My charge to you, Brian Tabb, as the third president of Bethlehem College and Seminary, may be spoken in a rhyming couplet with iambic tetrameter. It goes like this:

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true;Let insight, joy, and song be new.

Hold Fast the Word

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true. Be like those who received the word in good soil: “Hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patience” (Luke 8:15).

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true. Be a firm and steadfast lover of the gospel: “I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word” (1 Corinthians 15:1–2).

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true. Be a guardian of the apostolic traditions: “Stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter” (2 Thessalonians 2:15).

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true. Be dogged in holding our confession: “Since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession” (Hebrews 4:14).

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true. And be obedient to the risen Jesus when he says in Revelation 2:25, “Only hold fast what you have until I come.”

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true. You are our leader, our pacesetter, our example, our ethos builder, our inspiration, and our truth protector. Hold fast to the inerrant word, for “the words of the Lord are pure words, like silver refined in a furnace on the ground, purified seven times” (Psalm 12:6). And Scripture cannot be broken (John 10:35). “More to be desired are they than gold, even much fine gold; sweeter also than honey and drippings of the honeycomb” (Psalm 19:10). Hold fast to the inerrant word.

Hold fast to Reformed soteriology — that is, the unchanged truth that our great salvation is a decisive work of God, start to finish. He chose, he predestined, he died, he rose, he bore our sin, he took condemnation, he calls, he causes new birth, he gives saving faith, he forgives, he adopts, he guards and sustains and keeps, he sanctifies, he perfects and brings us to God where there is fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore. And whatever contributions we make in the obedience of faith, it is not we but the grace of God working in us what is pleasing in his sight, so that our salvation — from eternity to eternity, from start to finish — redounds to the glory of his sovereign grace. Hold fast to the infinitely precious Reformed, biblical soteriology.

“Hold fast the word, unchanged and true; let insight, joy, and song be new.”

Hold fast to the fullest glorification of God through the joy of God’s people in God. Hold fast to Christian Hedonism — by whatever name. Hold fast to the serious joy that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him — or as Paul expressed it: “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Hold fast to the truth that gladness in Christ in weakness magnifies the glory of Christ.

Hold fast to the beauty of biblical manhood and womanhood as God created them and orders them in complementary relationships. Hold fast to marriage as a lifelong covenant union between a man and a woman, with the man taking his cues from Christ as the head of his wife, and the woman taking her cues from the faithful, submissive, loved body of Christ, the church. Hold fast to the burden that men must bear as those responsible for the pastoral leadership of the church. Hold fast to the truth that God has spoken in Scripture and in nature that men are men all the way down and women are women all the way down, and this is a godly, glad, and glorious thing.

Hold fast to them all, Brian Tabb — all the precious realities of our Affirmation of Faith.

Hold fast the word, unchanged and true.

Let Song Be New

And in all your steady, solid, stable, unflinching, unchanging holding fast to what is true, let insight, joy, and song be new.

Oh sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth! Sing to the Lord, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples! For great is the Lord, and greatly [freshly, newly!] to be praised. (Psalm 96:1–4)

When the psalmist said, “Sing to the Lord a new song,” he did not mean, “Write a new Bible, find some new doctrine, bow to a new Lord, bless a new name, tell of a different salvation, praise a novel glory, or be amazed at a greatness that never existed before.” That’s not what he meant.

He meant, “Hold fast the word, unchanged and true, but by all means, let insight, joy, and song be new.”

You have a great faculty in the school. And they have amazingly gifted eyes to seek and find treasures in the Bible — “the word, unchanged and true.” The word of God — and the world of God — is like an ocean of insight without bottom and without shore. Inspire these teachers. Challenge them, equip them, and pay them to see what is really there — insights they may never have seen before — so that they may train the students to do the same. “Every scribe [and these are worthy scribes] who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure [his bottomless ocean] what is new and what is old” (Matthew 13:52). Old truth, new insight.

Let insight, joy, and song be new. Let joy be new. “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Yes, there is a serious joy that endures through the night of weeping: “Sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Corinthians 6:10). But dawn is not darkness. Dancing is not weeping. Birth is not death. And the joy of the bridegroom coming out of his chamber at sunrise is not the same joy as the joy of the old man thankful for sixty years of marriage, standing by his wife’s grave. They’re all different. Every joy is different. The mercies are new every morning; the joys are new every morning — and every night.

Brian, know this, savor this, live this, and pray this until education in serious joy in this school is new every morning.

Let insight, joy, and song be new. If our president, our faculty, and our students are finding new insights in the ocean of God’s unchanging truth, and if we are tasting new joys every morning, we will sing new songs. And we will sing old songs like we’ve never sung them before.

So, I wrote a new song for you, Brian, which I would like our congregation to sing over you. (It’s to the tune of “All People That on Earth Do Dwell.”)

God’s Truth stands like his holy Name,     No origin, nor e’er became,Eternal, absolute, the same,     Forever one in sum and aim.

Yet oh how new and fresh the taste!     Linger with him and make no haste.Through every line the sweet is traced;     May we forever so be graced.

Come every scholar, poet too;     Keep ancient truth and bliss in view.Hold fast the word, unchanged and true;     Let insight, joy, and song be new.

Amen.

When we stop to remember that God exists — that he created all that is from nothing; that he sustains everything we know, moment by moment, with just a word from his mouth; that he governs every government on earth; that he entered into his creation, taking on flesh, enduring weakness and temptation, suffering hostility to the point of death, even death on a cross, all to shower us with mercy, cleanse us of our sin, and secure our eternity with him in paradise — it is stunning, isn’t it, that we ignore and neglect him like we do.

Isn’t it amazing that God simply was before time began, and yet we sometimes struggle to find even ten minutes for him? Isn’t it perplexing, bordering on insanity, that we sometimes prefer distracting ourselves with our phones over taking advantage of our breathtaking access to his throne of grace in Christ? Isn’t it kind of unexplainable how we often live as if we do not have time to sit and enjoy God?

It is stunning, amazing, and perplexing, and yet so painfully familiar. Everyone who has followed Jesus knows what it is like to be distracted from following Jesus. That means we all, every one of us, can sympathize with anxious Martha.

Distracted by Fear

When Martha saw that Jesus had come to town, she welcomed him into the home where she and her sister lived (Luke 10:38). When Mary saw Jesus, she immediately sat down at his feet, and hung on his every word (Luke 10:39). “But Martha,” Luke tells us, “was distracted with much serving” (Luke 10:40).

To her credit, she was not distracted with little serving, but with much serving. And it’s hard for some of us to be too hard on her. She was hosting the Messiah — Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace — and she alone was preparing the food. Mary realized who Jesus was, and sat down to listen. Martha realized who Jesus was, and ran to do all she could for him.

The serving itself was not the problem — or at least not the main problem — especially given the social expectations for hospitality in her day. What, then, was the problem? Anxiety was consuming Martha. When she complained to Jesus that Mary was not helping her, he responded, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things” (Luke 10:41). Her grumbling had opened wide a window into her heart. Love was not inspiring her to serve; anxiety was. Her turmoil was driven by misplaced fear. How often is this true of us?

And not just a fear, but many fears. “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things.” This wasn’t just about hospitality. Martha was distracted from Jesus because her mind was drowning in the cares of this world. And because she would not stop and listen to Jesus, she was forfeiting the calm she so desperately needed.

One Necessary Thing

Jesus knows how to still the raging waves of anxiety. Notice that he says her name not once, but twice: “Martha, Martha . . .” You can almost hear him slowing down the second time. He uses his voice, like a brake, to slowly quiet the turbulence in her heart. He knows how distracted she is, how wildly her mind is racing from one worry to another, and so he begins by helping her focus: “Martha, Martha . . .”

“You are anxious and troubled about many things,” he goes on to say, “but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41–42). In just two short sentences, he confronts her sinful anxiety — our sinful anxiety — with necessity, then felicity, and lastly security.

Necessity

“You are troubled about many things,” he says, “but one thing is necessary.” In other words, everything that feels so pressing, so critical, so overwhelming is ultimately unnecessary next to hearing and knowing Jesus. Her fears screamed the opposite: What will we serve him? What will he think about the food? How will this compare with other places he’s visited? Did the neighbors notice Jesus came to our house? Why isn’t Mary helping me? We don’t know what precise anxieties were harassing Martha, but we know they were many — and that each concern insisted it was essential and urgent. Only one thing, however, was truly necessary.

“Satan will try to make everything feel more urgent than sitting down to be with Jesus.”

Hundreds of years before Martha was born, King David had already learned this lesson: “One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple” (Psalm 27:4). He said this while evildoers assailed him (verse 2), and armies encamped against him (verse 3), and lies and threats fell like arrows all around him (verse 12). In other words, he had every reason to fear, and yet even then, he knew the one thing he must do: seek the Lord.

Satan will try to make everything feel more urgent than sitting down to be with Jesus. But in the end, only one thing is truly necessary. And it’s not the hard conversation you’re dreading, or the pile of deadlines at work, or some distant drama on social media, or the exam you need to pass next week, or the debt you’re afraid you’ll never pay off. One thing is necessary — today, tomorrow, next Tuesday, and every day after — to know, obey, and enjoy Jesus.

Felicity

The necessity of this one pursuit, however, does not make it an unhappy pursuit. “One thing is necessary,” Jesus says. “Mary has chosen the good portion.” While it might seem like Mary had abandoned her responsibilities and left her sister out to dry, she actually had chosen wisely and lovingly.

For choosing the one necessary thing, Mary received the good portion. Necessary was no sacrifice for her; it was all gain. She was drinking from a well that would never run dry, feasting from an overflowing table, swimming in an ocean of hope and peace and joy. Because his presence was her portion, her portion was not just right, but good. Her sitting and listening said what the apostle Paul would one day say in Philippians 3:8: “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

“One thing is necessary — today, tomorrow, next Tuesday, and every day after — to know, obey, and enjoy Jesus.”

Martha, meanwhile, was drinking from another well that day — one that left her even more thirsty. While the fountain of living water sat in her living room, she feverishly carved out cisterns for herself, “broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jeremiah 2:13). That’s how the fear of man oppresses us: it begs and pleads for our attention, but is never satisfied. Fear breeds fear breeds fear. But the good fountain — the good portion — breeds peace and contentment, quenches our thirsts, satisfies our longings, and gives our souls rest. Necessity, for Mary and for us, is also felicity.

Security

Lastly, this necessary and happy pursuit is also profoundly safe. “Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” Not only has Mary chosen wisely, sitting at his feet to receive his words, but she has chosen happiness. And not just any happiness, but a full and abundant happiness that no person or circumstance could ever take from her. Is there any better word to a heart distracted by worry? The good I will give you, you will never, ever lose.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:35, 37–39)

Have the cares of this world distracted you from sitting at the feet of Jesus? Have your fears left you feeling restless, insecure, unstable? The God of the universe is still speaking, right now, in his word. Hear his voice calling your name today, bidding you to come and enjoy the one necessary thing, the one satisfying thing, the one safe thing. You have time to sit with God.

Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. –Galatians 5:16–17

In seminary, this passage reshaped my vision of the Christian life. At one level, the passage is simple. It contains an exhortation (“walk by the Spirit”), a promise (“and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh”), and an explanation or rationale (the conflict described in verse 17). But as we meditate on this passage, we discover that it also offers a threefold vision for the Christian life as a whole.

Acknowledge the War Within

First, Paul insists that the starting point for the Christian life is recognizing the war between the flesh and the Spirit.

I say “starting point” because of the logic of verses 16 and 17. In seminary, I was taught that one way to clarify the logic of a passage like this is to read the verses in reverse order while keeping the logical relationship intact. In other words, turn an “A, because B” argument into a “B, therefore A” argument. “I eat, because I am hungry” becomes “I am hungry, therefore I eat.”

When we do that, the passage looks like this:

(Verse 17) The desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. (Verse 16) Therefore (that’s the logical connection) walk by the Spirit, and you will certainly not gratify the desires of the flesh.

As Christians, we wake up every day in the midst of a war. Fleshly desires pull us in one direction; the desires of the Spirit pull us in the other. The status quo is a frustrated stalemate in which we are kept from doing what we want to do. Spiritual desires frustrate fleshly desires, and fleshly desires frustrate spiritual desires.

Starting with this recognition means we can be realistic about the difficulty of the war. The frustration we feel in the face of the passions of the flesh is real, and Paul encourages us to be honest about it. That’s where we begin as Christians.

Staggering Promise of Not

But according to Paul, we don’t have to stay there, because, second, we have a new destination. We don’t have to surrender. We can live a life in which we absolutely don’t gratify the desires of the flesh. This is a staggering promise. The “not” in verse 16 is intensified in the original Greek; it’s what’s called an emphatic negation. Paul essentially says, “If you walk by the Spirit, you will absolutely and certainly not gratify the desires of the flesh.”

Now, it’s important to be clear about what Paul is and isn’t promising. He’s not saying that our fleshly desires disappear altogether. Instead, he promises that we will not gratify or complete those desires. In other words, the desires may still be present and still at war with our spiritual desires, but now, as we walk by the Spirit, we won’t indulge them.

The basic idea is that all desires have a direction, a destination, a trajectory. They incline us towards some perceived good, some object that we believe will satisfy. In short, desires want to take us somewhere.

Where Do Desires Lead?

In Galatians 5, the desires of the flesh lead to the works of the flesh: “sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions, envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these.” Paul is clear that those who practice such things — by habitually gratifying those desires — will not inherit God’s kingdom. On the other hand, the desires of the Spirit lead to the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control.”

So again, desires, whether of the Spirit or the flesh, have a destination, and when that destination is reached, the desire has been gratified. The itch has been scratched. Notice, however, the critical assumption Paul makes: the presence of the fleshly desire doesn’t mean that we have to indulge it. It’s possible to resist where our desires want to take us.

For Paul, walking by the Spirit doesn’t remove all fleshly tendencies and inclinations in this life. Instead, it interrupts them. It redirects them and reorders them so that they no longer dishonor God or harm people. It’s important to be clear on this point so that we don’t erect impossible and unrealistic expectations for the Christian life. In this life, the desires may still rise up, but according to Paul, they don’t have to master us. They don’t have to rule us. We don’t have to gratify or indulge them. We don’t have to scratch. We can be free.

But only if we walk by the Spirit.

Essential Bridge

Walking by the Spirit is the third element in this vision of the Christian life, and the bridge between our present struggle and the future victory. It’s the path that gets us from frustration to freedom. Which means that the pressing question for us is this: What exactly does it mean to “walk by the Spirit”?

The image is clear enough. Walking is a form of movement. It’s neither standing still nor running. It’s steady movement, in a particular direction, under a particular power (in this case, the Spirit). Galatians 5:24–25 sheds further light on the image:

And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit.

“Walk by the Spirit” corresponds to “keep in step with the Spirit.” It’s as though the Spirit sets the pace and we keep up. There’s a rhythm to our walking. Like a drummer, the Spirit lays down the beat, and we march along. This basic idea appears in various forms throughout Paul’s letters:

Walk rightly with the truth of the gospel (Galatians 2:13).
Walk by the Spirit (Galatians 5:16).
Be led by the Spirit (Galatians 5:18).
Keep in step with the Spirit (Galatians 5:26).
Walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called (Ephesians 4:1).
Walk in a manner worthy of the Lord (Colossians 1:10).

“Walking by the Spirit is the bridge between our present struggle and the future victory.”

Other phrases that appear throughout the New Testament include walking in love, walking in the light, walking as children of the light, walking according to Paul’s example, and walking in the truth. In all of these examples, the idea is the same: there is a conduct, a “walking,” that accords with the gospel, the Spirit, and the truth. There is a way of life that fits the gospel.

Before We Can Walk

Walking by the Spirit flows from something more fundamental, though, and this is crucial. Before we can keep in step with the Spirit, we must first “live by the Spirit.” That is, we must possess life by the Spirit.

The life in question is resurrection life. We possess it because we belong to Jesus and have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. It’s what Paul elsewhere describes as “being made alive with Christ” (Ephesians 2:4). This is conversion, when God raises us from spiritual death by grace through faith in Christ.

He elaborates on this reality in the great gospel passage of Galatians 2:19–20:

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

“The Spirit is the animating power in our lives, shaping our daily decisions as we wake up in spiritual war.”

Crucified with Christ so that the flesh has been killed. Raised with Christ so that he lives on our behalf and we possess life by his Spirit. This is the good news which so transformed Paul and is able to transform us.

So, then, walking by the Spirit refers to our daily conduct, rooted in our union with Christ in his death and resurrection and empowered by the Spirit who redirects our desires to godly fruitfulness. The Spirit is the animating power in our lives, shaping our daily decisions as we wake up in the midst of the spiritual war. Paul’s call is for us to daily take up arms in the battle, to encourage and gratify our spiritual desires, and to keep in step with the Spirit because we belong to Jesus.