So, be conscious about it, and regularly rehearse this reality, that you might live according to the supernatural way and words of Jesus, rather than as a natural person.

The natural human instinct is, I’ll be happier if I get, rather than give. But Jesus teaches another calculus.

Unblushing Promises for Giving

Whether this particular wording is Jesus’s own or Paul’s insightful capture of Christ’s ethic, we cannot say conclusively. However, what’s most important, whoever captured it, is recognizing that this is clearly a good summary of Jesus’s teaching. This is indeed how Jesus taught. This, in summary form, is the spirit of Christ’s regular appeals.

C.S. Lewis, for one, comments on Jesus’s “unblushing promises of reward” throughout the Gospels. Give to others, Jesus says, and you will get from your Father in heaven. Give on earth, he teaches, and you will receive from heaven. Give of your earthly, temporal possessions, and you will get a heavenly, eternal possession. The heart of his appeal is this: you get more in giving than in getting. Or slightly expanded: you get more (from God) in giving (to others) than in getting (from others).

Whether Acts 20:35 is a quote from Christ or a summary from Paul (or Luke), let’s see from the Gospel of Luke why this matches Christ’s ethic so well. Four passages, and promises, come quickly into view.

1. God will outgive you.

Give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. (Luke 6:38)

In this context, Jesus has instructed his disciples on how they should treat others, and then how they will be treated by “the Most High” who is “your Father.” Verse 37: “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive, and you will be forgiven.” Jesus’s pattern is this: treat others on earth well, with an explicit view toward the benefit that comes from heaven.

Christ’s ethic is plainly not the natural human ethic that says, “Treat others well, and they will treat you well in return.” He expressly denies that in verse 34: “If you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount.” Rather, Jesus says, “Love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great” (verse 35).

“When God gives, he does not hold back. He doesn’t cut corners. He’s a cheerful, generous giver.”

The “credit” or “benefit” (Greek charis) to which Jesus makes explicit appeal is not what others will do for you in return but what your heavenly Father will be and do for you. You give to others, seeking nothing in return from them, because you are looking to the reward you will receive from God. Oh, you are seeking return, but not from man — from God. And when God gives, he does not hold back. He doesn’t cut corners. He’s a cheerful, generous giver: “good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over”!

2. God gives treasure that will not fail.

Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Luke 12:32–34)

Here is the same spirit and holy hedonistic line of reasoning: as you empty your earthly, aging, stealable moneybags by giving to others in need, you “provide yourselves with [heavenly] moneybags that do not grow old,” treasure that cannot be stolen by thieves or destroyed by moths.

Again, we find two directions of giving in Jesus’s teaching: (1) his people give to others in need; (2) his Father gives to his people. You give from your limited possessions to the needy, and you get from your Father’s unlimited bounty — and remembering the second motivates the first. Knowing your Father has it all, and that what he has cannot be stolen or destroyed, and that he happily gives to his children, you are freed from hoarding and holding tightly to earthly possessions.

The appeal is plainly hedonistic: give to the needy, recalling your Father who has no needs. Not only does he care for his little flock and thus free you to care for others, but in your very giving to others, you accrue provision and blessing from God. You are more blessed, Jesus says in effect, to give to others and so to receive from your Father in heaven.

3. God will make you happy.

When you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you. For you will be repaid at the resurrection of the just. (Luke 14:13–14)

This passage comes closer to Acts 20:35 than any of the others. We have Christ’s call to give, the promise of repayment/reward, and the language of being “blessed” (by God). This is not the blessed of being praised (eulogētos) but the blessed of being happy (makarios). When you give to others, and they cannot repay you, God will make you happy. He will repay you in the end, and knowing that makes us happy not only then but now.

A profound insight into the heart of Jesus’s ethic comes with the mention of giving to others who cannot repay you. The natural, human, less-happy way is to give to others who will give back to you. They will repay you, tit for tat. You have your reward, and you leave untapped the infinite joy-resources of heaven and eternity.

But the supernatural, divine, more-blessed way is to give to others who cannot repay you. Because then you know your heart has been truly hedonistic, Christian Hedonistic. Your heart has looked to the majestic Rewards of heaven rather than the miserly reimbursements of earth. And your heavenly Father has never missed a single payment in his ledger. He will repay you. In his perfect justice, he will reward you with everything you deserve — and in his amazing grace, he will lavish you with far more than you deserve. You will be far happier to be rewarded by him than repaid by fellow humans.

In other words, your all-seeing, all-knowing, all-just, and all-gracious heavenly Father will not let any act in the name of his Son go without eventual reward — however hidden it may be in this age. The books will be opened. The world will know. Christ will be honored. And our heavenly Father will shower his children with every good that’s justly owed, and then far, far more. Even the one who gives a cup of cold water in Jesus’s name “will be no means lose his reward” (Matthew 10:42). How much more the one gives a feast to the needy.

4. God will receive you into his own house.

Finally, Luke 16:9 may be the most unnerving of all. Jesus tells a parable of an “unrighteous manager” who shrewdly uses his temporary access to wealth to secure favor for himself once his stewardship is taken away. Jesus acknowledges his wickedness, yet risks drawing this hedonistic lesson for his disciples:

Make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings.

We’ve seen this logic before, even if it hasn’t been as provocative. Our possessions on earth are so fleeting; so soon will they fail us! Why hold on to them tightly and be ruined, when you could use what stewardship you have for now to “make friends” for yourself with God Almighty, who will receive you into his eternal dwelling?

It’s a hedonist’s appeal. Holding on now to earthly possessions will not make you deeply and enduringly happy. You really want to be happy? Loosen your grip. Give your earthly stuff away — not that you might receive in return from fellow humans, but that you might receive now and forever from your Father in heaven, and one day come as guest, and child, into his very home that is heaven.

Your Father Will Reward You

“It is more blessed to give than to receive” is a marvelous summary of Jesus’s ethic. But how might it become tangible in our own moments of decision?

When faced with the opportunity to give, think like a hedonist — a Christian Hedonist. That’s what Jesus would have us do. That’s what Paul himself did, and what he would have us do (as he makes explicit with the word remember).

So, very practically, you come to a moment of decision. You hear of some need. Christian love is calling. You can think of all sorts of carnal reasons to say no. And you can come up with carnal reasons to say yes. At that moment, Jesus and Paul would have us turn our minds to the promises of God: He will outgive your giving, guaranteed. He gives treasure that will not fail. He will make you happy forever, and in measure even now. And, in the end, he will even receive you into the divine generosity of his own house.

What unblushing promises of reward! Grab one of them, rehearse it, and act in faith. Or just reach for that insightful Christian Hedonist summary of Acts 20:35: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

Advent gets me through the winter.

Now, the Minnesota winters are nothing to trifle with. They can last a full four months, sometimes five. Before long, these winters feel like half the year. Yet even as a South Carolina native, I endure them well enough with the help of a good Advent.

The light and warmth of a Christian December go a long way in taking the edge off these long, dark, cruel winters. Before long, it’s January. Yes, two frigid months still lie ahead. However, year after year, I find that a good, deliberate, relished spiritual journey up to Christmas helps shorten the winter up here in the northern latitudes.

Marvels of the One Who Comes

One of the best ways to savor the Advent season is to linger over the striking glories of those many Old Testament prophecies that anticipated the coming of Christ. We have our beloved passages from Isaiah, and one we often reach for, from his contemporary, is Micah 5:2–5.

Like Isaiah, Micah writes some seven centuries before the coming of Christ. God gave him a glimpse, and put a word in his mouth, that would feed God’s people for seven hundred years with well-founded hope. Still today these verses confirm for the church the power of our God and his word, with the majesty and humility of Christ.

The wonders of our God, and his sending his own Son at Christmas, are far past finding out. Yet even here, in a prophecy that predates the first Christmas by seven hundred years, we glimpse three stunning glories of the one who “comes forth” at Christmas, the one we await again each Advent.

1. He Comes from Modest Stock

We might be so familiar with the name Bethlehem that we miss the wonder of it. It may not have been the tiny backwater that Nazareth was, but it was modest, even with its regal overtones.

“One of the best ways to savor Advent is to pause over the striking glories of the main prophecies that anticipated Christ’s coming.”

Originally known as Ephrath (Genesis 35:16, 19; 48:7), it was first remembered in ancient Israel as the burial place of Jacob’s beloved wife, Rachel, who died giving birth to Benjamin. Later, after centuries in Egypt, the wilderness wandering, and the nation’s establishment in the promised land, the town was known as Bethlehem during the period of judges and subsequently.

But the city’s associations with Rachel were eclipsed when Israel’s second king, and greatest sovereign, came to the throne around 1000 BC. Then the little town was exalted with its shepherd of humble origin. So Micah prophecies,

you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah,     who are too little to be among the clans of Judah,from you shall come forth for me     one who is to be ruler in Israel . . . (Micah 5:2)

The first glory of the one coming forth is that he comes from Bethlehem. In Micah’s day, God had already done this once with David — the shepherd rising to the throne. Now, some three centuries later, the prophet tells of another ruler who will arise, and ascend, like David, and from David’s own line and town. In fact, God had promised this, in essence, to David during his lifetime:

I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. . . . And your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me. Your throne shall be established forever. (2 Samuel 7:12–16)

David’s son Solomon was a first fulfillment of the prophecy, but he too, like his father, died. He could not reign forever. What this first glimpse from Micah establishes (at minimum) is not only the Coming One’s pedigree in David’s line, but also his humanity. Clearly, the one coming forth will be human, David’s own offspring, and, for all his majesty, a human ruler (“descended from David according to the flesh,” Romans 1:3).

Besides, why would anyone anticipate this coming Messiah could be anything other than human? Still, the prophet, speaking on God’s behalf, gives another glimpse in the next line.

2. He Comes from Ancient Times

What the prophet says next might lead us to wonder if the little town is not the Messiah’s origin but his portal. He comes from Bethlehem, yes, yet also through Bethlehem:

. . . from [Bethlehem] shall come forth for me     one who is to be ruler in Israel,whose coming forth is from of old,     from ancient days . . . (Micah 5:2)

He is from Bethlehem, yet not ultimately from Bethlehem. Rather, mysteriously, this coming one is “from of old, from ancient days.” He is a human ruler, descended from David, and rising up like David from a modest upbringing, but he is more than a human king. And this is not David reincarnate, or some ancient champion, back from the grave — or even an angel in human flesh. This is somehow the Ancient of Days himself, the only one who truly is “of old” — God himself come as man, through the portal of Bethlehem, to rule as man. Bethlehem is his threshold; an unwed maiden his door; but his origin is divine, before the foundation of the world.

3. He Comes to Shepherd with Strength

Still, Micah forecasts more. Yes, he is fully man, and yet somehow also divine — both God and also somehow man. But Micah tells us not just his essence but his manner, not only who will rule but how he will reign:

And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord,     in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great     to the ends of the earth.And he shall be their peace. (Micah 5:4–5)

This is exceedingly good news for his flock, his people — and horribly bad news for their enemies.

He will “shepherd his flock,” says Micah, a picture of compassion and concern, loving provision and protection. And he will do so “in the strength of the Lord.” In other words, he will be a strong shepherd, strong enough that his flock might dwell secure under his rule and enjoy real peace in him — and this will mean the opposite for the foes of his flock.

That their shepherd is strong is ominous for their enemies. And that their shepherd is strong is a sweet balm for his people: “they shall dwell secure . . . he shall be their peace.”

Peace to His People

The coming of such peace, in the Strong Shepherd, to the ends of the earth, is a stunning Christmas declaration. Still today, these living words in an ancient prophet are an invitation to all, to any who would bow to embrace the God-man. But these words are not a promise to all. They are a promise of peace to those who receive him, even as they are a portentous warning to those who will not bow.

When he comes, the multitude of the heavenly host say,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased! (Luke 2:14)

His advent will not mean peace for unrepentant rebels. But for his flock, his happy subjects, his glad worshipers, his dear friends, his second coming will bring the peace and final safety for which our souls have always ached — a grace truly worthy of the phrase “eternal security.”

And till then, we wait — even and especially in winter — feeding, as our forebears did, on the light and warmth of his promised Advent.

How do you feel when you see the word prayer in a sermon title, or when the preacher announces that today’s sermon is about prayer? Oh no. Here we go.

Not many of us feel like we pray enough. We might even pray a good deal, and even earnestly, and still feel a gnawing sense of guilt when the topic comes up, just like when the subject of evangelism comes up. Preachers know this. Do you want to make people feel guilty? Talk about prayer and evangelism. Few of us feel instinctively like we do enough of either.

Added to this, we have the pervasive secular assumptions of modern life — that all that matters is the seeable, hearable, touchable, tastable. The otherworldly, especially the divine, is unwelcome and even out of bounds in polite company. We’re bombarded with the secular vision and its effects daily, through screens and through relationships with people influenced by screens, and through people influenced by other people who have screens. You can’t escape the influence of secularism without totally withdrawing. The question is not whether you’re being influenced, but whether some other, greater influence is getting and keeping traction in your soul.

God will not have the prevailing influence in your life if his practical means of influence mainly feel obligatory. But God himself doesn’t intend for his means to be obligations. They are not means of duty but means of grace. As J.C. Ryle says,

The “means of grace” . . . such as Bible reading, private prayer, and regularly worshiping God in Church . . . are appointed channels through which the Holy Spirit conveys fresh supplies of grace to the soul.

I did not come to Oakhurst this weekend to make you feel guilty, nor did I come just to visit family (nice as that is); I came mainly because I want you to enjoy “fresh supplies of grace to your soul” through hearing God’s voice in his word, having his ear in prayer, and belonging to the covenant fellowship of the local church. In the Sunday school hour, we focused on God’s word; tonight, we’ll focus on fellowship. Now in these moments, we turn our attention to prayer.

Three Wonders of Prayer

My specific prayer this morning is that the Spirit of God, dwelling in you, might be pleased to begin or renew a shift in your perspective on prayer — a shift in your mind and in your heart from prayer as obligation to prayer as opportunity, from prayer as duty to prayer as delight, from prayer as burden and dread to prayer as blessing and joy.

In that hope, I’d like for us to linger over three wonders of Christian prayer, and close with a few ideas for practical prayer habits in our lives.

1. Our Father Not Only Speaks But Listens

We start here with a summary of our focus in the Sunday school hour: our God is a speaking God. The preamble to Christian prayer is that God speaks. Prayer is responsive. Prayer is talking to God, but it’s not a conversation we start. God initiates. He is communicative. He is talkative. He speaks first, and oh does he love to speak!

He reveals himself in his creation (Romans 1:19–20).
He reveals himself climactically in his Son (Hebrews 1:1–2; John 1:1, 14).
He reveals himself in the God-breathed words of Scripture (2 Timothy 3:16; 2 Peter 1:20–21).

Then, amazingly, this Great Speaker himself stops and stoops. He cups his ear, and motions to us to speak. “What do you think? What do you feel? What do you need?” Our Father wants to hear from his children. He wants us to pray to him in view of who he’s revealed himself to be.

So, in prayer, we his creatures and his children respond to our Father’s words in our own words. Prayer is speaking to the God who has spoken first, responding to the God who has initiated the relationship and conversation. And we pray to God as our Father. The true God is not a distant, distracted deity. We don’t need cheat codes, flailing arms, or repeated phrases to seize his attention.

Amazingly, God himself loves his people, smiles on us, and is gladly attentive to our needs. He wants to hear from his children and make them happy forever in him. He wants us to pray to him as “our Father” — which is an especially Christlike way to pray.

Call Him ‘Father’

Ancient Israelites knew God’s covenant name (Yahweh) and approached him in worship and prayer in view of his covenant love and faithfulness, but they did not dare to call him “Father.” Calling God “Father” is new in the human life and ministry of Jesus. And when Jesus taught his disciples (and us) to pray, he began with “Our Father . . .” Repeatedly, particularly in the Gospel of John, Jesus calls the God of Israel “Father.” Especially memorable is his own extended prayer to his Father in John 17, on the night before he died:

Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you. . . . And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed. . . . Holy Father, keep [the people you have given me] in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one . . . just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. . . . Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. (John 17:1, 5, 11, 21, 24, 25)

Jesus calling God “Father” is not only modeling for us how to pray, but this is also an invitation for how to draw near to God — as our loving, gracious, generous heavenly Father.

However, we sinners need more than Jesus’s example and invitation. Being sinners, rebels, undeserving of God’s riches — in fact, deserving of his punishments — how can we, in honesty and not utter naivety, call the living God “Father”? God may indeed speak to sinners like us, but does he listen? And listen as a Father? That leads to a second wonder.

2. God’s Son Secures and Certifies Our Access to God’s Ear

Now let’s go to two passages in Hebrews: Hebrews 4:14–16 and 10:19–23. Perhaps you looked at these this week, or even this morning, and thought, Huh, these seem very similar. They are. And they are structurally and conceptually central for the epistle to the Hebrews.

“God will not have the prevailing influence in your life if his practical means of influence mainly feel obligatory.”

You could see all of Hebrews 1–4 as an extended introduction, chapters 11–13 as the extended conclusion, and chapters 5–10 as the heart, the main body and message. And of those middle chapters, 5–7 portray Jesus as the great and final high priest, and 8–10 show him to be the great and final sacrifice. That’s the heart of Hebrews: the person of Christ as our priest, and the work of Christ as our sacrifice.

These two parallel passages in chapters 4 and 10 are like the entrance and exit to the heart of the letter, and they express the main pastoral burden of the letter: Draw near to God, hold fast to Jesus. Don’t coast, don’t drift, don’t fall away. Don’t stop believin’, but cling to Jesus, and draw near to God in him.

So, I want to read both passages to you, back to back, and as I do, listen for six emphases they have in common:

the mention of the great high priest,
whose personal name is Jesus,
who has passed through the heavens (the curtain) into the very presence of God, and therefore
the call to hold fast our faith in him,
to draw near to God through him, and
to do so with confidence

And to be clear, this relates to more than prayer, but no less than prayer — and for now, prayer is perhaps the signature expression of our drawing near. Hebrews 4:14–16 says,

Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Now, here’s Hebrews 10:19–23:

Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, the first note struck here is that we have the great and final high priest! We have him already, right now. He has come at long last. He died as the great and final sacrifice for our sin. He rose in triumph over sin and death, and he ascended, going through the heavens, through the curtain, into the very presence of God Almighty, where he sat down, his work complete, at the right hand of Majesty.

We have him. This is no longer a future promise. This is a present reality! So, hold fast your trust in him, and your confession of him as Lord. And with confidence, with boldness, with surety, draw near — with your whole life, drawing near to him through his word, and drawing near to him with his church, and in particular drawing near to him in prayer. That’s the joint message of the two passages.

Boldness to Approach

Now, there are a couple of additions in Hebrew 10. The first is in Hebrews 10:19–20:

We have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us.

This is new with the coming and ascending of Jesus. The old way of the temple and its priests and rituals and escalating spaces of holiness, from the court of the Gentiles to the common Jews, to the Holy Place, to the Holy of Holies — that whole temple cultus — wasn’t the real thing. It was symbolic (Hebrews 9:9); it anticipated the real thing, which didn’t come until Jesus came and rose and went into heaven as our pioneer. In Jesus, we have a new and living way into the very presence of God that was not available to Abraham, not available to Moses, not available to David, not available to Isaiah and Jeremiah and Ezekiel, but now new to us who are in Christ. What an opportunity!

A second added detail is Hebrews 10:22:

let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.

What does Hebrews mean by “our hearts sprinkled clean” and “our bodies washed with pure water”? And how does that lead to our being able to draw near to God with confidence, especially in prayer?

This mention of sprinkling goes back to Moses and the people of Israel who had escaped slavery in Egypt. At Mount Sinai, God makes his covenant with them, and to enter the covenant, the people offer sacrifices in Exodus 24, and Moses takes the blood (“the blood of the covenant”) and throws half against the altar, representing God. The other half, he throws — that is, he sprinkles — on the people.

In this physical act of flinging animal blood on the people, something more than the mere physical is happening. In and of itself, the sprinkled blood doesn’t do anything to change the people or deal finally with their sins. But by this act, this memorable act, the people enter into covenant with God.

And if you were to ask an Israelite a few months later, “Hey, how do you know you’re in covenant with God?” one answer he might give is, “I remember the blood sprinkled on us. A drop landed on my left shoulder. It was real; it happened. I can assure you I’m part of the people in covenant with God. I had the blood of the covenant on me.”

Washed and Sprinkled

But now Hebrews 10 takes this to a new-covenant level. Hebrews 10:22 says that in Christ we have had “our hearts sprinkled clean.” How did that happen? Through faith. Faith in the heart trusts that when Jesus died on the cross, and shed his blood — objectively, publicly, unquestionably, indisputably — his life was standing in for mine. His death was the death I deserved.

But faith like this isn’t quite as cut-and-dried for the Christian as blood on the shoulder was for the ancient Israelite. There’s still some subjectivity here with faith. Jesus’s sacrifice is objective, but how do I know I’m included? My heart was sprinkled, not my shirt. And so, Hebrews draws in the new-covenant inauguration ritual, baptism, to help: “. . . and our bodies washed with pure water.” Baptism represents the washing away of sin in our hearts, in the inner person, but baptism is also external and objective and memorable. If you were baptized as a believer, and baptized in a faithful church community of reasonably diligent and discerning Christians (who were saying, in effect, through baptizing you, “We believe you truly believe and Jesus’s blood covers you”), then remember that baptism as support for your assurance, and pray with confidence.

Baptism is not just a drop on your shirt, but your whole body submerged in water, saying, “This one belongs to Jesus. This one has saving faith.” Remember that event, and draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith. How precious is a good believer-baptism! It didn’t save you, but God means for it to help assure you that you’re saved through faith in Jesus — and help you to come confidently in prayer.

So, the Father not only speaks but listens. And the Son secures and certifies our access to God’s ear in prayer. That’s it, right? Should we pray to close?

Well, not so fast. If only our lives were so simple! They are not. We have our ups and downs, our seasons of dullness and doubt, our struggles, our indwelling sin, our weaknesses — oh so many weaknesses, no matter how much we try to project ourselves as strong. And so, there is one more critical wonder of Christian prayer.

3. God’s Spirit Helps Us in Our Weakness

Let’s finish with Romans 8:26–27, and this is so precious for the wonder and power of prayer, and it is perhaps often overlooked in our day. Romans 8:26–27 says,

The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.

Brothers and sisters in Christ, when you pray, you pray as one who has the Holy Spirit of God dwelling in you. God himself has taken up residence in you. This is almost too good to be true. In a way that was not part and parcel of God’s first covenant with Israel, the risen and glorified Christ has poured out and given his Spirit to dwell in new-covenant Christians (John 7:38–39).

Now, our having the Spirit (Romans 8:9, 23) does not mean we own or control him. He also has us too. He is in us, and we are in him (Romans 8:5, 9). He is “sent into our hearts” (Galatians 4:6), given to us (Romans 5:5; etc), supplied to us (Galatians 3:5), and not just once but ongoingly (Ephesians 1:17; 1 Thessalonians 4:8). Through faith, we receive him (Romans 8:15; etc). And so, as the New Testament makes plain in several places, the Spirit dwells in us (Romans 8:9–11; etc) and prompts, empowers, and guides our prayers (Romans 8:26–27; Ephesians 6:18; Jude 20).

For Christians, there is a special relationship between our prayers and our having the Holy Spirit. Ephesians 6:17–18 says to “take . . . the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication.” And Jude 20–21 says, “You, beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God.” God doesn’t just want to hear from us and open the way to him, leaving it in our court. He gives us his own Spirit, in us, to prompt our hearts to pray, to enable us to pray, and as Romans 8 says, to pray for us when we don’t know what to pray.

Getting Practical

So, as men and women of the gospel, fed by God’s word, flanked by our fellows in Christ, we cultivate habits of prayer in three main spheres: secret (Matthew 6:5–6), with company in our marriages, families, and churches, and as regular anchor points in our lives (1 Thessalonians 5:17; Romans 12:12; Colossians 4:2). We have the opportunity to punctuate our lives with prayer and take the seams of our days as prompts to pray.

We turn general intentions into specific plans. We find our regular times and places. Our prayers are scheduled and spontaneous — in the car, at the table, in bed. We pray through Scripture, in response to God’s word. We adore, confess, give thanks, and petition. We learn to pray by praying, and by praying with others.

And we end on this note. Lest you think of prayer as simply asking God for things, let’s clarify what is the great purpose of Christian prayer: that God himself would be our joy. C.S. Lewis says this so memorably:

Prayer in the sense of petition, asking for things, is a small part of it; confession and penitence are its threshold, adoration its sanctuary, the presence and vision and enjoyment of God its bread and wine. (“The Efficacy of Prayer,” 7)

Brothers and sisters in Christ, in light of the Father’s listening ear, the Son’s securing and certifying achievement, and the Spirit’s amazing indwelling and prompting and help, I hope that you would not leave here this morning feeling guilty or under obligation, but that a shift might begin or continue in you — from obligation to opportunity.

Prayer is an opportunity to enjoy “fresh supplies of grace” to your soul, the best of which is the enjoyment of God himself.

Twenty-five years ago, I was a freshman at Furman University in Greenville, South Carolina. I had grown up in the church. I made a profession of faith at age eight and was baptized. God had blessed me with a home church that loved the gospel and taught me that I could trust the Bible. However, looking back now, I can see that something was missing in my Christianity.

There was a deep struggle in my soul: I wanted to be happy, and I felt guilty for wanting it. My ache to be happy, I suspected, was more a liability than an asset. Living the Christian life, I assumed, was about my ability to put aside what I really wanted to do.

You too want to be happy. And you can’t escape it. All your life you’ve been trying to satisfy your deep-down longing for real joy by finding that perfect possession or perfect spouse, enjoying good food, knowing influential people, collecting reliable friends, traveling to scenic places, winning at sports (whether as a player or a fan), achieving success at school or work, and getting your hands on the latest gadgets. Our unsatisfied longings gnaw at us late at night as we scroll through social media and flip from channel to channel and let another episode autoplay.

Now, most of us aren’t endlessly miserable. Not yet. Not at nineteen or twenty. We find measures of satisfaction in the moment, but we don’t stay satisfied, not deep down. Did God make us this way? And if so, why did God hardwire us to ache for joy? Why this universal search for satisfaction?

Surprised by Joy

I remember as a college freshman, with my very duty-oriented faith, beginning to feel a kind of fascination with joy. As a kid, I had sung, “I got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.” Joy, when mentioned in church, often came off so light and flippant. And yet that one fruit of the Spirit’s nine (Galatians 5:22–23) connected most with the deep longings for happiness I was just beginning to realize as a college freshman.

As I read more of the Bible, I was amazed by what I found about joy and delight. It was the Psalms in particular that awakened me to the possibility and promise of real joy — joy that is not icing on the cake of Christianity, but an essential ingredient in the batter. Three psalms specifically captured my attention.

Soul-Thirsts for God

First, Psalm 37:4: “Delight yourself in the Lord.” And not just this command, but then this promise: “and he will give you the desires of your heart.” You mean at root God isn’t suspicious or frustrated by my desires? He made my heart to desire, and means to satisfy, not squash, my deepest longings? And where will that happen?

Second, Psalm 16:11: “In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” Real joy comes not only from God as a gift from his hand, but in seeking his face. God himself — knowing him, enjoying him — that’s what he made your desires for. He made your restless human heart for real satisfaction — in him. He made your soul to thirst, and he meant for you not to deny your thirst but to satisfy it, in him.

Third, Psalm 63:1: “O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” This resonated deeply with me. I wanted this, and wanted to be more like this.

The Psalms had my attention. Again and again, they tapped into my soul, discouraged my sense of mere duty, and highlighted the central place of the heart — both in honesty about the many sorrows in this life, and in hopefully commanding me to “rejoice in the Lord” (Psalm 40:16; 64:10; 97:12; 104:34; 105:3; 118:24).

It was almost too good to be true to discover that my undeniable longing to be happy wasn’t just okay, but good, and that the God who made me actually wanted me to be as happy as humanly possible in him. For me to learn, and then begin to experience for myself, that God wasn’t the cosmic killjoy I had once assumed, but that he was committed, with all his sovereign energy and power, to do me good (Jeremiah 32:40–41) — it took weeks, even months, for such good news to land. I’m still not over it today.

And more good news was still to come.

All to the Glory of God

I knew from growing up that “the glory of God,” which often seemed like a throwaway Christianese phrase, was important. Turning pages in my Bible, I found it everywhere, like 1 Corinthians 10:31: “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.”

God made the world, and made us, that he might be glorified. The Bible is very clear, and our own sense of justice resonates with the rightness of it, that God made us to glorify him. But that creates a crisis for many of us. Does God mean for me to pursue his glory or my joy? I want so badly to be happy, and the Bible commands, not condemns, my rejoicing in God. And I know I’m supposed to want him to be glorified in my life. Are his honor and my happiness two tandem pursuits in the Christian life? If so, how do we pursue both?

Then came the most remarkable discovery: our happiness in God glorifies God. My pursuit of the deepest and most durable joy, and God’s pursuit of his glory, are not two pursuits but one. Because, as John Piper champions in his book Desiring God, “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” God’s design to be glorified and my desires to be happy come together in one amazing pursuit: the pursuit of joy in God.

Do You Enjoy Him?

God is not honored when we pay tribute to our own iron will by saying to him in prayer or church, “I don’t even want to be here, but I’m here.” What honors him, what glorifies him, what makes him look good, is joy and satisfaction in him. God is most glorified when we say with the psalmist, “You are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you,” and “In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” We say, “Nothing makes me happier than to know you, Father, through your Son, Jesus, and to be here with you over your word, or in prayer, or in corporate worship. Jesus, you are my joy. You are my treasure. You are my delight. You satisfy my soul.” In those words, and in the heart behind them, God is glorified.

“Not only does God invite us to believe him, trust him, fear him, obey him, and worship him, but to enjoy him.”

What is the most important truth you’ve learned in college? I posed this question to myself in thinking about what I wanted to say to you this morning. Of the countless new facts and liberating discoveries I made in those all-important, trajectory-shaping college years, what has proved most life-changing? Here’s one way I would put it: For me, the single most important breakthrough in all my college learning was finding that God is not just the appropriate object of the verbs believe, trust, fear, obey, and worship, but also he is the most fitting, most satisfying, most worthy object of the verb enjoy.

Believe God, trust God, fear God, obey God, worship God, yes! But do you enjoy him? Not with the small enjoyment of chuckling at a clever commercial, but the large enjoyment of basking before an ocean. Not the thin enjoyment of humming along with a pop song, but the thick enjoyment of coming to the long-anticipated pinnacle of a symphony or a great novel. Not the shallow enjoyment of acquiring some new gadget, but the deep enjoyment of reconnecting and catching up with a longtime friend.

Not only does God invite us to believe him, trust him, fear him, obey him, and worship him, but to enjoy him. Psalm 34:8 says, “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!”

Learning to Fly

So, in light of that single greatest discovery in my college years, let me ask just briefly this morning what it means for the daily and weekly rhythms of the Christian life.

In other words, how do we get involved? What steps, humble as they may be, can we take? How do we position ourselves to receive the grace of God, to receive his joy? In his mercy, he has not kept it a secret how he provides ongoing grace and joy for the Christian life. I like to summarize it in three parts — three previews of what our focus will be tomorrow night.

1. Hear His Voice

Each new day introduces a fresh occasion to hear his voice in the Scriptures, not mainly as marching orders, but as a meal to feed our souls. Not just for soul nutrition, but for enjoyment. God wants our regular sitting down with his Book to be more like coming to dinner than going to the grocery store. Don’t try to store up truth for tomorrow or next week. Come to enjoy him today. Like the Israelites in the wilderness, when God gave them manna, simply gather a day’s portion and enjoy.

2. Have His Ear

Some call it prayer. When we enjoy God, prayer begins to be a way not just to ask God for things we would enjoy, but to enjoy God himself. In prayer, we respond to what God says to us in his word, and in doing so, we commune with him, both asking for more of him and experiencing him in prayer, in the moment, as our greatest enjoyment. The heart of prayer is not getting things from God, but getting God.

3. Belong to His Body

Finally, then, is belonging to his body. One vital manifestation of life in the church is corporate worship. When we pursue our joy in God, corporate worship becomes the stunning opportunity to gather together, not just with fellow believers, but with fellow enjoyers of God.

How might it change corporate worship for you — not just in church on Sunday morning, but also here in chapel — to look around and think, “These students and professors not only believe in the truth of Christianity but they enjoy the God of Christianity.” As we sing, we are enjoying Jesus together. As we pray, we are enjoying him together. As we hear his word read and his message preached, we are uniting our hearts together in the God who himself, in the person of his Son, became one of us, lived among us, suffered with us, died for us, rose triumphantly from the grave, and now sits in power — with all authority in heaven and on earth — at his Father’s right hand, and is bringing to pass, in his perfect patience and perfect timing, all his purposes in our world. For our everlasting joy. Together.

One Great Possession

Coming to enjoy God — not just believe him, trust him, worship him, and obey him, but enjoy him — has changed everything for me. It’s changed how I approach the Bible, how I approach prayer, and how I approach corporate worship and fellowship. But there’s still one last piece missing: What about love for others, especially when it’s costly? Will enjoying God move me toward others, or away from them? Will joy in God move me toward hard, painful, costly needs in this fallen, sin-sick world, or away from them?

My answer, which I can testify to in experience now for 25 years, is that finding joy in God liberates us to truly love others. I leave you with one amazing testimony: Hebrews 10:32–34. The situation is that some in this early church were put in prison for their faith, and others, instead of going into hiding, went public to visit them in prison. In doing so, they exposed themselves to the same persecution their brothers were receiving:

Recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one.

So, these early Christians put themselves in harm’s way by coming forward to provide food and basic needs for their friends in prison, and they too were persecuted. Their possessions were plundered, whether by official decree or mob violence. And how did they receive it? Hebrews 10:34: “You joyfully accepted the plundering of your property. . .” What? How? Can you see yourself joyfully accepting the plundering of your possessions? Where did this come from?

The answer is in the last part of Hebrews 10:34: “. . . since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one.” The word for “property” is the same word, in the plural, as the word for “possession.” Literally, “you joyfully accepted the plundering of your possessions [plural] because you knew you had a better and abiding possession [singular].” Because you had God as your heavenly treasure, you were able to accept the loss of your earthly treasures in the calling of love — and not just accept, but accept with joy. You joyfully accepted the loss of your finite, earthly, limited possessions because you had the infinite, heavenly, all-satisfying singular Possession, whose name is Jesus Christ.

So, do you enjoy God? When you enjoy God, you are finally free to surrender your small, private enjoyments (called sacrifice) for the greater enjoyment of meeting the needs of others (called love).

I wake up hungry every morning. So do you.

We may or may not awake with empty stomachs, but deeper down, our souls growl ferociously. However much we try to satisfy that hunger elsewhere, and however many live in denial, God made our souls to hunger for him, and feed on him.

We want when we awake — and want and want and want. Some turn immediately to breakfast. Others dive right into an electronic device or screen. Some roll over and try to wrestle a little more joy from sleep. Yet the hunger remains. And that is no accident. God made us to start each new day with this ache — as a call to turn afresh to him.

Great Discovery of 1841

In his much-acclaimed autobiography, George Mueller (1805–1898), who cared for more than ten thousand orphans in England throughout his ministry, tells of a life-changing discovery he made in the first half of 1841.

In a journal entry dated May 7, he captures the insight he stumbled into that spring. The entry is one long paragraph of 1,500 words that rewards careful and multiple readings.

Over the years, I have read it again and again and seem to profit from it more each time. Mueller’s life-changing insight has proved significant in my own life. As I again reread this journal entry in recent days, I noticed several distinct aspects of this one lesson, which could be identified and sequenced to benefit readers today.

In short, Mueller’s great discovery was that “the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day [is] to have my soul happy in the Lord.” What a find! Just about any other duty would land as burdensome, but “get happy”? That is a deeply refreshing task.

Mueller restates the point as “the first thing to be concerned about was . . . how I might get my soul into a happy state.” The discovery is set against the backdrop of other things that are not his, and your, first calling: “not how much I might serve the Lord,” not setting the truth before the unconverted, not benefiting believers, not relieving the distressed, not behaving in the world as fits a child of God. None of these real, critical callings is “first and primary.” None of these is “the first thing.” Most important is not pouring out but first filling up. First thing first: get your soul happy in God. Find happiness in him. Obey your hunger for God and feast.

But then we ask, How? How does hunger lead to happiness?

Feed on God

Mueller answers that hunger becomes happiness as we satisfy our empty souls on God — which implies a certain kind of approach to God. We come to get, not to give. Many human satisfactions come from various deeds and achievements. Others come through reception of goods or honor. Still others come through the intake of food and drink. Among these other desires, God made our souls to long for such consumption — to receive God as food, to take and chew and savor. And to receive him as drink, slake our thirst, and revel in the satisfaction.

So, Mueller clarifies his lesson: “The first thing the child of God has to do morning by morning is to obtain food for his inner man.” He draws on the language of both nourishment and refreshment (as well as being “strengthened”). He approaches God, he says, “for the sake of obtaining food for my own soul,” and as he lingers in God’s presence, he tries to “continually keep before me that food for my own soul is the object of my meditation.”

Next, we might ask, Where? Where do you turn to find such food for your soul?

In His Word

Mueller’s answer — simple, and unsurprising, yet profound and transformative — is the word of God. To make sure we don’t miss it, he asks the question for us and answers it: “What is the food for the inner man? Not prayer, but the word of God.”

“Hunger becomes happiness through satisfying our empty souls on God.”

Now we pick up a vital part of the lesson. Mueller says that for years his practice was to awake and go straight into prayer. It might take him ten minutes or even half an hour to find enough focus to really pray. He then might spend “even an hour, on my knees” before receiving any “comfort, encouragement, humbling of soul, etc.” He had the goal right: get my soul happy in God. He had the direction right: come to feed on God. But he had the posture wrong. Or he had the order wrong. The lesson he needed to learn was come first to hear, then to speak. That is, first hear God’s word, then pray in response.

In God’s word, “we find our Father speaking to us, to encourage us, to comfort us, to instruct us, to humble us, to reprove us.” God’s word nourishes and strengthens the soul. His word leads, provides, warns, steadies. Then in prayer, we speak to God in response to what he’s said to us in his word.

Through Meditation

At this point, we might assume we know how to take in God’s word: just read it. After all, that’s what you do with a written text, right?

Mueller has one more clarifying word, and it might be his most important for us today: “not the simple reading of the word of God . . . but considering what we read, pondering over it, and applying it to our hearts.” In other words, he feeds his soul on God’s word through what he and many other great saints have called “meditation.”

This meditation is a crucial aspect of the lesson, and for us, almost two centuries later, it increasingly has become a lost art.

Mueller’s first mention of “meditation” clarifies what kind of reading he means: “The most important thing I had to do was to give myself to the reading of the word of God, and to meditation on it.” He then makes plain that meditation concerns the heart. Mere reading might fill the head, but meditation aims to comfort, encourage, warn, reprove, instruct, and feed the heart.

He doubles back to explain what he means again. “Meditate on the word of God” includes “searching as it were into every verse, to get blessing out of it . . . for the sake of obtaining food for my own soul.” Having chewed on one bite and savored it, “I go on to the next words or verse, turning all, as I go on, into prayer for myself or others, as the word may lead to it, but still continuously keeping before me that food for my own soul is the object of my meditation.”

He comes back once more to say he means “not the simple reading of the word of God, so that it only passes through our minds, just as water runs through a pipe, but considering what we read, pondering over it, and applying it to our hearts.” This series of three verbs may be the most help he gives us as to how we might meditate ourselves and not simply read.

Mueller would have us slow down, pause, and reread so that we might consider what we read, ponder over it, and apply it to our hearts — that is, not only or mainly to our practical lives but first and foremost to our inner person, to our hearts.

Such a deliberate, affectional reception of God’s word naturally leads us into prayer.

Then Prayer

Now, don’t think Mueller, in this life-changing lesson, is eschewing or marginalizing prayer. Rather, by putting prayer in its proper place (in response to God’s word), he helps prayer flourish.

Having heard from God in his word, and considered it, pondered over it, and applied it to my heart, “I speak to my Father and to my Friend . . . about the things that he has brought before me in his precious word.” Meditation soon leads to a response — in fact, “it turned almost immediately more or less into prayer.” The time when prayer “can be most effectively performed is after the inner man has been nourished by meditation on the word of God.” Now, having heard our Father’s voice all the way down into our souls, we find ourselves able “really to pray,” and so to actually commune with God.

Communion with Jesus

You’ll find in Mueller’s May 7, 1841, journal entry that “meditation and prayer” is for him synonymous with the phrase “communion with God.” To commune with God is not only to address him in prayer, nor is it simply to hear from him in his word. Communion involves both his speaking and ours. This is a Father-child relationship. God speaks first in his word, and we receive his words with the hunger, delight, and unhurried pace that fits the word of our Father and divine Friend. Then we speak humbly yet boldly in response, adoring our God, confessing our sins, thanking him for his grace and mercy, and petitioning him for ourselves, our loved ones, and even those who seem like enemies.

This hearing from God and responding to him Mueller calls “experimental [that is, experiential] communion with the Lord.” With “my heart being nourished by the truth,” he is “brought into experimental fellowship with God” in meditation and prayer. And not only with God the Father but “the Lord” Jesus, the risen, reigning Christ, seated on heaven’s throne, dwelling in us by his Spirit, and drawing near to commune with us through his word and our prayer.

Afterword

Several times, Mueller emphasizes that such communion with God is never a means to ministry and feeding others, yet God often appoints leftovers. Such early-morning meals, deeply savored in the soul, may “soon after or at a later time” prove to be “food for other believers,” but this is not the goal. Fodder for ministry is not the first and primary business each day, but food for our own souls. The point, and prayer, is soul-satisfying communion with the risen Christ.

Such a hungry and hedonistic approach to each new day was life-changing for Mueller. And it gave him the help and strength, he says, “to pass in peace through deeper trials, in various ways, than I had ever had before.” This approach has been significant for me too. Perhaps it will be so for you as well. As Mueller exults, “How different when the soul is refreshed and made happy early in the morning!”

Talk about the Holy Spirit? That’s always been tricky. After all, he is the Spirit, the Wind, the great unseen Enigma, that most mysterious and hidden Person of the ineffable Godhead.

Also, we live in times that can make thinking and speaking about the Spirit all the more difficult. For one, pervasive secular influences pressure us to deal with concrete phenomena — the seeable, hearable, touchable, tastable. The effect is a subtle but strong bias against the Spirit. With Jesus, we’re talking real-life humanity, at least in theory; with the church, we’re talking real-life fellow Christians; with creation, we’re talking tangible, sense-able, the world that surrounds us; with anthropology, flesh and blood and our own undeniable inner person. But the Invisible Wind is almost a no-starter for the mind shaped by secular influences.

What’s more, many Christians have the unfortunate tendency to quickly turn Spirit-talk to “manifestations of the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 14:12) — that is, spiritual gifts and especially controversial ones like speaking in tongues. All too soon, we are not even talking about the Spirit and the real heart of his work but mainly speculating about ourselves and telling strange stories.

In Scripture, the Spirit himself does not receive the front-and-center attention that the Father and the Son do. He often hides in compact, meaningful phrases and works quietly in the theological background. Of course, this is the Spirit’s own doing. He is the author of Scripture, thrilled to shine his light on Father and Son, to carry along prophets and apostles in word ministry, and to empower the words and deeds of the eternal Word himself. Scripture’s brevity of focus on the Spirit isn’t oversight or suppression. The Spirit likes it that way — he did it that way.

‘Life in the Spirit’

Still, hide and work quietly as he may, he does step forward in a place of striking prominence, in one of the greatest letters ever written, at the very climax of Paul’s magnum opus: “The Great Eight.”

Romans chapter 8 is one of the few spots where the Spirit pulls back the curtain and says, in effect, “I will tell you a little bit about myself: as much as you need to know, but not too much, and not for too long.” For centuries, devoted Christians have given special place to the promises and wonders of Romans 8, which is well summarized in the ESV with the heading “Life in the Spirit.” Romans 7:6 sets up the contrast that follows in the rest of chapter 7, and into chapter 8:

We serve in the new way of the Spirit and not in the old way of the written code.

Romans 7:7–24, then, rehearses the challenges of serving under the oldness of the previous era and its law (holy, righteous, and good as it was), and Romans 8:1–27 bursts into the joys and benefits of living in the newness of the Spirit. In Christ, the Spirit is not only with us, as he was with old-covenant saints, but now, poured out from heaven in new fullness by the risen Christ, the Spirit testifies to us of our status, intercedes for us in our weakness, and even dwells in us as the present, personal power of the Christian life. Consider these three Spirit-glories in Romans 8, working from the outside in.

Sonship: He Testifies to Us

First, the Spirit speaks to us — and not any insignificant word. His is the foundational word about our most foundational identity. And it’s a weighty word, a testimony — knowing with certainty what has already happened, he testifies to us about what is truly the case, like a witness in court, in order to persuade us of the truth.

Not only are we creatures of the Creator, humans formed from humble dust, and not only are we sinners who have turned against our King, but now, in Jesus Christ, God’s unique Son, we too are “sons of God” (Romans 8:14). “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Romans 8:16). He is “the Spirit of adoption as sons” (Romans 8:15) who solemnly testifies to assure us that we are God’s chosen — not mere creatures but beloved children drawn into his family, who now irrepressibly cry out, “Abba! Father!” (Romans 8:15). Already we are children. The Spirit knows this and bears witness to it so that we, too, might confidently know and embrace it.

Hidden and enigmatic as the Spirit may seem, he is not some silent force but a revealing, speaking, leading Person. He is “the Spirit . . . of revelation” (Ephesians 1:17), who not only “carried along” the prophets and apostles as divine mouthpieces (2 Peter 1:21; Ephesians 3:5) but still speaks, says, indicates, and testifies (1 Timothy 4:1; Hebrews 3:7; 9:8; 10:15; Acts 20:23; 1 John 5:6) through the living word of Scripture. He still prompts and leads God’s people (Romans 8:14; Galatians 5:18).

His profile may often seem unpronounced, but he is not silent. If you know yourself to be a beloved, chosen child of God, the Spirit is the one who awakened and sustains that recognition in you. Without him, sinners may cry out for help to a distant, unknown deity. With him, saints cry out for the care of our Father. And that crying out leads to the second glory of the Spirit in Romans 8.

Intercession: He Prays for Us

To be beloved children — “heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ” (Romans 8:17) — is almost too good to be true. Yet so it is in Christ. But this towering ideal of sonship doesn’t mean Romans 8 is unrealistic about our lives in this sin-sick and cursed world. The heights of God’s grace do not ignore the depths of our lives. We suffer. We groan. We know ourselves to be weak.

Because of human sin, God subjected the creation to futility, and

the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Romans 8:22–23)

We know ourselves to be children through the Spirit’s testimony. Yet we still wait for the public formality and revealing. Yes, we are heirs, but still to come is our full inheritance. In the meanwhile, we groan. In this life, we navigate seasons and sequences of pain. At times (if not often), we come to forks in the road where we don’t even know how to pray — whether to be spared pain or to endure it faithfully, whether for respite from our groanings or holy persistence in them.

“Hidden and enigmatic as the Spirit may seem, he is not some silent force but a revealing, speaking, leading Person.”

Here, amazingly, the Spirit helps us in our weakness: “The Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words” (Romans 8:26). In the agonies and complexities of this age, we come wordless before God, unable even to articulate the heart of our sighs and groans. “We do not know what to pray for as we ought” (Romans 8:26). And oh, what comfort in these moments to have God himself at work in us praying to God for us. Beyond our ability to ask as we ought and even articulate our prayers, the Spirit appeals to the Father for our everlasting good.

Christ’s intercession for us (Romans 8:34) is outside of us, in heaven, where he sits at the Father’s right hand, having accomplished his atoning work and risen again to make good on it through his life. The Spirit’s intercession is in us, prompting us to pray and empowering our prayers (Ephesians 6:18; Jude 20). The Spirit is not only deep in God (1 Corinthians 2:10) but also deep in us (Romans 8:26–27) — which leads to a third Spirit-glory in Romans 8, perhaps the most astounding of all.

Indwelling: He Lives in Us

In Romans 8, and elsewhere in the New Testament, we find a bundle of mind-bending claims about God himself and Christ dwelling in us by the Holy Spirit. Paul hammers it on repeat in verses 9–11:

The Spirit of God dwells in you. [You] have the Spirit of Christ. . . . Christ is in you. . . . The Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you . . . his Spirit . . . dwells in you.

In case you missed it: if you are in Christ, you have the Spirit. You have him. He dwells in you. God himself has taken up residence, as it were, in your body and soul — in you. In a way that was not part and parcel of God’s first covenant with Israel, the risen and glorified Christ has given his Spirit to new-covenant Christians (John 7:38–39).

Our having the Spirit (Romans 8:9, 23) does not mean we own and control him. He also has us. He is in us, and we are in him (Romans 8:5, 9). He is sent into our hearts (Galatians 4:6), given to us (Romans 5:5), supplied to us (Galatians 3:5), and not just once but continually (Ephesians 1:17; 1 Thessalonians 4:8). And through faith, we receive him (Romans 8:15). So, as Paul repeats elsewhere, the Spirit dwells in us (1 Corinthians 3:16; 2 Timothy 1:14). This is what it means to have “Christ in you” (Romans 8:10; Colossians 1:27).

God Only Knows

If you are a Christian — if you claim Jesus as Lord and delight in him, and he is transforming you — consider what you’d be without the Spirit, without his opening your eyes and giving you a new heart and new desires. Without his still, quiet, daily promptings and leadings. Without his ongoing supply of spiritual life to your soul. Without his sealing and keeping your heart from your still-indwelling sin.

Jude 19 mentions those “devoid of the Spirit.” We get some glimpses as to what at least some people without the Spirit look like: scoffers, who speak up to put the truth down; those who follow their own ungodly passions and cause divisions; in short, “worldly people” (Jude 18–19). If that’s not you, if you are different, what has made you different? Might it be the Holy Spirit? However little you realize it and stay conscious of it, your life, from the smallest details to the biggest, is pervaded by the reality of having the Spirit. God only knows what you’d be without him.

Numerous Things He Does

Best of all, do you trust and treasure Jesus and love to speak of him? As Fred Sanders so helpfully observes, “The people most influenced by the Holy Spirit are usually the ones with the most to say about Jesus Christ” (The Holy Spirit, 3). He also quotes Thomas Goodwin, that the Spirit “is that Person that leadeth us out of ourselves unto the grace of God the Father, and the peace and satisfaction made by Jesus Christ” (21). Have you been led out of yourself to lean on the grace of God? The Spirit does that. Have you ever experienced peace in Christ? The Spirit did that. Have you enjoyed satisfaction in Jesus? The Spirit, the Spirit, the Spirit.

In him, we receive the washing of regeneration (1 Corinthians 6:11; Titus 3:5), the righteousness of justification (Romans 14:17; 1 Corinthians 6:11; 1 Timothy 3:16), and the holiness of sanctification (Romans 15:16; 1 Corinthians 6:11; 2 Thessalonians 2:13; 1 Peter 1:2).
He teaches us (1 Corinthians 2:13; 1 Thessalonians 4:9; John 6:45) and gives us spiritual life and energy (1 Corinthians 12:11; Ephesians 3:16).
We worship in the Spirit (Philippians 3:3).
He gives us love for others (Colossians 1:9), joy (Romans 14:17; 15:13; 1 Thessalonians 1:6), peace (Romans 14:17; 15:13) — indeed all “the fruit of the Spirit” (Galatians 5:22–23).
He fills us with hope (Romans 15:13; Galatians 5:5), stirs our hunger for God, and turns our attention to “the things of the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:14; Romans 8:5), rather than sinful distractions.
He seals us (Ephesians 1:13; 4:30) and keeps us faithful to guard the gospel (2 Timothy 1:14).
In him, we also enjoy “the fellowship of the Holy Spirit” (2 Corinthians 13:14; Ephesians 4:3–4; Philippians 2:1; Hebrews 6:4) with others who have the same Spirit in them.

“It is characteristic of the doctrine of the work of the Spirit,” says Sanders, “that it is expressed in lists, wonderfully various lists of numerous things the Holy Spirit does” (162).

We can scarcely trace the “numerous things” he does in and for us. For born-again Christians, the Spirit’s work in our lives, in our thoughts, in our desires, in our wills, is far deeper and more expansive than we can even sense. To receive him, to have him, is to walk in a newness of life that touches and affects everything — yet in such a way that doesn’t keep the spotlight always on him.

Talking about the Spirit is admittedly tricky. But oh, how grateful we might be to have him! We can live in the holy confidence that the supernatural Helper dwells in us. How awesome to have the Holy Spirit.

You bring some strange things to our ears.

Some in Athens said it to the apostle Paul. Some in America will say it to faithful preachers today. Of course, strange is a relative term. What’s familiar to some is foreign to others — whether in multicultural cities or, even now, in more rural and monolithic places because of the Internet.

More generally, human life in God’s wonderfully wide and detailed world presents us with the challenges of strangeness in the midst of our familiarities. But don’t we grow as various strangenesses become familiar? A strange food might become a new favorite, or a strange person, a new friend. Even as our circle of familiarity expands, maturity involves navigating an endless parade of strangenesses, both for ourselves and in others. So does growing as a Christian, and particularly as a preacher.

Stranger Things at Mars Hill

Paul encountered a matrix of strangenesses when he was brought to Athens in Acts 17. Having enjoyed a string of gospel successes, not without persecution, in the cities of Philippi, Thessalonica, and Berea, he arrived in Athens to wait for his coworkers. This waiting then led to one of his most memorable messages. Can we imagine the apostle waiting around anywhere, especially in a city like Athens, without finding a way to preach about Jesus?

Paul’s celebrated visit to Athens, and its infamous Mars Hill, turns on this concept of strangeness. Now, Paul at Mars Hill received all sorts of fresh attention twenty years ago in conversations about postmodernism and dialogues with the “emerging church.” Without rehearsing those, let’s look from a preacher’s perspective, as Paul navigates five flashpoints in the Athens account. Then we’ll gather up some lessons for preachers today.

1. His spirit is provoked locally.

Paul is supposed to be waiting. He might have buried his attention in some ancient equivalent of an electronic device. He might have sunk himself into reports from faraway parts of the empire. Surely after such challenges (and fruitfulness) in three other cities, he could have used some downtime. He could have laid low and waited in Athens without being emotionally present. Instead, Paul looks up and around. He embraces his setting, his specific locale, with its specific needs. He observes his surroundings and sees a city full of false gods. And it stirs him:

Now while Paul was waiting for them at Athens, his spirit was provoked within him as he saw that the city was full of idols. (Acts 17:16)

We too will do well to attend, like Paul, to the locale in which God has placed us, rather than losing ourselves in distant dramas or the daily pining for something new. Has it ever been easier to fill our limited consciousness with inactionable reports from far, far away, and be provoked by the remote, while ignoring our immediate surroundings?

2. He takes reasonable initiative.

Paul reasons, and does so day after day. He doesn’t react with an outburst, but being righteously provoked, he responds with the measured, mature initiative of daily reason, rather than volatility. He doesn’t pretend to lance it all at once in one diatribe, or force his passions into the wrong places, but he reasons in spaces that welcome a sober-minded approach:

So he reasoned in the synagogue with the Jews and the devout persons, and in the marketplace every day with those who happened to be there. (Acts 17:17)

Far too often, holy provocations devolve into unholy reactions. We do well to follow Paul, and seek holiness, Christlikeness, in both our spirits and in our next steps.

3. Misunderstanding leads to further opportunity.

In the marketplace, Paul converses with two major strands of unbelieving thought (non-Christian hedonists and stoics). Neither the progressives or the unbelieving conservatives had been prepared for Paul’s message. They both find it strange. Yet here in the public square, while some react obstinately, others show an openness to hear more. Surely, Paul does not mean to be simply strange or misunderstood, but when he is, not all is lost. One faithful step leads to another — they invite him to speak again:

Some of the Epicurean and Stoic philosophers also conversed with him. And some said, “What does this babbler wish to say?” Others said, “He seems to be a preacher of foreign divinities”— because he was preaching Jesus and the resurrection. And they took him and brought him to the Areopagus, saying, “May we know what this new teaching is that you are presenting? For you bring some strange things to our ears. We wish to know therefore what these things mean.” Now all the Athenians and the foreigners who lived there would spend their time in nothing except telling or hearing something new. (Acts 17:18–21)

Luke, who compiled the account, plainly is not impressed with this Athenian fixation on news. (Imagine if he saw us today!) He does not commend them for giving so much time and attention to the drivel of daily novelties. Rather, he sets their lust for the ephemeral in contrast with the strange, timeless glories they soon will hear from Paul. His message is indeed news, and yet utterly different than the trivialities and speculations they are accustomed to consuming. They are settling for news; Paul will offer the News.

4. He preaches the familiar and strange.

Would Paul pass up the chance to commend Jesus before a captive audience? Undeterred by being mocked and misunderstood before, he speaks again, and begins by commending his hearers and seeking common ground. He even appeals to their own poets (verse 28). He will not be needlessly strange. He does not delight in simply being provocative. Strange is not his goal. He aims to win them to the risen Christ, and he will leverage familiarity where he can. But as agile as he may be with this approach, he will not adjust the heart of his message — the resurrection of Jesus — even when that was the showstopper before. He may start with the familiar, and quote Greek poets, but he moves inescapably through what he knows they will hear as strange:

So Paul, standing in the midst of the Areopagus, said: “Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious. . . . The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.” (Acts 17:22, 30–31)

5. He knows when to stop.

When the strangeness of resurrection again brings chaos to Athens, Paul doesn’t power through stubbornly. He won’t pretend to do it all in one sermon. He trusts God to give him another day.

What is the response to the message at Mars Hill? Again, some fire insults, but others express intrigue, and soon join him and believe:

Some mocked. But others said, “We will hear you again about this.” So Paul went out from their midst. But some men joined him and believed. (Acts 17:32–34)

Some Insult, Others Inquire

Brother pastors, observe that in and of itself, mocking is no clear reflection of the faithfulness or fruitfulness of preaching Christ. Wise preachers do not take mocking as an indicator of failure, nor as an indicator of success. Twice in Athens some mock Paul, which may seem like a failure compared to his homiletic triumphs elsewhere. However, others say, “We will hear you again.” And then, in the end: “some men joined him and believed.”

In Athens, the message of Jesus and his resurrection landed on the hearers, unavoidably, as strange. But then comes the great divide, both in the marketplace and again at Mars Hill: some insult, others inquire.

“Has it ever been easier to fill our limited consciousness with inactionable reports from far, far away?”

Any audience of sufficient size will have its insecure, closeminded types for whom the strange can only be threatening. Surely, some new message can’t be real and true if they, in their brilliance, are not yet aware of it! So, some write it off right away: “What does this babbler wish to say?” Attack the preacher, rather than face down his message.

But others, in the same audience, respond very differently. They may scratch their heads, and not yet understand, but they start asking genuine questions.

Marginalize Mockers

As Christian preachers, we accept the reality up front that proper strangeness in our message both provokes insults in some and intrigue in others. And a preacher like Paul doesn’t let the mockers distract him.

On the one hand, we are not surprised to be mocked. We suspect scoffers will come, and we’re ready to give them a deaf ear. Unbelieving hearers, dead in sin and devoid of the Spirit, do not submit to the gospel of Christ. Indeed, they cannot (Romans 8:7). Of course, our message lands on them as strange, if not appalling, and it remains strange, unless the Spirit opens their eyes. We think it not strange that some think it strange enough to mock.

On the other hand, how foolish it would be to distract ourselves with the mockers. Or to call special attention to the mocking as some great badge of our own faithfulness. Rather, we have the example of Paul at Mars Hill, who, so far as we can tell, wholly overlooks, with a holy disregard, these mockers and concerns himself instead with those asking honest questions.

This second group, these “others,” also initially found the message strange, but they found the strangeness intriguing: “you bring some strange things to our ears. We wish to know therefore what these things mean” (verse 20). The Spirit is at work. Paul hadn’t failed because Christ’s resurrection landed on them as strange, but now he had opportunity, at their invitation, to say what these things mean and press for saving faith.

Strange, Not Strange

For preachers, the reality about strangeness in our preaching is at least twofold. First, to preach the real Christ, and proclaim his resurrection, will mark us off as strangers and exiles in an unbelieving world. Hebrews 11:13 is not just about old-covenant, pre-Christian saints, but also faithful new-covenant believers: they “acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth.” We are strangers here, for now, and our message will be heard, unavoidably, by many, as strange.

Still, second, we also soon ask, Who’s really believing the stranger things? The time comes, with even the most secular of people, to ask, like Paul elsewhere, “Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead?” (Acts 26:8).

As Christian preachers, we might ask ourselves, Do I avoid or minimize scriptural truths in the pulpit that land as strange on people today? Do I reckon head-scratching and unfamiliar questions to be a sign of failure in my preaching? Or, conversely, do I over-index on the strange, aiming inordinately to provoke, assuring myself that mocking and criticism are sure badges of my faithfulness, and all the while drawing attention to myself and my manliness, rather than to Christ?

Whether in Athens or America, we cannot be faithful without preaching some strange things. Yet these strangenesses — like the Trinity, the incarnation, the resurrection, the ascension — are often the most glorious realities of our message.

Let’s be faithful to our strange and wonderful Scriptures, work like Paul to be familiar where we can, and then gladly, and with great hope, bring some strange things to their ears.