Throughout my decade as an unmarried man in the church (from age 19 to 29), I learned a lot about godly single manhood. One lesson that proved somewhat elusive, however, was how to relate to single women.

I no doubt grew some in that area. My Christian twenties avoided much of the foolishness from my non-Christian teens (thank God). I enjoyed some healthy relationships with sisters in Christ — relationships marked by clarity, mutual respect, and the right kind of friendship. But I often felt adrift. I sometimes kept a cool distance when I should have spoken a kind word. I sometimes drew close when I should have maintained some space. I guessed and second-guessed. I wounded and was wounded.

The spiritual sisters in a single man’s life are an incalculable gift. In fact, among the “hundredfold” blessings Jesus promises to those who follow him, he specifically mentions not only “houses and brothers and . . . mothers and children and lands,” but “sisters” (Mark 10:29–30). Jesus gives these sisters to single men (and single men to these sisters) as friends and fellow pilgrims on the path from grace to glory.

But relating well to sisters in Christ takes care. It takes love and wisdom, humility and counsel, self-control and sensitivity to the Spirit. So, how might a single man mature in his relationships with single women? How might he become more of the brother Jesus calls him to be?

Our Call to Honor

If we were to pick one word to capture a single man’s overall posture toward the women in his life, it may be honor. The apostle Peter names honor as a central part of a husband’s calling toward his wife (1 Peter 3:7), but such honor doesn’t begin when a man becomes a husband. It begins when he becomes a brother. Built into godly brotherhood is an impulse to protect and respect, to cherish and keep — to honor.

“Built into godly brotherhood is an impulse to protect and respect, to cherish and keep — to honor.”

Consider, for example, two sterling models of single brotherhood in the New Testament: our Lord Jesus and his apostle Paul. Jesus was not ashamed to call his female disciples “sisters” (Matthew 12:50). Though he chose men as his twelve apostles, he called many women to follow him as well, sometimes even living off their financial provision (Luke 8:1–3). We get a good sense of how women felt around Jesus in Luke 10:39, where Mary sits lovingly at her brother-Lord’s feet — safe, at home, honored.

Paul, like his Lord, did not hesitate to honor the honorable sisters in his life, and to do so publicly. Of the twenty-nine people he greets in Romans 16, nine are women. And of these women, “our sister Phoebe” receives his first commendation as the carrier of Romans and Paul’s own patron (Romans 16:1–2). In Philippians also, as Paul mentions Euodia and Syntyche, he not only calls the women to unity but commends them as sisters “who have labored side by side with me in the gospel” (Philippians 4:3). Paul seemed to set boundaries on his relationships with women — all his traveling companions were men, for example — but within those boundaries, he was eager to honor.

So, if a single man wants to relate to women as Jesus and Paul did, he will learn the art of honoring sisters. He will ask how he might make women feel safe, dignified, and seen. And to that end, he might give his attention to four key postures: purity, clarity, courage, and community.

1. Purity (in the Secret Mind)

When Paul tells the young Timothy how he should relate to the various members of his church, he calls him to treat “younger women as sisters, in all purity” (1 Timothy 5:2). Such purity would shape Timothy’s outward behavior toward women, but only by first shaping his inward character, including the most secret realms of heart and mind.

A godly man knows that impure words and actions both come “out of the abundance of the heart” (Matthew 12:34; 15:19). So, a godly man guards his heart above all else. He knows that if this city is taken, the whole realm falls. If this fountain is polluted, every stream becomes dirty. No matter how much he may seem to honor women on the outside, his honor is hypocrisy as long as he defiles women on the inside. And in all likelihood, inward dishonor will find its way outward in time.

Purity, then, is his pursuit — and purity not just on the margins of heart and mind, but through and through. He opens every window, every door, from closet to cellar to attic, asking God to cleanse the whole house. No pornography is good; no fantasy is better. No fantasy is good; no second glances are better. No second glances are good; no subtle assessments of a woman’s shape are better.

No man (or woman, for that matter) will attain perfect purity here. Perfect purity comes only when we finally see Jesus’s face (1 John 3:2). Until then, grace abounds to every struggler walking in the light. But if we want to honor the women in our lives, we will begin here. We will believe that inward purity, flowing from a lively joy in Jesus, carries pleasures impurity can never give. And so we will say no to lust and keep saying no; we will say yes to Christ and keep saying yes.

2. Clarity (in Word and Deed)

Then, having set his sights on purity, he turns his attention also to clarity. Among our churches’ single women, some likely feel confused about a single brother’s behavior. Does he just like being friends, or does he want more? Would he text so much if he weren’t interested in dating? What should I do if we keep having deep conversations?

On the one hand, such questions are sometimes unavoidable; they arise naturally from the uncertainty of singleness. On the other hand, single men can do much to mark their relationships with clarity. They can speak in ways that avoid flirtation and suggestion. They can act consistently with their intentions. They can bring the blessed air of clarity into a relational setting often fraught with confusion.

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others,” Paul writes (Philippians 2:4). Relationships with single women often tempt a man to look to his own interests. Flirting feels fun. Sharing jokes offers a sense of intimacy. Trading glances touches some deep yearning for closeness. Yet when flirtations and inside jokes and mutual looks happen apart from an intentional pursuit, they can trample a woman’s interests underfoot.

How might a man tell if he’s relating to women with clarity in word and deed? He might ask the following questions:

Do I find myself showing special attention to any woman? Do I drift to her first in a crowd? Do I instinctively look her way in group conversation? Do I communicate with the kind of depth or frequency that might suggest interest?
Do I sense any woman giving me special attention? And if so, have I done something to welcome and encourage her interest?

“Rightly built, clear boundaries give space for good things to grow.”

Rightly built, clear boundaries give space for good things to grow. When a sister has no doubt that a man is merely a brother, he can honor her without suspicion, he can do ministry beside her (and others) without suggestion, and he can enjoy conversation without unwisely awakening love.

3. Courage (in Pursuit)

The time comes, of course, when a relationship marked by clarity seems like it could become more. Gradually, a woman grows in a man’s esteem. Their friendship deepens within wise boundaries. He wonders if she could feel the same. How does he honor her now, as his heart turns toward pursuit? In part, by showing courage.

Someone needs to take the first frightening step. Someone needs to initiate the risky conversation, say the bold word, ask the honest question. Someone needs to lead in vulnerability. Why not you? The call for clarity has already taught a man to treat her interests above his own, so why not in pursuit as well?

No doubt, women can also find ways to show courage. Remember Ruth. But in general, the impulse of a godly man to protect the women around him bids him to bare his heart first, knowing full well it may be rejected. “From heaven he came and sought her,” we sing of our Bridegroom. So, in dim reflection of him, go and seek your bride.

To be sure, we should beware of reckless courage. Sometimes, a man pursues a woman who barely knows him and has less than a clue of what’s coming. She has heard him speak only from across the room; she has known him only at a distance. And now, out of nowhere, he’s sharing his soul (and maybe even using the m-word). He tries to pick her up in his car while traveling 60 miles per hour.

But recklessness aside, a godly single man cannot escape courage. She may well disappoint you to your face, but she will in all likelihood respect you. You will have honored her by your pursuit, your clarity, your courage, and the Lord Jesus knows how to heal hearts injured on the road of honor (Psalm 147:3).

Finally, in every part of single brotherhood, lean deeply into your community. Sometimes, purity can feel unattainable. Clarity can feel confusing. Courage can feel hopelessly daunting. But with a community at your side — counseling you with wisdom (Proverbs 12:15), stirring you up “to love and good works” (Hebrews 10:24) — it can all feel suddenly possible.

My colleague Marshall Segal calls community “the third wheel we all need”:

We all need a third wheel — in life and in dating — people who truly know us and love us, and who want what’s best for us, even if it’s not what we want in the moment. (Not Yet Married, 171)

Such people may not be easy to find. And even if we do find them, they may not voluntarily offer the counsel we need to hear. We probably will need to seek and draw it out of them. Go ahead, then, and tell a brother what temptation looks like right now. Ask a married couple to keep an eye on your relationships with single women — and to tell you if you seem flirtatious or standoffish. When the time for courage comes, find strength from the words and prayers of others. And then find comfort if you’re wounded.

No man remains on the path of honor alone. But with the help of brothers, fathers, and mothers — gifts of that hundredfold community Jesus promised — he can learn to love and honor the sisters in his life.

Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in . . . faith. (1 Timothy 4:12)

The great thing about setting an example is that you don’t need anyone’s permission. You have God’s command. You don’t have to budget for this. Money has nothing to do with it. And you don’t have to wait. You can start right now, while you’re still young in ministry, before you feel seasoned and venerable and worthy.

Pastor, here is a powerfully inspiring gift you can give to your church: set an example in your faith. And that faith includes both your doctrinal orthodoxy and your personal reality.

Orthodoxy Soaked in Vitality

It is downright exciting to attend a church where the pastor reveres the age-old truths of the gospel. All week long, this world belittles us with its demoralizing insinuations that we never measure up and we never fully belong and we’re always second-rate, because we don’t wear the latest fashions or have beautiful bodies or whatever. But then we stumble into church on Sunday morning, feeling low, and the songs and the Scripture and the sermon and the sacraments breathe fresh life into us. We float out of church, feeling alive again, confident again. We want to go live for Christ that week!

This renewal flows into us not because the pastor has followed faddishly popular ideas but because his preparation dug deep into the Bible, and he found there, once again, the grace and glory of Jesus for the undeserving. A pastor’s orthodox faith sets an example for how all of us can be refreshed in Christ again and again — with our Bibles, and our hearts, wide open.

It gets even better. In addition to his theological faith, a pastor’s personal felt reality with the living God — his inner awareness that God is very present, very involved — that visceral faith is a life-giving example to a whole church, setting a tone of eager anticipation Sunday after Sunday. Pastor, if your faith is orthodox but hypothetical, your church will spiral down into either tragic lethargy or rigid pride. And it will be your fault, on your watch.

But if your faith is both orthodox and vital, if the biblical Christ of our historic creeds is also an existential reality to you, your church will awaken. Your congregation will grow in sensitivity and alertness and sitting-on-the-edge-of-their-seats expectancy. What greater gift could you give them?

Leading in Vulnerability

But it’s a costly gift. A pastor’s personal faith is honest — to the point of vulnerability. Any pastor with a devoutly felt faith will find himself free to admit shortcomings and weaknesses, because he knows and feels the all-sufficiency of Jesus. And his transparency will send a signal to everyone in the church, “We can get real here. We can put our problems out on the table here. This is a safe place for people with failures and fears. The Lord is here, and he is enough for every one of us.”

Some people might feel threatened by such unusual openness. But most people will feel relieved, and they will happily jump in. The pastor’s personal faith sets an example that frees sinners to come out of hiding and find healing in Jesus, through and according to the gospel. They even experience this renewal together, as friends, which is the best way. It’s how church services stop feeling routinized, and they start feeling revived.

Theological orthodoxy soaked in personal vitality — this is the faith with which a young pastor can set an inspiring example for his congregation.

Three Qualities of Exemplary Faith

Now let’s take another step and run this exemplary faith through Titus 2:2, which describes a mature saint as “sober-minded, dignified, self-controlled.” Those words describe what every young pastor aspires to become — especially in his faith.

SOBER-MINDED

A young pastor’s sober-minded faith puts first things first, is allergic to faddish crazes, and abhors fanaticism. Sadly, we live in an age of extremism, even among Christians. But the Bible calls us in the opposite direction: “Let your reasonableness be known to everyone” (Philippians 4:5).

Some people need crazy extremism. They sense that their pet doctrine lacks solid biblical evidence. So they get pushy and political to offset their weak arguments. And by its nature, fanaticism is never satisfied; it never quits. It is too self-righteous, and too insecure, to moderate its claims. But sober-minded faith has the maturity to know where each doctrine fits within the total structure of orthodox belief. Exemplary faith cultivates a sense of theological proportion. And a young pastor can excel in this very way. (My son Gavin explains this wisdom in his excellent book Finding the Right Hills to Die On.)

DIGNIFIED

Pastoral ministry is reserved for grown-ups. It is for father figures who can lead the church family well. And a young pastor can shine with the exemplary dignity of his faith. This word dignified in Titus 2:2 refers to the gravitas of a serious adult, one who truly deserves to be listened to. As the apostle wrote, “When I became a man, I gave up childish ways” (1 Corinthians 13:11). He embraced dignity.

Pastor, you are not in the entertainment business. You’re called to be a serious man of God. Not pompous and stiff, of course! As Spurgeon wisely pointed out,

A man who is to do much with men must love them and feel at home with them. An individual who has no geniality about him had better be an undertaker and bury the dead, for he will never succeed in influencing the living. (Lectures to My Students, “The Minister’s Ordinary Conversation,” 169)

Should you exude gentle warmth toward your people? Yes! But all behavior that is nonsensical, vulgar, or simply “cute” is immature, self-indulgent, unworthy of a pastor. You are there among the people not ultimately as their servant but ultimately as the Lord’s servant in their midst. Your theological faith and the glory of the gospel, along with your personal faith and sense of God’s presence, will grace you with the dignity of the Lord’s mature servant.

SELF-CONTROLLED

This word in the original text is hard to pin down. The great thinkers of ancient Greece located it around the ideas of moderation, balance, good judgment (F.E. Peters, Greek Philosophical Terms, 179–80). The New Testament narrows the sense to personal modesty, careful behavior (1 Timothy 3:2; Titus 1:8; 2:5).

What a fascinating lens, then, to put on a pastor’s faith. What insight do we gain here? This kind of faith, both theological and personal, is not impulsive or reckless. It doesn’t leap to conclusions or strain the evidence or jump on bandwagons. This kind of faith weighs the alternatives thoroughly, shows good judgment, and discerns the best path forward. It satisfies the congregation’s questions and concerns. Its maturity is obviously credible.

A young pastor who thinks well stands a good chance of leading his congregation well, because he has already led himself along the path of strict discipline and careful consideration. He doesn’t have to stoop to arm-twisting. His exemplary faith is persuasive.

Need for Inspiring Faith

Pastor, this world of tragic unbelief needs your exemplary faith. And we disheartened Christians need your exemplary faith. Please, please startle us awake with your theologically robust and personally captivating faith in the Lord Jesus Christ!

Let me conclude by stating it as bluntly as I can. We need you, because we need him. Thank you for leading us by inspiring us.

Audio Transcript

Is joy a choice, or is joy just a feeling that comes and goes? That is a great question, one our culture asks all the time. And if our joy is a choice, whose choice is it ultimately? That actually was the question I attempted to answer in my book The Joy Project. I know a number of you have read that book. I think joy is a better way to frame the essentials of Calvinism, the doctrines of grace, the five points of Calvinism: God’s sovereign joy in pursuit of us.

But here’s the specific question on the table today, as it comes to us from Susan in Chattanooga, Tennessee. “Pastor John, hello and thank you for this podcast. My question is pretty straightforward. Can you tell me if joy in God is a choice that we make? Or is our joy in God a feeling that comes to us after we do a certain something else first that will lead to joy?”

Here’s an amazing fact to start off with. If you consider all the forms of the word choose or choice or decide or decision, the New Testament never applies those words to the act of choosing God or choosing Christ or choosing Christianity. I think that would come as a shock to a lot of people. (One near exception is Mary choosing to sit at Jesus’s feet while Martha did the housework, but Mary is already a follower.)

In fact, the one place where choosing Jesus is mentioned, it’s denied. In John 15:16, Jesus said, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.” In other words, when the disciples chose to follow Jesus, it wasn’t ultimately their choice. It was God’s choice. He was decisive in that event. God’s choosing us is mentioned over and over and over in the New Testament, but our choosing him is not mentioned, not with the words choose or decide.

Incline Your Heart

Now, if you go to the Old Testament, there’s that famous statement of Joshua 24:15, “Choose this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your fathers served in the region beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Joshua is happy to call for a choice to serve God or not.

But then a few verses later, he says this (in Joshua 24:22–23): “You are witnesses against yourselves that you have chosen the Lord, to serve him. . . . Then put away the foreign gods that are among you, and incline your heart to the Lord, the God of Israel.” Now, why did Joshua add the command to “incline your heart”? He said it because there is such a thing as choosing to serve God while the heart is far from God.

And Jesus said that. He said it in Matthew 15:8, “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” They choose to go to church on Sunday morning. They choose to sing, and they choose to pray. They choose to go to the synagogue, or they choose to give tithes. And on the outside, they look like they’ve chosen God.

They have not chosen God. They have chosen religion to hide the fact that their heart wants something else besides God. That’s why Joshua said, “It’s not enough. This is not enough to choose to serve God. Your heart must incline to the Lord. The Lord must be your treasure — not the praise of man, not health, not wealth, not prosperity.”

Deeper Than a Choice

Now, the way all of this relates to Susan’s question is that this inclination of the heart, which both Joshua and Jesus refer to, is deeper than a choice. It’s a kind of joy in God. Joshua was saying what Psalm 100 says; namely, if you’re choosing to serve God, then let that choice be acceptable to God — let it be honoring to God by “[serving] the Lord with gladness” (Psalm 100:2). That’s a command: “Serve the Lord with gladness!” That is, have your heart incline to God; don’t just choose to serve him. Serve him with gladness.

For a choice to be pleasing to God and honoring to God, it must be rooted in the heart’s taste for God, in gladness in God. In other words, a choice for God or a preference for God that honors God must be rooted in the heart’s experience of God as preferable. What makes a choice to serve God real is that the choice expresses the fact that the heart has found God to be preferable, desirable, valuable.

When Jesus said that the people had chosen to honor God with their lips but not with their hearts because their hearts were far from him, he meant that their hearts did not taste God as desirable. They didn’t taste God as valuable. They didn’t taste God as preferable. Their taste was for the praise of man, not God.

So, my answer for Susan is no, joy is not a choice. It is deeper. It is the gift of an experience of God as desirable, preferable, valuable. It’s not a mere choice. It is the God-given, spontaneous response to seeing God as desirable — tasting him as good, as preferable to other satisfactions.

Joy by Looking

That’s what it means in 1 Peter 2:2–3 when it says, “Long for the pure spiritual milk . . . if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.” Tasting is not a choice. If you put a lemon in your mouth, no amount of choosing can make it taste like sugar. It’s not a choice. It’s the way your taste buds are designed. And there are taste buds on the soul that are either ruined or alive — which brings us then to the other part of Susan’s question about how our spiritual taste buds might be changed.

She asks, “Is joy in God a feeling that comes after we do something else that leads to joy in God?” Now, the very fact that we’re talking about joy in God — not just joy generically, but joy in God, or experiencing God as our joy — implies that we need to have some knowledge of God in order to have authentic joy in God.

This means that any steps we can take to put ourselves in the way of true knowledge of God may prove to be the very action that leads to joy in God. So, in that sense, yes. Joy in God is a feeling that comes after we do something else that leads to joy in God; namely, listening to the truth about God.

If joy in God is the heart’s experience of preferring God, desiring God, treasuring God, then it’s not surprising that the main thing we can do in order to experience this is look intently at God’s greatness, God’s beauty, God’s worth in his word. Faith and the “joy [of] faith” (Philippians 1:25), Paul says (and I would say), comes by hearing, and hearing (or reading) by the word of God (Romans 10:17).

Joy by Praying

And there is another action — I’ll just mention one more — that we can do and should do in the pursuit of joy in God. We should pray. Pray the following two prayers with the psalmists. They prayed like this because they had the same experience of sometimes feeling what they ought to feel and sometimes not feeling what they ought to feel in regard to the joy we should have in God.

Open my eyes, that I may behold     wondrous things out of your law. (Psalm 119:18)

Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,     that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. (Psalm 90:14)

We should pray to have eyes to see and hearts to feel. So, in summary, Susan, joy in God is not a choice. It is a God-given, spontaneous experience of the beauty, worth, greatness of God. But there are choices that we can make that may lead to that experience, because the Bible says, “Look. Look and pray. Look at the Lord in his word, and pray for eyes to see and a heart to feel.”

If you lived in his neighborhood, it would be hard not to be at least a little jealous. He has everything any ordinary man on the street would want — a large property with a beautiful home, a successful business and lots of employees, every earthly comfort and luxury a man could want.

He was born into a wealthy family, and so has never really known need. He was rich before he could talk. And if the inheritance weren’t enough, the family business is still thriving. He’s achieved a level of prosperity many men sweat and grind their whole lives to have, but never taste. If you could see inside his garage, he’d probably have cars worth the price of a small house.

On top of all that, he married an amazing woman — wise, beautiful, delightful, rare. The more you’re around her, the more you want to be around her. She knows what to say (and what not to say). She leaves people wondering how any man snared a diamond like her. Their life is the kind of life millions would want to stream on Netflix. Many would see him from afar and assume he’s the picture of a blessed husband.

But when God looks at that same man, he calls him worthless.

Man Against God’s Heart

When we meet Nabal (the name literally means “fool,” which raises some real questions about his upbringing), David has landed in his fields while fleeing from King Saul. David and his men are hungry, and so the anointed leader bows to ask for food. Notice how humbly and respectfully he makes his request:

Peace be to you, and peace be to your house, and peace be to all that you have. I hear that you have shearers. Now your shepherds have been with us, and we did them no harm, and they missed nothing all the time they were in Carmel. Ask your young men, and they will tell you. Therefore let my young men find favor in your eyes, for we come on a feast day. Please give whatever you have at hand to your servants and to your son David. (1 Samuel 25:6–8)

Nabal’s men later confirm David’s story: “The men were very good to us, and we suffered no harm, and we did not miss anything when we were in the fields, as long as we went with them. They were a wall to us both by night and by day” (1 Samuel 25:15–16). Not only did David’s men not harm Nabal’s shepherds, but they actually shielded and blessed them. His own men think he should feed these guys.

In response, Nabal lives up to his name:

Who is David? Who is the son of Jesse? There are many servants these days who are breaking away from their masters. Shall I take my bread and my water and my meat that I have killed for my shearers and give it to men who come from I do not know where? (1 Samuel 25:10–11)

He knows exactly who David is. Why else would he call him “the son of Jesse” (a name Saul spitefully uses again and again, 1 Samuel 20:27, 30–31; 22:13)? While David kneels with empty hands, Nabal spits in his face and sends him away. And if it wasn’t for his remarkable wife, Abigail, it would have cost him his life right then and there (1 Samuel 25:13).

Five Marks of a Foolish Husband

What might Christian husbands learn from Nabal? We learn at least five ways to be a bad man and a foolish husband.

Strength Without Love

Nabal had the kind of strength that might impress and intimidate weaker men. He was a man of the field and worked with his hands, sheering sheep. He used his strength, however, in despicable ways. When Scripture introduces the couple, its writer says, “The woman was discerning and beautiful, but the man was harsh and badly behaved” (1 Samuel 25:3). That one word — harsh — sums up his failures as a man. He used his God-given strength to wound, rather than heal; to threaten, rather than protect. He relied on force to do what love should do. He was cruel.

His strength was not the problem. No, godly husbands are strong men — they must be to do what God calls them to do, bear what God calls them to bear, and confront what God calls them to confront. In Christ, men put off laziness, timidity, and fragility. We put on the armor of God to fight the battles of God in the strength of God. And as we exercise that strength, those in our homes and churches (unlike those closest to Nabal) are cared for and safe. Any discerning wife loves being led by a strong man who loves well.

Courage Without Wisdom

You can’t read a story like this and question Nabal’s nerve. When the Lord’s anointed, armed and dangerous, stood in his front yard and asked for food for his small army of soldiers, the man sends them away. “Who is David? Who is the son of Jesse?” He basically drew a flaming arrow and aimed it at a hungry warrior’s chest, spurning caution and inviting violence. He had the backbone to stand his ground, but he’d chosen the wrong place to stand. He planted his flag on foolishness, and risked everything for pride.

Again, courage was not his problem. Godly men are more willing than most to sacrifice themselves for the good of others. They wear promises like Isaiah 41:10, “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” And because God, not self, is the source and aim of their bravery, they don’t pick dumb fights (especially with their wives). They don’t endanger those they’re called to protect for the sake of their ego. They risk themselves wisely and in love. They know when to step in and stand their ground — for their families, for the church, for their God — and when to turn the other cheek.

Wealth Without Generosity

For all the evil Nabal could and did do, God still allowed him to prosper for a time. He had the kind of barns that could comfortably feed a small army. He wasn’t just rich. “The man was very rich,” God tells us. “He had three thousand sheep and a thousand goats” (1 Samuel 25:2). We’re meant to feel the weight of this man’s wealth — and just how badly he handles it. He could feed David and his men, with no significant loss, but he wouldn’t. He could have met a hundred needs, but he chose to spend what he had on what he wanted instead. He was selfish and stingy toward every appetite but his own.

Nabal had built the bigger barns. He embodied the fool’s anthem: “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years; relax, eat, drink, be merry” (Luke 12:19). And what does God say to that man? “Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (v. 20). To which Jesus adds, “So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God” (v. 21). And being rich toward God typically means being generous toward someone else. It means laying up treasure for others, meeting their needs at our (sometimes significant) expense. Godly husbands are givers, like our Father, not keepers or takers.

Success Without Gratitude

Nabal was running a booming company. His stock was rising. His board was well-pleased with the profits. By all accounts, this man’s career was a wild success. That is, by all accounts but one. God looked at all Nabal had achieved and earned, and he saw failure. He saw bankruptcy. He called the whole enterprise worthless. How many men, even in our churches, are killing it in the office and yet losing everywhere else? How many are esteemed by their colleagues and competitors and yet barely tolerated at home? How many of us have endless ambition outside our family and church, but little leftover to give where it matters most?

Godly men work hard, whatever work they do, as for their Lord and not for men (Colossians 3:23). Christian men do their work with unusual excellence — and unusual gratitude. Notice how Nabal talks: “Shall I take my bread and my water and my meat that I have killed for my shearers and give it to men who come from I do not know where?” God gave him everything, and got credit for nothing. And then, when God guarded his servants and sheep, he returned that kindness with evil (1 Samuel 25:21). Good husbands are relentlessly humble and grateful, even in the little gains and successes. And because they’re faithful in the little, God often gives them more (Luke 19:17, 24–26).

Hunger Without Self-Control

Lastly, Nabal was a man mastered by his cravings. The passions of his flesh waged war on his soul, and his soul all too quickly waved the white flag. When Abigail came to find him, “he was holding a feast in his house, like the feast of a king. And Nabal’s heart was merry within him, for he was very drunk” (1 Samuel 25:36). Even with men of war waiting outside, he reached for the bottle and poured himself another drink. When the people under his roof needed him to rise and play the man, he instead chose to enjoy some mindless, silly, numbing pleasures. He gratified himself and abandoned everyone else.

Before we despise him too quickly, don’t we sometimes do the same, even if in subtler ways? Do we too easily check out and desert our posts as husbands and fathers? What indulgence in our lives tends to numb our sense of spiritual and relational urgency and responsibility?

When the apostle Paul comes to older men in the church, he charges them, “Older men are to be sober-minded, dignified, self-controlled, sound in faith, in love, and in steadfastness” (Titus 2:2). When he comes to the younger men a few verses later, he says, simply, “Urge the younger men to be self-controlled” (Titus 2:6). Not joyless. Godly husbands are happy men, but not in cheap, easy, superficial ways.

Men mastered by grace are men who master themselves. We’re not, like many men, relying on football games, smoked meat, video games, or craft cocktails for relief and exhilaration. We’re thrilled to be the chosen sons of God, the blood-bought brothers of Christ, the future kings of the universe. And we enjoy every other earthly gift — food and drink, marriage and sex, football and Netflix — in moderation, to preserve the highest, fullest, strongest pleasure, namely God.

Worth of Worthy Men

Nabal, like a number of other husbands in Scripture, teaches husbands what not to be and do. His failures, however, lay out something of a constructive map for us. They teach us that men will be measured, in large part, by how we treat what (and whom) God has entrusted to us.

We’ll be measured by how we treat our stuff — our sheep and goats and monthly paychecks. Are we selfless and self-controlled, or selfish and indulgent? Do the time, money, and gifts we’ve been given consistently meet real needs around us? For men in the world, what they have is their god, and so they receive and spend it horribly. Those whose God is in heaven, though, don’t demand divinity of their prosperity, and so they hold their possessions loosely and give them away freely. They know that, in God, they have “a better possession and an abiding one” (Hebrews 10:34).

We’ll also be measured by how we treat the people in our lives — the wife beside us, the children behind us, the neighbors next to us, the church family around us, the people who look up to (and maybe even report to) us. Men don’t often die wishing they had put in a lot more hours at the office or made a harder run at that promotion. They very often die wishing they had prioritized the people who were waiting at home or sitting in the next pew. Strive, by the grace of God, to be your most fruitful where it matters most. Don’t be known first and foremost by how you work and what you have, but by how you love and what you give.

Ultimately, though, we’ll be measured by how we treat God’s anointed. Nabal sent the chosen king away hungry, and then added insult to that injury. Since then, God has sent a new and greater David. He’s sent his own Son into our world, into our city, even to our front door. So how will we receive him? And not just on Sunday mornings, but on Monday afternoons and Friday evenings too. Will we give him more attention than Nabal gave David that day? Will we run to him, prioritize him, praise him, and share him?

In the end, then, what separates good husbands from bad ones, the faithful from the unfaithful, is how we treat Jesus.

The Christian man who makes women and children and the church safe, is the man who makes demons and the wicked uneasy. A shepherd, his staff and rod comfort them. “Gentle,” “meek,” and “compassionate” actually mean something because he is not merely these. Like the warrior-hero of old, the Christian man “shares many characteristics with the monsters he conquers, as he must if he is to conquer them” (Leon Podles, The Church Impotent, 95). In other words, the Christian man must be strong.

The goddess of feminism shrieks at the mere citation: “Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong” (1 Corinthians 16:13). She does not like (and would threaten you not to like) men acting “like men.” If she cannot make men brutal, she would have their souls emasculated by pornography, disinterested in dominion, wasting their fleeting lives staring at a box in the corner of the room. Paul, by inspiration of God, would have you live for something, stand firm for something, die for something, rise from the grave to reign again — “quit you like men” in the old King James — be strong.

This command is no innovation. Paul, steeped in Old Testament Scriptures, grew up on tales of Abraham and Noah, Moses and Joshua, David and Jonathan, Elijah and Nehemiah, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. When Paul says the entire church ought to “act like men,” he uses a word — andrizomai — already familiar to readers of the Greek translations of the Old Testament. The Israelite grew up with clear categories of what it meant to act like men, to stand firm in the faith, to be strong.

Men Demons Recognize

“Act like a man” was a common commission given to the generation about to enter the promised land. I can’t recount how many times my own retreating spirit has needed to drink from Joshua’s chalice. His Lord charged him,

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous [andrizomai]. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

Joshua, and indeed all of Israel, would need to “play the man” to conquer their own fears and enter the land swarming with enemies fierce and fortified (Deuteronomy 31:6). God had already executed the cowardly spirit of the spies by a forty-year march through the wilderness. Only the two soldierly spirits who trusted their God survived: Caleb and Joshua. Joshua is charged repeatedly — by Moses before all the people, by the Lord himself, and by the people themselves: Act like a man and be strong (Deuteronomy 31:6–8, 23; Joshua 1:1–9, 16–18).

Andrizomai connotes strength of soul. Men act, and act from a soldierly spirit, for those they protect, while trusting their God. All they do is to be governed by love (1 Corinthians 16:14), and that loving spirit doesn’t negate the strong, resilient soul; it focuses it on right ends. “A true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him” (G.K. Chesterton, Illustrated London News, 1911). Such a soldier turns to a brother during warfare, attacked on both fronts and with his people on his heart, and says,

If the Syrians be too strong for me, then thou shalt help me: but if the children of Ammon be too strong for thee, then I will come and help thee. Be of good courage, and let us play the men [andrizomai] for our people, and for the cities of our God: and the Lord do that which seemeth him good. (2 Samuel 10:11–12 KJV)

Demons recognize this man. His wife respects him. His sons look up to him. His daughter is safe with him. His people trust him. He is a soldier of his King, a son of his Father, a Christian man.

Sin of Timidity

How is it, then, when you visit more than a few Christian quarters today, you might assume Paul instructed, “Stand firm in your feelings, take it easy, act like androgenous beings, embrace your unchanging (and unchangeable) weakness”?

The call to “gentleness,” in these cases, has not accented the Christian man’s strength but bludgeoned it. Love has not ordered the strong soul but trumpeted its retreat. King David could soothe with the harp and harm with the sling. The Lord himself bade the children come and yet was consumed with zeal for his Father’s house and drove the moneychangers out. Are we in their lineage? “Be more tender” cannot be the only message for a generation increasingly unschooled in being assertive, convictional, or heroic.

Charles Spurgeon bemoaned the soft and unmanly spirit of his times. In the May 1866 edition of The Sword and the Trowel, he diagnoses his generation, with uncomfortable relevance to our own:

Is not timidity a common vice among Christian workers? . . . Is it not a sin to educate God’s people into habits which unfit them for Christian warfare? Are not these such times as to demand a more manly bearing from believers than the most of them as yet exhibit? (The War Horse)

Timidity is a vice, but what of Christianity’s celebration of “softer” virtues like modesty? He continues,

You remind me that modesty is a great virtue; I believe it, but I also believe that there are other virtues equally necessary to a soldier. The modesty which keeps a soldier in the rear in the day of battle will earn him few laurels [honors]; and that retiring disposition which makes him retreat when the order is given to advance is called by another name by men of courage.

Spurgeon often dressed his sermons in soldier’s apparel. He had a masculine ministry, which resisted the sheepishness he witnessed in too many pulpits of his day:

A spice of this traitorous modesty flavors our ministry still, and some palates crave for more of it. We are expected to appear before our hearers with a sweet bashfulness which disclaims all dogmatism, and sues for a hearing as a beggar for an alms. God’s ambassadors, forsooth, are to lick the dust, and to deliver their Master’s message as though he borrowed leave to be.

In other words, as a pastor he borrowed from Shakespeare’s militant Coriolanus, “Why did you wish me milder? Would you have me false to my nature? Rather say I, play the man I am” (Coriolanus, 3.2.15). “A man of God is a manly man,” declared Spurgeon. “A true man does what he thinks to be right, whether the pigs grunt and the dogs howl” (“A Man of God Is a Manly Man,” Masculinity and Spirituality in Victorian Culture, 211).

Soul-Destroying Politeness

But what is Spurgeon specifically getting at, and how do we apply it today? The false religion of modernity (alive in his day as well), would have us pay homage to the pantheon of the gods. A man must not “contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 3). A man may have his private Jesus, but not the public Lord who possesses all authority over every nation and to whom each sinner must bow. This Lord, pluralism hates — though as Dagon before the ark, it shall soon fall, headless.

Our warfare, then, both at that time and today (and in the first century), has much to do with plain speech of the true Christ for the good of souls. We wield spiritual weapons, destroy strongholds, largely through speech, as we “destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:4–5).

If we were in the Old Testament religion, and geography defined the borders of God’s kingdom, if the dwelling place of God was behind the walls of Jerusalem and God’s ark dwelt within the temple, if we were the nation of Jesus Christ, then we could imagine the charge to men of God today being: “Pick up your sword, man, and fight for the church against her enemies!”

And while a normal man should be able to pick up a sword and do a pushup, we know that in Christ our warfare has been raised to a far higher hill. Or is it a smaller thing to war daily against untiring and unseen enemies, to be on guard against traitors as close as our own flesh, to contend with spirits who shoot flaming darts to sting the heart, to incense the dark and mighty jackal who holds immortal souls mercilessly within his jaws? Strong men, strong in the faith, strong in the Lord, stand firm and dare to defy the world, the flesh, the devil.

C.S. Lewis wrote in his day, “They that know have grown afraid to speak. That is why sorrows that used to purify now only fester” (The Great Divorce, 106). Will we summon the strength of soul, to tell the unbeliever living in Vanity Fair that his way leads to hell, his god is an idol, his hopes but drunken dreams?

Spurgeon roars, “Men are perishing, and if it be unpolite to tell them so, it can only be so where the devil is the master of the ceremonies. Out upon your soul-destroying politeness; the Lord give us a little honest love to souls, and this superficial gentility will soon vanish” (The War Horse). Will sorrows that once purified now fester because Christian men grow afraid to speak — or speaking, slash the force of what we say with mumbled apologies?

Sharpening of Brothers

Perhaps we have cut Samson’s hair because we have left men to be heroic alone, having lost the sharpening brotherhood. Perhaps Christian men don’t speak more courageously to their neighbor because they don’t speak more courageously to one another. Where they remain, men’s accountability too quickly devolves into secular therapy sessions where the listeners can only empathize and affirm the drowning man. We’ve forgotten how to spar, how to sharpen as iron, how to act like men among men.

Am I too harsh to observe that many operate by the unspoken rule that we can be as wobbling fauns forever taking first steps in discipleship? Is the frontline to move forward? Is it not becoming a pastime to huddle together as startled sheep baaing of how broken we all are without any desperate plea to God (and the brothers) to help us grow stronger? I hope not.

Remember Peter’s vision for the Christian life. His is one of divine power for the believer to make every effort and actually to increase in holiness, one with a calling to God’s own glory and excellence, one of progress and precious and very great promises, one of confirming our calling and election as we campaign our way with the saints to the celestial city (2 Peter 1:3–11). Setbacks? Certainly. Sin? Who could deny it? But growth? Absolutely. Onward Christian soldier is our inheritance. The church triumphant marches behind Christus Victor, and the battle begins in our own souls and processes into glory.

Act Like Christian Men

This brings us to the final point: God’s call to masculine strength is distinctly Christian. The Christian man does not rely on self or chariots. He does not strut around like Gaston, singing, “As a specimen, yes I’m intimidating!” The story of Joshua, a story the author of Hebrews calls us to appropriate (Hebrews 13:5–6), teaches us that the man of God is strong and courageous because he believes God’s promise, I will never leave you nor forsake you. Mighty men know that their strength is utter weakness apart from God. “Be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might” (Ephesians 6:10).

Acting like a man, red-blooded and vigorous of soul, means acknowledging we are but men. As the adage goes, “The best of men are men at best.” If God does not go with us, down goes our strength. With God, we stand bold as a lion. Without him, we melt into a puddle.

But God has promised not to leave us. Away, then, with unmanliness disguised as virtue. Speak of Christ so as to be heard. Get a job. Find a wife. Raise children. Serve the church. Love your neighbor in the name of Jesus. Learn to sweat, develop your abilities, and use them. Walk humbly before your God and his word; stand tall before men. Lift holy hands and pray. Study. Sharpen one another. Stand firm. Let all you do be done in love. Be strong in the Lord. Act like Christian men.

What might you say to a church leader who’s experiencing a serious crisis of faith?

“It’s not mainly about belief in God,” Joel explained to me. “I know he still exists in some abstract way. I still pray and read my Bible — but the vertical stuff feels less real than before. What feels real is the horizontal chaos. It’s how people in the church treat each other; it’s how we’ve been treated! Never did I think ministry could look so ugly. It’s made me question things I never thought I’d question. I’m facing doubts I never thought I’d face.”

Maybe you know a church leader like Joel. Maybe you are that church leader. You feel phony. Ashamed. The pretending feels too hard. You’re supposed to be the guy with answers. But you have questions — big questions. And doubts too — growing doubts. Doubts begetting more doubts.

You know James 1:6–8 calls the doubter “double-minded” and “unstable.” So you stare in the mirror, saying, “What am I supposed to do?” A mind maze with no exit has formed between your ears. To resign is to concede the ground to your doubts, as well as to confuse and hurt people you love — maybe even causing them to stumble in their faith. But to continue as a pastor feels pointless and miserable — maybe even impossible with your conscience screaming, “Hypocrite!”

What might you say to a Joel? What might you do if you are a Joel?

Here’s what I say: when in doubt, remember.

You Are Loved

When doubt visits, or even becomes a squatter aiming for long-term residency, remember, in Christ, that you are loved by God.

It’s tempting to breeze past this point. I get it. Talk of God’s love can feel too generic. Stay with me. There’s more to say and much more you need to hear. But you need more than my words. You need God’s words,

The Lord is gracious and merciful,     slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. (Psalm 145:8)

Can I suggest you read that again? But slower this time. Not as a familiar doxology, but like it was written to you. For this very moment.

Are you wondering how God feels about you right now? It may not be what you think. When God sees you in Christ, he is moved with grace and mercy. He’s not rolling his eyes because you are perplexed. His love for you is steadfast and abounding. Yes, you — the struggling pastor. God has an unquenchable, unrelenting, unflappable affection for you.

Remember when Thomas expressed doubts over Christ’s resurrection (John 20:24–29)? He waited eight days, but then Jesus did not ghost him to retaliate. No, Jesus appeared to Thomas and moved toward him. He engaged him, spoke to his doubts, drew him forward and upward. Jesus was gracious and merciful, abounding in love.

Christ has already satisfied God’s wrath for the ways our faith falls short. He moves toward us and meets with us. God is so determined that we know his heart, he repeats the essence of Psalm 145:8 again and again throughout the Old Testament.

Why is this important? You may doubt God, but his heart toward you in Christ is never fickle. His love is steadfast. That means that even when our love loses traction, his love sticks, and in turn, reinvigorates our affections for him. We love him because he has first loved us.

You Are Not Alone

Only one person ever walked the earth with perfect faith in God’s promises. It was the God-man, Jesus. The rest of us live in homes where doubt knocks. Sometimes loud and often.

I get it. I’ve entertained questions about whether God really cares, or if my prayers really matter. More than a few times, I’ve needed to cry out with the words of the desperate dad who said to Jesus, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24). This is a pathway leaders sometimes walk as we navigate ministry in a world of faith without sight.

I’m not trying to make light of your doubts or convince you they are inconsequential. I’m merely pointing out that some Christian leaders have had grim stays in Doubting Castle. But many of those same pastors will testify that, even when stumbling alone and dazed through those dark corridors, God was faithful. In Christ, Doubting Castle is not your permanent residence.

Satan Is Real

Remember Satan? Well, he’s real. And you are serving in a church situated on his turf. You think he’s ambivalent about what you’re up to? Not for a minute! Scripture calls him an “adversary” who “prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8). His food of choice is church leaders; his favorite dish is our faith. Satan loves to devour our awareness of God’s existence and our anticipation that “he rewards those who seek him” (Hebrews 11:6). By attacking faith, Satan incubates doubt within the soul.

It’s for good reason Paul calls us to “put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil” (Ephesians 6:11). For in that armor we find an essential defense: “the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one” (Ephesians 6:16). Satan has a full quiver of darts, with each barb cunningly customized. He consistently fires two doubt-darts directly at the pastor’s soul: “God is fake” and “So are you.”

‘God Is Fake’

Satan’s first appearance reveals much about his ongoing tactics. His first recorded words are, “Did God actually say . . . ?” (Genesis 3:1). In a nutshell, Satan schemes to undermine the truth of God’s word and the goodness of God’s intentions. When Satan hurls this doubting dart at you, the defense God supplies is the shield of faith.

“The best antidote to doubts about God is to draw near to God.”

The best antidote to doubts about God is to draw near to God. This includes reacquainting us with the realities of how God portrays himself in Scripture. “Whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him” (Hebrews 11:6). Do you hunger to draw near to God? He invites you to do so by remembering not only that he is real but also that he is a rewarder of those who seek him.

If you fear heights, you don’t climb a ladder looking downward or looking inward. You look up. When you focus upward, you leave downward doubts behind. You gain confidence to move ahead. So, raise the shield of faith. Look up.

‘You Are Fake’

Satan wants to undermine your confidence in your standing before God. He knows your condemnation means your silence. The gospel does not ring forth from leaders who wonder if they believe it themselves.

Don’t let Satan lie to you. Listen instead to the wisdom of Spurgeon’s grandfather.

Once, when the tempter had grievously assailed me, I went to see my dear old grandfather. I told him about my terrible experience, and then I wound up by saying, “Grandfather, I am sure I cannot be a child of God, or else I should never have such evil thoughts as these.”

“Nonsense, Charles,” answered the good old man. “It is just because you are a Christian that you are thus tempted. These blasphemies are no children of yours; they are the devil’s brats, which he delights to lay at the door of a Christian. Don’t you own them as yours; give them neither house-room or heart-room.” (Autobiography of Charles H. Spurgeon, 1:160)

What a wonderful grandpa! Though dead, he still speaks by reminding us that condemnation is the devil’s child. Don’t own his blasphemies about you. Give them neither head-room nor heart-room. The cross has spoken; you are forgiven. Flee to the promise that says, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Romans 8:1).

Mission Marches On

Close your eyes and imagine the scene. Jesus is resurrected; the days are electrifying. Before his departure, Christ gathers the eleven remaining disciples. He wants to leave them with a commission — a Great Commission. Then Matthew adds, “When they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted” (Matthew 28:17).

Can you see it in your mind? There stands the resurrected Savior — nail prints still visible in his revived, renewed, glorious body. And what’s the faith temperature of the group? Some are doubting. And what does Jesus do? Bang some heads together over their dippy inability to connect the dots? Nope, not even close. He goes on to deliver the Great Commission anyway.

One of the reasons I love this passage is because it’s so easy to paint myself into this picture. I’m a born fretter. From my earliest memories, my mom used to caution me about worry. So I can see myself standing there among the disciples, fussing over the future, fretting over logistics and provision. But Jesus just carries on. It’s like he’s saying, “You have doubts and worries. Let me show you your path forward: go — do the gospel work I’m giving you to do.”

This confidence must be connected to Jesus’s final words, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). Jesus was saying to them, “I know you don’t have all the details. I’m aware of your doubts and misgivings. I can sympathize with your weaknesses and temptations (Hebrews 4:15). But I’ll be with you. Now let’s get on with it. Your doubts will be resolved in good time as you follow me and obey my commandments.”

When in Doubt

Are you tempted with doubts about whether God is or will keep his promises to you? Or whether the church is worth serving? Or whether you’re failing Jesus in your ministry? Remember, Christ is still with you and will be till you cross the finish line.

Do you doubt whether God can use a doubt-laden disciple? Remember Hebrews 4:15, John 20:24–29, and Matthew 28:17: Christ both knows and sympathizes with what you’re experiencing; you’re not damaged property to him, nor does he pause the mission program until you have everything all together. Sure, your soul may be cut on the jagged edge of broken people and a broken world. But the Great Commission includes a great promise: the Savior knows our temptations and is with us in our going.

The next time you feel uncertain, skeptical, or cynical, when you feel the doubts begin to pull the plug on your faith, remember: you are loved by God, you are not alone, Satan is real, and the mission marches on. And remember too that once-doubting disciples changed the world.

Audio Transcript

Today’s question I can relate to. I read my Bible in the morning. I come across a promise or a text in the Old Testament. I write it out in a notebook. I take that text or promise into my day. But later in the day, when I return to the text, I’m left wondering if I lifted the verse out of context. Maybe it doesn’t really apply to my life like I first thought it did. Many texts feel more and more remote to me as the day goes on. Has that happened to you?

Well, it has certainly happened to me, and it has happened to Maureen. She writes in to say, “Pastor John, thank you for the Ask Pastor John podcast! How do I know which Old Testament verses are for me, as a Christian today? Sometimes I select a verse that is meaningful to me from my Bible reading in the morning. But then later in the day, as I further reflect on it, it feels like I’ve lifted the verse out of context and misapplied it to myself. How do I know which Old Testament promises are for me?”

Even though I know it’s an oversimplification, I’m tempted to say, “All of it. All of it is for you. All of the Old Testament is for Christians.” Romans 15:4 says, “Whatever [underline that word] was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” All of it.

Then there’s 2 Corinthians 1:20, “All the promises of God find their Yes in [Christ].” And Jesus said in Matthew 5:17–18, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished.” So, even though it’s an oversimplification, it’s true, in a wonderful way, that all of the Old Testament is for those who are in Christ Jesus.

He came to confirm and fulfill all of it for his people. Second Timothy 3:16–17 says, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable [that’s important — it’s all profitable] for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work.” It’s practical and profitable.

From Israel to the Church

But the reason it’s an oversimplification to say that it’s all for us is that some profound changes in the way we use the Old Testament Scripture took place when Jesus came into the world, was rejected by Israel, established a new covenant by his blood (which was different from the old covenant, the Mosaic covenant), and said, “I will build my church” (Matthew 16:18). He did not say, “I will restore Israel.”

Maybe what would be helpful for Maureen, for me, and hopefully for others too is to list the differences between the people of God (the church) today and the people of God (Israel) in the Old Testament, as well as how God relates differently to each. These points can then function as a kind of filter.

At least, this is the way I function as I read the Old Testament. I have a filter, and I put things through this filter to know how I should embrace them, how I should apply them in my life. This is what I hope will happen now as I walk through these points of difference between Israel and the church. Because we are the church, we need a filter to know how to make proper use of Old Testament teachings.

1. Israel was an earthly nation.

Israel was an earthly, political nation-state among other political nation-states, but the church is not. It is a people whose citizenship is in heaven and who are sojourners and exiles here, scattered among all the nation-states. Christians are not first citizens of earthly nation-states, but only secondarily citizens of nation-states. We are more closely related to Christians of other political countries than we are unbelieving fellow citizens in our own earthly country.

2. Israel was a theocracy.

Israel was an earthly government authorized by God as a theocracy to carry out God’s punishments for those who broke his law, including capital punishment for idolatry and various other sins. The church is not a civil government and is not authorized as a church to carry out God’s punishments. Excommunication from the church through church discipline replaces execution through the judicial processes.

3. Israel was one ethnicity.

Israel was basically one ethnicity, the Jewish people, but the church is made up of all ethnicities. The kinds of practices that were designed to separate Israel from the surrounding peoples and ethnicities, like food laws and circumcision, have been done away with as requirements for God’s people.

4. Geography mattered for Israel.

Israel had defined geographic borders and a geographic religious center where the tabernacle or the temple was. The church has no geographic borders or religious center. Where the people of God are gathered in the name of Jesus, there is the center. There is Christ in the midst.

5. People were born Jewish.

People were born into the Jewish people, but people are born again into the church. The new covenant is entered by the miracle of God’s forgiving sins through faith and through God’s writing the law on our hearts (Jeremiah 31:33–34). That’s the new covenant.

6. The Great Commission came later.

The Old Testament religion was mainly a “come and see” religion, while the New Testament religion is mainly a “go and tell” religion. There was no Great Commission to go reach the nations in the Old Testament. God’s focus was on blessing Israel among the nations, so that the queen of the South came and had her breath taken away by Solomon’s wealth (1 Kings 10:4–5). God never said to Solomon, “Use your wealth to evangelize the nations,” but that is precisely what he says to us in the New Testament.

7. Israel used a sacrificial system.

The people of Israel maintained their fellowship with God by regular sacrifices, ministered by a select, Levitical priesthood, but that entire system was done away with when Jesus fulfilled it by becoming the final sacrifice and by acting as the final High Priest. In the new-covenant people, we get right with God and maintain our fellowship with God by trusting the substitutionary work of Christ and by depending on his daily intercession for us in heaven.

8. The Holy Spirit had yet to come.

Finally, though the people of God in the Old Testament did experience the working of the Spirit of God, they did not experience or know the Spirit as the indwelling Spirit of the risen Christ. Today, we know the Holy Spirit as the Spirit of Christ. He works in his church, therefore, in a way that he did not work in the Old Testament because the church is his body, the body of the risen Christ.

Every Text Ours in Christ

My hope for Maureen and for all of us is that with this filter, with these eight points, we can take any text in the Old Testament and make it our own by treating it as fulfilled in Christ, with the necessary changes implied by these points.

For example, consider the end of Psalm 51. It’s a surprising end to a psalm that we love — until we get to the last paragraph, which goes like this:

Do good to Zion in your good pleasure;     build up the walls of Jerusalem;then will you delight in right sacrifices,     in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;     then bulls will be offered on your altar. (Psalm 51:18–19)

So, we come to the end of Psalm 51 saying, “This is exalting. This is mine, and this is mine!” And then we read those words and say, “What? What am I supposed to do?” What do we do with that? How are we to embrace that text as ours?

Zion was the geographic center of God’s people, standing for the presence of God among his people. Today, we would embrace that commitment of God to his people and say, “Do good to your church, O Lord, wherever it is gathered in your holy name. Build up the body of Christ, and make your presence felt everywhere that your people are centered on you.”

Then we would come to the end, and we would conclude by praying, “Oh, how I delight in the one, great, final sacrifice for sin that your Son offered. We glory with you in that final fulfillment of every bull that was ever offered on your altar, and we give ourselves to you as a living sacrifice for your glory.”

It was a long, shameful walk back to the hunting cabin.

For well over an hour, I had sat in the deer stand, happily reading and enjoying the quiet morning. Then I felt the loose bullets rattle in my pocket. I turned and looked. Oh no.

I had forgotten my rifle.

No choice now but to go back for it. The rest of the men in our extended family were tucked away in their own stands. They wouldn’t see me go back for my gun. But they would hear about it. Oh, would they. The cabin, teeming with our wives and children, would all too gladly report on my “hunt.” I could see pairs of eyes gawking through the window as I came up the dirt road. They gathered around and met me with barbs and laughter at the door.

Years later, I’m yet to live it down (and rightfully so). Now every fall we hear, “Remember the time Uncle David . . .”

Hunting Without a Rifle

I’m a terribly amateur hunter. I easily smile and chuckle about once forgetting my rifle. For me, the real joy in that quiet deer stand is unhurried Bible meditation and prayer. Getting the big buck is a distant second.

As a pastor, however, it would be a serious shame if I took the stand without my weapon. That is, if I entered the pulpit without the sword — without the staff, the wand, the scalpel for the most exacting of operations, the singular instrument of our holy calling. Without the Book, a Christian preacher is unequipped and incompetent. He is left, tragically, to preach his own ideas, his own preferences, his own lifehacks, his own self. When the act does not begin, persist, and conclude with faithfully delivering the message of another, it is, in reality, pretend preaching, not the real thing.

But with the Book in hand, with the Scriptures, with the word of truth about Christ and his work — and with the one weapon well-worn and cherished, internalized and rightly handled — the mere man, finite and fallen, is God’s man for the preaching moment. This blade, well-known and well-handled, can take the head off an evil giant, and perform the most delicate of surgeries on saints. With it, take to the pulpit with a holy and humble confidence. Without it, take a long walk back to the cabin.

Put the Word to Work

As the apostle Paul ascends the mountain to that great “preach the word” peak in 2 Timothy 4:2, he charges his protégé and dear friend to use Scripture to fulfill his calling.

Use Scripture — that might sound strange. But this is not the use of exploitation or abuse. Rather, this is the use of attention, reverence, and trust. Take it up. Put it to work. God gave us his Book not to file it away on the shelf, but to use it. Read it, explain it, preach it. Repeat. And don’t dare pretend to preach without it.

All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable . . .

Scripture is profitable, beneficial, useful (to greatly understate it!) in the pastoral calling. With Scripture in hand, and in his mouth, the preacher is competent, capable, proficient for the various aspects of his calling — “for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16). But without it, he is incompetent, incapable, inept — no matter how elegant he sounds or what a “good communicator” he is.

How, then, might preachers today, both current practitioners and those who aspire, answer this timeless call to use the Book?

1. Handle It Privately

First, we hold it, touch it, taste it for ourselves, in private — and ideally for some years before regularly taking it into a pulpit. And then, once preaching, we continue to handle it privately in all the times and seasons we endure as pastors, and as Christians.

We learn to use Scripture to help others by using it to feed and restore our own souls morning by morning. First, we learn — over time, not overnight — how to handle Scripture for ourselves, leaning on God’s Spirit. He may be pleased to give early flashes of insight and sovereign protection from error, but he doesn’t make preachers without putting them to work and conditioning them for the long haul. The arc of good preaching is years in the making, beginning with understanding and applying God’s word rightly in our own minds and hearts and lives. The competent pastoral use of the word emerges not mainly from study sessions prior to public messages but from long-standing patterns of being conformed to God’s word in secret.

So, first, long before preaching, we quietly learn to handle God’s word for ourselves. We meditate on it and enjoy it — and enjoy God in it. We steep our souls in Scripture for years. We seek to know God’s word, as much as we can, inside and out, and have it take root, and bear fruit, in us.

2. Handle It Publicly

We then turn and make God’s word explicit in public teaching. In our sermons, we show God’s word to be our authority and driving inspiration — not our own ideas and opinions and observations and cleverness. We get our key insights from lingering in Scripture, and then we work to show our hearers where we got them. We don’t assume they will see it without our help, so we labor to make them see it for themselves.

Saturating a pulpit ministry in Scripture happens both directly and indirectly. Directly: by drawing attention to particular words and phrases, and quoting chapter and verse. Indirectly: by preparing and preaching from the kind of soul that is constantly shaped by Scripture over time, to think and feel in God’s cast of mind, rather than the world’s and our own.

3. Handle It Rightly

Now, when any modern man, in this age of the triumphant self, embraces the personal preciousness of God’s word and resolves to preach that Book, not his own thoughts and self, he has crossed the first critical hurdle. He becomes indelibly persuaded to handle the word, to use it at the heart of his preaching, and he does. This is a glorious start. The miracle has begun. Yet to fully instantiate the apostle’s vision in his final epistle, a second critical hurdle comes: rightly handling the word.

Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth. (2 Timothy 2:15)

That is, with a studied, steady hand, guide the word along a straight path. No distortive twists, no gratuitous incisions, no clever detours, no sleight of hand. With the skill of holy familiarity, take the blade from its scabbard, and wield it with precision, care, and self-control.

Handling Scripture rightly — that is, using it, without abusing it — can happen in countless ways, but here consider just two challenges among them.

Understand Truly

One, rightly handling means not cutting corners in the work of understanding what this text means (and does not mean). Study your passage for yourself long before you’re up against the deadline, and long before you check commentaries and other’s insights. Make time to steep in and ponder the text well before preaching it. And as you move from broad study to the narrow outline and presentation for this message, build your sermon on what you have seen for yourself, or can genuinely own as yours if another voice said it first.

Apply Duly

Two, rightly handling entails not cutting corners in the work of appropriate application, which can be the more challenging labor for many of us. We will not be content to have the message remain distant, and not bridge the gulf from the biblical to the present world.

This too will require planning ahead, giving ourselves space, and having the patience to discover what this particular text really means for our church (and not). We will not content ourselves with preaching right ethics from the wrong texts. We will yearn to do justice to the particular passage in front of us. We won’t make a habit of or excuses for forcing square Scriptures into round pegs of application. If the desired application is not there, we’ll find a faithful way to address it, and apply the text and/or another text that genuinely addresses the felt need of the congregation. We seek to work with the grain of God’s Spirit, not against him.

Whom Does the Sermon Exalt?

We could consider other misuses. A preacher might use Scripture, but too sparingly, garnishing his own ideas with verses out of context. He may abuse Scripture when the moral burden of his sermon originates elsewhere, with Bible texts then artificially pressed into a subordinate role, to show God on the side of whatever cause. Scripture also may be in use technically and yet without fitting priority and centrality. Opportunities for error are endless.

Good and faithful preaching is not only science but art. It’s a lifetime skill learned over years and decades, not weeks and months. Make a list of all the possible requirements in Christian preaching (including appropriate focus and sufficient brevity), and no single sermon will check all the boxes. In the complexities of the art, and the diversities of biblical texts, and vast variations of congregations around the world and throughout history, producing one single litmus test for preaching is likely impossible. But perhaps one check would come close: Whom does the sermon exalt?

We might ask, in the end, does the preacher himself look best? Do the hearers feel themselves raised up above all? Or is Jesus supremely exalted? Preachers, young and old, who aspire to use Scripture rightly, in their devotions and in their pulpits, can scarcely ask themselves enough, Who is supreme in this sermon?

We live in times of great cynicism about leaders. From politicians, to leaders in business and entertainment, to spiritual leaders — we find ourselves surrounded by stories of leadership failures.

Yet even in our growing suspicions, we cannot be done with the idea of leadership. It is both a practical necessity and a deep longing in the human heart. We were made for true leaders, and we ache for them, for good leaders who will bless and work for the good of their followers, rather than use them.

This angst about leaders in our times makes Psalm 72 an especially relevant word. And not just us as humans and those alive today, but also particularly at our church, as we’ll see.

Who Is This King?

Psalm 72 is a prayer for the ideal leader. It’s a 3,000-year-old prayer, cast in the terms of ancient Israel, and yet the vision is strikingly timeless, both in its ultimate fulfillment and in its personal application to all of us. We all are led, and most of us serve as leaders in some aspect of our lives, whether as father, mother, or older sibling, or perhaps at work, on a team, in the neighborhood, or for extended family.

Now, the question we might have on the face of Psalm 72 is, Who is this king, the one that the prayer was originally for? The superscript at the beginning says, “Of Solomon.” Does that mean Solomon wrote it for his son? But verse 20, at the end, says, “The prayers of David, the son of Jesse, are ended.” Does that imply this is David’s prayer for his “royal son,” Solomon?

I think that an aging David, praying for his son, may make the most sense in the full context. (Themes here belong to the same era as David’s final words in 2 Samuel 23 and Solomon’s prayer in his early reign in 1 Kings 3.)

But as I hope you expect by now, almost halfway through the book of Psalms, this psalm is going to end up being about Jesus. Sometimes it’s subtle enough that we deal with the psalm mainly as is, showing in the end how it points to Jesus. This one is not subtle.

Now, it’s not strictly messianic like Psalm 110. This really is a prayer for Solomon, and other royal sons in his line. Yet the vision is so expansive. Verses 5–7 pray for a king without end; verses 8–11, for a king without borders. The majesty of this king — for all time, over all places and nations — swells beyond what any Israelite king ever realized or even came close to.

So, as Christians, we know where this is going. David may have prayed this for his royal son, and Solomon for his. But only the one Messiah fulfills this vision — that is, only Jesus.

Four Aspects of the Ideal Leader

Still, Psalm 72 has relevance beyond Jesus, in real-life manifestations, in various imperfect measures, in those of us today who seek to walk as leaders in Christ’s steps and have his help. Every good and godly leader instantiates this vision in some real, though imperfect, ways.

So, as we look at Psalm 72, let’s highlight four aspects of this ideal leader, fulfilled perfectly and primarily in Jesus, but secondarily and imperfectly in Christian leaders of all kinds today.

1. His people flourish. (verses 15–17)

Verse 7 prays, “In his days may the righteous flourish, and peace abound.” Then verses 15–17 flesh out this flourishing:

Long may he live;     may gold of Sheba be given to him!May prayer be made for him continually,     and blessings invoked for him all the day!May there be abundance of grain in the land;     on the tops of the mountains may it wave;     may its fruit be like Lebanon;and may people blossom in the cities     like the grass of the field!May his name endure forever,     his fame continue as long as the sun!May people be blessed in him,     all nations call him blessed!

One aspect of this ideal leader is that his people flourish. How so?

For one, they have; they possess resources. They have abundance of grain and fruit (verse 16). And even “the tops of the mountains” — that is, “the most surprising of soils” (Derek Kidner, Psalms 1–72, 257) — wave with abundance. Under this ideal leader, the people prosper. He leads them in such a way that they steward the land and work it and harvest its produce, rather than squandering it. But they not only have; they give. They have gold, says verse 15, from which they give tribute to their king.

Yet they are not only a material people, having and giving wealth, but also a spiritual people. They pray for their king, making “prayer . . . for him continually” and invoking God’s “blessings . . . for him all the day!” (verse 15). This is an essential mark of a flourishing people: they are spiritual. They acknowledge and reverence God, praying to him for their leaders and everything else.

And as they pray, and God answers, and their leaders prove mature and wise, the people flourish even more, and so they multiply. The end of verse 17 says, “May people be blessed in him, all nations call him blessed!” Verses 8–11 mention desert tribes, kings from faraway coastlands, and the very ends of the earth.

Blossom in the Cities?

Verse 16 includes something that may sound strange to us in 2023: “May people blossom in the cities like the grass of the field!” You might think, “In the cities, the places from which so many seem to move away? Maybe in the prairies! Maybe near the lakes, in the country, in the small towns, on the farm, but not in the cities, at least not the Twin Cities. Get me to the Dakotas and wide-open spaces. Isn’t that now the place to blossom and flourish?”

It might be, for a short time. Yet the prayer of verse 16 gives us a glimpse of how we might think Christianly about cities, specifically the Twin Cities in which we live.

Just this week, I was in Manhattan with my young family of six, including an 8-year-old and 6-year-old. From there we took the train and stayed in downtown Philadelphia. Then on our way home, we had a flight delayed, missed our connection in Detroit, and couldn’t find room for six on a flight back to the Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport until two days later. We spent two unplanned nights in Detroit, so we’ve been on quite the city tour in the last week. We have seen the best and worst of American cities, and none of it feels especially easy for young families.

Yet here in Psalm 72, in this prayer for the future, David envisions God’s people blossoming in the cities. That is, in the cities, with all the challenges of their densities and pressures and crowdedness, God’s people blossom as humans. We were made for cities, at least eventually. And cities themselves, in all their strengths and complexities and opportunities are the blossoming of human civilization and industriousness. Cities, not prairies, are our future, both in this age and forever.

Manhattan is not becoming more rural, but our world is slowly becoming more like Manhattan. The world is growing toward cities — and good cities are God’s world in bloom. As a church in the central metro, filled with people from all around the metro, urban and suburban, we can be encouraged by this vision and prayer. Blossoming in the cities can happen, even in this age. It’s possible. Pray for it. Endure in it. And one day, for sure, it will happen under the full and final reign of the ideal leader.

Which relates to that little phrase in verse 17: “in him.” Zoom out, and you’ll see, “May people be blessed in him.” To understand the flourishing of the people, we need to know more about the leader himself.

2. His strengths serve his people’s good. (verses 1–4)

Look at the first four verses:

Give the king your justice, O God,     and your righteousness to the royal son!May he judge your people with righteousness,     and your poor with justice!Let the mountains bear prosperity for the people,     and the hills, in righteousness!May he defend the cause of the poor of the people,     give deliverance to the children of the needy,     and crush the oppressor!

There is a threefold vision here for the skills or abilities or competencies or strengths of this ideal king.

First is his ability to make the decisions that leadership requires, to make wise and skilled judgments. The king decides. Verse 1 is literally, “Give the king your judgments [plural], O God.” In other words, make him wise and discerning in the countless decisions it takes to lead well. Help him to know, in the ever-changing and ever-complex situations of life and leadership, how to navigate the moment not for his own private good but for the good of his people, to think for their good as a whole (which is often more costly to the leader). People who flourish are guided by leaders who are wise and judge justly.

Second, the king provides. We saw the mention of mountains in verse 16. So here, “mountains bear[ing] prosperity for the people” is a sign of abundance. And we can say this about the king’s leadership: he guides the people in such a way that they steward the land and reap its natural benefits in season. They at least conserve the land; they sow in the spring and gather at harvest. And so, through his able leadership, he provides for the people.

Then third, according to verse 4, he protects his people. Which has two parts: he defends the cause of the vulnerable, and he crushes the oppressors of the vulnerable. The two go together. Oppressors don’t just quietly go away when the king arrives to defend his people. Oppressors must be confronted and defeated. To protect his people, the king must crush his enemies.

Note how the ideal king not only exercises wisdom and provides for his people, but also protects them, particularly those who are truly weak and needy and poor, that is, those without the power to protect themselves. The leader leverages his strength to protect his people who are weak.

This is what Jesus does for us. Which is why Christians, from the very beginning, have been people with hearts to help the weak, the needy, the poor, the orphan, the widow, the unborn. This leads to a third aspect of this ideal leader.

3. His heart pities the needy. (verses 12–14)

There’s a flash of his heart in verse 6: “May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth!” This is very similar to how David talks in his last words, recorded in 2 Samuel 23:3–4:

When one rules justly over men,     ruling in the fear of God,he dawns on them like the morning light,     like the sun shining forth on a cloudless morning,     like rain that makes grass to sprout from the earth.

This image of life-giving rain goes back to Moses in Deuteronomy 32:2, where he says,

May my teaching drop as the rain,     my speech distill as the dew,like gentle rain upon the tender grass,     and like showers upon the herb.

Gentle rain is an insightful picture of good leadership. Think about what rain can do for crops. A gentle rain gives life, but a driving, violent rain destroys. This is what gentleness in leadership is. It is not weakness. Rather, it is strength applied to life-giving rather than life-harming ends. Gentle leaders are not weak. Rather, they are strong, and they know how to exercise that strength so as to help their people, rather than hurt them. Which begins in the leader’s heart.

Worship Won by Mercy

Verses 12–14 expand on this prayer, and (this is very important) these verses give the reason why his dominion extends so far (verses 8–11), to include the ends of the earth and all kings and nations:

For he delivers the needy when he calls,     the poor and him who has no helper.He has pity on the weak and the needy,     and saves the lives of the needy.From oppression and violence he redeems their life,     and precious is their blood in his sight.

There is only one “for” or “because” in Psalm 72 — at the beginning of verse 12. It shows verses 12–14, humanly speaking, to be the reason why this king’s dominion stretches so far, and why so many bow the knee to him.

Verse 11: “May all kings fall down before him, all nations serve him!”
Then verse 12: “For he delivers the needy.”

In other words, this ideal king wins the nations with his mercy. He may conquer hostile foes by force, but he does not win worshipers with the sword. He wins worship with his stunning mercy. He works for the joy of the needy, the weak, the poor, and in doing so, he reveals his warm heart of pity and compassion and wins others to bow the knee. As we sang this morning in the words of Isaac Watts, which were inspired by Psalm 72,

People and realms of every tonguedwell on his love with sweetest song.

This ideal king, in all this unequaled strength and wisdom and wealth, has pity on his weak people. He has compassion for the needy. He is sympathetic to the desperate, the humble, those who own their need of rescue. And this heart of mercy wins the nations.

Crush the Oppressor?

What about the tension between verses 4 and 14?

Verse 14 says he redeems them “from oppression and violence.”
Verse 4 says he “crush[es] the oppressor” of his people.

Now we’re not asking about his gentleness with his people, but his strength in protecting them. And when he does so, does he oppose violence or use it? “Crush the oppressor” is strong language. It sure sounds violent.

The answer is at least this: The way he opposes violence, of necessity, is by crushing the oppressors. Crushing a known oppressor is very different than oppressing with violence. Jesus is never the oppressor; he crushes the oppressors, and in a very unexpected way.

And that leads to a final aspect of this ideal leader.

4. His God gets glory. (verses 18–19)

It’s amazing that Psalm 72 ends the way it does. The glory of the king in verse 17 — his name, his fame — gives way to the glory of his God in verses 18–19:

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,     who alone does wondrous things.Blessed be his glorious name forever;     may the whole earth be filled with his glory!Amen and Amen!

As wondrous as this ideal leader is in his wise decisions and gracious provisions and strong protection of his people and stunning mercy, verse 18 says that “[God] alone does wondrous things.” In other words, the wondrous works of this good, godly leader are wondrous works of God.

Not only does the king’s name and fame endure forever, but also God’s “glorious name” (verse 19) will be praised forever, in the whole earth. Without end and without limit. No expiration and no borders.

Note that Psalm 72 doesn’t say that God gets the glory and not the king. Oh, the king gets glory, honor, and praise indeed: gifts of gold, cries of “Long live the king!” an enduring name, ongoing fame — yet all that in complement to, not competition with, the glory of his God. You might even hear Philippians 2:9–11:

God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Which leads to two particular words of hope for us as a church in this season.

Our Church, Right Now

The first word concerns this perfect leader, the fulfillment of Psalm 72, Christ himself. He is reigning now. He died, he rose, he ascended, he took his seat at the Father’s right hand, he is alive, and we have him now.

The leader we long for, the leader this psalm prays for — we have him now. The great leader has come, and is on the throne, and has sent his Spirit. Even now, he has spoken and still speaks. He builds his church, he decides for us, he guides us, he leads us, and he will judge justly and right every wrong. As Christians, we have the leader our souls long for, though we can be so quick to forget it.

For our first five years as a church, we had no pastoral transitions. But in the last three years, we have had pastors move to Wisconsin, to Washington State, to Missouri, to Florida, to Idaho. That’s no condemnation. People move. They didn’t leave the faith; they only left the state. Undershepherds will come and go; Jesus will not. The undershepherds are not the chief Shepherd of the church. Jesus is, and he is the one true, perfect, immovable leader.

The second word of hope concerns your imperfect leaders who remain — and your own imperfections in your various callings of leadership. This is such good news: the chief Shepherd changes us as part of his rescue of the weak and needy. He brings this vision, this prayer of Psalm 72, to life in real measures in leaders today.

So pray for it, and expect it, in your pastors. And pray for it, and seek to be it, in your various callings of leadership. He changes people. No matter what they say, change is possible. Don’t give up on anyone, including yourself. And in your leadership disappointments — with yourself and with other leaders — look through and beyond to the true King.

In him, we remember that, and admit that, we are not the ideal leader, and we can repent like it. And in Jesus, we not only admit that we are not him, but we can even take joy in admitting it, because he’s the kind of king who has pity on those who know themselves weak and needy. He came to call sinners, not the righteous.

Whether father or mother, executive or manager, block leader or team captain, pastor or deacon, we can lay aside the pretense of perfection. We can own our neediness and weakness and failures, not to mope about them or wallow in them, but to know the strength and mercy of our King. He is good. He is generous. He is compassionate. He is wide-hearted. We come to his Table.

Receive Abundant Mercy

Along with blossoming in the cities, verse 16 mentions an abundance of grain and fruit — which is how we get bread and wine. Not only does the ideal leader, King Jesus, exercise wisdom and provide for and protect his people, but it is only possible through his self-giving at the cross.

He shed his own blood to show the preciousness of the life of his needy, weak people. His providing an abundance of grain and fruit, including the bread and cup of this Table, is not cheap, but costly, at the price of his own blood.

And in that very moment when he decisively crushed Satan, the oppressor of his people, he showed his people his mercy. The cross is the supreme manifestation of regal mercy. It is the place where the King triumphs, the ground of all kings and nations falling down before him. And his cross purchases not merely the pardon of his people but our blossoming — even in the Cities.

It’s a familiar feeling as the day ends. I kiss my kids goodnight, pray for them, sing them a song, and then walk out of their rooms. I replay the day: the frustrated response to their behavior, the time spent on my phone instead of in conversation, the way I brushed them aside instead of engaging in a game with them, the outburst of anger. It all weighs on me, and I can feel undone. The lost moments of the day seem to drown out any moments of faithfulness that occurred. Will they remember these failures? Have I scarred them? Is God unhappy with me?

Moms are often plagued with guilt and regret. Sometimes the guilt is legitimate because we have sinned against our kids. Sometimes it’s projected on us by our own unbiblical expectations. Either way, where can we go with our mom-guilt and regret?

The Psalms are a faithful guide in our struggle. They are filled with a myriad of emotions, from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. The Psalms provide insight into how biblical characters experienced specific events. In doing so, they give us a window into the human soul, showing us that God cares about every part of our life experience. He cares about the details of the narrative, and he gives us language for responding to the story we find ourselves in, including our moments of deep regret.

Deal with Regret Like David

Life in a broken world means moms will experience regret. In Psalm 51, David is filled with regret over the murder of Uriah and his sexual sin with Uriah’s wife, Bathsheba. In other words, his regret is legitimate, not projected. He has sinned against God and others.

The most important step David takes when he feels regret is his first step toward God. We have a tendency to pull away from God when we sin. We can feel too shameful to come before a holy God. But this holy God is also merciful and gracious (Psalm 145:8). He delights to save his wayward children, if only they would come to him. Running away from him when we feel regret only leads to more regret. Running to him when we feel regret leads to life.

After coming before our Lord, we have to get honest. We’ve sinned, and we need help. David also acknowledges his sin. He doesn’t shy away from saying he has sinned, as he makes a passionate plea for God to cleanse him and make him new (Psalm 51:7–12). Without this request for forgiveness and cleansing, our sin will continue to weigh us down (Psalm 32:3–4).

And so, we come, with sorrow in our hearts, asking a holy God to forgive our sins. Because of Christ, he does so freely and liberally. We don’t have to stay in our sin and regret. We can come boldly to the throne of God’s grace and find help for our time of need (Hebrews 4:16). We can acknowledge our sin, look to the Savior who paid for that sin, and move on.

Two Types of Guilt

When we sin, we have an advocate in Jesus and a model for confession in David. But what do moms do with the regret that may not be owing to sin? What about feeling like we just didn’t measure up, or feeling like we didn’t do enough for our kids?

If we’ve truly sinned, then we can pinpoint that sin in the Bible. The outburst of anger, the unkind word, the selfish response, idolizing our children — these are all sinful choices, and Scripture speaks to them plainly (Ephesians 4:31–32; Philippians 2:3–4). Of course, sometimes we can’t tell if what we did was sinful or just owing to our human limitations. Sometimes what feels selfish is actually us acknowledging we need a nap. Sometimes what feels unkind is really just administering discipline so that our kids understand authority and boundaries.

Even when we can’t tell the difference between true sin and “feeling bad,” however, the answer is still the same: we have an advocate before the Father (1 John 2:1). Whether we’ve sinned or just feel like we could have done better, our standing before Jesus is immovable.

Psalm 131 helps to remind me of that standing place. There are realities too wonderful for me to grasp (verse 1); when I don’t understand the path to walk as a mom, I can quiet my soul and trust that God is holding all things together (verse 2). Just as a weaned child learns to trust where her next meal comes from, so I can learn to trust that my kids are all right. Any given day won’t ruin them. God ultimately has them, like he has me.

Finished and Free

Many moms have a tendency to want to do everything right. We want to know all the rules so that we can execute the task perfectly. We don’t want to disappoint people. Which means we need to keep something in mind through this entire process: our identity is secure.

If you’re trusting in Christ, he has already finished the work for you. Any amount of striving you do now is from faith, in delightful obedience to him, not out of a need to earn anything. Of course, he calls us to obey and walk according to his word — but we can’t add or take away from what Christ has already done for us. When we sin, it’s paid for by Jesus. When we disappoint people, that does not necessarily mean God is disappointed. When we make a mistake, God doesn’t condemn us. When we have regret, we have a path forward.

Our choices don’t have to shame us. We can walk in freedom before the Lord, knowing that in Christ we have everything — including the Holy Spirit, who gives us increasing wisdom to know what is sin and what is not.

We often say in our home, “Tomorrow there are new mercies and new opportunities to obey.” If you sin today, tomorrow is holding new mercies for you (Lamentations 3:22–23). If you get to the end of the day and wish you had done more, tomorrow is holding new mercies for you.

Regret doesn’t have the final word in your life — the resurrected Christ does. And because he said, “It is finished” (John 19:30), you can walk in newness of life today and every day after.