http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15025539/the-root-problem-with-drunkenness

Today marks forty-nine years since the society-altering, life-plundering, God-mocking decision by the Supreme Court in Roe versus Wade. Since 1973, abortion has essentially been available on demand in America, leaving the lives of the unborn at the precarious whims of people who value their own lives above the lives of their children.

From the beginning, the delivery room has been a sacred and cursed place. Sin invaded the world, and the womb, before the first child was born. When God warned Eve, “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children,” Eve had not born a child without pain. Childbirth was never painless. And it was never less than miraculous.

We’re so acquainted (and enamored) with babies now, it’s nearly impossible to imagine what it would have been like to meet the first. To see those first tiny feet. To stroke that first tiny head. To hear those first weak cries. To hold that first tiny frame. Can you imagine bearing your baby, delivering your baby, holding your baby, without having seen a baby before?

“Now Adam knew Eve his wife, and she conceived and bore Cain, saying, ‘I have gotten a man with the help of the Lord’” (Genesis 4:1). That first birth may have been the most breathtaking in history — the wild inbreaking of a new, unique, and eternal life, woven together by God from the love between that first husband and his wife. The two became one, and then, just as dramatically, three. Birth, for them, was not a choice to make, but a wonder to behold and receive with worship to their Maker.

We, however, live in a society at war over where exactly in those five short words the first baby came to life: “Eve conceived and bore Cain.” At what point was that little boy’s life a life worth preserving and defending?

Bitter Fruit of Abortion

How might that first mother — that first woman to bear the weight and pain and wonder of new life — how might Eve respond if she heard that, just this year, nearly a million mothers in the United States alone refused the life within them? What if someone told her that we kill, on average, thousands of our children every day before they even take a breath? Could she have possibly imagined that the consequences of those first sins would one day bear the bitter and brutal fruit of abortion?

Maybe she could have. That first baby, after all, went on to murder his little brother. Eve felt the sinfulness of sin as pain multiplied within her through pregnancy and delivery, and then she felt the sinfulness of sin even more as she buried her second born. And were the temptations that provoked Cain, and wiped out Abel, all that different from those fueling the abortion industry in our day? Pride, envy, selfishness, resentment, anger, greed.

Because of sin, no child has ever been born into a safe world. Far fewer children, however, have been born into a country as unsafe as ours. The United States, even in 2022, is still one of the most dangerous places on earth for an unborn person. Clark Forsythe, in his excellent book Abuse of Discretion, writes,

The United States is an outlier when it comes to the scope of the abortion “right.” The United States is one of approximately ten nations (of 195) that allow abortion after fourteen weeks of gestation. . . . When it comes to allowing abortion for any reason after viability, however, the United States is joined only by Canada, North Korea, and China. (126)

“The United States of America in 2022 is still one of the most dangerous places on earth for an unborn person.”

The twin verdicts read on January 22, 1973 did not, as is often assumed, merely permit abortion for the first three months. No, they legalized abortion at every stage of pregnancy, and for almost any reason. The U.S. is one of only four countries in the world — only four — that refuses to protect the unborn even after viability. And what defines viability? “Having reached such a stage of development as to be capable of living, under normal conditions, outside the uterus.” The U.S. and Canada are half of the nations worldwide that will not defend a baby even when that baby could already survive outside the womb. The other two are North Korea and China.

For nearly fifty years now, the United States has made the womb a minefield, and millions of our sons and daughters have become the innocent casualties of our lust for sex, for freedom, for power, for self.

Abuse of Discretion

Roe is the national monument to this decades-long death march.

The surprising, perplexing, overreaching ruling of the seven justices — Burger, Douglas, Brennan, Stewart, Marshall, Blackmun, and Powell (White and Rehnquist voted against) — superseded abortion laws at the state level and functionally established a woman’s right to have an abortion at any point of her pregnancy.

In 1970, “Jane Roe” (Norma McCorvey) filed a lawsuit against Henry Wade, her local district attorney, to challenge a Texas law that prohibited abortion except to save the life of the mother. Forsythe summarizes the Supreme Court’s controversial verdict:

Roe had two essential rulings based on interpretations of the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which declares, in part, that no state shall deprive any “person” of “liberty.” First, the Justices interpreted “liberty” to include a “right to privacy” and held that abortion is part of the right to privacy. . . . Second, the Court held that the “unborn” are not included with other “persons” protected by the Constitution. (7)

So, a woman’s right to privacy was interpreted to include her right to abortion — despite the fact that the procedure is not done in true privacy (doctors and nurses are involved). And the unborn were not considered living people with rights, despite the wealth of medical information that suggested otherwise (not to mention, the amazing advances in technology since, which only give us better and better windows into all the evidence for real life in the womb).

Kevin DeYoung helpfully distills the myths about Roe that Forsythe exposes in his book. For instance,

Abortion was a common and widely accepted practice throughout history. No, it was rare for most of history because it was exceedingly dangerous.
Roe was based on a careful investigation of the facts. No, the deliberation spent very little time discussing facts, and focused almost exclusively on procedure.
Women were dying by the thousands because of back-alley abortions. No, at that time less than a hundred women died from illegal abortions each year, a fraction of the number reported.
Abortion is safer than childbirth. No, the seven studies that said as much at the time have all been exposed for their lack of medical data, and the short-term and long-term dangers of abortion have only become clearer and clearer, especially to the mental health of the mother.
The American public is polarized over abortion. No, the majority of Americans at the time and still today do not support abortion on demand — abortion at any time for any reason (the precedent Roe instituted).

The more one reads about the decision, the more indefensible it becomes. It really is difficult to overstate how weak the case was for perhaps the most pivotal, controversial, and corrupt verdict in our nation’s history.

The Other Roe: Redefining Health

Alongside Roe, though, was a second, similarly monumental (and yet often overlooked) case: Doe v Bolton. The ruling was handed down the same day, and was every bit as consequential.

“Mary Doe” (Sandra Cano) filed a lawsuit against the Attorney General of Georgia, Arthur K. Bolton, challenging a law that permitted abortion only in cases of rape, severe fetal deformity, or the possibility of severe or fatal injury to the mother. In the Doe decision, the justices redefined the “health” of the mother from those stricter parameters to “all factors — physical, emotional, psychological, familial, and the woman’s age — relevant to the wellbeing of the patient. All these factors may relate to health” (Abuse of Discretion, 150). As a result of the decision, “‘Health,’ in abortion law, means emotional well-being without limits” (8).

Functionally, this meant abortion could be justified at any time of the pregnancy for almost any reason. “Where Roe prevented any prohibition on abortion before viability, the Doe health exception eliminated prohibitions after viability as well” (8). Any consequence the mother felt — and bearing a human life is always consequential — became an excuse to end the life. We went from protecting the physical survival of the mother to preserving her sexual freedom and personal autonomy.

Forsythe quotes a Harvard Law Professor,

Doe’s broad definition of “health” spelled the doom of statutes designed to prevent the abortion late in the pregnancy of children capable of surviving outside the mother’s body unless the mother’s health was in danger. By defining health as “well-being,” Doe established a regime of abortion-on-demand for the entire nine months of pregnancy, something that American public opinion has never approved in any state, let alone nationally. (151)

Sandra Cano, it’s worth mentioning, ultimately decided not to have an abortion after she felt her baby kick (94).

The New Roe: Life at Fifteen Weeks

Even if a case were to overturn Roe, that decision in and of itself would not end abortion. Overturning Roe wouldn’t dam the river of child-killing, but it would stem the terrible tide — and unleash possibilities for new pro-life legislation. Ending Roe would return the debate to the states, which would once again give the American people the power to decide — a change faithful Christians and churches welcome and pray for.

As I write, for instance, the Supreme Court has already heard arguments in Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization about a Mississippi law that prohibits abortion after fifteen weeks (an opportunity made possible by new appointees to the Court). The justices are specifically arguing over the question, Are all pre-viability prohibitions on elective abortions unconstitutional?

“If Roe is overturned, Christians and churches will play an even bigger role in saving human lives.”

Whatever happens in this case, this is the future of the abortion debate: state by state, election by election, neighborhood by neighborhood advocacy for life. Forsythe reminds us, “If Roe were overturned today, abortion would be legal in at least forty-one states tomorrow, perhaps all fifty. . . . The long-term legality of abortion depends on public opinion” (348, 351). That means that if Roe is overturned, Christians and churches will play an even bigger role in saving human lives.

The Power of Wanted Pregnancy

Wherever the Dobbs case leads, and however long Roe stands, our country desperately needs to recover the sanity and wonder of wanted pregnancy. What might change in our debates, our laws, our clinics, our families if the collective American imagination awakened to the God-soaked miracle of new life?

You formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. (Psalm 139:13–16)

Today, we pause to mourn fifty million lives abandoned — their forming assaulted, their weaving unraveled, their making arrested, their needs discarded, their stories suddenly and violently ended. God will repay what was stolen from them.

But we also pause to pray for him to intervene and interrupt the killing. As personally and specifically and sovereignly as he made each one of us, would he now so personally and specifically and sovereignly tear down the calamity of abortion in our land?

Audio Transcript

We’ve addressed the challenges of being a Christian loner in APJ 109 and APJ 212. A lot of helpful counsel can be found in that pair of episodes: APJs 109 and 212. A listener named Brian heard them, and he writes in to us with a question that complements what has been addressed previously in those two episodes. Brian writes this: “Hello, Pastor John. What would you say is the difference between being a loner who is a Christian and a loner who fails to ‘love the brothers’ as John puts it in 1 John 3:14? Is that the same thing? Is being a loner the same thing as being an unloving person? How would you work through this, Pastor John?”

Well, as often, let’s start with a definition. We can’t talk about what we don’t know what we’re talking about. So, here’s my definition — I’m just going to choose one — of loner. A loner is a person who is quite comfortable being alone. He’s comfortable reading a book in the evening with nobody else in the apartment. He’s comfortable spending time on his woodworking in the garage with nobody else around. She’s comfortable working in the kitchen, or on her handiwork, or hiking in the mountains without any friends around.

That’s what I mean by loner. Whether because of genetics, or upbringing, or experiences later in life, a person now finds himself or herself to be quite comfortable being alone. So, the question is, Does being a loner mean that you are a person lacking in love for other people?

Our Innate Personalities

For a long time, I’ve been fascinated by the fact that human beings are by nature so different from one another, and what they’re prone to do, what their bent is, is so various because of their innate personality. I’ve been fascinated with what moral significance this has since it seems to be so rooted in our personality and doesn’t seem to change, essentially, when we become Christians.

Let me give an illustration from the Bible of what I mean and how this fascinates me. In Romans 12:6–8, Paul gives some instructions about using your spiritual gifts, and it’s an unusual list. Let me just give you the three unusual ones that provoke me, and fascinate me, and set me to pondering about being a loner. He says, “Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: . . . if service, in our serving; . . . the one who contributes, in generosity; . . . the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness” (Romans 12:6, 8).

Service, giving, mercy. Now, what’s surprising about calling those spiritual gifts is that all Christians are supposed to serve, all Christians are supposed to give, and all Christians are supposed to be merciful. So what is Paul saying? I take Paul to mean that even though these three traits should characterize every Christian, nevertheless, some people are inclined to them in an unusual way. It’s just what they’re like; that’s what they do — it’s just part of them. Service — they’re just given to it. And the same with giving and mercy.

So, here’s the inference that I draw: there are real differences between human beings, including Christians, in how naturally, or how readily, dispositionally, we are given to, or not given to, behaviors that are real Christian duties for everybody.

“You could be more of a loner, or you could be more sociable, and in either case not necessarily be sinning.”

This fact that we are less given to certain good things is not necessarily sinful. It doesn’t mean we’re sinful — that we’re committing sin when we don’t do those good things to the same degree, or with the same intensity, with which other people do them. You could be more of a loner, or you could be more gregarious, or more sociable, and in either case not necessarily be sinning. That’s what I infer.

Truth from Various Angles

When I ask myself why God designed the world that way, there’s an interesting part of the answer in the way Jesus spoke about himself and John the Baptist. Here’s what he said:

To what then shall I compare the people of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children sitting in the marketplace and calling to one another, “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not weep.” (Luke 7:31–32)

Then he explains in Luke 7:33–35,

For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine, and you say, “He has a demon.” The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, “Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!” Yet wisdom is justified by all her children.

So, here’s the point: this is an unbelieving generation, and God has exposed their hardheartedness by showing them that whether a person like John or a person like Jesus speaks to them, they still won’t believe.

John is one kind of person — a real loner, not a party person at all, likes the wilderness — and he spoke the truth, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t like the way he said it. Then Jesus comes along, and he’s very different from John. He comes eating and drinking, he’s sociable, gregarious, attending parties, and you don’t like the way he speaks about it either, which in God’s wisdom shows you can’t blame your unbelief on the speaker.

God’s wisdom is seen in sending all kinds of different people into your life in order to show that your rejection of them is really owing to your rejection of the message, not the messenger, because he has sent so many different kinds of personalities to you. You won’t have the message no matter what kind of personality brings it.

So, I’m inferring that one of the reasons God has designed the world with loners and gregarious types, among many others, is to make sure the world hears the truth from different vessels, different voices, different forms, different personalities to make clear what the real issue is.

Loving and Unloving Loners

So, my answer to the question of whether being a loner means being unloving is this: not necessarily. And I would say exactly the same thing about being a mingler or a gregarious or sociable person. Is that person loving? Not necessarily. People can need people for self-centered reasons, and people can love solitude for self-centered reasons.

So, the question then finally is, What makes the difference between a loner who is self-centered and a loner who is loving? I would just say two things.

Resisting Fear and Indifference

The loving loner seeks to purge himself of every form of fear of other people and every form of indifference to the good of other people. Everywhere he sees the motive of fear, he seeks to put it to death by the Spirit (Romans 8:13). Everywhere he sees indifference in his heart toward the good of other people, he seeks to put it to death by the Spirit, trusting God’s promises. He trusts the promise that God will take care of him — God will help him. He doesn’t need to be governed by any sinful motives like fear of man or indifference to people’s good.

“The loving loner seeks with all his might to make his loner personality a means of love.”

One of the ways that we detect and put to death sinful dimensions of our personality like that is by regularly stretching our comfort zone and acting contrary to our natural bent. Now, I don’t mean that we cease to be who we are or that we constantly live against the grain of being a loner or being gregarious, but I do mean that we test ourselves from time to time as to whether we are merely justifying a sinful behavior by a natural inclination. That’s the first test of how we know we’re a loving loner or a selfish loner.

Leveraging Aloneness for Love

Here’s the second thing: What distinguishes a self-centered loner from a loving loner is that the loving loner recognizes his natural inclinations, and instead of trying to totally be a person that he’s not, he seeks with all his might — and by means of all prayer, and faith, and creativity — to make his loner personality a means of love.

If he likes being in the garage doing woodworking all by himself, then let him dream and pray and work toward ways of turning his lonely woodworking into a ministry for the good of others. If she likes rummaging through historical archives in the library all by herself, let her dream of turning her lonely research into a ministry for the good of others. In other words, you don’t have to be paralyzed by the hopelessness of becoming a non-loner in order to be loving. You just have to really care about turning your loner bent into love.

Here I sit, gentle reader, on one side of a screen in Sydney, Australia, with you (very likely) looking at another screen in some other part of the world — and I am hoping that something remarkable will happen. I am praying that, though separated by geography and time, we will nevertheless meet together for the next few minutes through words on the screen.

It’s a miracle when you think about it.

If I write this piece well, you will “hear” my thoughts and my voice, even though, in fact, you may be hearing nothing but the soft whir of the fan in your laptop. Whether it happens asynchronously (in a book or in an article like this one) or synchronously (in a Zoom meeting or on a phone call), we find ourselves able to connect, communicate, and relate to one another without physically being in each other’s presence.

Remote, Partial Joy

Humans have been connecting like this since the invention of smoke signals. God has given us this remarkable capacity to project our minds and hearts and personalities to other places, and even other times, through dispatching representations of ourselves in words or images.

The New Testament authors, of course, made good use of this blessing. They saw their letters as an important vehicle for bringing their teaching, encouragement, and admonition to the people they loved and longed for from afar.

The little epistles of 2 and 3 John are a fascinating case study. In both letters, John rejoices to discover that his people are “walking in the truth” (2 John 4; 3 John 3), and encourages and exhorts them to keep doing so. In both cases, however, he concludes by saying that although he has more to say, he’d much prefer to do it in person:

Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete. (2 John 12; see also 3 John 13–14)

There’s real joy in hearing that someone is persevering in the faith, and a joy also in writing to encourage them. But it’s a partial joy — a joy that anticipates its fulfillment when we are face to face.

Technology: Relational Blessing or Curse?

The superiority of physical presence is so obvious that it seems strange even to argue for it. Who would be so perverse as to prefer a text message from our beloved to having dinner with her at our favorite restaurant? Or who would choose a phone call with our mother over the joy of a warm embrace and a leisurely conversation?

But we are strange and perverse creatures, with a long track record of choosing lesser joys over greater ones. As a result, we not only deny ourselves those greater possibilities, but in favoring lesser realities, we end up distorting and spoiling them.

As many others have pointed out, this dynamic seems to be happening in our cultural moment with respect to the virtual world of the Internet and social media. There is a disturbing trend to underplay the joy of physical presence, and to overplay the benefits of virtuality. We find ourselves so immersed in the captivating, constantly morphing, fast-paced stream of the virtual, that we have started to lose our taste for the solid ground of physical relationship. But like so many of God’s gifts, the blessings of virtuality, when misused or overused, become a burden and a curse.

It is not my task in this short piece to explore why or how this has happened, but I will briefly mention one important theological trajectory that relates to the importance of our physical church gatherings.

Isolation of Self

As Carl Trueman (among others) has recently documented, one of the strange aspects of our modern Western culture is the psychologizing of our selves and identities.

The steady, inexorable rejection of God as Creator and Lord in Western society has eventually thrown us back on ourselves and our inner lives as the source of morality, identity, and the self. It is hardly surprising, in a culture where we define ourselves by expressing our feelings and thoughts, that we should find virtual connections so attractive.

Our alienation from God and his created order has become a kind of rebellion against the bodily, physical nature of our created selves. And this rebellion leads to dysfunction, because our bodily nature is integral to who we are as God’s creatures. We are made to relate not only to God, creature-to-Creator, but also to one another, creature-to-creature. Our bodily existence is ordered for this purpose. As D.B. Knox puts it:

The body is marvellously contrived to accomplish its ends in relationship, with all the pleasure, physical, mental, emotional, spiritual that relationship brings. The eye, the face, the language structure of our brains, are designed to express our inner being to one another. (The Everlasting God, 52)

“We are made to relate not only to God, creature-to-Creator, but also to one another, creature-to-creature.”

This relates particularly to the redeemed relationships that God brings into being when he re-creates us in Christ. We are restored not just to right relationship with God, but also to right relationship with one another. Jews and Gentiles can now break bread together, greet each other with a holy kiss, even marry one another — all unthinkable impossibilities before Christ broke the wall of hostility that divided us (Ephesians 2:14).

Church Is a Gathered People

This gospel reconciliation is why the church — the gathered assembly of God’s people — is such a dominant feature of the new life we have together in Christ. In Christ, the Holy Spirit draws us together: to learn together from the word (Acts 2:42), to eat and drink together in Christ’s memory (1 Corinthians 11:23–26), to raise our voices together in prayer and song (Ephesians 5:18–19), and to encourage one another with loving prophetic words of exhortation, comfort, and admonition (1 Corinthians 14:1–3). All of these are creaturely activities, requiring creaturely presence with one another to fulfill their purposes.

I’ve often wondered if this thought lies behind the command of Hebrews 10:24, to not forsake meeting together. In much of his letter, the author of Hebrews emphasizes that the fulfillment of God’s plans in Christ involves a movement from the old covenant (with its physical, earthly temple and priesthood) to the new covenant of Christ’s eternal, spiritual redemption, through which we now have access to the very presence of God (Hebrews 9:14; 10:19–22; 12:18–24).

Was the author of Hebrews concerned that the obsolescence of the physical temple and priesthood might lead his readers to no longer see the need for a physical gathering with one another?

We should not speculate too far, but it’s certainly worth noting the form of his exhortation. After urging them to draw near to the heavenly holy of holies with full assurance of faith, he then says,

Let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging [or exhorting] one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near. (Hebrews 10:24–25)

“Encouraging one another” is the counterpoint to “neglecting to meet together.” It’s an essential activity that not meeting together prevents us from doing. And encouraging each other is so because it is the means by which we stir one another up to love and good works as we wait for Christ’s return.

Given the weakness and sinfulness still present in our bodies, including the desires of the flesh that assail us, we need to gather regularly with other bodies — so that we can teach and encourage and spur each other on with our whole selves. The various activities we do with our bodies when we gather in fellowship are oriented to this purpose. They are done in the worship of Christ, and to the glory of God, but they are also very much done with and for each other — especially in building each other up in love and good deeds.

Physical or Virtual?

This vital aspect of gathering together is much diminished, or in some cases ruled out altogether, by neglecting a physical gathering in favor of virtual ones.

For example, the value and experience of sitting side by side, listening to a preacher, is qualitatively different from reading a printed sermon or watching one on YouTube — not only because we pick up different aspects (in the voice and gesture and physical presence of the speaker), but because we are in a different place and posture as listeners. We are sitting with each other under God’s word, listening together to the teaching and encouragement that his word brings us. Your presence next to me is part of my listening.

“Your presence next to me in worship is part of my listening.”

Likewise, when we sing, we sing not only to God for his glory and praise, but to one another for mutual encouragement and teaching (Ephesians 5:21–22; Colossians 3:15–16). We can sing joyfully to Christ anywhere, but only in the gathering can we sing to one another, making melody in our hearts to the Lord as we do so.

The same is true when we talk together and encourage one another around the word. When we are physically together, we not only enjoy a richer engagement with each other, but we have more opportunities to see and hear what’s going on with the people around us. We can sense when someone is troubled or joyful or heartbroken or disengaged or lonely or just new to our gathering and hoping to meet someone. We can proactively love each other, and speak the words that spur one another on to love and good deeds.

Joy of Gathering Again

Can these various goals be accomplished via email or a Facebook post or an article like this one? To some limited extent, yes — and what a blessing that is! But to allow the blessings and possibilities of the virtual to divert us from the joys and benefits of real, bodily fellowship would be a strange bargain indeed.

This has been the reality for us here in Sydney over the past eighteen months. We’ve had many months of lockdowns and other restrictions that have prevented us from gathering physically as churches. For about half of all the Sundays since March 2020, we’ve been stuck at home, trying to encourage one another as God’s people through virtual connections of various kinds. We have certainly been very thankful for these mercies (even if they have sometimes felt like small mercies).

But the joy we are now experiencing is the joy of real, face-to-face fellowship. I pray that we, and you, will continue to treasure that physical presence with each other, and never be distracted or diverted from it by the good but lesser benefits of the virtual.

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.

Which is more revealing of the “real you”: your spontaneous and unguarded emotions, or your purposeful and intentional choices? Put another way, which is more fundamental to who you are: the feelings that spontaneously erupt from your heart, or the choices that you intentionally make?

At Bethlehem College & Seminary, I teach a class called “Foundations of Christian Hedonism.” Alongside the Bible, we read Piper, Edwards, Lewis, and more. We talk about the supremacy of God, the indispensable importance of the affections, the Christian life, and pastoral ministry. I love it.

One stimulating aspect of the class is identifying tensions and disagreements between our favorite Christian Hedonists and wrestling together with them. Last semester, we discovered a seeming dissonance between how Piper talks about feelings and how Lewis talks about the will.

Piper’s Grief

In chapter 3 of Desiring God, Piper explores “Worship: The Feast of Christian Hedonism.” In doing so, he accents the importance of feelings, emotions, and affections in worship.

Piper emphasizes that genuine feelings are spontaneous and not calculated. Feelings are not consciously willed and not performed as a means to anything else. He gives numerous examples of feelings — hope (that spontaneously arises in your heart when you are shipwrecked on a raft and catch sight of land), fear (that spontaneously arises when camping and you hear a bear outside your tent), awe (that overwhelms you as you stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon), and gratitude (that spontaneously erupts from the heart of children when they get the present they most wanted on Christmas morning).

“Feelings are spontaneous, unsought, unplanned. They are our immediate and natural reactions to reality.”

The most poignant example of spontaneous feeling that Piper describes, however, is the grief that poured from his heart when he received the news that his mother was killed in a car wreck. In that moment, “The feeling [of grief] is there, bursting out of my heart” (91). No planning, no performance, no decision — just emotion and feeling. And here’s the crucial bit: “It comes from deep within, from a place beneath the conscious will” (91).

Lewis’s Prayers

At the same time, we were reading Lewis’s Letters to Malcolm. In Letter 21, Lewis discusses the frustrating irksomeness of prayer and the nature of duty. One day, when we are perfected, prayer and our other obligations will no longer be experienced as duties, but only as delights. Love will flow out from us “spontaneously as song from a lark or fragrance from a flower” (154). For now, we contend with various obstacles and impediments.

Even still, we have rich moments in the present — “refreshments ‘unimplored, unsought, Happy for man so coming’” (156, quoting John Milton). But then Lewis makes this statement:

I have a notion that what seem our worst prayers may really be, in God’s eyes, our best. Those, I mean, which are least supported by devotional feeling and contend with the greatest disinclination. For these, perhaps, being nearly all will, come from a deeper level than feeling. (157)

In other words, our best prayers may be the ones we pray even when we don’t want to pray, when our prayers are not riding on positive feelings toward God, but are actively, deliberately trying to overcome resistance within us. The will, Lewis might say, rises from deep within, from a place beneath even our feelings, proving who we really are at bottom.

Clarifying the Tension

We can see the tension, can’t we? Are feelings deeper than the will (as Piper says)? Or is the will deeper than feelings (as Lewis claims)?

Before evaluating, we need further clarity. We can begin by noting key areas of agreement. First, both Piper and Lewis agree that we ought to distinguish feelings from the will.

Second, they seem to agree about some of the key differences between feelings and the will. Feelings are spontaneous, unsought, unplanned. They are our immediate and natural reactions to reality (like birds singing and flowers blooming). The will, on the other hand, involves intention, planning, choice, and execution.

Third, both Lewis and Piper agree that the will and the feelings ought to be viewed in some sort of hierarchical arrangement, with one being “deeper” than the other. We might call this sort of arrangement of the mind’s faculties a “tiered psychology.” Certain faculties are deeper (or perhaps higher) than others.

These three points of agreement help to clarify the tension. The arrangement of the mind’s capacities into different levels implies that one level may somehow be more important (or at least more revealing). The implication, in both Lewis and Piper, is that one level is more genuine, more authentic, more reflective of the real self (one could say, deeper). The corresponding implication is that the other level is somehow less genuine, less authentic, and less reflective of the real self (one could say, more superficial).

So then, which level better reflects the real self — our feelings or our willing?

From Feelings to Passions

We turn now to evaluation. And this is where we might simply conclude that one of them is right and one of them is wrong. Or perhaps, that both of them are wrong. That sometimes happens, even with very intelligent authors. My own goal, however, is to honor the truth in both perspectives by attempting to take up whatever aspect of the truth each author is emphasizing. Perhaps with some minor modifications and clarifications, the two perspectives might yet be reconciled.

For example, Lewis and Piper both refer to feelings. However, the older word for the phenomenon they are discussing is passions. Passions are the immediate, spontaneous reactions or motions of the soul.

Reframing feelings as passions enables us to see how Lewis and Piper can be reconciled. On the one hand, Lewis is correct that the will is deeper (or higher) than the passions. In classical tiered psychology, the intellect and the will are considered the higher faculties of the soul, with the intellect as the faculty that reasons, reflects, contemplates, and judges reality, and the will as the faculty that moves toward or away from what the intellect perceives.

Additionally, the soul also has two lower faculties: “sense apprehension,” which receives impressions from the senses, makes snap judgments about those impressions, and stores the impressions in memory; and “sense appetite,” which immediately reacts to what the sense apprehension perceives and thus is the seat of the passions.

Thus, the human will frequently has to contend with the disinclinations of the feelings at the lower level. While the will can restrain and sometimes overcome the passions, it doesn’t directly control or direct the passions. The very term passions suggests that we are passive; they aren’t consciously willed or decided upon in that moment. They occur spontaneously.

The Will Constrains Passions

Reframing feelings as passions demonstrates the truth in what Piper emphasizes as well.

Piper is adamant that feelings (passions) are spontaneous. Thus, when he says that his grief comes from “beneath the conscious will,” he means the grief bypasses conscious decision-making in the moment. Our feelings are more like snap reactions than considered responses. They are spontaneous, not because they are necessarily deeper (or more reflective of our genuine self), but because they are closer to the surface, more visceral and therefore frequently intense, and almost always tied to some bodily expression (such as tears or laughter).

Even Piper’s example of extreme grief suggests the will’s capacity to restrain and overcome the passions. When he receives the news of his mother’s death, he takes his own baby son off his leg, hands the child to his wife, and walks to the bedroom to be alone, before collapsing in tears for the next hour. In other words, as grief begins to bubble up, Piper’s will is able to temporarily hold back the floodgates of the passion until he is alone and able to give expression to them. He puts on the brave face until the occasion for release is right.

The Real You

So then, we now have a tiered psychology, consisting of the higher powers of intellect and will, and the lower sense powers. The will performs actions; the sense powers experience passions or feelings. What then can we say about which level is more genuine, authentic, and reflective of the real self?

“Both our actions and our passions, our willings and our feelings, are reflective of who we are as embodied creatures.”

The truth is that they both are. Both our actions and our passions, our willings and our feelings, are reflective of who we are as embodied creatures. This is doubly so since our passions flow from all of our previous history, including our beliefs, the stories that we tell ourselves, our experiences, our memories, and our choices. While the will does not despotically direct the feelings, the higher powers can train and cultivate habits of heart that spontaneously flow in particular directions.

Again, we can infer this from Piper’s story of grief. While Piper may not have consciously chosen feelings of grief in the moment, he had, for 29 years, been shaped and molded into the kind of person who spontaneously responded to that news in that way. The spontaneous tears and visceral sorrow of that day were the fruit of nearly thirty years of motherly kindness and filial gratitude, of hundreds of tender hugs and bedtime kisses, of lively dinnertime conversations and glad-hearted, lifelong obedience to the fifth commandment.

One can imagine a different mother, a different son, a different relationship and history, different choices and actions, a different setting, and therefore different feelings when the phone call comes.

With Piper and Lewis

Thus, we don’t need to choose between Piper and Lewis on the will and feelings. We can bring them together. We are complex creatures, bodies and minds, capable of both spontaneous reactions and intentional responses. We make choices and experience feelings, and our choices shape our feelings and our feelings shape our choices.

This is how God made us, and this is how he is remaking us in the image of his Son. With our new hearts and transformed minds, we willingly offer our bodies (including our passions) to God as our spiritual act of worship (Romans 12:1). We put off the old man, with its desires and practices, and we put on the new man, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of our Creator (Colossians 3:10).

I have been a homemaker for over eighteen years now, and I feel confident saying it is a difficult and demanding job. What is more, it is a job with a massive PR problem. “It’s a soul-crushing grind!” some say. Others ask, “Do you work?”

Public opinion on the nature of homemaking has not been subtle. For a generation at least, homemaking has been spoken of as a prison-like existence that stifles a woman’s gifts — as though homemakers have less ambition than others, less ability, less scope, less understanding. This propaganda effort has been radically effective, shaping the imagination of many women who find themselves at home for one reason or another. It takes little effort to see our calling and the work therein through the lens of resentment.

Lately, there has been some pushback to the public opinion that homemaking is a life of boredom and ease, but it has been of the worst kind: long-faced social-media posts bemoaning how no one appreciates your work; TikTok videos telling everyone that because your family failed to notice the work you did, you feel invalidated as a person. This too is the fruit of worldly propaganda — and it too will have devastating effects.

Homes in the Great War

Homemakers often find ourselves without support — not physical support, the absence of which is so loudly reflected on, but rather the spiritual support of understanding why this field of work is glorious, worthy, essential, God-honoring, and strategic. We need an understanding of the value of the home that is strong enough to endure the tumultuous cultural winds around us. We need to see clearly how we are serving God in and with our work.

“The Christian home is an essential work of the Christian resistance.”

The Christian home is an essential work of the Christian resistance. In any war, it is customary to target your enemy’s supply lines, manufacturing plants, and headquarters. In our spiritual war, the Christian home is all of those things. Why then would it surprise us that the enemy would like to see the home destroyed? Why are we surprised by the obstacles we face — by the threefold resistance of the world, the flesh, and the devil?

We have been cleverly fooled into thinking that the obstacles we face at home are due to the work being unimportant, insignificant, unappreciated, or mindless. We should have noticed that anything under such attack from both without and within must be desperately important.

Beautiful or Embarrassing?

You shall eat the fruit of the labor of your hands;     you shall be blessed, and it shall be well with you.Your wife will be like a fruitful vine     within your house,Your children will be like olive shoots     around your table.Behold, thus shall the man be blessed     who fears the Lord. (Psalm 128:3–4)

Scripture is the basis for my commitment to being a homemaker, and if I never saw any other reason to love it, never saw the fruit, never understood the importance of the role, that should still be enough. Paul lays out the importance of older women teaching younger women to be “self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled” (Titus 2:5). And Proverbs 31 describes a glorious picture of the woman who is clothed in strength and dignity as she gives herself to the needs of her household.

At this point, some readers may have rolled their eyes because I mentioned Titus 2 and Proverbs 31 in the same embarrassingly uncool paragraph. Why is that? Could it be because you have been trained to despise passages like these? Could it be that you have listened to countless people explaining them away? Could it be that you have taken in enough worldly propaganda that you feel free to look down on the tone of the word of God and those who embrace it?

I am asking you to consider that perhaps you have been played. You have been had. You have welcomed the lies of the world into your home and given them authority in your life. To say, “Women, be self-controlled, pure homemakers who love your husbands and children” is to speak a biblical, God-fearing statement. I am asking you now to listen to your own heart’s response to that. Is your heart bridling? Is it angry? Are you ready to post angry comments on my ignorant or backward ways? Well, think about what you are doing — it’s not me you are despising, but the words of God. What does your response say about where your heart is?

Harvest of Homemaking

I say that raw obedience to God’s word is enough, and in a sense it should be. But it is far from all that we are given. When I read those sorrowful monologues about the mental load, about how much it all weighs on the poor woman, about how unfair it all is, about how husbands should be responsible for far more housekeeping, all I can see is that women are suffering from the horrible pairing of trying to do the Lord’s work with the attitude of those who hate him. There will be no joy of obedience there. There will be no fruit of free giving there. There will be no strength and laughter and dignity there, because there is a thick fog of accusation, discontent, and envy.

“The end of all our small daily plantings may be a harvest of staggering beauty.”

I have come to realize through the years that the countless tasks I do that no one notices still shape our home and the people in it. Every meal I lay on the table is a small picture of the feeding of the five thousand. My meager offering, broken in the hands of Jesus, will feed generations of children. This home — the flavors and the smells and the atmosphere of love — will by God’s grace shape people who will go on to be the mothers and fathers of thousands. Is there any other work I could be doing that would be this exponentially fruitful or influential? A hundred years from now, I hope there are people who do not know my name or remember me, but nevertheless carry about with them seeds of faithful living that were first planted in the soil of this home.

Do you have the burden of a million duties on your mind? Ask the Lord to establish the work of your hands. He makes valuable all that is done in him, so ask him to do so with your messy duties. Rejoice in him as you offer yourself as a living sacrifice — a sacrifice that cooks and cleans and blows noses and folds clothes and lays a table and looks after the ways of your household. He is shaping something of great beauty and strength that is far beyond our own capacity to imagine. May God give us all eyes to see it, and hearts to imagine it. The end of all our small daily plantings may be a harvest of staggering beauty.

ABSTRACT: When some hear the phrase “natural law,” they think of animal instinct, survival of the fittest, or the laws of physics. In Christian history, however, natural law refers to basic moral principles woven by God into the fabric of creation. Political laws derive from the natural law, and they carry the force of God’s standard only insofar as they accurately reflect nature. The biblical writers also assume the relevance of natural law, both in establishing proper customs and testifying to our need for forgiveness. Even still, nature cannot teach us where our deepest hope lies: not in the law itself, but in the Christ who saves the law’s transgressors.

For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors and Christian leaders, we asked Steven Wedgeworth, pastor of Christ Church Anglican in South Bend, Indiana, to offer a biblical introduction to natural law.

The issue of natural law may confound the people . . . you and I at least know what we are talking about here. . . . You know and I know it is a big, big deal. (Joe Biden, from 1991)

I have no idea what he was talking about. (Clarence Thomas, from 2020)1

Discussions over natural law can be just as confusing within the church as they are in American politics, demonstrated by the two quotes above. Some hold strong feelings about natural law, whether it exists at all and, if so, what it teaches. Others argue that it’s a foreign influence fundamentally opposed to biblical revelation. Others still try to understand what natural-law thinkers are even talking about.

In this essay, I would like to help us understand the key terms and concepts involved in a philosophy of natural law. I discuss what these terms and concepts mean and how they can be used, and then I discuss a few passages of the New Testament that use the logic, and even occasionally the language, of natural law. The Bible does indeed show that nature can teach, and this is important. But just as importantly, the Bible shows there are some lessons that nature cannot teach, or at least not well enough. So, I conclude with a look at the limits of natural law.

What Is Natural Law?

In the twenty-first century, the average person hears nature and thinks of modern biology or even zoology. Natural law, then, is assumed to be something like animal instinct. Worse, some might interpret it along the lines of the survival of the fittest, thus making natural law merely a contest of appetite and might. This is not what natural law meant in older Christian thought. Another misconception is that natural law is an invisible textbook in the sky. Most humans have “always known” certain things, and so the assumption is that if we simply go back to the appropriate time in history or look at the appropriate cultures, we will find the true list of moral laws that can be our standard. This is a sophisticated trump card, but it’s a trump nonetheless.

More accurately, natural law is a method of moral reasoning. Instead of only discussing a positive set of do’s and don’ts, natural law is instead an attempt to locate and demonstrate the rational foundation for a particular duty or prohibition. Thomas Aquinas calls it “participation of the eternal law in the rational creature.”2 More properly, it is an exercise in reasoning from the most basic rational moral principles applied to various moral questions, eventually leading to specific legal cases. Considered wholly on its own, natural law is the earliest philosophical stage of this exercise. As we move from speculative argument into practical application, we quickly move into politics — not the sometimes-unseemly business of cutting deals or building a coalition, but rather the art of ordering human society. Even the early stages of natural-law reasoning, however, imply the need for further application, since the law imprinted in our nature causes various inclinations.3

Sixteenth-century Reformed theologian Franciscus Junius explains the natural law this way: “The natural law is that which is innate to creatures endowed with reason and informs them with common notions of nature, that is, with principles and conclusions adumbrating the eternal law by a certain participation.”4 While impressively tight, this is a loaded definition. Innate reason informs the creature by way of common notions that highlight both principles and conclusions. This means that the applications and eventual positive laws are themselves contained, at least in seed form, in the basic teaching given by the natural law.

But this still requires a process of argument. As Junius goes on to note, the natural law has never been “equally perceived by all.”5 Human sinfulness tends to distort or suppress the natural law, and error increases as men move from general principles to particulars.6 So natural-law thinking has always included the need for teaching, as well as social and moral formation in particular settings.

“The content of the natural law can be explained most basically as ‘seek the good and avoid the evil.’”

The content of the natural law can be explained most basically as “seek the good and avoid the evil.”7 Christian authors have universally argued that this also implied the moral content of the Ten Commandments. John Calvin writes, “The very things contained in the two tables are, in a manner, dictated to us by that internal law, which, as has been already said, is in a manner written and stamped on every heart.”8 The Westminster Confession of Faith states, “This law [given in Eden], after his fall, continued to be a perfect rule of righteousness; and, as such, was delivered by God upon Mount Sinai, in ten commandments, and written in two tables.”9 The Confession, citing Matthew 22:37–40, explains that this law can be understood as teaching our duty toward God, “Love the Lord your God,” and our duty toward our fellow man, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” This means that “the good” that we are seeking is the love of God and then, following that, the love of man, and “the evil” that we are avoiding is the opposite.

Human Law, Custom, Decorum

So then, the natural law, in its most basic form, is the root understanding of goodness and the inclination toward actions that are consistent with that goodness. However, to go much further, humans need actual legislation, the passing and enforcing of positive laws, as well as moral formation through social relationships and teaching.

The most basic distinction in this discussion is between natural law and human law. Thomas Aquinas explains it this way:

Just as, in the speculative reason, from naturally known indemonstrable principles, we draw the conclusions of the various sciences, the knowledge of which is not imparted to us by nature, but acquired by the efforts of reason, so too it is from the precepts of the natural law, as from general and indemonstrable principles, that the human reason needs to proceed to the more particular determination of certain matters. These particular determinations, devised by human reason, are called human laws.10

This means that natural law, as such, consists of the moral principles themselves, known innately and immediately, whereas the “particular determinations” of a person or group applying those principles in conversation with other sciences is “human law.” To call it human law is not to denigrate such laws, but it is to admit that they are more particular and more varied between peoples.11 It is also to acknowledge that human law can be changed as necessary.12 Importantly, the distinction between natural law and human law also explains the limits of human law. If a human law is inconsistent with the natural law, if it violates more basic principles of justice, then it is not a true law at all and rightly can be resisted.13 “Every human law has just so much of the nature of law, as it is derived from the law of nature. But if in any point it deflects from the law of nature, it is no longer a law but a perversion of law.”14

Another important category for understanding this latter idea is that of custom. A custom is any activity commonly enacted and respected by a particular community in order to teach a certain concept, particularly a moral one. In modern times, people often speak of something being “merely a custom” and so therefore less authoritative or perhaps not authoritative at all. But for classical thinkers, customs were powerful and important means by which to train people for virtue. As such, they were said to sometimes obtain the force of law. Aquinas puts it this way: “When a thing is done again and again, it seems to proceed from a deliberate judgment of reason. Accordingly, custom has the force of a law, abolishes law, and is the interpreter of law.”15 John Calvin interprets the apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 11:14 as speaking of custom when he writes, “Does not nature itself teach?” Calvin writes, “What was at that time in common use by universal consent and custom . . . he speaks of as being natural,” and “he reckons as nature a custom that had come to be confirmed.”16 Elsewhere Calvin states, “When there is an accepted custom, and it is a good and decent one, we must accept it. And whoever tries to change it is surely the enemy of the common good.”17

One more important concept in the broader natural-law discussion is what has been called fittingness or becomingness. This concept is discussed by the Roman lawyer and philosopher Cicero in his book On Moral Duties. Cicero uses the term “becoming” to explain when something is “in accordance with nature” and presents itself in an appropriate way given the occasion.18 A simple way to describe this idea would be to say that something is proper. Something that is proper is moral, because it is based on the natural law, but it is also carried out in the right manner. It fits the occasion. The maintenance of fittingness on a social scale is sometimes called decorum. Calvin and others make use of this concept in their ethical teaching. It is important to note, however, that an idea like decorum necessarily involves a greater level of subjectivity than does the moral law itself, and so it also requires a respect for order and submission to the appropriate authorities.

Sola Scriptura

At this point in the discussion, some readers might wonder if this is a philosophy that Protestants should endorse. After all, most of the argument has relied on tradition, including non-Christian sources. Shouldn’t we instead want to adhere only to biblical law?

This sort of concern is well-meaning, but it is based on a misunderstanding. The Reformation principle of sola Scriptura does not mean that the Bible is the only authority at all. Instead, it means that the Bible is the highest authority, the authority by which all others are judged. It also means that the Bible is the only source of authority for matters absolutely necessary — that is, necessary for salvation, true worship, and righteous living.19 But sola Scriptura does not mean that no other authorities are legitimate, nor does it deny that the light of nature supplies true knowledge from God. In fact, the Westminster Confession of Faith refers to the light of nature at least five times.20 In one section, the Confession states that Christian liberty does not allow for “the publishing of such opinions, or maintaining of such practices, as are contrary to the light of nature.”21 This is because, ultimately, the light of nature and the natural law are aspects of general revelation and therefore reflections of God’s own character.

The Scriptures themselves presuppose a certain amount of natural knowledge. After all, the Bible nowhere lays out the basic laws of logic or attempts to defend the legitimacy of causation. Indeed, the Bible proclaims that certain attributes of God can be seen “in the things that have been made” (Romans 1:20). It even says that man knows God’s righteous decree concerning the demands of justice (Romans 1:32). In short, the Bible presumes the existence of natural law and appeals to it on multiple occasions.

Natural Law in the Bible

Romans 1 is the most common source for natural law in the Scriptures. There, the apostle Paul states,

What can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them. For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. (Romans 1:19–20)

Thus, one of the lessons nature teaches is that God exists. Paul goes on to say that people knew this fact but refused to worship God or give him thanks (Romans 1:21), and so we can also say that the natural law teaches that the worship of God is a moral imperative.

Paul also speaks of “natural relations” between men and women, by which he means sexual relations. He is clear that homosexuality is unnatural since it goes against the design of creation. Romans 1:32 even says that fallen humanity “know[s] God’s righteous decree” concerning morality, as well as what we deserve if we violate it, “that those who practice such things deserve to die” (Romans 1:32). So a basic knowledge of justice, as well as the satisfaction for violating justice, is also taught by the natural law.

Philosophy with the Greeks

The New Testament also maintains that nature testifies to the difference between the Creator and the creature. In Acts 14, Barnabas and Paul say,

Men, why are you doing these things? We also are men, of like nature with you, and we bring you good news, that you should turn from these vain things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them. (Acts 14:15)

Interestingly, the Greek term translated as “like nature” is actually homoiopatheis, which means more literally “like passions” or “like affections.” And so Paul claims not only that humans have a qualitatively distinct nature from God’s but also that God does not have human passions — and he assumes that his Gentile audience can learn this truth from natural law. Interestingly, when he is on Mars Hill, Paul also argues against idolatry and appeals to what his Greek audience already knows. He explains that it is wrong to think of the divine nature as “an image formed by the art and imagination of man,” since even man is prior to and above such creations (Acts 17:29). Interestingly, throughout the book of Acts, Paul argues from nature and local philosophical literature when he evangelizes Greeks, but he argues from the Old Testament when he evangelizes Jews.

Head Coverings and Submission

Paul also makes use of custom, fittingness, and decorum. We see this especially in 1 Corinthians 11:1–6, but also in 1 Timothy 2. The head covering in 1 Corinthians 11 confounds many modern readers. It clearly seems to be a cultural artifact, a custom from Paul’s time and place, and Paul even calls it a custom in 1 Corinthians 11:16 (the term sometimes translated “practice” is also translated “custom,” and this better fits the intellectual context of the passage). But just as clearly, or so it seems, Paul is commanding the custom, and he links it to nature itself. This does not make much sense if we use only modern categories, but in light of the natural-law reasoning found in earlier eras, it is perfectly intelligible and consistent. Paul’s point is that the practice of women wearing head coverings in order to speak in the assembly is consistent with the natural-law principle of submission and good order. Therefore, to preserve that good order, Paul instructs the church to retain the custom. Seeing this as an application of the natural law through the maintenance of decorum also helps us to understand how we can apply this passage faithfully today, even in a time when the specific custom has been lost in most places. We must teach the same principles, but we can find new ways to apply them to our cultural context if we follow the same concepts of propriety.22

“Our God is a God of order, and so his creation reflects that same reality.”

We also see an emphasis on decorum in 1 Timothy 2. There, Paul is not only discussing the relationship between men and women but in fact submission to all appropriate authorities. He begins by asking for prayer for “kings and all who are in high positions” (1 Timothy 2:2a) and then moves to discuss “a peaceful and quiet life” (1 Timothy 2:2b). Everything that follows is a further discussion on the same theme. An important concern is modesty, and Paul even says that certain sorts of apparel are “proper” to this goal (1 Timothy 2:10). Again, modern readers do not immediately see how this is a sort of specialized discourse, but it comes precisely from the natural-law reasoning and rhetoric that this essay has been explaining. Paul’s goal is to promote social harmony by way of submission to one’s proper authorities. He then instructs the church about actions and customs that will help them live in such submission.

This means that what we now call “complementarianism” is a reflection of the natural law, but as one component of the larger concept of obedience to authority and peaceable order within human society. Rebellion is contrary to the natural law, as is disrespect for authority and disregard for propriety. This is because our God is a God of order (1 Corinthians 14:33), and so his creation reflects that same reality.

What Nature Can’t Teach

Nature teaches that there is a God, that he is worthy of worship, and that he has given us a basic moral order, the sum of which is equivalent to the moral content of the Ten Commandments. But there are some crucial lessons that nature cannot teach us. Ever since the fall of man into sin, natural law reveals the right way to live, and as such, it also reveals that men are not living that way. It shows that something is broken, that there is a problem. But natural law cannot explain why the order is broken. It cannot tell us what the problem is (sin) or how it came to be. For that, we need God’s special revelation, the revealed law. As Paul writes, “If it had not been for the law, I would not have known sin” (Romans 7:7). From the context, it is clear he is speaking of God’s revealed law.

“Natural law cannot explain why the order is broken. It cannot tell us what the problem is (sin) or how it came to be.”

And just as the natural law cannot explain the source of the problem, it also cannot explain the solution. “Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24). The only answer is Christ, and this requires the light of the gospel, special revelation from God (Hebrews 1:2; Isaiah 49:6; Acts 13:47). And special revelation further requires a message and a proclaimer. “How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching?” (Romans 10:14). And so, while Christianity has taught the importance of nature as a teacher and a means of accountability, it has also taught the absolute necessity of grace. The only name by which men may be saved is the name of Jesus Christ (Acts 4:12), and that name must be preached by his people.

Finally, it’s important to note that the natural law does indeed teach basic compassion. The New Testament everywhere assumes that unbelievers take care of their own (Luke 6:33; 1 Timothy 5:8). Paul even states, “Perhaps for a good man one would dare even to die” (Romans 5:7). But the natural law would never direct someone to sacrifice himself for a person who didn’t deserve it. It would never teach self-sacrifice with no earthly reward in view. “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). The gospel does not contradict the natural law, but it does go above and beyond it, and in this we find our salvation.

Audio Transcript

We’ve all been there. Maybe you’re there right now. You see problems in every direction. As you look at your life, all you can see are troubles. You see your sins, your shortcomings, your challenges, your relationship struggles, and all those places in life that have been long neglected and now need your focused attention. It all adds up. And now you find yourself in that place, tempted to live a life that has shrunk down to the size of your problems.

Pastor John has been there. It’s why he took a leave of absence in 2010, eight months away from ministry for what he called a “soul check” — months spent scrutinizing the problems he saw in his life, his marriage, his worship, his fathering, his pastoring, his public life, all of it. During these searching months, he pinpointed five besetting sins within himself, problem areas that needed attention. He named them, isolated them, and confessed them. He would come to call them an “ugly cluster” of sins that included selfishness, anger, self-pity, quickness to blame, and sullenness. We have talked about this season and his personal discoveries on the podcast, back in APJ 220, APJ 1227, and APJ 1501. It was a significant season in his life.

That leave ended at the end of 2010. On January 9, 2011, he preached for the very first time in those many months. He preached on the Lord’s Prayer, in a sermon titled, “Our Deepest Prayer: Hallowed Be Your Name.” In the Lord’s Prayer, our Savior teaches us to ask for several things. We ask for our daily needs. We ask for food, for personal forgiveness from our sin tendencies, for a forgiving spirit to forgive those who sin against us, and to be kept from sin. Our loving Father cares that we pray for all these daily needs. But before those requests, we first pray for greater things: that God’s name would be hallowed, his kingdom come, and his will be done (Matthew 6:9–13). From this, Pastor John took another important lesson from his leave. To explain, here he is, in that first sermon back, coming off his leave, referencing his journaled reflections from his time away.

There’s something unique about petition number one — it’s one of a kind in these six petitions. “Hallowed be your name” (Matthew 6:9). In this petition, we get the one specific, named subjective response of the human heart that God wants everybody to give: hallowing. That is, you reverence, you sanctify, you treasure, you esteem, you respect, you stand in awe. Something goes on in the heart. It’s the one request that names what’s supposed to go on in the heart toward God. “Name” is who he is. When you say, “Hallowed be your name,” you mean, “Hallowed be you.” I’m hallowing, treasuring, esteeming, reverencing, honoring Yahweh, and he’s in, and signified by, his name.

One Great Purpose

Here’s another journal entry. October 9: “My One Great Passion! Nothing” — and I remember writing this sentence. I mean, sometimes I read it now and it just doesn’t have the same clout that it did then. God just says things to you, and you feel like a moment of clarity has happened, and all the clouds have been blown away, and you know something with such crystal clarity that you wish it would always be that way.

“Nothing is more clear to me than that the purpose of the universe is for the hallowing of God’s name.”

Here’s what I wrote: “Nothing is more clear and unmistakable to me than that the purpose of the universe is for the hallowing of God’s name. His kingdom comes for that. His will is done for that. Humans have bread-sustained life for that. Sins are forgiven for that. Temptation is escaped for that.”

If you press up as far as you can go into the mind and the intention and the purpose of God for all things, then petition one nails it. You can’t go any higher. You don’t hallow God’s name because something else better, higher, more important should happen. The hallowing of God’s name is the termination of everything. He starts with the biggest request of all: pray that that happen in everything.

Overwhelming Pressures and Problems

So, one last journal entry, October 10 — you can see the sequence going here as day after day I’m thinking about this. I just wrote this prayer: “Lord, grant that I would, in all my weaknesses and limitations, remain close to the one clear, grand theme of my life: your magnificence.”

Sooner or later in your life — young people, heads up; old people know this — pressures and problems become almost overwhelming. Physical problems: “Give me bread.” Relational and mental problems: “Please forgive me.” Moral problems: “Don’t let me go into that temptation again.” What I want you to see is this: You have a Father. He’s a thousand times better than any earthly good father or bad father.

“You can’t pray about a problem he doesn’t know and care about. None. No matter how small they are.”

You have a Father, and this Father cares about every one of us. You can’t pray about a problem he doesn’t know and care about. None. No matter how small they are. And he beckons you to come to him and to talk to him in prayer about them, because he knows what you need, and he’s not surprised by anything.

Now that’s the usual way we attack our problems — directly. “God, help me! I’ve got a problem.” And all the attention begins to focus on the problem. And yes, God, you’re saying “Come,” but your life is starting to shrink up around the problem or the set of problems. You wake up thinking about them, you go to bed thinking about them, and your life is shrinking little by little down around this cluster of pain and problems. Marriage problems, or kid problems, or health problems, or work problems. Your life is just shrinking down, and all the while you’re calling on the last three petitions, “God, help me. I need some bread. I need some money. I need some forgiveness. I need some help morally.” You’re crying out, and your life is just shrinking down.

Ballast of God’s Supremacy

Now, when I say it that way, I don’t mean, “Stop doing that.” I do not mean, “Stop crying out to God.” I don’t mean, “Stop knowing your problems are there and saying, ‘I need help.’” I want you to see that God offers you another strategy of victory. It’s not different; that is, it’s not contradictory. It doesn’t replace what I just described. But it is indirect. There’s a direct way — I’ve got a problem, and I’m going after it — and then there’s something indirect, and here I’m thinking about the first three petitions of the Lord’s Prayer.

God made you to be a part of something big. He made you to be a part of something spectacular and magnificent, and you’re allowing, perhaps, your life to just shrink down around these problems. God’s in it, and he’s patient, and he’s loving, and he provides help, but I’m just saying that there’s another strategy. There’s another way to add. It’s a supplemental remedy for life. Namely, to be drawn up. Let yourself be drawn up into the first three petitions of the Lord’s Prayer.

God made you to be a part of hallowing his name, and extending his kingdom, and seeing his will be done. He made you for something magnificent. Something mundane as well. Oh yes, he made that. He cares about that. He wants you to live there. But what we fail to see — I speak from experience — is that when we lose our grip on the greatness of God, and his name, and his kingdom, and his global will, we lose a divine equilibrium in life, and we become increasingly vulnerable to those problems overwhelming us.

When we lose our grip on his name, his kingdom, his will — the big, universal, global, glorious, awesome, magnificent purposes into which we have been caught up — when we lose our grip on that, and life begins to shrink down around even a God-pursued problem solving, we lose an equilibrium, a divine equilibrium. I’ve called it ballast before in life, in your boat. You have this little boat, and the waves are there, and your ballast is heavy, deep, and I’m just shifting images here to go up into those first three petitions.

Feet on the Ground, Eyes Up

I’m pleading with you as I close that you not lose your grip on the supremacy and centrality of hallowing the name of God in your life. I’m urging you, from the Lord’s Prayer and from experience, that you do go to God for bread, and you do go to God for forgiveness, and you do go to God for overcoming besetting sins, and you do go to God to advance his will and to seek his kingdom, and you do all of it for the hallowing of his name.

The great value in your life, in your marriage, in your parenting, in your single life, in your friendships, in your studies — the great value is that I will live so that both my heart and other hearts hallow, esteem, reverence, lift up, honor, value, treasure the name of God over all things.

Keep your feet on the ground. We live there. We will never not live on the ground, with its mundane aspects. But you may not see it clearly now, but I testify, and I say from Scripture, there is more deliverance, more healing, more joy in the hallowing of God’s name as your supreme goal and priority than you ever dreamed.

It’s so indirect that it just feels often irrelevant. I’ve got this massive problem and you’re telling me to hallow the name of God? Yeah, I am. It is a request. “Hallowed be thy name” means, “Let your name be hallowed.” And who needs to do it more? I do. It’s a global prayer, but it starts right here. When I wake up in the morning, I’m not hallowing the name of God most mornings. I’m thinking about my problems, and they seem to be bigger than God. So I pray this. This is a prayer. Isn’t that encouraging that Jesus would tell us, “Ask the Father to help you hallow him”?

I invite you, beckon you, in 2011, to go deep and go high in the Lord’s Prayer. Let him be a sweet, close, tender, warm, need-meeting, caring Father to you. And on that, rise up and join him through prayer and life in the seeking of his kingdom and the doing of his will — all to the end that his name be hallowed.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15015813/be-shrewd-and-buy-up-time