One recent early morning, I was reading Psalm 36 and savoring one of the sweetest doxologies in the Bible:

How precious is your steadfast love, O God!     The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.They feast on the abundance of your house,     and you give them drink from the river of your delights.For with you is the fountain of life;     in your light do we see light. (Psalm 36:7–9)

I love the way David stacks wonder upon wonder: the protection of God’s wings, the abundant feast in God’s house, the refreshing river of God’s delights, the fountain of God’s life.

But that last phrase stopped me in my tracks: “in your light do we see light.” It’s not as if I hadn’t noticed it before. I’ve loved the phrase for years. It’s as poetically beautiful as it is insightful. But that morning the profundity of it gripped me.

Just think about it for a moment: in your light do we see light. Do you know what David means? That’s what I asked myself. What is this “light”? And what is the corresponding darkness? And what light do we see in God’s light?

More than Meets the Eye

We know David is using natural sunlight as a metaphor for divine or spiritual light, an image used numerous times in Scripture — though it is also true to say that natural light is a kind of metaphorical representation of God, since he is the “true light” (John 1:9). Either way, when we ask what light is, natural or divine, we soon discover that it is not simple.

We think we know what light is until we’re forced to define it. If asked, we might be able to manage something like, “Natural light on earth is the electromagnetic radiance of the sun.” But beyond that, most of us would start stumbling about. The deeper science has delved into the nature of light, the more complexity we’ve discovered. There’s far more to light than meets the eye.

The same is true of divine light. The Bible describes it as the very radiance of God’s glory (see Revelation 21:23). If we’re asked to define this divine light, we might be able to manage (with John Piper’s help) something like, “The light of God’s glory is the radiance of ‘the infinite beauty and greatness of God’s manifold perfections.’” But again, beyond that, most of us would be hard pressed to give an articulate answer. There’s far more to God’s light than meets the spiritual “eye.”

But we know what light essentially does for us, both natural and divine.

Light and Life

In the natural realm, we depend on the sun’s light for illumination. Our physical bodies have eyes and therefore we need light to show us where we are and where we need to go. We also need it to help us see and avoid or evade the myriad dangers around us. We have good reason to have a natural fear of the dark, because it conceals those dangers. Darkness veils creatures, inanimate objects, and environments that can seriously injure or kill us. And in the dark, we don’t know the way to go.

“Spiritual light and life, like natural light and life, are woven inextricably together.”

But the sun also literally gives our bodies life. In order to survive, we eat plants that eat light, or we eat animals that eat plants that eat light. Our bodies also absorb vital nutrients directly from sunlight and would not be able to survive without the heating effect that this electromagnetic radiance produces.

So, natural light shows us the way we should go, reveals what’s true about our surroundings, and literally gives and sustains our bodily lives.

The same is true of the divine spiritual light David refers to in Psalm 36:9, the light that God is (1 John 1:5) and the light that God gives (Revelation 21:23–25) frequently described in Scripture:

Divine light shows us the way to go. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Psalm 119:105).
Divine light reveals what’s true about our spiritual surroundings. “The people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned” (Matthew 4:16).
Divine light literally gives us spiritual life: “God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Corinthians 4:6).

It is no accident that David paired “life” and “light” together in Psalm 36:9. For spiritual light and life, like natural light and life, are woven inextricably together.

Light that Is Darkness

David doesn’t explicitly mention “darkness” in Psalm 36, the spiritual counter to God’s light. But he opens the psalm with a description of it:

Transgression speaks to the wicked     deep in his heart;there is no fear of God     before his eyes.For he flatters himself in his own eyes.     that his iniquity cannot be found out and hated.The words of his mouth are trouble and deceit;     he has ceased to act wisely and do good.He plots trouble while on his bed;     he sets himself in a way that is not good;     he does not reject evil. (Psalm 36:1–4)

The darkness that concerns David is the “darkened foolish heart” (Romans 1:21) of “the wicked” whose mind “the god of this world has blinded” to keep him from seeing God’s light (2 Corinthians 4:3). And it is a terrible darkness. Here’s how Jesus describes it:

The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light, but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! (Matthew 6:22–23)

Part of what makes this darkness terrible is that it masquerades as light. You think you know where you are and where you’re going, but you don’t. You think you see what’s true about your spiritual surroundings, but you don’t. You think you are fully alive, but you aren’t. The light in you is darkness, and in this “light,” you don’t see light.

That is a great darkness.

Light of All Worlds

However, for all those dwelling in such darkness, there is incredibly good news. For Jesus, “the true light, which gives light to everyone, [came] into the world” precisely to dispel this great darkness (John 1:9). And he says,

I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. (John 8:12)

Read that again carefully. Now read this: “In him was life, and the life was the light of men” (John 1:4). What do you see? What you’re looking at when you look at Jesus is the incarnation of Psalm 36:9: “in your light do we see light.”

“Jesus is the light of life and the life of light. He embodies all that we know spiritual light is and does.”

Jesus is the light of life (John 8:12) and the life of light (John 1:4). He embodies all that we know spiritual light is and does. He is “the way” and shows us the way to go; he is “the truth” and reveals the truth of our spiritual surroundings; and he is “the life” and gives us life — he’s the light from which we derive our very life (John 14:6). And in his light, we not only see light, we become “light in the Lord” (Ephesians 5:8) and therefore become ourselves “the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14).

Jesus is the personified, incarnated “radiance of the glory of God” (Hebrews 1:3). He is the “true light” of this world, and he will be the true light of the world to come (Revelation 21:23). Which means Jesus is the true light of all worlds.

David would not have known all this when he wrote Psalm 36:9. But he knew God. He knew God was “the true light, which gives light to everyone” who believes in him (John 1:9). He knew that the darkness was great, but that God’s “light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). He knew God was the life-giving light of the world. And so out of his faith-filled, worshiping heart flowed this beautiful, profound, poetic doxology:

For with you is the fountain of life;     in your light do we see light.

Do you want to grow as a man of God?

Maybe you’re a new believer. Your character drastically differs from just a couple years ago, but you know you have a long way to go. Or maybe you’ve been a believer for a long time, but you’ve sensed yourself spiritually stagnating. You’d be hard pressed to point out a way you’ve made evident spiritual progress in the last year.

If either of those profiles fit you, this article, and its two goals, are for you. The first is to give you a new ambition, namely, becoming a man of God. The second is to give you some directions for the journey.

The “man” in “man of God” is deliberate; I’m speaking particularly to men. Much of what I’ll say also applies to women, but the next-to-last section zeroes in on a uniquely male calling.

First, here’s the new ambition. I want you, from now till the day you die, to make it your ambition to become a man of God. And I want that for you because God does. As Paul writes to Timothy, “Have nothing to do with irreverent, silly myths. Rather train yourself for godliness;
for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come” (1 Timothy 4:7–8).

Godliness is “of value in every way.” It is more valuable than physical strength or financial success. It is worth more than the thickest resume or the most coveted property. Godliness will, in the long run, make you happier than the satisfaction of any earthly desire.

So how can you get it? Here are six pieces of counsel.

Mind the Gap

First, mind the gap — that is, the gap between your character and God’s. And “gap” doesn’t even begin to cover it. More like “infinite chasm.” But God commands you to cross it: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy” (Leviticus 19:2; cf. 1 Peter 1:15–16).

Learn to see and evaluate your character in light of God’s. Hold Scripture before your eyes as a mirror to reveal what’s lacking in you but present in him, and what’s present in you but lacking in him. “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). What darkness is present in you? What light is missing? If you want specific benchmarks to measure yourself against, study the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7), the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–23), and the qualifications for elders (1 Timothy 3:1–7; Titus 1:5–9).

One good way to become more mindful of this gap is to seek out and study godly men. Who do you know who radiates more of God’s holiness and joy and love than you do? Get to know him. Get close to him. Find out how he has made the progress he has, and do what he does (more on models below). The gap between your character and his can help you see the infinitely greater gap between your character and God’s. But not only that: learning how a more godly man got more godly can power-assist your progress in godliness.

Mine New Motives

Real change comes from the heart. This requires (though is by no means limited to) a new set of motives for you to mine. In order to make any lasting progress in godliness, your chief motive must be to glorify God: “whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). Train your heart to love God’s glory more than your own, to love praising God more than receiving praise. Make it your ambition to please God in all you do (2 Corinthians 5:9).

In our theme verse, Paul promises that godliness is of value in every way. What is the value-added of godliness? What should motivate you to pursue it? Godliness gives you power greater than any physical prowess, technological reach, or military strength: “Whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city” (Proverbs 16:32). Godliness gives you a freedom that runs deeper than any other: freedom from tyranny of self and slavery to sin. As Jesus promises, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31–32). Godliness gives you contentment, which is greater gain than any stockpile of earthly treasure. “Godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world” (1 Timothy 6:6–7).

Do you want power or freedom or lasting, secure gain? You’ll find the best, and the only reliable, form of all of those goods in godliness. So, work to continually recalibrate your motives.

Form Transforming Habits

In order to do this, you need to form transforming habits, especially Scripture study, meditation, and prayer in private and with others. Donald Whitney’s book Spiritual Disciplines for the Christian Life is a practical, challenging guide to these, as is David Mathis’s Habits of Grace.

If you’re not in the habit of regularly communing with Jesus through time in his word and prayer, here’s how I’d encourage you to start. Whatever your morning schedule looks like, get up a little earlier, even just twenty or thirty minutes. Read something in Scripture — could be a Psalm or a chapter of Proverbs, could be the passage your pastor is going to preach the next Sunday — and find something to turn into prayer.

What in the passage can you praise God for? What sins in your life does the passage reveal? What reason does the passage give you to thank God? What does it teach you to ask God for? Turn Scripture reading into prayer and even a short time with Christ can become a regularly refueling engine of daily transformation into his character.

Get New Models

Everyone has models. Even if you don’t consciously admit it, styling yourself as an intrepid individualist, chances are there are men you strive to be like. Whether in matters personal or professional, superficial or substantive, there are men you know, or at least know of, that you want to be like. And if you haven’t been self-consciously striving for godliness for the past several years, then chances are, you need new models.

“Find the godliest men you can, get as close to them as you can, and learn as much from them as you can.”

So find the godliest men you can, get as close to them as you can, and learn as much from them as you can. That’s what the apostle Paul told the whole Philippian church to do: “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us” (Philippians 3:17). And again, “What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you” (Philippians 4:9).

Find Ways to Father

One nearly universal definition of manhood is to produce more than you consume (see, for instance Roy Baumeister, Is There Anything Good About Men?, 195). It’s easy to see how that works in an economic, material sense: to provide for a family, you need to earn more than you use. You must be a generator of surpluses. And working hard so as to provide for others is a basic biblical imperative that especially lands on men’s shoulders (1 Timothy 5:8).

But this shorthand definition of manhood — that you produce more than you consume — doesn’t just apply to bringing home bacon. It has deep spiritual relevance as well. We all have burdens, and we need help bearing them (Galatians 6:2). We all have limited wisdom, and so we all need counselors (Proverbs 24:6). But a spiritually productive man is one who is a net burden-bearer, and a net wisdom-dispenser, a net exporter to others of spiritual good and gain. So strive to be a spiritual producer. Strive to have your desires so under control, your heart so aligned with God’s will, and your mind so transformed by his word, that you store up a surplus of spiritual help that you can regularly share out with others.

“Fatherhood, both natural and spiritual, is the distinctive shape of masculine maturity.”

Another way to say this is, find ways to father. If you’re the father of children, train them in all God’s ways (Ephesians 6:4). If you’re unmarried and desire to be married, pursue the kind of holiness, competence, leadership ability, and maturity that will make you not only attractive husband material but ready and eager to be a father. Fatherhood, both natural and spiritual, is the distinctive shape of masculine maturity. A father provides and protects. What kind of man do you need to become in order to faithfully provide for and protect others in both material and spiritual ways?

Make Membership Matter

Finally, make membership matter — meaning church membership. The New Testament assumes that all Christians will belong to local gatherings of Christians that assemble regularly and are mutually, self-consciously committed to each other (for example, 1 Corinthians 5:1–13). I’m putting this last, but in some ways it really goes first.

Church membership is the crucial, formative context for these other five items that have come before. Finding, committing to, and throwing yourself into a gospel-preaching church is the best way to regularly expose yourself to the character of God, reminders of gospel motives for godliness, help in forming spiritually fruitful habits, godly models to follow, and opportunities to bear others’ burdens and build them up in love.

These six points are just a start, hopefully a jump-start, for the long, often difficult journey of growing more godly. But the good news about church membership is that, when you regularly gather with a body of believers who are committed to Christ and each other, every single Sunday is a fresh start. And fellowship with other godly men who are striving in the same direction can continually refresh your heart in your quest to be more like Christ.

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.

A line in the book of Job detained me: “The thing that I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me” (Job 3:25). The chief fear arrived. The one that kept him up at night found him. The worst to visit his imagination befell him.

As a result, he welcomes death, but it tarries. He sighs and moans in anguish, cursing the day of his birth (Job 3:1). Arrows from the Almighty sink into him; his spirit drinks their poison (Job 6:4). He finds no rest in the rubble (Job 7:4). His eyes search and see no good (Job 7:7). He loathes his life, and is glad not to live forever (Job 7:16).

Few things in life can lay us this low.

I imagine the dread that caught him was the death of his ten children. Of the few glimpses of him before his misery, we see his fatherly concern for them, continually offering sacrifices on their behalf. “It may be that my children have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts” (Job 1:5).

Perhaps he feared that he cared more about their sin than they did. Perhaps he now lay buried beneath sorrow because they very possibly died in unbelief. Regardless, this father of ten lost all his children in one day, and this horror strangled his will to go on.

In a World of Threat

What do you dread? What would have to happen for you to say, “What I have feared has come upon me”? Having your mother die of cancer? Never finding a spouse? Discovering your wife has committed adultery? Seeing your parents get divorced? Hearing the specialist say that your child will not have a normal life? Witnessing a child die apart from Christ?

Fears that I did not know as a single man have crept upon me: losing my wife, or one of our children. As a family man, I realize how much more vulnerable I am to new depths of pain. The drawbridge of my heart has lowered; calamities and despair have more inroads now.

“The line between my life and Job’s rests upon a spider’s web.”

The line between my life and Job’s rests upon a spider’s web. The worst case can arrive in countless ways. Car accidents, disease, a fall, a crash, a swallow, a moment’s lapse in judgment. Chaldeans do not need to raid and destroy; violent winds do not need to collapse the house to make me know Job’s anguish. A run into the street, a doctor’s phone call, a fall from the slide, a toy in the mouth can bring my world down — at any moment, in any place, by nearly any means.

Paralyzed with Peril

Before Job lived in a world of sorrow, he lived in the world of what if. . . “The thing that I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me” (Job 3:25). He dreaded before it came, feared before it actualized.

I do not wish to usher you into this world if you’ve never thought this way. But I know people who live in this world, one I am tempted to frequent more than before. A world where catastrophe lurks; a world that envelopes like quicksand: If I can just envision how my life could crumble, I think, maybe I prevent it, or at least inoculate myself against some of the sorrow.

The story of Job teaches us that neither works.

As he sits, cutting his boils with shards of pottery, his anguish reminds us that no degree of dread beforehand can avert our greatest fears. And imagining them beforehand does not ease the pain should they arrive. The anxiety, the fret, the darting eyes to and fro cannot do as we often hope. As Jesus asked, “Which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matthew 6:27) — or, he might add, to the lives of those we love?

Help for Panicked Hearts

How are we to go on living in a world where risks threaten us at every turn? I have found three answers from C.S. Lewis helpful to navigate through this dangerous and unpredictable world.

Writing amidst World War II — in a time when explosions demolished cities and citizens knew any day could be their last — C.S. Lewis answers the question, “How are we to live in an atomic age?”

Just as Your Ancestors Lived

Lewis begins,

“How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents. In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation.” (Essay Collection & Other Short Pieces, 361)

The first point in Lewis’s response is that we must not imagine that our situation is new. Horse-drawn carriages could be fatal, just as cars and buses can now. World pandemics are nothing new (and comparatively, we have been spared the severest plagues thus far). Worst-case scenarios struck then as they do today. The world has been menacing since the first day out of Eden.

This does not draw out all the venom, but it does take some of the isolation out of it. If we come to weep, we know that we join many already weeping. Other mothers have lost their precious sons, other husbands have lost wondrous wives. We are not alone. Peter reminds hurting Christians of this, writing: “Resist [Satan], firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world” (1 Peter 5:9). Your situation, though collapsing, is not singular to you.

Knowing Death Is Certain

In the second place, he reminds us what we all know but often don’t consider (especially in the West): Death, whenever it comes, will come.

Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors — anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world which already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty. (Ibid.)

Against all naturalistic explanations to the contrary, men die because men have sinned. The wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). The result of our sins, our greatest terror, will strike. Sin, not fate, tucks us in the grave. Iniquity digs our plots and gives our eulogy. As part of Adam’s lineage, we die.

Bad things are certain to come to us as Christians. The Bible never shies away from the fact. We are “heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him” (Romans 8:17). Fiery trials ought not surprise us (1 Peter 4:12). We are destined for affliction (1 Thessalonians 3:3). After Paul gets stoned so brutally that his attackers leave him for dead, he gets right back up and returns to the city, bruised and bloodied, “strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying that through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14:22).

Bad things are certain in this life, but we take heart, for the next life is also certain. In Christ we know that neither life nor death, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:37).

With Minds Set on Living

The third point Lewis makes is that we must not stop living, even in a world where so much has, can, and will go wrong.

This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things — praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts — not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds. (Ibid.)

“We must not stop living, even in a world where so much has, can, and will go wrong.”

If atomic bombs or Chaldeans or tornados or illness or accidents or injury or our worst-case scenario finds us, let it find us living — not curled up in a ball in the corner. Lewis called it “sensible human things.” Let calamity find us, if our all-wise Father deems it “necessary” (1 Peter 1:6), fully alive brimming with hope in God and love for people.

What we most fear may find us — whether we worry about it or not. But as Christians, we need not be anxious about our lives or obsess over every possible calamity. Our dread does not match the world’s dread (Isaiah 8:12–13); rather, we fear God and trust him. We live our lives in atomic ages — or any other — entrusting ourselves to a faithful Creator while doing good, testifying,

Through many dangers, toils, and snares,I have already come;‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,And grace will lead me home.

Audio Transcript

Happy Friday, everyone. We have a good one for you today, an episode that will answer a question we get all the time. Basically, it’s this: Is our salvation an event, or is our salvation a process? Are we saved in a moment, or are we saved in a series of unfolding events? We need to work that out with open Bibles.

The question comes to us from Andrew, a listener in Jonesboro, Arkansas. “Hello, Pastor John! My brother sends me questions frequently so we can discuss them. The most recent one from him comes from Colossians 1:21–23, where it seems as if Paul is saying that salvation is a process, not an event. The only reason I have an issue with this is because he seems to think this also indicates that the ‘once saved, always saved’ teaching is incorrect, since we aren’t actually once saved but are, more accurately, continually being saved as we continue in the faith. This seems contrary to the many verses that say salvation is by faith, not works. But I still cannot completely reconcile verses such as these in Colossians. What are your thoughts?”

Well, let’s read the text because we need to have the verses right there in front of us so that we can see what the real problem is for so many people. It goes like this:

And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard. (Colossians 1:21–23)

Event and Process

I think we need to make the problem worse before we make it better. Andrew says that “it looks like salvation is a process, not an event,” and that this is what creates the problem of the possible loss of salvation. But actually, salvation is an event and is a process.

Salvation — that word salvation and the reality behind it — is the really big, all-encompassing word in Scripture. It includes election, predestination, redemption, propitiation, divine calling, regeneration, reconciliation, forgiveness, adoption, sanctification, and glorification. I mean, it is a big, glorious word. All of those events and processes — some are events and some are processes — are involved in how God saves us forever, and all of them are essential.

“We have been, we are being, and we will be saved.”

So, Paul says in Ephesians 2:8, “You have been saved.” And he says in 1 Corinthians 1:18, “to us who are being saved.” And he says in Romans 13:11, “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.” So, we have been, we are being, and we will be saved — event and process forever.

God’s People Will Persevere

But that’s not what makes this text look like salvation can be lost. What makes it look like salvation can be lost is that big daunting word if in verse 23. “You . . . he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death . . . if indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel.”

This is what makes so many people think, “Wow, if our present condition of being reconciled and saved and justified and regenerated — if our present condition is contingent, dependent, on our persevering or continuing in faith, then it must be true that we can lose our salvation. Or why else would there be a condition?” Now, that inference, that conclusion from the text is false. That’s not a true inference from this text. But it’s not false because there’s no condition — there really is a condition for perseverance. One must persevere.

The text says we have been reconciled if we continue in the faith. That’s a real condition. If we don’t continue in the faith — that is, if we throw away the faith, renounce Jesus Christ, turn against him and his truth, never repent — we’ll perish. That’s what John says in 1 John 2:19 about those who fall away. Here’s the absolutely crucial thing that he says: “They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would have continued with us. But they went out, that it might become plain that they all are not of us.”

Two crucial things are made clear in that text. First, if we don’t persevere in faith, we were never truly of God and of the people of God — never born of God. “They went out, that it might become plain that they all are not of us” — of God, of the new birth. That is, they are not born of God.

Second, if we are born of God, he says, we will persevere. We will. “If they had been of us” — that is, among those who are born of God — “they would have continued with us.” So there’s no thought of losing salvation, no thought of being born again and then being unborn again, being justified and then being unjustified, having eternal life and then it turns out it’s not eternal after all. So the question becomes, How can there be a condition in Colossians 1:23 if you can’t lose your reconciliation? How can Paul say you have been reconciled if you persevere?

Kept Through All Conditions

And the answer is that God uses such warnings to cause his children to persevere, and he secures their perseverance, he guarantees it, by his faithfulness to keep us in the faith. The Bible plainly teaches that all of those who are truly born again will in fact be saved. They will meet the condition.

“All the predestined are called, all the called are justified, all the justified are glorified — no dropouts.”

Consider just three passages. So here’s Romans 8:30. I think this is the most important. “Those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.” This is an unbroken chain of salvation. All the predestined are called, all the called are justified, all the justified are glorified — no dropouts. Eternal security of God’s predestined ones is a biblical truth.

Here’s 1 Corinthians 1:8–9, to see where it really rests, where that security rests: “[Jesus] will sustain you to the end, guiltless in the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” So, the issue is, is God a promise keeper? Is he faithful?

And here’s Philippians 1:6: “I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” So, what makes us eternally secure in Christ is not that there are no conditions or that salvation is not a process, not a fight to be fought and a race to be run — it is. There are conditions: “If indeed you continue in the faith, stable and steadfast . . .” (Colossians 1:23). What makes us eternally secure is the sovereign, keeping faithfulness of God.

Peter puts it like this in 1 Peter 1:5: “. . . who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” In other words, God’s power sustains our faith so that we persevere and inherit what has been promised to us. And here’s the way Hebrews 3:14 says it: “We have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original confidence firm to the end.” In other words, perseverance shows that our original union with Christ was real.

And here’s the most beautiful promise of all about God’s keeping his own people:

Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. (Jude 24–25)

God Will Keep Us to the End

So, yes, yes, yes, salvation is an event and a process. Salvation is conditional upon perseverance. Nevertheless — and it’s an absolutely glorious nevertheless — it is completely certain for God’s predestined, called, justified, believing children.

Therefore, all the warnings like this one, all the warnings of the New Testament, are to be taken seriously because God uses them to keep his children vigilant in the fight of faith. We are found to be secure by how seriously we take all the promises and all the warnings of Scripture.

I met my future mother-in-law when I was barely 17 years old. Barb was warm and welcoming, and I instantly liked her. As a brand-new Christian, Barb was a mentor to me and someone I looked up to.

But once I was engaged to her son, tensions emerged. Ben and I had unique offers in different states, with a scholarship that was enticing. Barb suggested we wait another year to make the most of the opportunities. But Ben and I couldn’t fathom being separated for another year and were willing to forgo the financial benefits to be together. It was my first realization that Barb and I might not always see things eye-to-eye.

When she and my father-in-law announced they’d be moving to South Africa just after our wedding, we were excited for them. They were following the Lord’s call on their life. I didn’t give much thought to how the distance would affect our budding relationship. We all were Christians, so everything should be good, right? I was so busy starting my new marriage and career, that building a relationship with my overseas mother-in-law wasn’t at the top of my list.

In hindsight, I wish I would have spent more intentional time cultivating that new relationship — as difficult as it was before the era of cell phones and video calls. The distance between us created a chasm that left us both on the outskirts of each other’s lives — especially through graduations, moves, and a new pregnancy.

Our first visit together after my in-law’s overseas move revealed that the relationship might not click as naturally as I had assumed. Conversations were surfacy, with deeper heart issues unshared. Expectations over holidays and extended family visits felt weighty. How many misunderstandings could have been avoided if I had carved out more time to really get to know Barb?

Notoriously Challenging Love

The mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship is notoriously difficult. From sitcoms on television, to mother-in-law jokes, to Rebekah complaining to Isaac about her Hittite daughter-in-law (Genesis 27:46), we consistently see conflict, strife, and division.

The irony here, of course, is that both of these women love the same man. The son of one has become the husband of the other. Now two women have a vested interest in how this man spends his time and money, where he lives and how he raises his children. Will he carry on what his mother so lovingly imparted to him? Or will he choose to forge a new path with the wife of his youth?

The marriage relationship binds us together in a new family, whether we like it or not. Maybe you’re delighted with the mother-in-law God has given you. You easily connect and have formed a friendship. Or maybe your relationship with your in-law is the most difficult relationship you have. There’s been a pattern of hurt and offense that seems impossible to repair.

Is there hope for a relationship that has so much water under the bridge?

Women Chosen for Each Other

Your mother-in-law may be far from the ideal person you’ve imagined, but she is the mother of the man you love and chose above all others. She is God’s hand-picked choice to be your mother-in-law. The ties that bind you are likely the strongest earthly relationships you will have — marriage, children, grandchildren.

“Your mother-in-law is God’s hand-picked choice to be your mother-in-law.”

Some might read what I’ve said so far and still wonder if a relationship with your mother-in-law is even necessary. Can’t it suffice to talk “through” the man in the middle and just see each other at holidays? After all, you have your own family now and are busy raising children and creating new traditions. But that in-law relationship is more important than you might think. And can yield surprising fruit as we seek to honor God as we move towards, and not away from, our mother-in-law.

Here are five reasons that pursuing a relationship with your mother-in-law is worth the (sometimes serious) investment it requires.

1. Love her to love your husband.

Daughters-in-law can create unnecessary tension in their own marriages by complaining about or criticizing their mother-in-law to their husband.

Not that there is never a valid reason to talk through a concern with your husband, but what is the tone that you use? Is it one of respect and kindness? After all, she is the one who gave birth to your husband, who fed him, nurtured him, drove him to school and endless practices, and perhaps has prayed for him more than anyone else in the world. Even if your husband and his mom don’t have a great relationship, she still deserves honor as the woman God placed in his life, and now yours.

Speaking well of your mother-in-law will help to promote harmony in the family, instead of creating division by forcing your husband to choose sides. Spending time with her shows that you value the place she has in your family’s life. In effect, we show love to our husbands and strengthen our own marriages when we joyfully invest in a relationship with our mother-in-law.

2. Love her to experience and express the costly love of Christ.

As selfish sinners by nature, we’re bound to have conflict with our mothers-in-law. We both have our ideal plans for vacation, or for the holidays, or for the way the kids (or grandkids) will be educated. Often times this leads to tension in the relationship. Or maybe the relationship has been tense from day one. Maybe even your husband has a strained relationship with his mom.

No matter the cause, by the power of the indwelling Spirit, we can show love and grace even at the worst moments. When we’re hurt, we can choose to guard our tongues instead of saying a biting remark in response (Psalm 141:3). We pattern ourselves after our merciful Savior, who freely offered us forgiveness and acceptance at the cross. When we were his enemies, Christ died for us! By his grace, we can move towards a difficult mother-in-law in love, freely forgiving the wounds inflicted, without bitterness. And we can ask God to search our own hearts for any sin that added to the tension (Psalm 139:23).

3. Love her to obey God.

In Exodus 20:12, the fifth commandment, God tells us to honor our mother and father. Even though your mother-in-law is not your own mother, she’s still the mother of your husband. And since we become one with our husband in marriage, she should be honored as if she were our own mother.

As a follower of Christ, we are not only to honor our parents, but we are to honor all people (1 Peter 2:17), because every one we know was made in the image of God. We’re not given an “out” if our mother-in-law is abrasive or our personalities clash. Instead we’re to rely on the all-sufficient grace of God to love and honor the mother of our beloved husband (2 Corinthians 12:9). This really is pleasing to the Lord.

4. Love her to find unexpected joy, peace, and friendship.

As we seek to honor our mother-in-law by intentionally seeking her out, looking for ways to love her well, we can trust God to give us joy and peace.

“God will be faithful to give us the grace we need to navigate the turbulent waters of family relationships.”

As we seek to be a peacemaker, we look for ways to honor her preferences — maybe it’s a phone call to catch up instead of text messages, or creating space in the calendar for a family dinner. As we warmly welcome this new mother into our lives, God will be faithful to give us the grace we need to navigate the turbulent waters of family relationships. He will be glorified as we lean into him to keep loving and pursuing our mother-in-law.

And you might be surprised that in the process of building your relationship, you gain a new friend!

5. Love her to become more like Jesus.

As we seek to know and love our mother-in-law, no matter what awkward family circumstances have occurred, God will mold and conform us into the image of Christ.

God will give us patience when we’re at the end of our rope. He’ll give us grace to forgive the hurtful comment. We can trust that God is using our in-law conflicts as a way to test our faith, produce perseverance, and mature us into the woman he means for us to be (James 1:2–4). He will enable our imperfect selves to rely on a perfect God for the grace to keep moving towards our mother-in-law, rather than away from her.

Twenty-two years after I said, “I do”, God has been gracious to redeem years that might have been more fruitful in my relationship with Barb. Even though Barb and I are far from having done everything “right,” I’m grateful that we persevered through hard times to a place where we have greater love and appreciation for each other. She has walked alongside me through numerous moves, babies being born, and church conflict. Her listening ear and tangible support have been a gift.

I’m grateful not only to call Barb my mother-in-law, but also a dear friend.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15054380/the-sweet-experience-of-fearing-christ

I love being a Christian.

I mean, I love Jesus, but I love all the rest of it too: brunch after church with friends and hylomorphism and late-night Eucharist on Christmas Eve and C.S. Lewis and John Donne and Charles De Koninck. I love Durham Cathedral and the Aksum Empire and Neoplatonism and canon law and candles and martyrs who chose death over denial and countless little communes of monks and Anabaptists and Puritans and Methodists and charismatics who read Acts 2 and 4 and decided to just go ahead and do it.

I love knowing that nothing good will be lost and there are no ordinary people and death has been killed. I love sacred Scripture mysteriously breathed by God through the words of men and that our God and King gave us his body to eat and his blood to drink.

And I also think it’s true, so there’s that.

But there have been times I have found belief to be almost unbearable. And I’ve met enough people who have shared this particular difficulty that my story might be worth sharing.

Walk Away, or Pray for Faith

I was baptized at 16, but didn’t become serious about following Jesus until grad school. And then for the next decade or so, I went through . . . call them “crises.” Times I couldn’t stop thinking, obsessively ruminating on certain things — two in particular.

First: If Calvinism was right, as I then understood it, how could I understand that God is good? Second: How can I live in a world where people I love may be going to hell?

These circling thoughts left me exhausted over my own attempts to make sense of everything, and with a grief-fueled nostalgia for the time when, as a secular person, I didn’t worry about any of this stuff. I felt alienated from non-Christians and even from Christians who didn’t share my intensity and anguish.

During some of my worst moments, I felt like I was presented with a choice: you can cease believing, or you can pray for faith. Ceasing to believe didn’t feel like a choice that would change reality. It felt like choosing to somehow sit on the sidelines, to become a non-player character. Yet apostasy did seem to offer me the psychological comfort of escape.

I prayed for faith.

Obsessive Moral Threats

I’m not sure when I first heard the word scrupulosity. At some point, I probably googled “religious OCD,” which is more or less what it is. And I was very familiar with OCD.

Around age 12, I was diagnosed with “obsessive-compulsive disorder.” If you’re unfamiliar with OCD, it makes threats that feel moral. You feel like you’re both morally wrong and physically unsafe, and what will put you morally and physically right again is obsessively performing various rituals (you’ve heard them: handwashing, not stepping on cracks, etc.). Often, what you care about most is what the disorder “chooses” to threaten you about: “wash your hands just right or your child will die, and it will be your fault.” That kind of thing.

Most people with this disorder are not delusional. They know the threat isn’t real, that it’s irrational, which often makes the disorder profoundly embarrassing. “Don’t mind me, just going to, um . . . wash my hands seven times and then turn off the tap with the backs of my hands, because . . . well, you go ahead and start dinner.”

I ended up receiving various kinds of treatments (medication, cognitive behavioral therapy), which helped enormously. And by the time I was out of high school, my OCD was pretty much dealt with. It proved to be a weird blessing in my life to have experienced this before my adult conversion, unrelated to Christianity.

After college, I started spending time with people who actually believed that Jesus was not at all dead. And then I found that I actually believed that too. And the stakes in life suddenly became much higher.

Enter Scrupulosity

Conversion is always disorienting. But God gave me time to work through the normal confusions of new Christianity: the sense that there is nothing one can hold back; the realization that God makes no guarantees that you won’t, for example, eventually be martyred; all the normal pricks of an awakened conscience; all the joy and amazement that first Christmas when the carols you’ve sung your whole life suddenly come alive and blaze with glory.

Then, sometime within the first two years, I had my first major bout of scrupulosity.

Like OCD, scrupulosity produces an irrational sense that one is in profound danger and has a bad conscience. It’s confusing because it can overlap with one’s “real conscience” and real fear of hell, but it’s distinct enough to recognize once you get to know it. I could discern something “off” about it. It wasn’t “what reality is like,” “what being a sinner and having a bad conscience is like,” or “what Christianity is like.”

Being curious by nature, and also a nerd when it comes to history and historical theology, I started digging and discovered that scrupulosity is a spiritual malady that has caused pastors to say, “Oy, not this again,” for about two thousand years. It’s also a neurological, OCD-related condition that can be treated on that basis. In fact, confessors, spiritual directors, and pastors have been using tools similar to cognitive behavioral therapy for a good portion of church history — long before medications provided additional treatment options.

Christians’ Doubting Disease

There are two pretty distinct versions of scrupulosity. There’s the one that resembles “classic” OCD, which leads sufferers to obsessively perform rituals, like prayer (“If I don’t say these exact words with exactly the right feelings, they won’t count”) or confession (Luther’s poor confessor!) in order to feel like they’ve gotten it “right.” And then there’s the delightful experience of repetitive, racing thoughts, obsessively ruminating over theological questions, which one feels like one must resolve in order to be at peace. Neither makes for a particularly good time. But in my experience, the ruminations are the real bear.

OCD has been called the “doubting disease.” Did I really lock the door? I think I did. I remember doing it. But if I did, why do I doubt so profoundly that I did? Why do I feel in danger? Better check. In other words, subjective uncertainty presents itself as something to pay attention to, something that gives good information.

Now imagine how difficult it might be for those dealing with this disorder to evaluate their subjective assurance of salvation, which in some Christian traditions has been viewed as a necessary mark of true salvation. If one must sit on the “anxious bench” until one receives assurance, a person with an unaddressed scrupulosity disorder can sit there for a long, long time.

As I said earlier, questions I found myself obsessively ruminating over included “Does God want everyone to be saved?” “How can I trust that he wants me to be saved?” The questions can get very refined indeed: “If Calvinistic monergism is true, is God good? Is ‘good’ meant equivocally or analogically when we predicate it of God? Are you sure? But are you sure? How about ‘love’? Better think about this for five hours in the middle of the night to try to solve it.” My scrupulosity demanded that I give attention to these subjective uncertainties until I had subjective certainty, the kind that doesn’t come like that. And during the darkest seasons of such ruminating, I was tempted with apostasy as a palliative for my psychological pain.

But I prayed for faith.

Living with a Trustworthy God

I know this might sound simplistic at first, but one of the most helpful things for me has been simply learning to trust God more. I don’t mean “trusting God” as some immediate mental choice in moments of struggle, though it is that too. Rather, I just mean living with him as my King for longer, and learning that he is trustworthy and that I don’t need to get answers to all my theological questions before I am able to rest in that.

“God’s character is one thing we do not need to doubt.”

In non-religious OCD, one learns to talk back to one’s mind: “Yes, I know you are subjectively uncertain, but that has nothing to do with reality.” As a Christian with religious scrupulosity, I do the same. And more, I’ve learned to get out of my own head. I have a kind of mental box, Susannah’s Big Box of Unanswered Theological Questions. I’ve found it incredibly helpful to realize it’s okay to have such a box, and that there will be items in it until I see God face to face, and probably afterward. The fact that we don’t see how all the data points of Scripture and experience and tradition fit rationally together should not for a moment cause us to discount the data points we do have about God’s character. His character is one thing we do not need to doubt.

In my worst episodes, I didn’t really doubt the truth of the Scriptures. In a sense, that was part of the problem: scary passages felt like chains binding me, guns pointed at my head. But it also meant I could hang on to the passages of God’s unequivocal grace. “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). “The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made” (Psalm 145:9). There is nothing original that I can offer here: these are uncompromising promises about God’s character and his love of each of us, and of those we love. I held on to these white-knuckled. And then, gradually, I realized that I didn’t need to hold on that tightly, because I was being held.

Out of the Pit

If you’re wondering whether you or someone you know might be suffering with scrupulosity, it can really help, first, to know that it is a thing. It’s a real neurological disorder, and there are many online resources available from credible medical and Christian ministry sources to begin understanding how it works and how to pursue diagnosis and treatment. It’s also an old thing. I found help reading memoirs and anecdotes of saints from the past who have suffered very similar experiences, like St. Therese of Lisieux, St. Ignatius, or John Bunyan.

“When your own thoughts are a trap, you cannot just think your way out of it. You need the help of others.”

It’s also important that you don’t attempt to figure it out alone. Doubt, anxiety, and fear are common human maladies (Philippians 4:6–7; Hebrews 13:6; James 1:5–8). And of course, some anxiety is good (2 Corinthians 11:28), and some fears are real (Luke 12:5). We all fall somewhere on a spectrum with many kinds of mental distress, so discerning what’s “normal” and “abnormal” can be tricky. A good place to start is talking with your pastor, if possible, and/or trusted, wise counselors (particularly those with some familiarity with scrupulosity). When your own thoughts are a trap, you cannot just think your way out of it. You need the help of others, ideally professionals.

And if you feel tormented by scrupulosity’s obsessive ruminations, and tempted by the psychological comfort that apostasy seems to offer: take the leap. In the face of that choice, pray for the grace of faith to be given to you in abundance. And then throw the whole kit and caboodle, every means of grace, at this thing: prayer, Scripture, saints around you, ancient saints, SSRIs, cognitive behavioral therapy, all of it.

I also say this: dare to hope that you will be okay again one day, that you will again find “joy and peace in believing” (Romans 15:13). God, as it happens, is patient. He is also analogically, though not univocally, good and loving. And the ways in which his patience and goodness and love are not univocally identical to ours, his are more so. Always more, not less.

Audio Transcript

Nearly thirty years ago, Pastor John delivered a lecture series on biblical manhood and womanhood. The relevance of the series you are about to hear for yourself. It was 1993. He was speaking to college students in Dayton, Tennessee. I only recently listened to this series. Today, we feature a clip from part four, brought to our attention by a couple, David and Katharina, who listen to APJ in Germany.

Katharina wrote us to say, “The other week, my husband and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary” — congratulations to you both — “and we went away for a weekend to refocus — reflecting on the year past, and planning for the year ahead. We wanted to listen to a sermon series to give us something to think about and ponder, and this time we picked Pastor John’s lecture series called ‘Manhood, Womanhood, and God,’ a series from 1993, almost three decades ago!”

Well, thank you for the prompt. Katharina drew our attention to part 4, titled, “Lovers of Truth in a Politically Correct and Gender-Leveling World.” She sent this clip, on political correctness, where Pastor John gives examples of slogans in his day — Orwellian slogans used to bias interpretation. The following audio is not perfect, but the point is so relevant, it’s worth a listen. Here’s Pastor John in 1993.

Let me read you a text from the teachings of Jesus that is a clarion call to you this morning to be courageous in speaking unpopular things. This comes from Matthew 10:24–25:

A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household.

In other words, expect to be maligned in the world. Don’t assume, when you are called a name, that you’ve suddenly made a big mistake and have said something inappropriate. “Oh, I must go back and find another way to say it so they won’t malign me.” It says you’re going to be maligned. They spit on him. They crowned him with thorns. They called him names. They laughed him to scorn. Shall we be above our teacher? That’s the point here.

Expect Hostility

So have no fear of them, for nothing is covered that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known. What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops. And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. (Matthew 10:26–31)

Now, the point of that text is unmistakably clear because of the threefold repetition of the command. Verse 26: “Have no fear of them.” Verse 28: “Do not fear those who kill the body.” Verse 31: “Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”

Jesus does not want any of you to be afraid. And the issue about fear here is what comes out of your mouth. He is asking you to speak clearly — that is, in the light, and forthrightly, and publicly (“on the housetops”) — things that will get you killed. Before your life is over, it is in all likelihood that you will be in jail for saying some of the things that I’ve said in this room in these past two days, or if not in jail, you will be the victim of random violence from certain communities in society. One of our pastors was shot at on the way home from church last Sunday night, just random, out of the towers across the street from the church. He heard the bullet go zing! and hit the ground beside him.

“I want you to be unafraid, in spite of what it’s going to cost you, to say things that are unpopular or dangerous.”

Now we have no idea. What was this? Why is this person doing this? Was it intentional? Police don’t have anything to say about it, but that doesn’t surprise me at all. Our church is known for a few controversial things. There are people who live in those towers who don’t like what we say. Guns are easily available. Some of them are not mentally stable. Now, if you decide, “Oh, I’m not going to live in a place like that — no way,” what are you? Who’s your master? What is this? Are you American, or are you Christian? Do you choose your house for safety, or do you choose your house for ministry? Jesus is real clear here: Be courageous. Be fearless. So, I want you to be unafraid this morning, in spite of what it’s going to cost you, to say things that are unpopular or dangerous.

Mature in Thinking

Now, in order to do that, you need to really exploit your time here at Bryan to become strong in the truth and strong in the word. “Brothers, do not be children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature,” Paul says in 1 Corinthians 14:20. He wants you to use this time here at Bryan to grow more and more mature in your thinking, to send your roots deeper and deeper into the objective evidences of God’s truth, so that when you walk out of this place and scatter all over the nation and around the world, you go with a profound conviction about a few things in the world. You will always see through a glass darkly. You will never be totally comprehensive and have all the knowledge that God has. But there are a few things that you will know.

Let me give you some examples, now, of the kind of thing I think you need to be really shrewd about. I called this talk “Lovers of Truth in a Politically Correct and Gender-Leveling World,” because I’ve lived now in Minneapolis in these past couple of years, watching the way language is so manipulated by politically correct people to get their ideas into students’ minds by circumventing reasoned argument and using clever language.

Just a few examples. My son goes to high school in Minneapolis, and I go down there sometimes to see him or to do whatever. I went down a year ago and saw two posters. They were over every doorway leading to the stairwells, so every student had to pass under these posters. They were school-sanctioned posters — and they were politically correct, and they were gender-leveling and homosexuality-endorsing. But the way they did it was oblique, and remarkably shrewd, and clever, the kind of thing that students by and large in the ninth through the twelfth grades have not been trained to discern, and spot, and unpack, and make distinctions. That’s why you are here, to learn to do that.

‘One in Ten Gay’

Here was one of them — a big, beautiful poster with color, a rainbow kind of decoration: “One in ten people are gay, lesbian, or bisexual. They could be your brother, sister, parent, or friend.” That’s all the poster said. What’s that? What’s that message? It’s crafted in such a way so that if a parent went into a principal and said, “I don’t like that,” they’d say, “Well, what don’t you like about it? It doesn’t teach anything.”

Well, there are several problems with that simple little quote. Number one, the statistic is inflated — 10 percent. What’s the point of that? The point is to create a feeling in these students, “My goodness, every tenth person in the hall is gay!” And that is the feeling they want to create, because once you feel that, you have to say, “It just can’t be as bad as I feel it is. Something must be wrong with me.” That’s the thought.

Now, it’s inflated; the numbers aren’t 10 percent. No, the National Center for Health Statistics says 3, William Simon and the Kinsey Institute say 2 to 3, the Chicago study recently says 1 percent, maybe. Nobody knows for sure. But 10 percent was one of those inflated figures.

Then here’s the second thing wrong with it. There was no moral assessment of the behavior. It’s an emotional appeal. Your parent might be gay or bisexual. Now, when that thought enters a ninth grader’s mind — “My daddy might be a bisexual” — what’s he supposed to do with that? No teaching. No standards. Just the thought sown in the kid’s brain. I’ll tell you, what happens is that he might say, “It just can’t be,” but if it keeps coming back, he’ll say, “Well, if it were, he’s okay, and it must be okay.” And so you reduce the whole moral dimension of something being right or wrong. This is politically correct manipulation of language, to put ideas into minds by short-circuiting clear, critical thinking. And it happens in every newspaper almost every day, and on almost every television advertisement, and virtually all kinds of media efforts.

‘Respect Sees No . . .’

Here was the other poster. It was even more tricky, shorter. The poster said, “Respect sees no color, gender, sexual orientation, religion, disability.” That’s all it said. How could you complain about that? What do you have against respect? What are you, homophobic? What are you, against disabled people?

All on the Same Level

There are several problems with it. One is that it puts homosexuality in the same category with sexuality. Gender and sexual orientation are side-by-side. Respect sees no sexual orientation, and respect sees no gender, and no color. So, once you’ve got sexual orientation listed beside whether you’re male or female, and whether you’re black or white, then you can’t feel any more strongly about this distinction than you can about these distinctions.

Nobody feels that it’s right or wrong to act black or act white. Nobody feels that it’s right or wrong for a woman to act like a woman and a man to act like a man. And therefore, obviously, nobody should feel that it’s right or wrong for a person who has a homosexual orientation to act that way — and one who has a heterosexual orientation to act that way.

That’s the message of the poster. As soon as you line up those things without any distinction — gender, color, religion, sexual orientation — you’ve told the students, “Treat them on the same level.” They’re not on the same level. To be a male or a female is a holy and good thing created by God, and endorsed by God, and in God’s image. To act out a homosexual orientation and to act out a heterosexual orientation are profoundly different than that category. That’s the first problem.

No Positive Foundation

The second problem is the statement, “Respect sees no . . .” All that the public schools can do, since they have forsaken almost all — where I live anyway. I don’t know where it is where you are down here. From what I hear, it’s amazingly different, but it’ll be here eventually, in the public schools. So, the public schools have forsaken virtually all truth and all normative reality, behavior, and God-talk. So, they don’t have any positive foundations for respect. They can’t say to a student, “Respect somebody because you see in them this . . .” They say, “Respect sees no . . .” and then list off things that respect doesn’t see. So it leaves a big void underneath. Well, why should we respect anybody? Which is one of the reasons why there is so little respect among students for anything. The schools can’t provide them with a positive foundation.

“There’s a way to respect somebody no matter what they’ve done, because they’re created in God’s image.”

The foundation for respecting black and white, and male and female, and people of other religions, is that God has created all human beings in his image. There is a way to respect a murderer. There’s a way to respect a rapist. There’s a way to respect somebody no matter what they’ve done, because they’re created in God’s image. They are not snakes. They’re not frogs or horses. They are human beings. No matter what they’ve done — no matter their sexual orientation, no matter their sex, no matter their religion — there is a respect that one can accord them even if it might mean putting them in jail. You don’t put snakes in jail.

But you can’t say anything like that. You can’t provide a foundation for respect in the image of God. And so students are left with a groundless call to respect, and they say, “What’s the deal? Why shouldn’t I shoot him? He mouthed off to me.”

Respect Does See

And the third problem is that, in fact, respect does see gender and religion. And it makes a difference. There are courtesies and forms of respect that men owe to women that they don’t owe to men. The one I could get most agreement on is that you don’t go in her locker room; you go in his locker room. To tell these students that respect sees no gender is terribly destructive. It sees she’s a woman, and I will treat her differently than I treat these guys that I’m always treating in certain ways. I will offer certain courtesies. I will offer certain respect. I will acknowledge sexual differences that will mean I don’t take liberties with her that I might take with him. To tell them, “You don’t see it,” is wrong.

Same thing with religion. Respect looks at a Satanist who’s involved in ritual satanic abuse, and he looks at a Jewish person who’s trying to keep the Ten Commandments. Neither of them knows Jesus Christ. And he will respect this Jewish person more than this Satanic person. I’d stand up in any group and say that. Respect does have eyes for gender. It does have eyes for religion. They make a difference in the kind and form of respect that you give to a person.

Learn to Discern

Well, I just plead with you, take advantage of these years here at Bryan to become discerning men and women, so that when you read in the paper, or when you see a poster, or when you look at a billboard or you hear an advertisement, you are not blown about — they don’t insinuate ideas in your mind that don’t come through the critical filter of biblical thinking.

Be the kind of people who can go to a principal and explain to a PTA group or a principal just what I’ve explained to you — why those posters are destructive — even if they don’t agree with you. The world is dying for want of people to stand up and speak that kind of truth.

Patience is a virtue we admire, and even aspire to, from afar. The closer it comes to us, however — the more it invades our schedule, our plans, our comfort — the more uncomfortable it becomes.

Patience exists only in a world of disruption, delays, and disappointment. It grows only on the battlefield. We cannot practice patience unless our circumstances call for it — and the circumstances that call for it are the kinds of circumstances we wouldn’t choose for ourselves. We would choose convenience, speed, efficiency, fulfillment. God often chooses circumstances that call for patience. And he never chooses wrongly.

Impatience grows out of our unwillingness to trust and submit to God’s timing for our lives. Impatience is a war for control. Patience, on the other hand, springs from different soil — from a humble embrace of what we do not know and cannot control, from a deep and abiding trust that God will follow through on all of his promises, from a heart that is profoundly happy to have him.

“The kind of patience that honors God is so hard that we cannot practice it without help from God.”

In other words, the deepest patience comes from a humble and hopeful joy in God above all else. That means that real patience is not only inconvenient, difficult, and wearying, but, humanly speaking, impossible. The kind of patience that honors God is so hard that we cannot practice it without help from God. It grows only where the Spirit lives (Galatians 5:22–23).

Many Shades of Patience

What might we say, then, practically speaking, about real patience in real life? Where could we look in Scripture to see some of the colors and texture of patience in action? One verse, in particular, humbles me and bursts with lessons for everyday patience:

We urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all. (1 Thessalonians 5:14)

The ways we approach each group — the idle, the fainthearted, the weak — are different, but we’re called to patience with them all. Which means we’re likely going to experience temptation to be impatient with them all (and many more besides them). So what might patience look like in each case?

Help the Weak

The weak test our patience because they need more from us than most. Many of us have an impulse, at least in the moment, to step in when we see a weak person in need, whether that person is young, or old, or sick, or emotionally or spiritually vulnerable. But weakness, we all know from personal experience, rarely stays contained within a moment, which means the weak need more than in-the-moment help; they need for-the-long-haul help — and for-the-long-haul help requires patience.

Paul does not charge the church to admonish the weak, but to help them, and the word for help here can also mean to hold firm or be devoted. There’s a tenaciousness in this help, a clinging to the weak, even after months or years of inconvenience and sacrifice. Where does that kind of patience come from? From knowing that “while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6) — in other words, he died for us. And that “God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong” (1 Corinthians 1:27) — in other words, he chose us.

Those who know how painfully and helplessly weak they are apart from God are more ready to endure the weaknesses of others. They don’t resent helping for the hundredth time, because they gladly trust and submit to God’s plans, including the weaknesses he has placed around them.

Encourage the Fainthearted

The fainthearted test our patience because they get more easily discouraged than most. Among the Thessalonians, some were beginning to wither while they grieved the loss of loved ones (1 Thessalonians 4:13–5:11). Discouragement was drying up their spiritual strength and resolve — and so they needed more from others (who were also likely grieving).

The fainthearted lack the strength or stamina others have in relationships and ministry. They bring burdens they cannot carry by themselves. They often despair of their burdens, struggling to see how life will ever be more bearable. And we all already have our own burdens to bear, so regularly speaking grace into someone else’s emotional and spiritual needs can feel especially taxing over time. The ministry of encouragement often requires unusual endurance.

Those who keep walking with the fainthearted, even when the path is slow and winding, demonstrate the strength of a supernatural patience. They have discovered, first for themselves, and then through themselves for others, that

[God] gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:29–31)

Anyone who has experienced the gift of strength and renewal longs for other fainthearted people to experience the same. And how much sweeter when God strengthens and renews someone through us?

Every Christian experiences discouragement, which means every Christian needs a steady stream of courage to endure suffering, to reject temptation, to sacrifice in love, to embrace discipline, to persevere in ministry, to trust and obey God. And those streams run low or even dry in churches when we lack the patience needed to persevere in encouraging one another.

Rebuke the Idle

It’s not hard to see how the idle test our patience. In the case of the Thessalonians, it seems, some thought Jesus was returning imminently, and so they started shirking their work and leaving it to others (2 Thessalonians 2:1–2; 3:6).

The idle test our patience because they refuse to take responsibility and initiative. They could do more, help more, carry more, contribute in more significant ways, but they’re content to do just enough (or less), which means someone else has to do more. And when we are that someone, we understandably grow impatient.

But Paul doesn’t let the impatient off the hook, even with the idle. He does say admonish them — warn them, exhort them, wake them up — even if you have to withhold food for a time (2 Thessalonians 3:10–11) or remove them from fellowship (2 Thessalonians 3:6). Nevertheless, he says to do so with patience. Be patient with them all. What might that mean? We don’t usually associate hard words or painful consequences with patience.

Why of Patience

First, we might ask, Why are we patient, even as we admonish the idle? We’re patient with sinners, in part, because we still are one. The idleness of others — or the greed of others, or the lust of others, or the anger of others, or the vanity of others — is never so evil that we cannot see something of their sin in ourselves. It takes very little imagination for us to see that, apart from an undeserved miracle, we would be them — and perhaps far worse.

Impatience with sinners betrays a small view of God’s mercy toward us. The same apostle that says we should rebuke the idle also says,

The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life. (1 Timothy 1:15–16)

Even our rebukes should be seasoned with a humble awareness of our own sinfulness — of just how wicked we would be without the grace of God.

How of Patience

Knowing why we are patient, even with those we need to rebuke, how do we rebuke with patience? First, it probably needs to be said that good rebuke itself is an evidence of patience. It’s easy to give up on sinners. It’s easy to lash out and tear down someone who has sinned against us. Those who rebuke well — who aim to restore someone through honest and gentle confrontation and correction — demonstrate that they haven’t given up, and that they still have hope that God will grant conviction, forgiveness, reconciliation, and transformation.

Patience in rebuke, though, will also mean a willingness to wait for change. Sanctification can be painfully, sometimes excruciatingly, slow. We shouldn’t expect the slothful to become immediately diligent — or, for that matter, for the proud to become immediately humble, the angry to become immediately kind, the lustful to become immediately pure. We don’t overlook patterns of sin in those we love, or make excuses for their sin. We go to them, we warn them, we implore them, we even rebuke them sharply, if necessary — and we keep doing so — but we do so knowing, again firsthand, that change often comes slowly. We plant seeds knowing that they may need time to take hold, mature, and eventually blossom.

Patient God for Impatient People

We might welcome the opportunity to rebuke the lazy and negligent, but can we do so with patience? If we can’t, it’s likely because we haven’t meditated enough on the patience of God toward sinners like us — sinners like me.

“God never asks anyone to be patient who hasn’t already received the infinite riches of his patience.”

When Moses pleaded to see God’s glory, what did God reveal about himself? “The Lord passed before him and proclaimed, ‘The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness’” (Exodus 34:6). He has every reason and right to get angry with us, and yet he’s slow to anger. He’s patient with us, 2 Peter 3:9 says, “not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” God never asks anyone to be patient who hasn’t already received the infinite riches of his patience.

That doesn’t mean patience isn’t hard. It is. Whether in traffic on the way to work, or in a season of significant transition or uncertainty, or beside the hospital bed of someone we love, patience can require uncomfortable sacrifice and surrender. In the Father’s patience, after all, he did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us. As it was at the cross, so it is with us. The painfulness of our patience serves its hidden but beautiful purpose: to call attention to the beauty and power of God’s love.