Audio Transcript

We end the week, Pastor John, with a topic that dawned on me recently. Not long ago, I was editing a powerful sermon clip taken from your sermon series on Romans 7:14–25, applying what it means to be a Christian who lives with disordered desires. It was a sermon clip sent to us from a woman in Greece who struggled for years with an eating disorder and who chose to open up and tell others about her sin only after having heard your pastoral conclusion to sermon five.

It’s an amazing clip and a powerful listener testimony that we published about a month ago as APJ 1751. But when I researched that clip and set it up for the podcast, I noticed we’ve never entered into the debate over Romans 7 here on the podcast. Is this the struggle of Christian Paul or pre-Christian Saul? Several times here, you’ve said it’s a believer’s struggle (like in APJ 802, 1183, 1438) and then built from this stated conclusion. But you’ve never defended that position in APJ, and I’d love to hear you do so. How would you frame the disagreement? And why do you land on the side of Romans 7 describing the believer’s struggle?

The disagreement about Romans 7:14–25 is whether Paul is describing some dimension of his Christian experience — or whether he’s describing his pre-Christian experience of defeat as he tried to keep the law, and he’s describing it now from his perspective as a Christian. Now, my view is that Romans 7:14–25 is a description of the kind of experiences Paul often had as a Christian, and that we often have. And I say often had because I don’t want to give the impression that those verses describe the totality of Christian experience.

Now, this disagreement is among really good friends, right? You and I can name really good friends that just don’t see eye to eye on this, and I love those brothers. I don’t consider this disagreement as a ground for any kind of breaking of a relationship or a fellowship.

Framing the Disagreement

The disagreement exists because, on the one hand, Paul says, “I delight in the law of God, in my inner being” (Romans 7:22), and he says, “I myself serve the law of God with my mind” (Romans 7:25) — which is hard to imagine as a description of pre-Christian Paul. That’s my opinion. It’s very hard to imagine that.

On the other hand, he says, “I am of the flesh, sold under sin” (Romans 7:14), or, “I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15), and so on. My disagreeing brother would ask, Would a Christian say that? Would the Christian Paul describe himself that way — “sold under sin”?

So, there’s the problem, and I’m going to give nine reasons for thinking these are Paul’s description of his present experience from time to time, though not his total Christian experience.

1. ‘I’ in the Present Tense

The most natural way to understand Paul’s use of the first person I and the present tense is that he’s talking about himself and part of his life now as a believer. He uses I or me or my about forty times in this text, and he explains his situation in the present tense all the way through.

“I am of flesh,” “what I am doing I do not understand,” “I do the very thing I do not want,” and so on — present tense. On the face of it, then, it looks like he’s describing his present Christian experience. So, for the average person like me, it’s going to take a lot to say, “No, that’s not what is happening.”

2. Law in the Inner Being

Paul speaks about the law of God in this passage in a way that sounds like the way a Christian believer would talk about it — not the way an unregenerate Jewish man would talk about it. “I delight in the law of God, in my inner being” (Romans 7:22). Now, it’s this phrase “in the inner man” that sounds so much like the way Paul talks as a Christian about the Christian’s real inner self. I don’t think Paul would have said this about his pre-Christian self.

3. Inconsistent with His Past

The description of Romans 7 of Paul as a divided and sometimes tormented man in relation to the law doesn’t fit with the way he describes his experience before he was a Christian.

In his pre-Christian days, he is anything but a man who is torn because of any perceived failures to live up to the law of God. In Galatians 1 and Philippians 3, he describes himself as having undivided zeal for the law. So the Romans 7 Paul doesn’t fit with the way he described his pre-Christian experience.

4. More Than Fallen Flesh

I think Paul talks about himself in Romans 7 in a way that only a Christian could — a person with faith and with the Holy Spirit.

“In Paul’s view, the pre-Christian person is only flesh. Only a Christian is more than fallen flesh.”

For example, he says in Romans 7:18, “I know that nothing good dwells in me” — and then he qualifies it — “that is, in my flesh.” Now, if Paul is here giving a Christian assessment of his pre-Christian experience, then why does he add to the statement “nothing good dwells in me” the qualifier “that is, in my flesh”?

I think, in Paul’s view, the pre-Christian person is only flesh. Only a Christian is more than fallen flesh. He has the Holy Spirit, and that’s why Paul has to say that qualifier: “that is, in my flesh.” There is a good thing in me — namely, the Holy Spirit. So he’s not talking about the pre-Christian Paul, I think.

5. Parallel to Galatians 5

In Galatians 5:17, Paul uses language very close to Romans 7, but everyone agrees that in Galatians, it’s a description of Christian experience.

He says in Galatians 5:17, “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” — and now comes the phrase that sounds just like Romans 7, almost the same language — “to keep you from doing the things you want to do.” This is a description of the inner conflict of the Christian, and the language is so similar to Romans 7 — “I do what I don’t want to do; I don’t do what I want to do” — that I conclude Romans 7 is also Christian experience like Galatians 5.

6. Temporarily Enslaved To Sin

My sixth argument is an answer to the strongest argument against my view — at least that’s what some say it is. In Romans 7:14, Paul says, “I am of the flesh, sold under sin.” And my friends would say, “Would Paul really say, Piper, of a Christian that he is sold under sin?” The imagery is of being sold as a slave. Can a Christian ever say, “I am sold under the slave master of sin”? After all, Romans 6:18 says, “Having been set free from sin, [you] have become slaves of righteousness.”

Now, my response is that I don’t think Paul is saying the Christian lives under sin as a normal way of life — continually dominated and defeated by sin — but that in the moment of failure, sin gets the upper hand like a slave master temporarily getting control of a person who’s not really his. I think this because both in Romans 6:12 and Galatians 5:1 Paul warns Christians precisely not to submit again to the reign, or to the yoke, of slavery.

It’s a real possibility that Christians can see themselves as temporarily sold under sins. I don’t think that is a decisive counterargument.

7. Unbelievers Don’t Cry for Freedom

This is a response to the objection from Romans 7:24. Can a real Christian cry out, “Who will set me free from the body of this death?” To which my response is, Can a real Christian not cry out, “Who will set me free from this body of death”?

“The unbeliever does not cry out for release. He doesn’t. He is at home in it. This is a Christian cry.”

The body is not only diseased and dying and groaning, according to Romans 8, but it is also the staging ground for many evil desires, Paul says. It is regularly the base of operations for sin. The unbeliever does not cry out for release from this. He doesn’t. He is at home in it. This is a Christian cry.

8. Free from Captivity, Not Warfare

My eighth argument is the way others use Romans 8:2 — this is, I think, very powerful. It says, “For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.” Now, some say that this is a clear declaration that the warfare of Romans 7 is over because the phrase law of sin in 8:2 is used in Romans 7:23. The person in verse 23 is made “a captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.” But now, in Romans 8:2, we are free from the law of sin and death.

So, people conclude the person in 7:23 cannot be a Christian because the Christian is Romans 8:2, and he’s free from that. But I think, in view of all we’ve seen and in view of the exhortations in Romans 6, that to say we are now in Christ set free from the law of sin does not at all preclude the reality that from time to time the law of sin does indeed get the upper hand and must be repented of and renounced.

There is a freedom from it, but not an absolute freedom from its influence, which we can defeat with warfare in the Spirit.

9. Anticlimax in Romans 7:25

Romans 7 seems to reach its climax in verse 25, the first half of the verse. It goes like this: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” In other words, who’s going to deliver me from this horrible situation that I’ve been describing in these verses in Romans 7? Answer: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

This is often taken to mean that after all the failure of verses 14–25, Paul now arrives at a point of triumph and transition. He is moving from the defeated pre-Christian experience of Romans 7 to the triumphant Christian experience of Romans 8. But if that’s the way Paul is thinking, the second half of verse 25 is a colossal embarrassment and a stumbling block.

Verse 25 closes like this, which doesn’t at all fit this understanding of a big transition from Romans 7 to 8, with the fulcrum being the first half of verse 25. Just when this view expects a triumphant statement about how the divided man is finally united in victory and beyond conflict and entirely under the sway of the Spirit, what do you get in the second half of verse 25?

You get just what you would expect to get if Romans 7 is really about the frequent Christian experience of conflict and struggle. You get a summary statement of the struggling and divided life. It goes like this: “So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin” (Romans 7:25). What an anticlimax if the intention is to say that there’s this decisive break between chapters 7 and 8.

So, for these nine reasons, I think we should read Romans 7:14–25 as the description, not of the totality of Christian experience, but of the kind of discouragements and conflicts and defeats we often encounter as we do battle with sin.

Armed with passwords and last year’s tax forms, we gathered at the dining room table with my youngest son and his new wife.

They had asked for help in the annual ritual of completing the FAFSA, the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, which college students must submit in order to qualify for scholarships of any type. Within minutes, however, the newlyweds were in the driver’s seat at the keyboard, clicking, scrolling, and entering data. I was happy to quietly excuse myself and move on to preparing snacks to fortify them for this blessed foray into independence.

Some parenting ties are easier to snip than others, and I’ll admit that this one was welcome. But the journey from dependent child to independent adult is never without its pulling and stretching on both sides. As young adult children relinquish their need for hands-on parenting and take up responsibility for their own lives, there is a mirrored relinquishment for which we, as their loving parents, usually need plenty of grace.

In the midst of this process, many mums worry that the mother-child relationship will be damaged as adult sons and daughters marry and start families of their own. We fear being replaced and forgotten when new family ties are established. Unfortunately, fear and worry are not helpful building materials for a bond that lasts. Mothers like me need help to embrace a biblical vision of motherhood that will enable us to work ourselves out of a job like missionaries, with gratitude for the gift of parenting and with joy in the launching and the letting go.

Holding Our Children Loosely

As a homeschooling mum who scheduled every minute of the day for my four sons, I stumbled at first with the choreography of letting go. Then, a seemingly unrelated principle from the teaching of Paul opened my eyes to a hidden idolatry, disguised as “good mothering.” In 2 Corinthians 9, Paul commends bountiful sowing and cheerful giving, a practice that demonstrates belief in God as both provider and sustainer. Giving strips money of its idolatrous power over our hearts, for we are saying, “I love God more than I love whatever this money could do for me.”

“Learning to hold my children loosely was step one in allowing God to take his own rightful place in my heart.”

I began to see that releasing my young adults and teens into their growing independence was one way to make war against that particular idolatry and the cherished illusion of control I had cultivated. Learning to hold my children loosely was step one in allowing God to take his own rightful place in my heart. And holding on tightly to God strengthened my belief that my children belonged to him first of all.

As loving mums, we balance our deep love for our children with a deeper trust in God’s loving and keeping, and, for me, this required stepping back from my idol of control, and then stepping joyfully into a new advisory role.

Stepping Back from Control

I realized when my boys were small that maintaining a relationship with them as they grew older was going to be a challenge, because I’m a do-er. When they needed help in the tub or someone to make them a sandwich, I knew exactly what to do. However, that physically dependent stage, when I was clipping forty fingernails and forty toenails besides my own, was (mercifully) short, and it didn’t seem long before our sons no longer needed my help or care.

Encouraging practical independence from mum and dad is a goal that sits alongside fostering spiritual dependence upon God, and conscientious parents can actually thwart that goal without even realizing it. Orchestrating every detail of your teen’s life, or swooping in to prevent every disappointment and to manage every outcome, can actually teach your children a false hope in success and happy circumstances. That’s a hope that will wear you out and leave your children utterly unprepared for the realities of adulthood.

As their dependence upon God grows, our adult children’s relationship with God may not look exactly like our own. Their mode of worship, their boundaries on gray areas, and the way they express their faith may not line up perfectly with what they learned in our home. In middle age, it’s tempting to define holiness as our own way of living the Christian life, with a dangerous shift in pronouns that redefines, “Be holy, for I am holy” (1 Peter 1:16), with the parent as the standard for holiness.

Just as we look to Jesus Christ as the standard of holiness for our own life on this fallen ground — not our pastor, not our favorite worship leader or inspirational author — grace-dependent parents encourage our children to turn their eyes toward Christ and to follow his lead. We recognize that we are not the standard for holiness. We are followers of Christ alongside our adult children, and we trust him to establish habits of holiness in their lives as we set an example by our own practice of lively faith.

Our New Advisory Role

The prophet Jeremiah wrote words of wise advice to the nation of Israel in exile, wisdom that helped me find a peaceful bridge into my empty nest. Somehow, at first, I found myself standing alongside those poor, displaced Israelites, waiting for life to return to “normal.” Sadly, their wrong thinking — that Nebuchadnezzar would come, and in a few weeks they’d be back home again — had gotten in the way of their obedience in the moment.

“I am learning that it is possible to live out the will of God in a land I don’t quite understand yet.”

Jeremiah counseled against their camping mentality with instructions to build and to cultivate and to make a life in Babylon, a location that felt like a dislocation (Jeremiah 29:4–7). As the grieving nation came to realize, “No, we’re not going back,” they stumbled toward a right understanding of what it meant to be God’s people in a place they had no desire to be. Likewise, I am learning that it is just as possible to live out the will of God in a land I don’t quite understand yet.

Rather than languishing in unmet expectations, parents of adult children have the privilege of stepping into a new role. Suddenly, we can “seek the welfare of the city” in an advisory capacity (Jeremiah 29:7). Someone else is doing the hands-on budgeting, planning, building, and designing that accompany the parenting life. Our children are now the primary ones responsible for the welfare of the next generation.

In None Like Him, Jen Wilkin warns readers against the tendency to usurp the incommunicable attributes of God — those qualities of deity that are his alone. Nowhere is this more of a temptation for me than in parenting. God will stop at nothing to pour his holiness, justice, and patience into the love I have for my kids, but what I really covet is his sovereignty, his omniscience, his omnipresence. By entrusting each member of my family to God’s sovereign plan, I am enabled to release the death grip on my desire to control and manage life from my limited perspective.

Still Sowing, Still Growing

Returning to Paul’s metaphor of generous sowing (2 Corinthians 9:6–7), the biblical pattern for all of us is to spread our seed pell-mell. As empty nesters, we are in a position to put on display the generosity of the gospel and the nature of God by investing in multigenerational pursuits with our families, and also by shaping our demeanors and our schedules to communicate our openness to their needs and our willingness to put our own lives on hold to be available to them.

Not all the seeds we plant along the way will bear fruit — but, then, we learned when our children were younger that parenting is anything but a cause-and-effect proposition. It is not a vending machine into which we insert our right actions and are rewarded with equal and corresponding reactions from our children. We’re after faithfulness first, not results.

Everyone collects a few regrets along the way, but regrets can’t set the agenda for our parenting journey going forward. Our goal is to leave a legacy of godliness, not a monument to our own glory and success. Freedom comes with understanding that our family is not our own personal project. God is doing bigger and more glorious things that we may not see or understand. He is building his kingdom, and it will be our greatest joy to have raised a small band of worshipers to join those standing around his throne at the end of all things.

Of course, this means that I will never be a “parenting graduate.” For as long as I live, I will need to grow in grace so that I will honor boundaries, resist giving unsolicited advice, and steadfastly reject unrealistic expectations of my adult children. I will need to trust God to instill in my heart a genuine and unselfish love for my family that enables me to see their ever-expanding world as a gift rather than a threat.

By grace, we can balance our deep love for our children with the “expulsive power” of a deeper love for God and a deeper trust in his sovereign goodness at work in their lives.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15204093/from-supernatural-enemies-to-triumphant-standing

In an episode of Ask Pastor John, Jason from Kampala (the capital of Uganda), asked Pastor John a pointed question regarding why Africans have suffered so much. He wrote:

Does God care for Africans? Providence has a long track record here. Throughout history we have been a beastly, deplorable, enslaveable race — constantly riddled with disease, famine, and suffering. How are we not to conclude that we are God’s least favorite race? Every day is pure struggle for most Ugandans. I know God promises to look after all people, but it still makes me wonder, why does he especially seem to hate Africa so much?

When I read those words, my heart grieved. It still does. Since I first heard them (and Pastor John’s four points of wisdom on the providence of God), I have longed to give voice more directly and explicitly to Scripture’s truths regarding God’s heart for all nations, including those from Africa.

I am a father of three adopted African children. I also regularly lead teams to Africa to help the churches train leaders and care for orphans and widows. I love Africa, and in recent years I have also been discovering the key role that Africa in general, and black Africa in particular, has played in God’s redemptive plan. Because Uganda is related to the Bible’s portrait of black Africa, I have narrowed most of my scriptural overview to this sphere, but the whole still bears broader significance to Africa at large.

My own journey of discovery began when I, as an Old Testament professor, started studying the book of Zephaniah, who was likely a black Judean prophet. My journey has taken me from Genesis to Revelation, and I hope this brief survey will help Jason in Kampala and others to recognize God’s love for Africa and to hope in God’s steadfast love toward all who are in Christ, whether from Africa or beyond.

God’s Chosen Prophet

The book of Zephaniah opens, “The word of the Lord that came to Zephaniah the son of Cushi, son of Gedaliah, son of Amariah, son of Hezekiah, in the days of Josiah the son of Amon, king of Judah” (Zephaniah 1:1). “Zephaniah” means “Yahweh has hidden,” and his name testifies to his parents’ living faith in God and their hope in his protective care during the dark days of King Manasseh (696–642 BC, see 2 Kings 21).

Not only this, Zephaniah was a Judean in the Davidic royal line. His great-great-grandfather was King Hezekiah (729–686 BC), who led a massive spiritual awakening that was paralleled in Judah’s history only by the work of King Josiah (640–609 BC), whose spiritual reforms Zephaniah’s own preaching helped to serve (622 BC). We also learn that Zephaniah’s father was Cushi, and this fact suggests that this prophet was biracial. Cush was ancient black Africa, and Zephaniah’s grandmother (Gedaliah’s wife) was probably a black African who married into the Jewish royal line. She then named her son “Cushite” or “My Blacky,” celebrating his ethnic heritage. As a biracial prophet, Zephaniah displayed the hope of a diversified people of God in fulfillment of Yahweh’s promises to Abraham regarding his saving blessing reaching the nations (Genesis 12:3; 22:18).

“As a biracial prophet, Zephaniah displayed the hope of a diversified people of God.”

Support for Zephaniah’s biracial background comes in how he highlights Cush with respect to both punishment and restoration. First, in Zephaniah 2:12, Cush is the only neighbor he mentions that has already experienced God’s judgment. While the English translations treat the verse as future, the historical context and the Hebrew suggest that Cush’s demise was already past. Specifically, when Yahweh declares, “You also, O Cushites, have been slain by my sword,” he is likely referring to the fall of the 25th Egyptian dynasty (663 BC) that the Cushites controlled and to which Nahum earlier referred when he wrote against Nineveh, declaring, “Are you better than Thebes that sat by the Nile?” (Nahum 3:8). In Zephaniah, as in Nahum, the Lord’s punishment had started with Cush, and their fall gave proof that Nineveh’s fall would soon come (Zephaniah 2:13–15).

But there is more, for Zephaniah elevates Cush as his sole example of end-times hope for the world. Speaking about the future day of the Lord, when God would right all wrongs and reestablish right order and peace, the prophet writes,

At that time I will change the speech of the peoples to a pure speech, that all of them may call upon the name of the Lord and serve him with one accord. From beyond the rivers of Cush my worshipers, the daughter of my dispersed ones, shall bring my offering. (Zephaniah 3:9–10)

What the prophet envisions here is astounding, and how the New Testament sees it fulfilled is breathtaking. But before unpacking it, let’s recall the Old Testament’s portrait of Cush, which reaches back to the earliest chapters of Genesis.

Africa in Old Testament History

Africa’s Cushite empire was centered in modern Sudan and stretched south and eastward into the regions of present-day South Sudan, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Djibouti, and Somalia and across the Red Sea into what was ancient Sheba.

The prophet Moses married a woman from this area (Numbers 12:1), and later a queen from the region heard of King Solomon’s fame concerning Yahweh’s name and came to Jerusalem to encounter firsthand the king’s wisdom and prosperity (1 Kings 10:1–10). A millennium later, when faced with the hard-heartedness of the Jewish religious leaders, Jesus declared, “The queen of the South will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold, something greater than Solomon is here” (Matthew 12:42).

We first learn of the region of Cush as a terminus location of one of the four rivers flowing from Eden (Genesis 2:13). This link highlights God’s intent to bring life to Africa. The area of Cush and the people associated with it were named after Noah’s grandson through Ham.

Important for our understanding Zephaniah’s prophecy is the fact that Cush’s son Nimrod is the one who built ancient Babel[on], where God confronted those seeking to exalt their own name, confused the world’s languages, and scattered peoples across the planet (Genesis 10:6–10; 11:1–9). Those descending from Cush dispersed to Africa’s horn in the northeast part of the continent. They are among the “families” and “nations” that Yahweh then promised to bless, ultimately through Abraham’s messianic offspring, who would overcome curse and the enemy and bring blessing into the world:

To the serpent: I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel. (Genesis 3:15)

To Abraham: I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed. (Genesis 12:3)

To Abraham: And your offspring shall possess the gate of his enemies, and in your offspring shall all the nations of the earth be blessed. (Genesis 22:17–18)

Thus, Paul declared, “The Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, ‘In you shall all the nations be blessed’” (Galatians 3:8).

After Israel settled into the promised land and the kingdom divided, Judah made many political alliances with the nation of Cush prior to Zephaniah’s ministry (Isaiah 18:1–2; 20:5–6). Jerusalem’s leadership also had strong ties with black Africans (2 Samuel 18:21; Jeremiah 38:7; 39:16), which identifies how Zephaniah’s grandmother could have been a Cushite.

Africa in Other Prophecies

The prophet Jeremiah queried, “Can an Ethiopian [literally, Cushite] change his skin or the leopard his spots?” (Jeremiah 13:23). The Cushites are frequently a part of prophetic oracles of both punishment and restoration. As for punishment, Yahweh identified how he would lead Assyria to overcome Egypt and Cush, resulting in those in Judah being “dismayed and ashamed because of Cush their hope and Egypt their boast” (Isaiah 20:5). Similarly, with words akin to Zephaniah, Ezekiel declared, “The day of the Lord is near,” and then noted, “A sword shall come upon Egypt and anguish shall be upon Cush” (Ezekiel 30:3–4).

But a remnant from Cush would also be a part of the great new exodus that God would work in the days of the Messiah. As Isaiah testified just after foretelling the rise of the Messiah’s kingdom that would extend to all nations,

In that day the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time to recover the remnant that remains of his people, from Assyria, from Egypt, from Pathros, from Cush, from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath, and from the coastlands of the sea. He will raise a signal for the nations and will assemble the banished of Israel, and gather the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth. (Isaiah 11:11–12)

With a similar anticipation, the psalmists spoke of a remnant of black Africans being among those to whom Yahweh would grant new birth certificates. Thus, he would regard them as full-fledged children in his family, and their new home would be the transformed Jerusalem:

Among those who know me I mention Rahab and Babylon; behold, Philistia and Tyre, with Cush — “This one was born there,” they say. And of Zion it shall be said, “This one and that one were born in her”; for the Most High himself will establish her. The Lord records as he registers the peoples, “This one was born there.” (Psalm 87:4–6)

From Beyond the Rivers of Cush

Now we can return to Zephaniah 3. Here Yahweh urges the faithful remnant from Judah and beyond to “wait for me” for the day when he would rise as judge (Zephaniah 3:8a). He gives two reasons to compel such patient trust, each beginning with “for”: (1) he still intends to gather and punish all the earth’s people groups (nations) and powers (kingdoms) (Zephaniah 3:8b), and (2) he has purposed to preserve and transform a multiethnic remnant from these peoples into his eternal worshipers (Zephaniah 3:9–10). We, thus, read,

For at that time I will change the speech of the peoples to a pure speech, that all of them may call upon the name of the Lord and serve him with one accord. From beyond the rivers of Cush my worshipers, the daughter of my dispersed ones, shall bring my offering. (Zephaniah 3:9–10)

“The rivers of Cush” were likely the White and Blue Nile (see Isaiah 18:1–2). In seeing supplicants journey with offerings to Yahweh at his sanctuary, it’s as if the descendants of those once exiled from Eden are now following the rivers of life back to their source in order to enjoy fellowship with the great King (Genesis 2:10–14; cf. Revelation 22:1–2). And these worshipers consist of a multiethnic group from the “peoples” of the world, all of whom have transformed speech patterns that call on Yahweh’s name.

“What Zephaniah envisions here is nothing less than the reversal of the tower of Babel judgment.”

What Zephaniah envisions here is nothing less than the reversal of the tower of Babel judgment. You will recall that a Cushite built Babel[on] and that those shaping the tower were seeking to make a “name” for themselves (Genesis 10:8–10; 11:4). We then read that “[the place] was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth. And from there the Lord dispersed them over the face of the earth” (Genesis 11:9). When it says God confused “the language,” the Hebrew word is the same as that translated “speech” in Zephaniah 3:9, and when it says that God “dispersed” the peoples, it uses the same word for “my dispersed ones” in Zephaniah 3:10. Indeed, the only places in all the Bible that include the nouns “name” and “language” and the verb “dispersed” are Genesis 11 and Zephaniah 3.

Back in Zephaniah 2:12, Yahweh declared punishment on Cush. Now in Zephaniah 3:9–10, he predicts that even the most distant lands upon which God has poured his wrath will have a worshiping remnant whom his presence will compel to the transformed Jerusalem, thus reversing the curse of Babel. The prophet elevates the region of Cush as his sole example of God’s end-time new creational transformation.

So how does the New Testament reflect on this prophecy?

Salvation of an African

When Luke crafted the book of Acts, I believe he had Zephaniah 3:9–10 in mind. In the context of explaining a mission of making worshipers “to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8), Peter’s Pentecost sermon in Acts 2:17–21 cites Joel 2:28–32, which depicts the day of the Lord and mentions calling on God’s name in ways very similar to Zephaniah (Zephaniah 3:8–9). What is not found in Joel, however, but is present in Zephaniah 3:9–10 is the vision of transformed “speech” (LXX = “tongue”) and united devotion, both of which Luke highlights in detailing the outpouring of “tongues” (Acts 2:4, 11) and the amazing kinship enjoyed by the early believers (Acts 2:42–47).

With this, it is important to note that the Greeks called ancient Cush “Ethiopia,” a name that is strikingly absent from the list of nations in Acts 2 that Luke tells us were gathered “from every nation under heaven” (Acts 2:5; cf. 9–11). The reason he never mentions “Ethiopia” there was most likely because he sought to highlight the fulfillment of Zephaniah’s vision by noting the conversion of the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8:26–40 (cf. Isaiah 56:3–8). The first-known Gentile convert to Christianity was a Cushite, and this highlights that God was beginning to fulfill the shaping of his multiethnic community of worshipers, just as Zephaniah proclaimed.

Hope for Every People and Nation

A second way the New Testament reflects on what Zephaniah envisioned is that Jesus’s resurrection ignited a global movement of making “disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:19). Thus, Jesus’s followers bore witness to his greatness “in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8).

In broader fulfillment of Zephaniah’s restoration hope in 3:9–10, Jesus’s first coming marks the beginning of the end of the first creation and initiates the new creation, which corresponds to the new covenant (2 Corinthians 5:17; Galatians 6:15; Hebrews 8:13). In this age, God counts all those in Christ as offspring of Abraham, adopted sons and full heirs of all the promises (Galatians 3:8, 16, 29; 4:4–6). There is one people of God, the church (Ephesians 2:14–16). This means that Cushites like Simeon/Niger and Jews like Saul/Paul could be part of the same Christian congregation in Antioch (Acts 13:1), and that Christian Greeks like Titus didn’t need to be circumcised (Galatians 2:3).

Revelation 5:9–10 declares that Jesus is shaping “a kingdom and priests” “from every tribe and language and people and nation” (cf. Revelation 7:9–10). With the salvation of the black African politician in Acts 8:26–40, the Lord Jesus sparked the beginning of the end that will culminate in global praise to God, who is working all his purposes well — from Genesis through Zephaniah to Revelation. As Zephaniah envisioned (Zephaniah 3:9–10), already we as multiethnic Christian priests are offering sacrifices of praise (Romans 12:1; Hebrews 13:15–16; 1 Peter 2:5) at “Mount Zion and . . . the heavenly Jerusalem” (Hebrews 12:22; cf. Isaiah 2:2–3; Zechariah 8:20–23; Galatians 4:26).

Nevertheless, we await the day when the “new Jerusalem” will descend from heaven as the new earth (Revelation 21:2, 10; cf. Isaiah 65:17–18). Then our daily journey to find rest in Christ’s supremacy and sufficiency (Matthew 11:28–29; John 6:35) will come to completion in a place where the curse is no more (Revelation 21:22–22:5). On that day, all God’s children in Jesus — black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles — will indeed call on Yahweh’s name together and celebrate that they are free at last.

Does God Love Africa?

So, does God care for Africans? Both Scripture and history declare it so. In the beginning God intentionally directed the waters of life to Africa, thus identifying his intent to satisfy the thirsty and to make desolate places fertile (Genesis 2:13). While the world’s story has proven that the Lord takes Africans’ sins as seriously as those of others, it also testifies to God’s pleasure in saving Africans and in using their transformation as a marker of hope for what he intends to do in the rest of the world.

In saving the Ethiopian eunuch (Acts 8:26–39), the Lord began reversing the destructive effects of the tower of Babel (Genesis 11:1–9; cf. Zephaniah 3:9–10) and inaugurated a global ingathering that will culminate in omni-ethnic praise to Jesus at the end of the age (Revelation 5:9–10; 7:9–10). The living waters are still flowing to Africa, and Jesus’s invitations are still ringing: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink” (John 7:37; cf. 4:10, 14; Revelation 22:17). All who answer the call shall not “thirst anymore” for he “will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 7:16–17). Such hope is available for all in Africa and beyond.

Audio Transcript

When you pray, Jesus said, get by yourself, go into your room, shut the door, “and pray to your Father who is in secret” (Matthew 6:6). Sounds pretty straightforward. So we just pray alone, right? Wrong. We don’t pray only in secret; we pray together — something we see all over the book of Acts, for example (in texts like Acts 2:42; 4:31; 12:12; 13:3; and 20:36, to name a few). So, why do we pray together and not just alone? What’s added when we pray together? And what’s lost when we pray only by ourselves?

In 1981, Pastor John took up this question in a sermon on 2 Corinthians 1:8–11. There, Paul writes this testimony of his agonies:

We do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.

And then Paul makes this request in verse 11, which is a little complex, so listen carefully: “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.” Here’s Pastor John.

That’s a hard verse. I noticed Glen this morning had trouble reading verse 11, just like I did. He had to stop and make sure he had it just right because it’s a very complex sentence. I had to read verse 11 again and again, and I could not get the gist of verse 11 until I drew it on paper.

Line of Prayer

Now, follow with me the line of prayer. Keep one eye on the text, one eye on the line, and both ears on me.

The line of prayer begins with Paul, and he feels a need. That’s where prayer begins. His need was probably, “Oh, how I need to rely on God more. Oh, how I need to trust God for deliverance from all my adversaries more.” So what does he do? He sends out a line of prayer, “Help me,” horizontally to the Corinthians. “Help me by prayer.” And that’s stage one in the line of prayer.

Then the line of prayer curves up through the heart of the Corinthians as they hear the plea, and they look up to God and pray that God will, in fact, answer their prayers for Paul’s deliverance and for his faith. That’s stage two: the prayers of the Corinthians heading up to God.

Then the line of prayer enters the heart of God, who is there listening, waiting for the prayers of his people. And in response to the prayers of the many Corinthians, God sends down a gift — or a “blessing,” as the text says — to Paul. What blessing? Greater faith in God, greater dependence on him alone, and deliverance from his adversaries. That’s stage three in the line of prayer.

Now, just as many people heard the plea of Paul to help through prayer, so many people now see the answer to the prayers as they look. “Look: Paul got out. He got out of the Philippian jail. He got away from Ephesus. He made it all the way through Berea and Thessalonica. He’s coming down here to us. He’s going to make it all the way to Jerusalem with that money. He may make it to Rome, to the ends of the earth, and preach to the emperor. Praise God!” And that’s line four.

They see the answer to prayer, and that curves up through their heart in praises and thanksgiving, through many people, back to God. And that’s stage five in the line of prayer. And that’s where the text stops.

Spiraling Delight

But I think there is something implied in the text that’s not explicit, that is just a choice truth that I don’t want to leave out. Namely, if Paul chose to motivate the Corinthians to pray for him by pointing out that it would abound in many thanksgivings to God, then it must be a great delight to Paul to think about God getting so many thanks. And if it’s a great delight to Paul to see God being thanked, then that little dotted line that comes down from God is joy coming back into the heart of Paul as he sees God being thanked in response to the answer to many prayers. So that’s stage six that I’ve added.

In fact, I could go on adding stage seven, because God gets delight in Paul’s delight, and Paul gets delight in God’s delight in his delight. It’s just a great spiral on up into infinite joy someday, when there’s no more sin to clutter up that spiral. That’s the line of prayer.

Let me sum it up just briefly. Paul has a great need, and he feels it. He knows he’s coming into adversity. He said in Acts 20:23, “The Holy Spirit testifies to me in every city that imprisonments and afflictions await me.” He needs help. “Help me, Corinthians.”

They hear the word, responding, “God, help Paul.” God looks down, “I hear the prayer. Here’s the help, Paul.” Paul is helped. He’s delivered. He’s free. He’s preaching. He’s full of faith. Who sees it? Lots of people see it. What do they do? Praise God. God has responded to our prayers, and the thanks go back to God, and he’s glorified. That’s the line of prayer. That’s what ought to be happening in this church again and again and again.

Many Prayers, Many Thanks

There are more lessons in this than I can begin to say this morning, but I want to mention two — two lessons from the line of prayer. The first is this. If you’re like me, you’ve probably asked yourself why it is that corporate prayer is important. Why pray in groups? Why pray publicly? Why not just close the door, like Jesus said — we should many times — and pray alone?

Why does Paul not simply pray, “God, save me from the enemies; God, fill me with faith” — and not write letters and tell other people to pray for him? Doesn’t he think God can answer his prayer? Is he lacking in faith? Are we weak in faith when we ask many people to pray for something?

That’s the kind of question I came to this text with, and I think the text gives a tremendous answer to why corporate and public prayer is so important. Why might God be more inclined to answer the prayers of many rather than the prayers of one? That’s my question.

And I think the answer begins like this: according to our text, the thing that’s different when many people pray — notice “the prayers of many” — is that the stage is being set for lots and lots and lots of thanks. The more people that are earnestly praying for some blessing from God, the more thanksgiving will ascend to God when that blessing comes.

Paul’s argument is very simply this: “You must help me by prayer so that many will give thanks when the prayers of many are answered.” The reason for praying at all is so God might be thanked when blessings come, and God loves to be thanked. God loves to be thanked. That’s the basic premise here for why this prayer becomes so effective. He loves to be acknowledged and praised as the giver of all good gifts.

Therefore, when we urge, when I urge you to pray for some need — four hundred people, say — I’m creating a situation in which the provision of that need will result in many, many, many thanksgivings, more than if each of us was praying privately.

“God loves to be thanked by many, and therefore, there is a power in church-wide prayer.”

And therefore, we tap into a tremendous incentive on God’s part, because God loves to glorify himself by doing what he must do to get as many thanks as possible, and that means answering the prayers of many people. God loves to be thanked by many, and therefore, there is a power in church-wide prayer because the more people there are praying for the spiritual life of our church, the more thanksgiving will ascend when God gives it.

Seeking Blessing Together

Now, the same reasoning that comes straight out of 2 Corinthians 1:11 also shows that we should not only pray in large numbers, but that we should get together in groups to pray. I’ll try to show you how that follows.

Picture two possibilities. One would be a dozen people, privately in their homes, praying for the release of Paul, say, from jail in Philippi. They pray. God answers and delivers Paul. They get word of it. They give thanks. God is honored. Great!

But suppose that those dozen or so people met together in a group, in a room, in a living room there in Philippi, just like the saints did in Acts 12 to pray for Peter’s release when he was in jail. Suppose they got together and prayed, and the fervor of each other’s prayer kindled each other’s fervor up to God. God released Paul miraculously through this earthquake, and they hear about it.

“When you and I experience a blessing that we’ve asked for together, your thanksgiving deepens and heightens mine.”

Then what would happen? The praises and the thanks would ascend, and is it not human nature — see if this isn’t true to your own experience — to feel gratitude more intensely when somebody you love is sharing the experience with you? Is that not human nature to feel the joy of gratitude more intensely when someone you love is feeling it together with you?

When you and I experience a blessing that we’ve asked for together, your thanksgiving deepens and heightens my thanksgiving, because it works like this: When the answer comes, I see the blessing coming from God. I see it, and I’m glad. I rejoice. But then I look down, and I see it reflected and magnified in all your faces, and my joy, therefore, is compounded, and my thanksgiving is greater. And God loves heightened and deepened thanksgiving, and therefore, he wants us to meet in groups to pray.

Therefore, we are setting ourselves up for tremendous spiritual blessing in this church when we gather in groups to seek God’s blessing on our church.

When Christians recite the Apostles’ Creed, we pay close attention to the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, and to Jesus Christ, his Son and our Lord. But of the third member of the Trinity, we say only, “I believe in the Holy Spirit.” Granted, later creeds and confessions have more to say about the Spirit, but most of these still tend to say much more about the Father and the Son.

Although some Christian traditions today focus more on the person and work of the Holy Spirit (for example, Pentecostalism and its developments), most Christians give much more attention to the Father and the Son. In the 1980s, two theologians even wrote a book called The Holy Spirit: Shy Member of the Trinity. Is the Holy Spirit really the “shy member of the Trinity”? How much attention should we give to him in our prayers, worship, and devotion? Does the Spirit even want our attention?

One with Father and Son

To begin to answer these questions, we have to admit that the Holy Spirit is often misunderstood. In fact, in a 2014 Ligonier survey, 50 percent of self-identified evangelicals said they think the Holy Spirit is more like a force than a person. I suspect those numbers have not improved in the years since. The Holy Spirit is not some kind of mystical power that mysteriously binds the universe together and helps Luke Skywalker move objects with his mind. Throughout the Bible, we see that the Holy Spirit is an active divine person, fully engaged in the mission of God in the world.

“The Holy Spirit is an active divine person, fully engaged in the mission of God in the world.”

As one of the three persons of the one God, the Spirit shares a single divine will with the Father and the Son. More than that, in a real sense, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit also share the same actions. When the Father acts, the Son and the Spirit act as well. This does not mean that the Father or the Spirit became incarnate, but it does mean that all three members of the Trinity operated in the incarnation. As Adonis Vidu puts it, they “share the same agency, and thus the same operations.” When we pray to the Father and he acts, the Son and the Spirit are acting with him.

Therefore, there is a sense in which we cannot separate worship and prayer to the Father and the Son from worship and prayer to the Spirit. Even still, the Gospel of John clearly speaks about the Son glorifying the Father (John 13:31; 17:1), and both the Father and the Spirit glorifying the Son (John 13:31; 16:14; 17:1). But who glorifies the Spirit? Just how much attention does he want?

God’s New-Covenant Gift

The Spirit’s mission in the plan of redemption is to point to Jesus. But this mission does not minimize the Spirit; rather, it again demonstrates the profound unity of the Godhead. Consider Jesus’s words about the Spirit in John 16:14: “He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”

Jesus is probably referring here to the inspiration of the New Testament, which would be largely written by his apostles. In other words, the New Testament tells us that the Spirit is the active agent who gives shape to the New Testament. Peter says that something similar happened in the Old Testament: “No prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Peter 1:21). The point in both texts is that the Holy Spirit is the primary agent and author of Scripture. This alone makes him worthy of our attention and adoration.

Not only should we give the Spirit attention because he is a member of the Trinity and he is the primary author of the Scriptures, but in our daily lives, God calls us to consciously depend on the Holy Spirit. If we are united by faith to Jesus, then we have received the gift of the Spirit (Acts 2:38). This is one reason the new covenant is so amazing: all the people of God get the gift of the Spirit so that all the people of God are equipped for God’s calling on us.

If you are a part of his people, you too will receive and display the work of the Spirit as he empowers you to accomplish his mission. To walk in daily obedience to our King Jesus, to love each other, and to come together as churches seeking to reach our neighbors and the nations is a miraculous work of the Spirit. Every Christian can lean into these truths — because we believe in the Holy Spirit, and we believe that under the new covenant, all of God’s people have been given the Spirit.

Seeking the Spirit’s Strength

We can see the transformative power of the Spirit more clearly in a text like Romans 8. In the first part of Romans 8, Paul writes, “God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh” (Romans 8:3). As a result of this work, we walk according to the Spirit and are not obligated to the flesh (Romans 8:12–15). We have the Spirit, so we are no longer enslaved to sin.

Paul continues, “If you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live” (Romans 8:13). The next verse describes putting to death the deeds of the body as being “led by the Spirit” (Romans 8:14). We follow the Spirit where he leads us, and he leads us toward conformity to the image of Jesus (Romans 8:29).

John Calvin said, “The advancement of every man in godliness is the secret work of the Spirit” (Institutes 3.24.13). But the Spirit’s secret work does not make us passive. Romans 8, and other texts like it, indicate that we can actively seek the help of the Holy Spirit as he sustains us and conforms us to the image of Jesus. We cannot be transformed into the image of Jesus if we do not consciously depend on the Spirit. So, it is right and good to ask the Holy Spirit to fill us and empower us to fight sin. We can ask him to transform us into the image of Jesus.

Proper Attention

Should we pray to the Holy Spirit? Absolutely. When we confess our belief in the Holy Spirit, we affirm his divine personhood and equality with the Father and the Son. We also confess that he gives power to every follower of Jesus to grow in Christlikeness, and so we can lean on him for daily, even moment-by-moment, help.

“We can pray to the Spirit, glorify him, and seek to be empowered by him.”

Even as we give attention to the Spirit, we should not forget John 16:14: the Spirit glorifies Jesus. Nor should we forget that Jesus teaches us to address “our Father” in prayer (Matthew 6:9). So, if we prayed exclusively to the Holy Spirit or talked only about glorifying the Spirit, this would not fit with the New Testament’s emphasis on the roles of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in the plan of redemption. We ought to pray often to the Father to transform us into the image of his Son. But even as we do so, we recognize that this prayer will not be answered apart from the work of the Spirit.

So, let’s give proper attention to the Holy Spirit. In this glorious new-covenant era, the Holy Spirit himself empowers us for Christ’s mission and transforms us into Christ’s image. We can pray to him, glorify him, and seek to be empowered by him.

Jesus did not come into this world to save isolated individuals scattered here and there. He came to gather to himself a new community — a new kind of community, a beautiful community, set apart by God’s grace, here in a world driven by idolatry and seething with rage.

Of course, Christianity is more than communal. It’s also personal. For example, in Psalm 23, David uses the first-person singular pronouns I, me, and my seventeen times in six verses. And Psalm 23 never uses we, us, and our. But who would accuse David of having written a narcissistic psalm? The gospel rightly leads us into a personal relationship with Jesus, for his glory, our salvation, and the good of others. If our Christianity is not deeply personal, then it is nominal, which is unreal and no good to anyone.

“Jesus is enough to pull people closer together than we would ever be without him.”

But what I’m emphasizing in this article is this: original, apostolic, authentic Christianity is, in the wisdom of God, richly communal. Our relational solidarity together is not an optional frill for extroverts. How dare we trivialize what Christ values? “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Ephesians 5:25). It’s our overt love for one another that makes him more visible in the world today (John 13:34–35). Jesus is enough to pull us closer together than we would ever be without him.

The Communion of Saints

The New Testament repeats and deepens this emphasis. We are “joined together” as “a holy temple” in the Lord, “being built together into a dwelling place for God” (Ephesians 2:21–22). Together we embody his kingdom counterculture, a radiant “city set on a hill” (Matthew 5:3–14). We are like the parts of a human body, vitally interconnected (1 Corinthians 12:12–13). I could go on and on.

No wonder, then, that the Apostles’ Creed teaches us to declare, as essential to Christian orthodoxy, “I believe in the holy catholic church, the communion of saints.” If we are not pressing more deeply into this sacred reality together, then our Christianity is not just deficient; it is defective.

Sometimes I wonder about us. What keeps our generation of serious-minded, Reformed Christians from a more life-giving experience of community? Does our wonder stop at the familiar doctrines we keep returning to? Maybe it’s just me, but the relational vitality of real Christianity seems underdeveloped among us. Where are the Calvinists who are known for prizing and nurturing and guarding and enjoying and spreading the relational glories of our shared life in Christ?

Are lasting, deep, and honest friendships included in what we really, really care about? Good preaching, yes. But beautiful community? I don’t know a single Christian anywhere opposed to it. But then I wonder why we often seem to be busier with other concerns.

God Is More Glorified in Us

The central theme of Christian Hedonism is wonderfully stated with words many of us know and respect: “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” So many of us embrace that vision, and we rejoice deeply in it.

“Christian Hedonism shines most brightly when it not only fills one heart but a whole room.”

But at a practical level, how does that bold conviction work best? We gain an insight when we focus on two words in there: us and we. Obviously, we wouldn’t be wrong to say, “God is most glorified in me when I am most satisfied in him.” But there is wisdom in articulating Christian Hedonism in terms of us and we. Consistent with the whole of authentic Christianity, Christian Hedonism shines most brightly when it fills not just one heart but a whole room.

Yes, delight in the Lord can be seen in me or in you as individuals. But it is seen more captivatingly in us together. When Christ is visible not only in you, and not only in me, but also in the relational dynamics between you and me, then we are more prophetic. Then we might compel the attention of our generation.

Where Weakness Belongs

Personally, I can’t imagine trying to walk this earthly path to glory except shoulder to shoulder with other fainthearted, weak-kneed stumblers like me. Here’s why. Sooner or later, we all discover that our hearts can go insane with impulses opposite to the gospel we revere.

And it isn’t preaching and books and articles alone that get us back on track. We need those helps, for sure. But a big part of our own theology is pointing us, over and over, toward the life and walk we can share together. How wonderful! It is so great not to be alone in our weakness and failures. God has mercifully located us in among his people, where aspiring Christian Hedonists who are sometimes lousy at Christian Hedonism still belong. Christian Hedonism doesn’t exist to keep the weak out; it exists to draw more sinners in — and keep them in, and keep them growing, by keeping them encouraged.

Here then is how all of us can grow. We come together, thanks to our God-given, grace-sustained belonging. We take it on faith, and we come on in. Then, again thanks to God’s grace, we dare to face our weakness. We dare to walk together in courageous honesty. Abstract ideals cannot help us, no matter how admirable they might be. But consistent honesty about our actual shortcomings does help.

Who Hears Your Confessions?

How do we start moving into that kind of community? James 5:16 leaps off the biblical page as a realistic path forward: “Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed.” That simple command raises a personal, practical question: To whom do I confess my sins?

Of course, if you and I are always fully glorifying God by being fully satisfied in him, then we don’t need James 5:16. But we do need it. We love Jesus, we delight in him, we long for him. He has won our hearts, way down deep. But sadly, we get complicated. Sometimes we get bored and “blah” with him, or restless to run from him, or proudly resentful toward him, and so forth. So much foolishness, so many contradictions, within! We are serious sinners. We are deeply flawed. We are pervasively weak. Aren’t we?

That is a big part of the reason Jesus put us in his church, where we’re all serious sinners, deeply flawed, pervasively weak. Let’s get real about it together, with concrete specifics, among the people we belong to in our own churches.

That We May Be Healed

I respect the realism of Martin Luther:

May a merciful God preserve me from a Christian Church in which everyone is a saint! I want to be and remain in the church and little flock of the fainthearted, the feeble and the ailing, who feel and recognize the wretchedness of their sins, who sigh and cry to God incessantly for comfort and help, who believe in the forgiveness of sins. (Luther’s Works, 22:55)

With Luther, we long for saintliness. But he understood that true saintliness gets traction in the fellowship of sinners who come out of hiding and start confessing. They live in James 5:16. It isn’t rocket science. It’s basically simple. We confess, we pray, and we start healing.
What chance does the holiness of Christian Hedonism have, then, if we hide our private failings while waving a public banner of theological correctness? Our own private willpower fails us. We need to get together, in our churches and small groups, and, with no coercion or shaming, come clean about how we aren’t living faithfully.

Then we can bow together. We can pray for one another. And the promise of Scripture is that we will experience healing, renewal, and joy, all to the glory of God.

John Piper is founder and teacher of desiringGod.org and chancellor of Bethlehem College & Seminary. For 33 years, he served as pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota. He is author of more than 50 books, including Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist and most recently Providence.

Audio Transcript

Good Monday morning, everyone. We have a big week on the podcast. First up, our inbox is full of emails asking whether or not it’s a good idea to dramatize Christ’s life for television. A listener named Jim asks it this way: “Dear Pastor John, hello, and thank you for this podcast. I’m wondering of the dangers and benefits of watching biblical historical fiction, particularly of television shows and movies about the life of Christ, of him acting and saying dramatized things beyond what we read in Scripture.”

One anonymous man writes to say, “Dear Pastor John, thank you for the podcast. It has been used by God to help me and my family here in Kazakhstan. I would like to know your thoughts on television shows and movies about the life of Christ. Are they helpful or unhelpful? What are your concerns?”

Sam, a church leader, wants to know the place of visuals, particularly screen dramatizations about the life of Christ. One recent show is “beloved by many” in his church, and he says, “I feel that it has enlivened my own walk with God and helped me imagine what Jesus’s world could have been like. This has the effect of making the world of the Bible more accessible to me. But imagination can only take you so far. Can we enjoy shows like this personally, even include them in a teaching context, without violating the second commandment?”

Another listener, Lisa, is less optimistic. She says television dramatizations of Christ’s life “don’t sit well with me.” As she considers Proverbs 30:6 and Revelation 22:18, she wonders if these dramas are “adding to or altering Scripture,” amounting to heresy. Pastor John, for these listeners, do you have any thoughts?

There is no way that I can avoid this question, because it touches on my life. For 25 years — and I still do it one way or the other — when I was a pastor at Bethlehem, every Christmas season, I created and read to the people in worship what we called “Advent poems,” one for each Sunday during advent. The poems took about ten minutes to read. They created a story built around a biblical character or biblical situation in which I invented persons, dialogue, and circumstances that were not in the Bible but were intended to clarify and confirm and intensify realities that are in the Bible, that the Bible itself teaches.

So, the question is not abstract for me. The question is, Was I doing something sinful? Was it wrong to create those poetic, imaginative expressions?

Safeguards Against Distortion

Let me mention the safeguards that I put in place to avoid the dangers of distorting Scripture or replacing Scripture or diminishing the authority of Scripture, and then I’ll give some positive reasons for why I think imaginative explanations and illustrations and representations of biblical truth are not only legitimate, but are even encouraged by the Bible.

Not Adding to Scripture

First, was I guilty of disobeying Proverbs 30:6 or Revelation 22:18, which says that we should not add to the words of God or to the prophecy of Scripture? No, I was not guilty of disobeying those Scriptures because those Scriptures forbid the presumption that one could add scripture to Scripture or prophecy to prophecy. Those texts are not condemning explanation and elucidation and illustration and representation of Scripture that make no claim in themselves to have any Scripture-level authority.

Those texts are condemning every attempt to use words or images or representations that claim to be on a par with Scripture. And in fact, I would say that the Roman Catholic Church is guilty of this error when it elevates the papal pronouncements ex cathedra to the level of infallible biblical authority. That’s my first safeguard.

Clearly Imaginative

Second, I made clear that the poems I was reading were not Scripture. I made it clear. They were not divinely inspired. They were not infallible. They were imaginative illustration, explanation, and representation of truth that I saw in the biblical text.

I made this distinction not only when reading poetry but when preaching. My preaching is not Scripture; it is based on Scripture. It uses language that is not in Scripture — all preaching does, all teaching does. It derives any authority that it has from the degree that it faithfully represents the reality put forth in the Bible. So it is with imaginative poetry — or drama, for that matter.

Consistent with Scripture

Third, I promised never to create any dialogue or any character or any circumstance that could not have happened in view of what the Bible actually teaches. In other words, even though I created things that were not in the Bible, nothing I created contradicted what was in the Bible. Everything had to be possible and plausible in view of what was in the Bible. Nothing was allowed to call Scripture into question.

Focused on Scripture

Fourth, I made every effort to draw attention and affection to the same reality in my poems that I saw in the Scripture itself. And fifth, I never replaced expository preaching with imaginative poetry.

In other words, I tried to make plain that God had ordained the expository preaching of his infallible word as central to congregational life and as the main corporate means by which God protects his word from distortion. Through every other form of representation, preaching stood. Preaching remained dominant and essential. And in my case, the sermon was never, not once in 33 years, intermingled with any kind of visual media. I think that’s a bad practice in preaching and is usually owing to a loss of confidence in the preached word to do its amazing work.

Biblical Warrant

Now, those are the safeguards that I put in place to keep from diminishing Scripture or distorting Scripture or replacing Scripture, but I think even more important is the fact that imaginative representations of biblical reality are warranted by Scripture itself.

“Imaginative representations of biblical reality are warranted by Scripture itself.”

Of course, in biblical times, nobody had ever heard of movies or videos, and so nothing directly is said in the Bible about them. But short of that, pointers to imaginative representations and drama are everywhere in the Bible.

Imaginative Language

First, the Bible itself uses imaginative language that creates pictures in our minds that are not the same as the reality being discussed, but that shed light on the reality by not being the reality itself. We call these metaphors or similes or word pictures or parables. For example, just listen to Jude 12–13 describing the false teachers and the troublemakers in the church:

These are hidden reefs at your love feasts, as they feast with you without fear, shepherds feeding themselves; waterless clouds, swept along by winds; fruitless trees in autumn, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up the foam of their shame; wandering stars, for whom the gloom of utter darkness has been reserved forever.

That’s amazing! He’s talking about human beings, bad people who are ruining the church. What does he do? He creates pictures in our brains with words like “hidden reefs,” “selfish shepherds,” “waterless clouds,” “fruitless trees,” “wild waves,” “wandering stars.” In other words, he tries to make plain one objective reality by comparing it to a very different reality.

Jesus did this with parables, didn’t he? “The kingdom of heaven is like . . .” — like a mustard seed, like leaven, like a treasure, like a merchant, like a net, like a master of a house, and on and on. Or consider the prophets like Zechariah. He sees a reality; he wants us to know the reality. How should he help us see and savor this reality? He says, “I see a measuring line” (Zechariah 2:1–5). “I see a lampstand” (Zechariah 4:1–3). “I see a flying scroll” (Zechariah 5:1–4). “I see a woman in a basket” (Zechariah 5:5–11).

“The job of the preacher or the poet or the teacher or the parent is to help others see and savor reality.”

The Bible does this kind of thing hundreds and hundreds of times. It’s the very nature of language to be different from the reality it points to. The word love is not the same as the reality of love. The word God is not the same as the reality of God. The word salvation is not the same as the reality of salvation. And once you realize that all language is pointing to reality, that the job of the preacher or the poet or the teacher or the parent is to help others see and savor reality, then you realize all the amazing and various potentials that language has.

Imaginative Action

Then there’s not just imaginative language, but there is imaginative action in the Bible — acted-out dramas of biblical reality. Jeremiah was told to make yoke bars and walk around with this heavy yoke on his shoulders to dramatize the yoke of Nebuchadnezzar on the people (Jeremiah 27:1–22). And Ezekiel was told by God to lie on his left side for 390 days to illustrate Israel’s years of punishment (Ezekiel 4:4–8). And then there’s poor Isaiah. God said, “My servant Isaiah has walked naked and barefoot for three years as a sign and a portent against Egypt and Cush” (Isaiah 20:3).

Pursuing Reality

So, my conclusion is that if we pause and ponder why the Bible itself employs so many imaginative means of explaining and illustrating and representing reality, we will see that the Bible itself:

offers us examples of truth-clarifying, truth-intensifying drama, poetry, language
encourages us to use language this way
protects us against distorting or replacing or diminishing Scripture

Life in the Spirit can feel ordinary at times. It really is one of Satan’s greatest feats.

If he cannot keep God from breaking in and reviving a once-dead soul, he will do what he can to downplay what has happened. He’ll seed thorns that disrupt our sense of safety and rest (2 Corinthians 12:7). He’ll try to veil the glory of God in us and around us (2 Corinthians 4:4). He’ll flood us with cares and riches and pleasures to distract us from spiritual reality (Luke 8:14). He’ll seize on any glimpse of sin: “See, you’re exactly who you were before” (Revelation 12:10).

Satan can convince us that a life invaded by the presence, help, and joy of God — by the Holy Spirit — isn’t really all that different from any other life. He convinces us to perceive and define our lives by what’s left of the curse, rather than by the inbreaking of the new creation.

Yes, life in the Spirit — for now — often feels ordinary. We eat and drink, work and sleep, toil and spin, and then do it all again tomorrow. But none of now is the same as it was, not even our morning coffee or our afternoon snack. “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). This glory doesn’t skip meals; it invades them. And who empowers us to eat and drink and do everything for the glory of God? The Spirit.

Now, we eat with the Spirit. Now, we drink with the Spirit. Now, we work and play and sleep in the Spirit. Now, we walk by the Spirit (Galatians 5:16). A normal day may feel ordinary, but below the surface of our perceptions, God is knitting together a new, miraculous, unfinished life in us — by his Spirit.

You Have the Spirit

Do you remember that, if you belong to Christ, the Spirit of God lives in you? He doesn’t hover above you waiting to help. He’s not waiting at a desk in heaven for you to call. He’s not patrolling neighborhoods looking for souls in need. No, when God delivered you from the prison of sin and death, he not only invited you into his presence and family, but he came to live in you. He made a home for himself in your weak, broken, and forgiven soul.

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple,” the apostle Paul asks, “and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?” (1 Corinthians 3:16). Do you know? Has the ordinariness of life made you forget? God is living in the ordinary, in your ordinary.

Paul writes in Romans 8:8–9, “Those who are in the flesh cannot please God. You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you.” Even if many aspects of your life stayed the same after you came to Christ — your family, your job, your neighborhood, your car, your wardrobe, even what you have for breakfast — something fundamental changed. Someone fundamental. God flooded every familiar and unremarkable corner of your life with God — with himself, with his Spirit.

Feel the force of Paul’s wonder as he repeats himself three times in just a few verses:

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you. . . . If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you. (Romans 8:9–11)

He’s captivated by a reality we often miss. God does not just love you, protect you, provide for you, and draw near to you; he dwells in you. He dwells in you. He dwells in you.

Making His Presence Felt

If we could see all that the Holy Spirit is working in us and through us, we would not yawn or groan over “ordinary” like we’re prone to. One day, we’ll have eyes and ears tuned to these miracles, but for now, we have to search for them — for him. But what do we look for?

We look for child-like dependence. Paul goes on to say in Romans 8, “You did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Romans 8:15–16). Whenever we reach out in faith to God as our Father — as someone who sovereignly loves and cares for us as his children — we do so by the Spirit. Do you have an impulse to pray when you feel tempted or weak or confused or discouraged? That impulse is not ordinary or natural; it’s a work of God.

We look for an awareness of spiritual reality. Anything you truly understand about God, his word, and his will are gifts of the Holy Spirit. Anyone can read God’s words and perhaps even make sense of the vocabulary and grammar and logic, but no one grasps the realities unless the Spirit moves. “Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God” (1 Corinthians 2:12). We will never fully comprehend all God has done for us in Christ, but what we do understand now, we understand because of what God has done for us in the Holy Spirit.

“Humans die in a thousand different ways, but sin dies in just one: by the Spirit.”

We look for rejected temptations and conquered sins. “If you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live” (Romans 8:13). Humans die in a thousand different ways, but sin dies in just one: by the Spirit. We may miss the power of these deaths because we assume, somewhere deep down, that we could overcome sin on our own — but we can’t and we don’t. If sin dies by our hand, it is only because our hand has become a mighty weapon in the hands of God himself.

We look for God-like love. The Holy Spirit doesn’t only weed out the remaining wickedness in us; he also plants and nurtures a garden of righteousness. The clearest evidence that he dwells in us is not the ugliness he removes, but the beauty he creates. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22–23). In other words, he makes us more like Christ. We look for love like his, joy like his, faithfulness like his. “We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image” — his image — “from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 3:18).

We look for specific giftings or insights that meet needs in the church. Everyone in whom the Spirit lives has been given abilities for the good of other believers. Paul says of the church, “Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of service, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who empowers them all in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good” (1 Corinthians 12:4–7). To each — not just some or many. If the Spirit lives in you, then to you too. So how has God recently met a specific need through you? When he does, he’s reminding you that he lives in you, by his Spirit.

Most of all, though, we look for love for Jesus. “No one can say ‘Jesus is Lord,’” Paul says, “except in the Holy Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:3). Of course, they can say it, but not with their heart — not with their faith, their joy, their hope, their love. Sustained love for Jesus only happens where the Spirit lives. Paul describes the same miracle in 2 Corinthians 4:6: “[God] has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” If we still love what we see when we look at Jesus, we see something only the Spirit could do in us.

“The clearest evidence that the Spirit dwells in us is not the ugliness he removes, but the beauty he creates.”

Do you see continued dependence on God in your life? Do you see any gifting from him, any victory over sin, any Christlike love or peace or joy? Do you still love what you see of Jesus? Then your ordinary isn’t as ordinary as you might think, because the Holy Spirit is alive and at work in you.

Prophecies of Paradise

As Christians, we have — yes, have — the Holy Spirit. “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God?” (1 Corinthians 6:19). We have the Holy Spirit now, but what we experience now is only a taste of what’s to come. The Spirit, Paul says, “is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it” (Ephesians 1:14). Guarantee, meaning there’s more.

Whatever good the Spirit does in each of us now is merely an appetizer of what he will do in all of us forever. The Spirit living in us in this world is a taste of what it will be like for us to live in his coming world. And, at the center of it all, we’ll find him. The Christ whose Spirit lives in us will be the Christ who lives with us.

Life in the Spirit feels mundane when we grow dull to miracles. Yes, we live and work and love among thorns and thistles for now, but we do so by the strength and wisdom of God — until the day when he makes glory our ordinary.