Today we commemorate the birthday of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, born 130 years ago on January 3, 1892. And today, as the works of so many of his contemporaries are being forgotten or relegated to reading lists for specialized literature courses, Tolkien’s two great masterpieces, The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954–1955), continue to live on — on the page and screen, and in the hearts of millions of readers all over the world.

So why have Tolkien’s works not just survived but actually increased in popularity in the decades since their release? We could point to their intricately woven plots, unforgettable characters, amazing settings, and wonderful descriptions, but none of these elements can adequately explain the passion that Tolkien readers typically display, or their desire to reread these long narratives again and again. For a better answer, we might look below the surface and ask, What makes Middle-earth the kind of world so many readers long for?

‘Fundamentally Religious’

On December 2, 1953, Tolkien typed out a fairly short, five-paragraph letter to his good friend Father Robert Murray, which would go on to become the most cited of all his collected letters. Father Murray had read and commented on parts of The Lord of the Rings and had reported that the work had left him with strong sense of a “positive compatibility with the order of Grace” (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, 171–72).

Tolkien responded that he thought he understood exactly what Murray meant. Then he made his now-famous, often-quoted declaration: “The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision” (172).

The Lord of the Rings is a fundamentally religious work? Despite having the author’s own word, at first glance this may seem a strange claim. The word God is never used in either The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings, nor do we find any of the elements we typically associate with religion. The key to understanding Tolkien’s statement to Father Murray hinges on the word fundamentally. Paraphrasing Tolkien, we could say that The Lord of the Rings is in its fundamentals or at its foundations a religious work.

So how should we approach The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to find the Christian elements? One further letter from Tolkien offers a clue.

Tolkien the Christian

In the fall of 1958, three years after The Return of the King was released, the final installment in The Lord of the Rings, an American scholar named Deborah Webster was asked to give a talk on Tolkien. Finding little about the author in print at the time, and there being no Internet, she took out pen and paper and wrote to ask Professor Tolkien if he would be willing to share some information about himself.

On October 25, Tolkien wrote back. He began by lamenting that insignificant details having nothing to do with an artist’s work are often the ones “particularly dear” to researchers, such as the fact that Beethoven swindled his publishers (Letters, 288). With regard to himself, Tolkien pointed out, some facts — such as his preference of Spanish to Italian — had an effect on The Lord of the Rings but did little to explain it.

Tolkien went on to say, however, that a few basic facts, “however drily expressed,” were “really significant.” For instance, the fact that he was born in 1892 and spent his boyhood in a pre-mechanical setting much like the Shire. “Or more important,” he continued, “I am a Christian,” and added, “which can be deduced from my stories.”

“The Christian element in Tolkien’s stories is present but not directly evident; it must be deduced.”

Here the word deduced is key. The Christian element in Tolkien’s stories is present but not directly evident; it must be deduced. In addition, the author tells us it can be determined from the stories themselves. While Tolkien’s letters and essays can shed additional light on the Christian aspect in his fiction, if we look below the surface, we can find it without needing external sources.

Founded on Faith

In an interview, Tolkien told Wheaton professor Clyde Kilby, “I am a Christian and of course what I write will be from that essential viewpoint” (Myth, Allegory, and Gospel, 141). Here, instead of the word fundamentally, Tolkien uses the word essential. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are in their essence Christian works, not on the surface. So while some Tolkien scholars label as Christian the fact (reported in the Appendices) that the Fellowship sets out from Rivendell on December 25 and the fall of Sauron is achieved on March 25 (a traditional date for the crucifixion), these details may seem more superficial than fundamental.

Instead, we might look for Tolkien’s Christian element in the profound sense of purpose that Bilbo, Frodo, and the other members of the Fellowship find in giving themselves to help others. We can also discern it in the objective right and wrong that Tolkien’s protagonists experience, even when facing their most difficult decisions. But perhaps the best illustration of the Christian foundations of Middle-earth can be seen in the divine providence we find there.

In his recent book Providence, John Piper notes that in reference to God, the word providence has come to mean “the act of purposefully providing for, or sustaining and governing, the world” (30). He suggests that another way to express what we mean by God’s providence is say that God “sees to it that things happen in a certain way.” Both ways of speaking about how divine providence works in our world also apply to Middle-earth.

Providence in Middle-Earth

In Gandalf’s final words on the last page of The Hobbit, Tolkien provides a hint of what has been behind all the so-called lucky events in the story. It is some years after Bilbo’s return to Bag End, and one evening Gandalf and Balin arrive for an unexpected visit. On learning that prosperity has come to Lake-town and people are making songs that say the rivers run with gold, Bilbo remarks how the old prophecies are turning out to be true.

“Surely you don’t disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself?” asks Gandalf. Then he adds, “You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit?” (272). In Gandalf’s question, we find the first of several direct suggestions provided by Tolkien that there is far more than just luck or coincidence at work behind the scenes in Middle-earth.

Power Beyond the Ring-Maker

In the second chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring, Tolkien returns to the topic of who or what has been behind Bilbo’s adventures, specifically his finding the Ring. As Gandalf recounts its long history, he comes to Bilbo’s arrival at just the right time and putting his hand on the Ring blindly in the dark. Then Tolkien makes explicit what has previously been implied as Gandalf tells Frodo that the Ring was picked up by Bilbo not by luck or blind chance but because “there was more than one power at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker” (56).

In Middle-earth, as in our world, the workings of providence are typically veiled, making them sometimes discernible only in hindsight. In words that briefly pull back this veil, Gandalf concludes, “Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it” (56). Here Gandalf uses the passive voice without specifying who or what it was that intended these events to take place, thus implying the work of divine providence in a way similar to the person who says, “God had a plan. We were meant to meet that day.”

More Than Mere Chance

Nine chapters later, at the Council at Rivendell, Elrond uses similar words to allude to the hand of providence. He begins by asking those in attendance, “What shall we do with the Ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?” (242). Then in a reference to the benevolent power at work in Middle-earth, he explains, “That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands” (242). Here again, Tolkien uses words that readers themselves might use when speaking about providence in their own lives. Sometimes we, too, may believe that we were called by God to do certain task or to be at a certain place.

“In Middle-earth, as in our world, the workings of providence are typically veiled.”

As in our own world, divine providence in Middle-earth typically chooses to work behind the scenes in ways that are not directly visible. Because of this, some characters see not providence but mere chance. Elrond tells the members of the Council, “You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world” (242). Tolkien’s point is that while the actions of providence have intention and purpose, to some they may appear as sheer coincidence.

Light from an Invisible Lamp

Do you need to be Christian to enjoy Tolkien’s works? Certainly not — as is evident from the millions of readers who have enjoyed Tolkien’s fiction without sharing his faith. In fact, one of the most remarkable aspects about The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings is their unique ability to engage and inspire people from all sorts of backgrounds. At the same time, as scholar Joseph Pearce points out, to fully understand Tolkien’s fiction, serious readers “cannot afford to ignore Tolkien’s philosophical and theological beliefs, central as they are to his whole conception of Middle-earth and the struggles within it” (Tolkien, Man and Myth, 100).

Born on January 3, 1892, J.R.R. Tolkien died 81 years later in 1973. Two years before his death, Tolkien received a letter from a fan who wrote, “You create a world in which some sort of faith seems to be everywhere without a visible source, like light from an invisible lamp” (Letters, 413). Tolkien responded by pointing out that if sanctity inhabits an author’s work or as a pervading light illumines it, this sanctity “does not come from him but through him.” Today, all those who have experienced this light that permeates Tolkien’s fiction join in celebrating both his life and his remarkable achievement.

I can remember my first time hearing Luther’s famous first thesis: “When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, ‘Repent,’ he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.” While others around me offered solemn nods, the less-sacred thought flashed across my mind, Well, that sure sounds like fun.

I knew the repentant life to be good for me, as I knew going to the dentist to be good for me. I did not look forward to a life of feeling bad about myself. Wasn’t it punishment to bring the dog’s nose back to its mess? My childlike faith heard, “The Christian life is one of sitting in the corner, muttering apologies.” Necessary? Perhaps. Exciting? Far from.

My life of repentance so far had been the same somber note on repeat. Whenever I felt an elevated sense of my own sin, I threw myself into the deep pit of penance. Like Jonah, I marked myself guilty and consented to being cast into the sea. Or like the prodigal, I made my long return home, rehearsing how unworthy I was to be his son, and how I ought to be treated as a hired hand.

I deserved despair. I wouldn’t, couldn’t pursue happiness. I had sinned. I needed to serve my time before I could freely smile again. I did not know — indeed, I am still learning — about the joyful life of repentance.

Have Mercy on Me

King David confronted how I think in his beloved psalm of penitence.

The desperate and fallen king wrote Psalm 51 in the bleakest of days, detailed at the very beginning: “To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet went to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba.”

In the time when kings go to war, David saw the naked woman from his rooftop. He called for her and took her for himself; she conceived. To cover his sin, David arranged her husband’s death. After Uriah lay dead, God sent the prophet Nathan to confront David about his adultery and murder. Under sin’s thick clouds, David sits to pen this psalm, beginning the only way sinners can: beseeching God for mercy.

Have mercy on me, O God,     according to your steadfast love;according to your abundant mercy     blot out my transgressions. (Psalm 51:1)

Sinner’s Broken Bones

I understood David’s sorrow for sin. I knew how sin upbraids my spirit, sends my conscience to berate me, and lays a crushing weight of God’s displeasure upon my soul.

David describes this experience by saying God broke his bones (Psalm 51:8). The weight of sin pressed upon the very core of him, down to the bones, fracturing his inner man. Sin eroded him, as he describes in another psalm: “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long” (Psalm 32:3). I’ve known how sin deteriorates a man.

And while some today might seek to rescue us from feeling the brokenness our iniquity produces, David knows such a severe response to sin as fitting.

You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;     you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;     a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise. (Psalm 51:16–17)

“The truly repentant heart, the one God will in no way despise, is broken and contrite toward God.”

The truly repentant heart, the one God will in no way despise, is broken and contrite toward God, not unconcerned and insensible. Brokenness I knew; the bitter cup of contriteness I tasted. Thus, when I pictured a life of repentance, I imagined living only in this dark and stormy night, sitting under its pouring rain, rubbing mud on my head remorsefully, waiting for God’s favor to return.

Make Me Smile Again

But David says more. He requests something that changed how I view repentance:

Let me hear joy and gladness;     let the bones that you have broken rejoice. (Psalm 51:8)

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,     and uphold me with a willing spirit. (Psalm 51:12)

Joy and gladness? Let the broken bones rejoice?

David, you committed adultery with Bathsheba, and orchestrated the death of her husband — and you ask God to restore your joy? Are you taking your sin seriously? Do you care about the pain you caused? How can you so quickly ask for restoration of joy, while Uriah’s body still lies fresh in the tomb? Or so I am tempted to ask.

Behold the beautiful collage of true repentance: it bows low in brokenness and contrition, leads us to confess gross sin to the God we have offended, and yet it also bids us to request more happiness in this God. With broken bones, David boldly asks for the inheritance of the righteous: joy. He hears accusations and groans and torturing silence, but he asks to hear former music and festive song; he is caught in caves of guilt but wants to again feel the sunshine of salvation.

His repentance before God is a plea for mercy and a return to God for more joy in God. He wants forgiveness, cleansing, a renewed spirit — to walk again with God, as it were, naked and unashamed. This prodigal knows the scandalous love of the Father, and asks to be received as a son, as loved. Though unworthy in himself, he pants to return to his Father’s table, asks for close communion again, for his broken bones to laugh again, according to his Father’s steadfast love.

Restore Me, Then Others

In David’s prayer, I learned that Luther’s vision of lifelong repentance means turning from broken cisterns to the fountain of living water (Jeremiah 2:13). A life of restoration, renewal, happiness, closeness to God. I learned that the life of unrepentance leads us to take steps farther and farther away from God and hides us from happiness. And this joy, rather than being whipped cream atop salvation, is essential to continue in it, the fuel to persevere in faith and obedience.

And lest we assume this is selfish, note how he plans his joy extend beyond himself.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways,     and sinners will return to you. (Psalm 51:13)

Though repentance is inescapably personal, it is not only personal.

Unlike a stagnant swamp, true repentance flows onward and outward. Here, David resolves that the cleansing, the joy, the renewed spirit, will send him forth to teach others caught in sin. He determines that if God grants him his pardon and presence, he will go forth and encourage the repentance of others, leading to their return.

New Year, New Repentance

Is your Christian life one of repentance?

Perhaps some of us need to resolve differently this year. Often, we look away from the past year and its failures toward what we hope to be a brighter future. The whole sense of New Year’s resolutions usually gives exclusive attention to what’s ahead — we resolve to do better, be better, live better, starting now.

“Sin needs to be acknowledged, confessed, repented of, not buried beneath a few good intentions.”

But as Christians, we remember that we can’t just leave everything behind us. We have said things and done things this past year — things maybe no person alive knows — that will not die quietly before promises of never again. Some of our sharpest disappointments this past year resulted from sin — and sin needs to be acknowledged, confessed, repented of, not buried beneath a few good intentions.

So let January mark a fresh beginning of repentance. Repentance is, in itself, a kind of January, a newness through which God renews a right spirit within us and restores our first joy in salvation. Take one or two sins to your gracious Father, ask for forgiveness through the blood of Christ, ask for freshness of happiness in your salvation, and go forth, telling others of the joyful repentance you’ve found in your Lord.

Before you make resolves for the new year — before you start a reading plan, or choose a diet, or buy a journal, or step on a treadmill — find a why worth changing for. As many more have observed before me, our resolutions often wilt because we didn’t have a why big enough to weather the inevitable temptations, distractions, and setbacks.

So what will your why be for the year to come? For me, I want my life to prove the worth of my calling from God. Not my calling to ministry, but my calling to God — the calling every genuine Christian shares. My why comes from 2 Thessalonians 1:11:

To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power.

What evidence do we see in our lives that we have been called by God? What might someone else see in us this year that would suggest something supernatural has happened? What habits might hint that we have been claimed by heaven? Will we live worthy of our calling — or not?

Could We Ever Be Worthy?

Does a Christian resolution for worthiness rub you the wrong way? “We pray for you that our God may make you worthy of his calling.” But none of us is worthy of this calling. Surely the apostle Paul knew that more than anyone.

None is righteous, no, not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one. (Romans 3:10–12)

“Who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid?” For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. (Romans 11:35–36)

How could a sinner ever merit anything from God? We can’t. And yet God himself says, through his apostle, that we can be considered — by God — worthy of his calling. What would that mean? Not that we could ever earn or deserve this calling, but that we could increasingly honor the calling we have received by grace alone, based on the merits of Christ alone.

Godliness Honors God

Apart from Christ, we will never deserve to be called children of God, but we can still disgrace the calling we have been freely given — or we can adorn our precious calling with an ambitious godliness. “Show yourself in all respects to be a model of good works . . . so that in everything [you] may adorn the doctrine of God our Savior” (Titus 2:7, 10). Our lives can become a wild, grace-filled bouquet laid upon the saving and sufficient work of Jesus — a worthy reflection of his love, his cross, his power, his worth.

Again, Paul says, “[We pray] that our God may make you worthy of his calling . . . so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ” (2 Thessalonians 1:11–12). This is the worthiness of another world. As it grows and spreads in a redeemed life, it doesn’t welcome praise to itself, but gladly bows to worship Christ. The worthiness God finds in us glorifies the greatness of Jesus.

“Any worthiness God finds in us only glorifies the greatness of Jesus.”

Our worthiness proves his worth, not ours. Why? Because worthiness in us is an evidence and expression of his grace. God makes us worthy “according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ.” We strive for a worthiness that draws others’ curiosity and admiration not to ourselves, but to him. We want them to think, Someone who lives like that must know something about life, about reality, about God that I don’t yet know. I want to know what they know and love like they love.

Worthiness in Real Life

So what might this worthiness look like in another new year? A few verses earlier, Paul unfolds the worthiness he sees blossoming in the Thessalonian church:

We ought always to give thanks to God for you, brothers, as is right, because your faith is growing abundantly, and the love of every one of you for one another is increasing. Therefore we ourselves boast about you in the churches of God for your steadfastness and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions that you are enduring. This is evidence of the righteous judgment of God, that you may be considered worthy of the kingdom of God, for which you are also suffering. (2 Thessalonians 1:3–5)

How specifically was their worthiness displayed? Their faith and love held fast through suffering. And not just held fast, but grew. And not just grew, but grew abundantly. The apostle could see that God was for them and in them, because they were seeking God with greater intensity, trusting him with greater peace, and loving one another with greater devotion. Greater — greater faith, greater love, greater patience, greater peace, greater discipline, greater joy — greater is a worthy resolve for a new year.

Where, specifically, could you grow abundantly in the next year? What area of your spiritual life and love for others needs to be revived or nurtured toward greater maturity? Find a greater resolve to focus on, and hold onto, as you step into another January.

Made Worthy in the Valley

Don’t miss that the church in Thessalonica was made more worthy through their suffering. “We ourselves boast about you in the churches of God for your steadfastness and faith in all your persecutions and in the afflictions that you are enduring” (2 Thessalonians 1:4). Their hardships had become a dark and painful backdrop on which their faithfulness could shine.

Would anyone have seen their steadfastness in Christ if they hadn’t experienced adversity? Suffering, for them, offered an opportunity to experience more of God’s strength and mercy, and suffering also made it easier for others to see the God who was motivating and sustaining them.

How might that change how we think about the sufferings that will come over the next year? When our plans and resolves are inevitably disrupted and disappointed, will we assume suffering is only an enemy? Or, in the hands of our God, could suffering actually be a strange and precious friend of our worthiness?

The Who in Good Resolves

New resolves often fail without a well-defined, deeply-felt why, but they also fail because of a misplaced who.

“Before you make any resolves for the new year, find a why worth changing for.”

Look carefully, again, at verse 11: “To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling and may fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith by his power.” Who makes our lives worthy of such a calling? God does. Who fulfills our resolves for good and our works of faith? God does. Whose power will be the decisive agent for lasting change in our lives? His power.

Good resolves begin and end with God. Which means good resolves begin and persevere through prayer. And so Paul does not merely charge the Thessalonians to live worthy of their calling; he prays for them to be made worthy. “To this end we always pray for you, that our God may make you worthy of his calling. . . .”

So how might we pray for greater faith and love in the new year?

Lord, I am not content to have last year’s love for you. I want a deeper, sweeter, more active faith in you. Nurture what you have planted in my soul. Prune away more of my remaining sin. Make the sufferings to come magnify your work in me. By whatever means necessary, cause me to grow and to grow abundantly. In Jesus’s name and for his greater glory in us, Amen.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/14983154/how-being-becomes-doing

Two years ago, I wrote in “Ten Questions for a New Year” that the close of one year, and the beginning of a new one, is an ideal time to “consider your ways” (Haggai 1:5). In other words, many find it an appropriate season for reviewing our walk with Jesus and reconsidering our priorities. To that end, I suggest ten more questions.

1. What’s the most important decision you need to make?

While some of us have major decisions already looming before us, many do not. Of course, even in a “normal” year, significant decisions typically arise. But what is one decision you may not be forced to make but would be wise to make? Perhaps it relates to your spiritual life or your family life; perhaps it’s one that will impact someone’s eternity. The decision may regard one of the questions below, so you may find it helpful to return to this question after you finish the others.

“What is one decision you may not be forced to make but would be wise to make?”

2. How can you simplify your life?

Most everyone I know feels overwhelmed. You might be thinking, My whole life needs simplifying! And maybe you’re right. But it can also feel overwhelming to think of simplifying everything, and that’s likely to result in simplifying nothing. To adapt the old adage, the thousand-mile journey to simplify your entire life begins with the first step. Identify the one area where simplifying could have the greatest effect, and then determine one step you can make in that direction. Fight the inertia with one practical, simplifying change.

3. What’s the most important need you feel burdened to meet?

The need might relate to a ministry or a person in your church, your neighborhood, or your city, or even to something on a larger scale, such as disaster relief, injustice, world hunger, or global missions. You can’t meet every need you see, but what’s one step you could take?

4. What habit would you most like to establish?

Perhaps this question sounds like merely an old-fashioned New Year’s resolution. But the fact remains that each of us can almost immediately identify a regular practice that, if it became ingrained into our routines, would bless us and others and bring glory to God. Perhaps it would be the addition of some simple spiritual discipline. Maybe the Holy Spirit has been prompting you to begin a new habit in one of the usual areas of consideration, such as exercise, diet, or sleep. Or it could be something like fresh diligence in housekeeping, marriage or family life, or the use of technology. Either way, pray, make a plan, and start!

5. Whom do you most want to encourage?

Pinpoint one person — a family member, church member, friend, neighbor, or coworker — who has been overwhelmed by circumstances or burdens. Resolve to say an encouraging word to that person, perhaps as often as you see him or her.

6. What is your most important financial goal, and what is the most important step toward it?

Goals for financial stewardship typically relate to giving to God’s kingdom work, reducing debt, saving for something special, or generating a new income stream. But it could be that you need to develop a better biblical and practical foundation for managing your money. Consider reading a book on the subject, asking for counsel from a wise Christian friend, or talking with a professional. Decide which to put at the top of your list, and make a measurable move forward.

7. What’s the single best step you can take to improve your work life?

The Bible encourages not only work, but good work. Proverbs 22:29 says, “Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will stand before kings; he will not stand before obscure men.” It’s common to fall into the routines and deadlines of our employment and develop a mindset of just, Go to work and do my job. How can you become one who is better “skilled in his work” this year? Determine to improve one work-related skill and add more value to your labor.

“How can you become one who is better ‘skilled in his work’ this year?”

8. What’s one way you can bless your pastor (or another who ministers to you)?

As someone with 24 years of full- or part-time pastoral ministry, and 28 years of experience training ministers, I can testify that most pastors receive complaints and criticisms every week. Often, they are stung several times a week. Resolve this year to become the kind of church member who encourages those whom God uses to minister to you. Be specific about some insightful comment they made that was helpful to you. Tell them that their faithfulness in ministry is an ongoing encouragement in your own walk with Jesus.

9. What’s one step you can take to enrich your family’s spiritual legacy?

The most important step you can take is to provide an example of consistent Christian character in your personal life and commitment to your local body of Christ. You want your children and grandchildren to see you maintaining your devotional life at home and serving in your church. So maybe enriching your spiritual legacy begins with a practical step in one of these spheres. Beyond this, perhaps nothing else could make a greater impact on your family’s future spiritual life than committing to a practice of simple but regular family worship.

You might also consider other ideas for bringing Christ to your children and grandchildren. For example, you could send them emails with a spiritual bent. You could handwrite a note or letter, which they’ll possibly keep since they rarely receive anything written by hand. You could keep a journal that records your spiritual journey, prayers for them, or other reflections for their benefit. Or you could use a different Bible each year in your devotional reading and include your insights as well as notes to a child or grandchild, and then present it to him or her at the end of the year.

I record a video for my daughter and each grandchild on their birthdays, recounting some of the highlights in their lives and our family in the past year, reminding them of my love, and expressing my prayers for them. I have a folder in my file cabinet with important information my family will need after my death, and there I tell them the location of these videos on my computer.

10. What book, in addition to the Bible, do you most want to read?

Have the increasing pressures of your life crowded out the benefits and pleasures of reading? This next year, could you choose one book you know you’d really find helpful and read just one page per day? By reading one page per day, you may read the equivalent of two full-length books. That may not sound like much, but it’s far better than not reading at all. Moreover, by some accounts, this would place you above half the American population in the number of books read each year.

Meet the Year

If you’ve found these questions thought-provoking, perhaps you’ll want to print them or copy them into a journal so you can reflect on them more thoroughly and prayerfully. Consider incorporating them into your devotional time today or tomorrow, or just setting aside a few quiet minutes when you can ponder them with a pen and a cup of coffee.

If we’re not intentional, we may find that we spent more time thinking about our Christmas list than about the entire upcoming year of our lives.

Audio Transcript

Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone! On this final day of 2021, we end our ninth year of podcasting, and we end it talking about holiness and the pursuit of perfection. Here is the email: “Hello, Pastor John. My name is Christopher, and I live in Louisville, Kentucky. I’ve been listening to this podcast for a little over a year now. First, thank you so much for the incredible wealth of knowledge you’ve given to me and all your listeners through this podcast.

“I’ve heard you on many occasions mention the danger of perfectionism as a Christian. I am guilty of this. After thinking a great deal about sanctification and listening to episode 1663 about pursuing holiness, it only gets worse. I recognize that we are not justified by works, but also that the pursuit to live holy lives is the evidence that we are saved. I feel like this makes it very hard for me to come to terms with my own failure.

“Instead of running back to Christ when I sin, I spiral down into thoughts like, ‘Maybe I was never truly saved.’ It’s almost as though I condemn myself into depression, even though Christ brings no condemnation, and it often takes days to work through it. How do I find the balance between pursuing holiness and moving past my failure to be holy? Is pursuing holiness the same as pursuing perfection?”

Those last couple of sentences really are two questions. He says, “How do I find the balance between pursuing holiness and moving past my failure to be holy?” That’s one question. Then the second one is, “Is pursuing holiness the same as pursuing perfection?” Let me answer both of those as best I can, starting with the second one first.

So is pursuing holiness the same as pursuing perfection? It’s an ambiguous question because it switches categories on me, moving from a quality of holiness to a quantity of holiness — perfect holiness.

You can see the ambiguity if you rephrase the question like this: is pursuing partial holiness the same as pursuing complete holiness? And the answer is that there is a difference between partial and complete. So when it comes to holiness, the question becomes, Which are you pursuing — partial holiness or complete holiness?

Perfection Commanded

What makes that question psychologically complicated is that the New Testament teaches that in this life Christians will not attain sinless perfection, and yet we are commanded to be perfect as our Father in heaven is perfect (Matthew 5:48). Not perfect just by human standards, but perfect by divine standards, which are God’s standards.

So when Jesus says in Matthew 5:48, “You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” I think it’s just another way of saying, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37), which is the great commandment.

Matthew 5:48 is also another way of saying what Paul says in 2 Corinthians 7:1 — “Let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God” — or what James says in James 1:4 — “Let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

Perfection Awaited

And yet, in spite of these repeated commands to pursue perfection, we are taught in the Bible that our victory over the power of sin will be incomplete until we’re in the presence of Christ. For example, James 3:2 says, “We all stumble in many ways. And if anyone does not stumble in what he says, he is a perfect man, able also to bridle his whole body” — including the tongue. But then James goes on to say, “No human being can tame the tongue” (James 3:8).

“Our victory over the power of sin will be incomplete until we’re in the presence of Christ.”

There’s also Philippians 3:12: “Not that I have already obtained [the resurrection] or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” Paul never claimed to be perfect. He explicitly said, “I haven’t attained perfection yet.”

Or consider the Lord’s Prayer. Right after we’re told to pray every day for our daily bread, we’re to pray, “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matthew 6:11–12). Now that’s not something we should pray once at the beginning of our Christian life. “Forgive us our debts” is the same kind of prayer as “Give us this day our daily bread.” Jesus is talking to disciples. This is a command to avail ourselves of regular, repeated forgiveness.

Holy as Can Be

So on the one hand, we have the command to be perfect repeated, and on the other hand, we have the teaching that we will not in this life be perfect. Now back to our question. What should we pursue? Is it even meaningful to say that we are pursuing perfection? It would be like an athlete saying, “I am pursuing a high-jump record of twenty feet, or a long-jump record of one hundred feet, or a one-mile running time of one minute. That’s my goal.” None of those is ever going to happen while human beings are the kind of human beings they are now.

But as long as God is God, his standard cannot be less than perfection, and when he calls us to perfection, he is not naïve. He knows that in this life we will fall short, but he also knows that he intends to give us success in the pursuit of perfection when we see him face to face. The quest is not in vain. We will attain perfection.

And the pursuit of holiness now is essential to attain the final perfecting work of God, so it’s never wrong to say we are pursuing perfection in that sense. As we pursue holiness here, we are pursuing the perfection that God will grant us through the pursuit of holiness someday.

But in the pursuit of perfection — which we will only attain in the presence of God — there is this brief period of time on earth when our pursuit is so embattled, indwelling sin is so strong, satanic opposition is so great, that even though we are counted righteous in Christ by faith, we are not yet completely righteous in our conduct and will not be completely righteous in our conduct until we see Christ face to face.

So perhaps we should say it like this: in our pursuit of perfect holiness that we will one day have in the presence of Christ, let us seek now to be as holy as a justified sinner can be. We don’t know what the limits are on this imperfect holiness, and there are always more victories to be attained.

Patterns of Light

Now back to Christopher’s other question: “How do I find the balance between pursuing holiness and moving past my failure to be holy?” We all fall short not only of what we ought to be, but also of what we could be. So to ask his question another way, how do we not let our failures to be as holy as we ought to and could be depress and so discourage us that we are paralyzed with hopelessness in the pursuit of holiness?

This is difficult, especially when we realize that our lives must bear witness that we truly are born again, have saving faith, and are justified. We know that we’re not justified by works, but we also know that our works confirm our justification. So how do we enjoy the assurance of our salvation when our holiness remains imperfect?

Let me just point to one passage of Scripture that is so important, and I pray that we will all linger over it long enough to let it have its assurance-giving effect. Here’s 1 John 1:6: “If we say we have fellowship with him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth.” In other words, how we walk testifies to whether we really have a relationship with God.

“The imperfect Christian does not claim perfection, but he does claim to walk in the light.”

He goes on to say, “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7). So he is saying that walking in the light is essential to show that we are being cleansed from our sins by the blood of Jesus.

Now 1 John 1:8: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” So he says, “Walking in the light cannot mean sinlessness” — let that sink in. Walking in the light cannot mean sinlessness because he just said, “You have to walk in the light,” and he just said, “If you say you’re sinless, you’re dead wrong.” Well, what then does walking in the light mean?

So he goes on in one more verse, 1 John 1:9: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” So here is John’s description of the imperfect Christian. The imperfect Christian does not claim perfection, but he does claim to walk in the light — because if you don’t walk in the light, you don’t have fellowship with God, and the blood of Jesus doesn’t cleanse or cover you from sin.

What then does “walk in the light” mean if it doesn’t mean sinlessness (1 John 1:7)? His answer is that it means a pattern of obedience that involves regular, sincere confession of sin. The person who walks in the light has enough light to see sin for what it is, to hate it, to confess it, to receive forgiveness for it with thankfulness and humility, and to press on with fresh resolve to love God and people better. I think that’s the apostle’s answer to Christopher’s question, and now we need to pray that God would work the miracle of this biblical pattern into our lives.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/14980601/what-makes-christianity-different-as-a-religion

As many begin a new year of Bible reading, we would do well to remember one of the chief dangers: searching the Scriptures, and missing the Savior. Recall Jesus’s words to the Jewish leaders of John 5, those most devoted of Bible readers:

You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness about me, yet you refuse to come to me that you may have life. (John 5:39–40)

Amazingly, it is possible to know your Bible and not know your God. It is possible to study the word and neglect the Word. It is possible to search the Scriptures and miss the Savior.

How can we guard ourselves from such a deadly yet subtle danger? Ultimately, we need the Holy Spirit to breathe Christ into the dry bones of our devotions. We need him to come, morning by morning, and turn our living room or desk into a Mount of Transfiguration. And so, we pray.

But alongside prayer, we can also resolve to keep one goal of Bible reading high above the rest: Catch as much of Jesus as you can. Know and enjoy him. See and savor him. Study and love him.

And to that end, let me offer a modest proposal for your consideration: as you read the Bible this year, plant your soul especially in the Gospels.

I am not proposing that you read only the Gospels this year, but that you consider finding some special way to plant (and keep) your soul in them. You could, for example, use the one-year Discipleship Journal Bible Reading Plan, which includes a Gospel reading for every day. Or you could memorize an extended portion of the Gospels, like the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7) or the Upper Room Discourse (John 13–17). Or you could read and reread one of the Gospels, perhaps with journal and commentary in hand.

This proposal will not fit every reader. Some, perhaps, have spent most of their Christian life in the Gospels, and this may be the year to wander with Moses in the wilderness, or hear what Ezekiel has to say, or trace the logic of Romans.

But I suspect many, like myself, would benefit from the counsel of J.I. Packer and J.C. Ryle. First, hear Packer:

We could . . . correct woolliness of view as to what Christian commitment involves, by stressing the need for constant meditation on the four Gospels, over and above the rest of our Bible reading; for Gospel study enables us both to keep our Lord in clear view and to hold before our minds the relational frame of discipleship to him.

“We should never let ourselves forget,” Packer continues, “that the four Gospels are, as has often and rightly been said, the most wonderful books on earth” (Keep in Step with the Spirit, 61).

Now listen to Ryle:

It would be well if professing Christians in modern days studied the four Gospels more than they do. No doubt all Scripture is profitable. It is not wise to exalt one part of the Bible at the expense of another. But I think it should be good for some who are very familiar with the Epistles, if they knew a little more about Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. (Holiness, 247)

Neither Packer nor Ryle sought to create red-letter Christians, who treat the words of Jesus as more inspired than the rest of Scripture. All the Bible is God-breathed, and the Son of God speaks as fully in the black syllables as he does in the red.

Why then would whole-Bible lovers like these two men counsel Christians to give themselves to the Gospels? Consider four reasons.

The Gospels give glory a texture.

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John could have given us a summary of Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection in their own words. Instead, the Gospels take us among the twelve, where we see and hear Jesus for ourselves. Why?

John tells us: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). For John and the other disciples, the glory of Christ was not a vague or summarized or paraphrased glory; it was a particular glory, a textured glory, a glory they had “seen and heard” (1 John 1:3) in the specific words, deeds, joys, heartaches, and sufferings of the Word made flesh. And by Gospel’s end, they want us to join them in saying, “We have seen his glory” (John 20:30–31).

“Sinners and strugglers like us need more than general notions of Jesus in our most desperate moments.”

Sinners and strugglers like us need more than general notions of Jesus in our most desperate moments; we need his particular glories. The fearful soul needs more than to remember that Jesus gives peace — it needs to hear him say in the upper room, “Let not your hearts be troubled” (John 14:1). The oppressed mind needs more than a vague idea of Jesus’s power over darkness — it needs to watch him send demons fleeing (Mark 1:25–26). The guilty heart needs more than to say, “Jesus forgives” — it needs to feel Calvary shake under the force of “It is finished” (John 19:30).

Sin is not vague. Sorrow is not vague. Satan is not vague. Therefore, we cannot allow Christ to be.

The Gospels shatter false Christs.

Ever since the real Jesus ascended, we have been in danger of embracing “another Jesus” (2 Corinthians 11:4) — or at least a distorted Jesus. Some do so deliberately, in search of a more convenient Messiah. Many, however, just struggle to faithfully uphold what Jonathan Edwards calls the “diverse excellencies” of Jesus Christ, the lamblike Lion and lionlike Lamb (Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ, 29). We understand lions, and we understand lambs, but what do we make of a Lion-Lamb?

Imagine yourself in Peter’s shoes. Just when you think you’ve discovered Jesus’s tenderness, he goes and calls someone a dog (Matthew 15:25–26). Just when you imagine you’ve grasped his toughness, he takes the children in his arms (Mark 10:16). Just when you pride yourself for seeing him clearly, he turns and says, “Get behind me, Satan!” (Mark 8:33). And just when you’re sure you’ve failed beyond forgiveness, he meets you with threefold mercy (John 21:15–19).

“We need our vision of Jesus regularly shattered — or at least refined — by the real, unexpected Jesus of the Gospels.”

“My idea of God is not a divine idea,” C.S. Lewis writes. “It has to be shattered time after time” (A Grief Observed, 66). So too with every one of us. We tend to remake the full, surprising, perfect humanity of Jesus in the image of our partial, predictable, distorted humanity. So, like Peter, we need our vision of Jesus regularly shattered — or at least refined — by the real, unexpected Jesus of the Gospels.

The Gospels make Bible reading Personal.

When we talk of “personal Bible study,” we may say more than we mean. The best Bible study is indeed Personal — centered on the Person of Jesus Christ. His presence rustles through every page of Scripture, Old Testament or New. All the prophets foretell him; all the apostles preach him. And the Gospel writers in particular display him.

Yet how easily Bible reading becomes an abstract, impersonal affair — even, at times, when we are reading about Christ. To know Christ doctrinally and theologically is not necessarily to know him personally. To follow old-covenant shadows to their substance is not necessarily to follow him. To grasp the logic of redemption is not necessarily to grasp his love. To be sure, we cannot commune with Christ without knowing something about him. But we can certainly know much about Christ without communing with him.

“It is well to be acquainted with the doctrines and principles of Christianity. It is better to be acquainted with Christ himself,” Ryle writes (Holiness, 247). And nowhere does the Bible acquaint us with Christ the Person better than in the Gospels. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John especially are written for those who, like the visitors in John 12, come to Scripture saying, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus” (John 12:21).

The Gospels are bigger than they look.

The four Gospels are relatively small compared to most of the books on our shelves. If we wanted, we could read through each in a single sitting. But like the Narnian stable in The Last Battle, the inside of the Gospels is bigger than the outside. Between their covers lies an infinite glory — a Jesus whose riches are not metaphorically but literally “unsearchable” (Ephesians 3:8).

We will never catch all there is to know and love about Jesus, but we can catch something more next year. So come again and walk with him on the waters. Come and watch a few loaves feed five thousand. Come and sing with Zechariah, rise with Lazarus, and walk with the women to the empty tomb. Come and remember why the Gospels are indeed “the most wonderful books on earth” — because they give us the most wonderful Person.

Audio Transcript

Well 2021 is nearly done, and 2022 is nearly here. Amazing. As we change out the calendar, Pastor John shared some thoughts recently that I want to share with you here. He was speaking about our aims at Desiring God. What do we aspire to do? What do we want to be? What do we want to be known for? What kind of reputation do we want? We think about these things because the Bible calls us to consider these things. For our answer, I want you to hear from Pastor John directly. Here’s what he said.

At Desiring God, we love truth. That’s how we love people, because Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). He said, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth” (John 16:13). He said, “The Father is seeking such people to worship him [in spirit and in truth]” (John 4:23). The apostle Paul said to put on “the belt of truth” when you go out to battle the devil (Ephesians 6:14). Jesus said, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:32). He prayed, “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (John 17:17).

And there’s the key for us at Desiring God: “Your word is truth.” If you love the truth, you love the word. If you measure everything by the truth, you measure everything by the word of God, the Bible.

“Desiring God aims to be a truth-driven, Bible-saturated, Christ-exalting, obedience-advancing, joy-deepening ministry.”

We have a ten-year vision at Desiring God, and we break it down into ten facets of a fruitful future. The very first one goes like this: we intend, we dream, we hope, we pray, we aim that Desiring God will be among the first ministries that people think of all over the world when they are asked the question, Where can I go for resources that never apologize for any teaching in the Bible? That’s what we want to be.

And the teaching that is right at the heart of Desiring God is the glorious teaching, the glorious reality, that God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him — when we are most happy, most joyful, most treasuring of Jesus right through all the sorrows and pains of obedience.

So we aim to be a truth-driven, Bible-saturated, Christ-exalting, obedience-advancing, joy-deepening ministry. If you love this vision, would you put us to the test? Would you see whether we are found faithful to be that kind of truth-driven ministry? And if you find us faithful, would you consider being a monthly ministry partner with us? We would be so encouraged with that level of support, so thank you for considering it.

As a young man, reading has exercised a formative influence over my own spiritual, moral, and intellectual growth. As a pastor and teacher, recommending books has been a consistent privilege. Here, I seek to recommend my current list of ten books for those who are eager to grow in their faith. An ideal book recommendation, in my experience, carries two marks; it introduces us to kinds of books and it fosters a community in which they can be read.

First, an ideal recommendation invites us into kinds of reading. By this I mean something more, though not less, than the genre of the work. I mean what the book is trying to do, as well as the way it sets about trying to do it.

For example, if I include a Wendell Berry novel, I have a value in view beyond simply the genre of narrative fiction. I am suggesting a winsome apology for a love of place, for creation care, and for the eyes to see the very real people God has placed around us as our neighbors. That is what the book is trying to do. If you do not care for Berry as an author, you still might be able to benefit from this recommendation by finding different authors whose work is up to the same sort of thing; a Leif Enger or a Grace Olmstead maybe.

Second, an ideal recommendation encourages us to read in community. By this I mean that books yield their richest treasures when we invite them into a circle of flesh and blood conversation partners.

“Books yield their richest treasures when we invite them into a circle of flesh and blood conversation partners.”

The goal of Christian reading, if it is to serve our discipleship, is more than the transfer of information. It is the transformation of the way that we see the world, and the way that we live within it. A community of friends and fellow readers serves this goal well by providing additional insight, accountability, and joy on the journey. We are meant to read together because we are meant to walk together after the Lord, the living Word.

Ten Books to Read Together

By God’s grace, and in no particular order, the following recommendations lend themselves to fostering the community of Christian conversation so vital for our spiritual growth. It is not a definitive list, nor a static list. I might recommend different titles next year. Each of these books, however, has proven especially fruitful for reading groups in our church.

Peace Like a River by Leif Enger

Enger’s first novel is a story of redemption told in a compulsively readable style. Woven throughout the storyline, moving it along as the means of that redemption, is a winsome study of family, a cherished community, and a vibrant faith flourishing in the pedestrian events of everyday life.

Why Study the Past by Rowan Williams

Evangelicals often struggle with ambivalence toward history, and church history in particular. For some, to say that something is historical marks it as irrelevant. For others, history is a stock of anecdotes that support our current practice. Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, urges us to engage church history in a more distinctly theological way. As we do so, we gain eyes to see God’s work in history, as well as ways in which we can (and should) be shaped by the heritage of our forebears in the faith.

Heidelberg Disputation by Martin Luther

The theological engagement of church history noted above is best carried out through the reading of primary sources. One significant, and extremely poignant primary source is the twenty-eight theses Luther prepared for the Heidelberg Disputation in 1518. It is here, more than in his better known ninety-five theses in October 1517, that we tap into the theological heart of the Reformation; good works flowing from rather than striving for a believer’s gracious acceptance before God. I have benefited from engaging the text of the disputation alongside the commentary provided by Gerhard Forde in On Being a Theologian of the Cross: Reflection’s on Luther’s Heidelberg Disputation.

The Gospel Comes with a House Key by Rosaria Butterfield

In Romans 15:7, Paul instructs believers to “welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you.” The welcome of Christ in the Gospels was as warm as people were willing to acknowledge their need of salvation. It was a way of grace and truth; a wide-open, cross-shaped welcome. Butterfield’s book is a beautiful testimony to this cross-pitality as it first embraced her and now extends to others through her North Carolina home.

Echoes of Exodus by Alastair Roberts and Andrew Wilson

We believe the Bible to be God’s word, the self-revelation of the inexhaustibly interesting God. A corollary of this conviction is that we can expect always to be seeing new beauties, new depths, in Scripture. By tracing the theme of the exodus across the canon, Roberts and Wilson demonstrate that the Bible’s richness is often disclosed by noting how its smaller narratives fit into the grand sweep of the larger story.

Global Evangelicalism by Donald Lewis and Richard Pierard.

People often lament that “evangelicalism” has become so elastic as a term that all meaningful content has fallen out. But Lewis and Pierard have assembled a collection of essays arguing that reports of evangelicalism’s demise have been greatly exaggerated, especially if we are willing to look beyond the borders of North America. The first part of the book traces the historical development of the global gospel movement while the (larger) second part provides regional case studies inviting Western readers into the vibrant gospel work taking place around the world, a work as distinctly evangelical in content as it is un-American in culture.

The Deep Things of God by Fred Sanders

Growth in our knowledge of God produces the worshipful fruit of humility and wonder. This is because the true God is far greater, and far better, than our creaturely minds can fully comprehend. No doctrine is more fundamental to the knowledge of God, or better positioned to cultivate in us a humble awe, than the doctrine of the Trinity. Fred Sanders’ book is a wonderful blend of just this kind of theology and doxology.

Habits of Grace: Enjoying Jesus through the Spiritual Disciplines by David Mathis

Many of us endure a tortured relationship with spiritual disciplines. We know we should be about them. We also often find them dull, unapproachable, or remote from our daily life. As a result, we give lip service to their significance, feel shame for not sticking with them, and then start the cycle over again. David Mathis’ book invites us into these means of God’s grace by opening our eyes to their approachability, relevance and, best of all, their promise of spiritual joy. This book is best read, and practiced, with a band of fellow believers.

Good and Angry by David Powlison

It takes a wise and winsome guide to help us consider what lessons we might learn from our anger. Anger, as we experience it, is often accompanied by a rush of self-righteousness that short-circuits any meaningful reflection on why we become angry and the negative impact our anger carries. David Powlison is such a guide; patiently and firmly pressing us to consider not only what is corrosive but, surprisingly, what can be constructive about our anger. He directs us ultimately to God’s own anger, reflecting on how we might die to the idols that provoke selfish anger and so increasingly imitate our Father who sacrificially works to make wrong things right.

The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self by Carl Trueman

The mores of our modern world have been described as “liquid.” The idea is that the rules we use to navigate our life together are in a constant state of flux. This moral flux is perhaps most visible in our shifting search for personal identity as expressed through our sexuality. Trueman’s book is a fascinating analysis of where this moral liquidity comes from. In putting our fingers on the historical pulse of our culture’s identity crisis, Trueman’s book resources believers to engage our neighbors with the winsome, stable, reasoned hope of the gospel.

Christian discipleship is a community project. So perhaps this new year, part of your maturity in Christ includes gathering a group, or simply another brother or sister in Christ, and reading one or more of these suggestions together, asking what is true, good, and beautiful, and holding each other accountable to following it in obedience to Christ.