Audio Transcript

Today’s topic is a sensitive one. We get a lot of questions from a lot of listeners on a very wide range of life situations, obviously. And many of these questions come to us from pretty broken places. And I think that’s true today. We address an email from a woman, a female by birth — born with two X chromosomes. She’s written in anonymously to ask this: “Pastor John, hi. I find myself at a stage in my life when I am seriously considering removing my female body parts — namely, my breasts and my uterus — because I no longer want to be a woman. Women are perceived as weak vessels whose only purpose is to have children. Even Scripture supports that ideology,” she writes. “As a modern ‘woman,’ I have no desire to have children or get married but to have a successful career to help support less fortunate people and animals live better lives. My question is this: Would doing this to my body be sinful?”

Yes, it will be sinful, and it will probably be dreadfully destructive to you as a person. I want to give you six reasons for that response to what you’ve said. So I hope you’ll be willing to listen to me, because this is not going to be easy for you to hear. I hope you have the courage to listen.

1. Purpose of Women

No, neither the Bible nor the church has ever said or hinted that woman’s only purpose is to have children, nor is this the view of the vast majority of human beings in the world. The very fact that you would say this shows how conflicted you are, because you know that’s not true. You know it’s not true. You know that in the Gospels, women followed Jesus and served him in many ways (see Luke 8:1–3). You know that Paul refers to numerous women who labored side by side with him in the gospel. You know that love between a man and a woman in marriage is vastly deeper and richer than only baby-making. You know that in history, the prayers and the service of women have turned the tide for good in communities again and again. You know that today, women work in hundreds of vocations, and most of them do it gladly as women, not in spite of being women.

“Neither the Bible nor the church has ever said or hinted that woman’s only purpose is to have children.”

You know these things, and yet you still say women are perceived as having only the purpose of childbearing. I wonder why that is. Why do you say that? What it sounds like is that you’re not thinking clearly. You’re not speaking and thinking clearly. You’re speaking and thinking carelessly, and that is not a good place from which to make a massive decision like the one you are contemplating. It would be folly.

2. Weaker by Wisdom

Yes, woman is the weaker vessel, as Peter says (1 Peter 3:7) and as everybody knows. That’s why there’s a women’s NBA, women’s college volleyball, women’s gymnastics, women’s track and field, women’s soccer, women’s Tour de France. God made men stronger, and there are reasons for this, and he really is wise. He really is very good in making such decisions. If you don’t trust him with the way he made the world, then that’s one of the main reasons that what you are about to do is sin. You’re not acting in faith, but anger and resentment at the way God made you. You are, evidently, not trusting God’s wisdom but denying it. That’s not a safe place from which to make this massive decision.

But there’s a sad thing as well besides this point. When you’re done mutilating yourself, you’re still going to be part of the weaker sex. You can make your chest flat — that won’t make you strong. You can put testosterone into your body and grow more hair and make your voice lower, but you’ll still be a woman. You’ll be weaker than 90 percent of the men your age. In fact, you will be weaker than you were before, not stronger, because pretense is weakness. Living a life trying to be what you are not is a life of weakness.

3. God’s Better Desires

You say, “As a modern woman, I have no desire to have children or get married.” I have two questions for you. First, is your desire your god? It sounds like it. Are you humbly asking the true and living God, “God, what are your desires? What is your will for me?” Or does that matter to you? Is your desire final? If it is, that’s another evidence of sin behind your thinking.

Second, what if your desire changes in five or ten years? Oh, how I wish I knew your name so I could say with all earnestness, “Seriously, Chelsea, seriously, think about this.” Surely you have lived long enough to know that what you desire today may not be what you desire tomorrow. You know this. In one moment, you can destroy a whole life of possibilities that you may desperately desire someday. If you blow me off here and think you can predict your desires ten years from now, you are delusional. You know it. Wake up. Be realistic. You do not know what your desires will be in ten years. Don’t cut off those possibilities.

4. Serving Others for Christ’s Glory

If you want to serve the less fortunate, do you want to do it for Christ’s sake? Do you want to do it for his glory? If not, it’s idolatry. If you do, then why wouldn’t you consult with him for how you can glorify him through your body the way he made you? I mean, if his glory matters to you in serving the poor, wouldn’t it matter in how to be a woman?

5. Serving Others as a Woman

If you really love people and care about the disadvantaged, God cares about that as much as you do. He loves that, which is why millions of competent, caring, persevering, Christ-exalting women are leading the vanguard in many such ministries of compassion and justice. Why in the world would you think that you will be a better lover of needy people as a fake man than as a real woman? You know that’s inconsistent.

“Your re-creation of you will not be a better lover of the poor than God’s creation of you.”

If you really want to give your life for the sake of others who are less advantaged, praise God. That’s what he wants for you. He wants it more than you do, and he made you perfectly suited for his calling on you to do it. Breasts and uterus and hormones and monthly cycle and brain structures — all of it is gloriously suited for what he’s calling you to do. He’s not stupid. He doesn’t make mistakes. Your re-creation of you will not be a better lover of the poor than God’s creation of you.

6. Woman All the Way Down

God made us male and female, and we are male and female all the way down. The glory of womanhood is not something as superficial as breasts and uterus. It is marked in every cell of your body, every dimension of your soul, every part of your brain. You can’t even begin to undo the pervasive mystery of your womanhood. Your womanhood is like yeast in the dough, like the color in the paint of your life, like the aroma in the flower that you are, like the melody in the song. Dear friend, whose name I wish I knew, you are a female wonder of God’s handiwork, and no amount of chipping away at it will make it cease to be a God-designed masterpiece.

So, I conclude, yes, it will be a sin, a tragedy, and almost certainly tragically regretted if you have yourself mutilated to try to be what you are not and what God did not make you to be. And I plead with you, don’t do that. Surrender to him, and his will, and his wisdom, and his love, and his Son Jesus, and you will find an amazing life of purpose as he created you to be.

September 10, 2021, was a day a father won’t forget. It wasn’t the day our eldest learned to walk. It wasn’t his first day of school (that actually came a few days later). It wasn’t the day he learned to ride a bike (“Dad, let go! Let go! I can do it!”). No, Friday, September 10, 2021, was the first time my son saw death.

And not just any death. This was “Grama Sally,” my wife’s grandmother. During trips to Los Angeles, our son had met Grama Sally, hugged her, talked with her, took pictures with her. He knew her. And yet there she was, lying strangely still — too still to be asleep — in a large, beautiful, wooden box, surrounded by flowers, pictures, and lots of tears. I remember his eyes — tiny vats swirling with confusion, curiosity, and fear. Looking around, he knew he should be sad, but he also didn’t understand enough to know why, which made the whole scene more unsettling. Whether you’re a father or a five-year-old, nothing can fully prepare you for moments like these.

I could write a dozen articles about that day, but for now, isn’t it interesting that my son could live five whole years and not be confronted with death?

Veiling Mortality

I started noticing how strangely absent death seems from everyday life when Ray Ortlund quoted a line about the Victorian era (roughly 1820 to 1914), when people talked more freely about death, but almost never about sex. And now, the opposite is true. The line sent me searching for days when death was a more visible member of society.

Grief in American society today is relatively discrete. We talk about “respecting the family’s privacy.” When someone dies, a group of loved ones put on some nicer clothes, attend a brief viewing, then a short service, and finally a burial, often with a reception afterward. All of this might take place in only half a day.

In the 1800s in Britain, however, people grieved very differently — and far more publicly. Widows, in particular, often wore elaborate gowns long after the funeral (sometimes for a year or even two). An entire fashion industry rose around death. This meant that, on any given day, it wasn’t strange to see someone grieving for all to see. Five-year-olds couldn’t avoid the dark clouds walking in and out of crowds. Their kindergartners were forced to ask questions our kids rarely think to ask.

Given how little time and attention (and fabric) we now give to death, should it surprise us that it blindsides us like it does? As a society tries to suppress and hide the reality of death, it inevitably becomes less prepared for it. I, for one, want to be ready when it comes for me — and it will come for me, and you, and everyone you know, unless Jesus returns first. As I help raise three young lives, one of my great burdens is to prepare them to die well.

Could Death Be Better?

When my own death draws near, I want to face it like the apostle Paul. I want to be as prepared for death as he was, so that I can live as fully as he did before he died. We could go to several passages, but Philippians 1 holds up the grave as boldly and beautifully as any other.

As he writes, he sits in a Roman prison, with no assurances that he’ll ever sit anywhere else again. His friends were afraid. After many scares before, this really could be it. “It is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death” (Philippians 1:20). While others would have been consumed by worry, regretting all that would be lost and left undone, Paul embraced the prospect of the end, even a seemingly premature end.

A few verses later, he expresses confidence that God will deliver him from prison (verse 25), but that confidence doesn’t come from his circumstances. Everything he could see issued a different forecast. He knew he might die. And that haunting thought did not disturb him.

To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (Philippians 1:21)

When you read him, death doesn’t seem like death at all. Hope has somehow drained death of its shadows, of its bleakness. For Paul, death is like the demonized man in Mark 5, who broke through chains, cut himself ruthlessly, and cursed the sky for years — until he met Jesus. Then, people found him “sitting there, clothed and in his right mind” (Mark 5:15). Christ does that to death for all who live in him.

When he surveys what life and death offer him, Paul doesn’t merely tolerate and receive the latter; he prefers it. “Gain.” “Better.” “Reward.” He doesn’t despise his life in Christ on earth — “If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me” (verse 22). But he knew enough to gladly trade all he had now for what comes next.

Better Life by Far

Paul, like the rest of humanity, was born enslaved to the fear of death (Hebrews 2:15). Consciously or unconsciously, we grow up and live under the oppressive, terrifying reality that we will die. And that fear makes people do all manner of sinful and irrational things. Paul wasn’t immune to the dread that terrorizes millions. So what changed his perspective on death? What lens could he possibly put over the grave to see gain?

“Death is only better than life if death means getting closer to Jesus.”

He tells us just two verses later: “My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better” (Philippians 1:23). Death is only better than life if death means living closer to Jesus. And it does for those, like Paul, who trust and follow him. As we step through the grave, “we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). And he will be so stunning, so arresting, so satisfying, that seeing him will change us. “What we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2). Death will introduce us to a glory that will not only sweep us off our feet, but swallow and transform us.

One day, I’ll wake up in a better-by-far world, surrounded by better-by-far sights and tastes and opportunities, and I’ll experience it all as a better-by-far me. A better world, because Christ’s reign will be seen and felt in every inch and breath. Better adventures, because we’ll eat and work and travel and laugh and swim and reign with the one who made it all. A better me, because I will have never been more like him. That’s how death loses its sting. That’s how the prospect of losing all can grow to feel like gain.

Living to Die

This perspective doesn’t merely prepare us to die well, though. It also prepares us to live well until we die. And ironically, while dying well will mean living more fully than ever, living well will mean repeatedly dying to ourselves. Paul can say, “I die every day!” (1 Corinthians 15:31). What does he mean?

He tells us in Philippians 1. “If I am to live in the flesh,” verse 22, “that means fruitful labor for me.” And what would that fruitful labor be?

I will remain and continue with you all, for your progress and joy in the faith, so that in me you may have ample cause to glory in Christ Jesus, because of my coming to you again. (Philippians 1:25–26)

“While dying well will mean living more fully than ever, living well will mean repeatedly dying to self.”

Because he was prepared to die, Paul was freed to live, not for himself, but for others’ joy in God. In other words, he was freed to spend his life preparing people to die well, giving them reason after reason to live for Christ and long for heaven. He spent the little time he had on earth (even in prison!) looking for creative and costly ways to win and mature souls for the next world. He knew that dying well on his last day meant dying well every day.

And so if we want to live and die well, we die, as long as we have breath, so that others might finally and fully live in Christ.

What I have in mind in this message is not primarily what our human nature is now, nor the process by which we become what we will be, nor the events of death or the intermediate state between death and resurrection, nor the event of resurrection or judgment — but the final condition or nature of redeemed humanity when history as we know it is completely past, and the resurrection is past, and the judgment is past, and the new heavens and the new earth have come, and the final condition of what we will be like for future ages has come.

Why Does This Future Reality Matter Now?

Why is this question — and this reality of our final condition, in which we will spend billions of ages — worthy of our attention? To answer that question, I quote with great approval J.I. Packer (who is citing Richard Baxter):

The importance of clarity about what lies at the end of the Christian pilgrimage seemed to [Richard] Baxter incalculable. . . . The more strongly one desires an end, the more carefully and diligently one will use the means to it. [Baxter:] “The Love of the end is the poise and spring, which setteth every Wheel a going.” But an unknown end will not be loved. “It is a known, and not merely an unknown God and happiness, that the soul doth joyfully desire.” Such desire will then give wings to the soul. “It is the heavenly Christian that is the lively Christian. It is strangeness to heaven that makes us so dull. It is the end that quickens to all the means; and the more frequently and clearly this end is beheld, the more vigorous will all our motion be. . . . We run so slowly, and strive so lazily, because we so little mind the prize.” (Honouring the People of God: Collected Shorter Writings of J.I. Packer on Christian Leaders and Theologians, 274, emphasis added)

Is that not the mindset of the apostle? “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13–14).

Baxter again: “The Love of the end is the . . . spring which setteth every Wheel a going. . . . It is the end that quickens to all the means. . . . We run so slowly, and strive so lazily, because we so little mind the prize.” That is a thoroughly biblical understanding of how Christians are to be energized during this vapor’s breath on earth. Consider a few texts.

1 John 3:2–3

Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is. And everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure.

The wheel of purity and radical Christian living now is set “a going” by the hope of what we will become when we see the Lord. That’s John’s inspired answer to why we should talk about “What Will Man Be Like for Countless Future Ages?”

1 Corinthians 15:42–43, 52, 58

[The dead body that] is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. . . . For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. . . . Therefore [that’s the key word here!], my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.

“It is the end that quickens all the means; and the more frequently and clearly this end is beheld, the more vigorous will all our motion be. . . . We run so slowly, and strive so lazily [and abound so little in the work of the Lord], because we so little mind the prize” — because we so little mind what it will be like to be raised imperishable, glorious, powerful. If we love this end, we will abound in the work of the Lord.

2 Corinthians 6:16–7:1

“I will be their God, and they shall be my people. . . . And I will be a father to you, and you shall be sons and daughters to me, says the Lord Almighty.” Since we have these promises, beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God.

“The Love of the end . . . setteth every Wheel a going.” The engine of holiness is the hope of what we will be for countless ages in the presence of the Lord Almighty, who calls himself our Father.

2 Corinthians 4:16–17

We do not lose heart. . . . [Why? Because] this light momentary affliction [a mere eighty or ninety years] is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

“The hope of glory is the great heart-sustaining force in our momentary lives.”

The hope of glory — what we will be and see for countless ages — is the great heart-sustaining force in our momentary lives. We will not lose heart. “The more frequently and clearly this end is beheld, the more vigorous [the more hearty] will all our motion be.”

How then shall we maintain our joy and love our enemies without this clear hope of what we will be?

Matthew 5:11–12

Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven.

For countless ages, the reward of what we will be and what we will see will be great beyond reckoning. Over and over, the Bible makes it clear that it is the love of the end — what we will be like for countless future ages — that sets “every Wheel a going” in this life.

Will Our Future Life Be Our True Life?

To bring a particular focus to my question, let me recount a story that Marshall Shelley told 29 years ago about the loss of one of his children. Marshall Shelley was the former editor of Leadership Journal for 34 years, and he is now a professor at Denver Seminary. He raises a question that helps me limit my focus from the endless possibilities of how to talk about our final condition.

I was with my son his entire life — two minutes. He entered the world of light and air at 8:20pm on November 22, 1991. And he departed, the doctor said, at 8:22.

“Do you have a name for the baby?” asked one of the nurses. “Toby,” Susan said. “It’s short for a biblical name, Tobiah, which means ‘God is good.’”

John’s vision of eternity suggests what is in store for all the saints: “The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. . . . And they will reign forever and ever” (Revelation 22:3–5). Serving God and reigning — those tasks sound like they have more significance than the careers most of us pursue in our lifetimes. Could it be that when I finally begin serving with God’s name on my forehead, I will find that this is what I was truly created for? I may find I was created not for what I would accomplish on earth, but for the role I will fulfill in heaven.

Why did God create a child to live two minutes? He didn’t. . . . God created Toby for eternity. He created each of us for eternity, where we may be surprised to find our true calling which always seemed just out of reach here on earth. (“Two Minutes to Eternity,” emphasis added)

That’s a provocative phrase — “our true calling” or “what I was truly created for.” As if we have a calling in this life, but in the life to come we have a true calling. What would that mean? I was created for purposes in this life, but in the life to come, he asks, will I find what I was truly created for? Or is that question even biblical?

Lay Hold of Real Life

I think the Bible does encourage us to think of our eternal life beyond this present world as our true life, our calling there as our true calling. There is a connection between Marshall Shelley’s question and Scripture that focuses my attention for the rest of this message. It’s found in 1 Timothy 6:19, where Paul instructs Timothy to say to the rich, “[Store] up treasure for [yourselves] as a good foundation for the future, so that [you] may take hold of that which is truly life.”

The phrase “truly life” is ontōs zōēs. Zōēs, of course, is life. And ontōs is an adverb built on the participle ōn meaning “being,” which might come over into English as “beingly,” except there is no such English word. So, it comes over into English as “really” — “really life” or “true life.” So “beingly life” is life that is full of being. Full of reality. As full of realness as a created life can be.

Paul is trying to find words that express our final condition in terms of life. It is true life. Real life. Life full of being. And his point is that you don’t have it yet fully. Take hold of that which is truly life. Live for that. That is your future: real life. Not just what you have now.

We Have Tasted True Life

Oh, yes, one of the glories of Christianity is that this future life — this real life — has come into the world. And by Christ and his Spirit, it has begun to dwell in us, has begun to be our life. First John 5:11–12 says, “God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.” Then he adds, “He is the true God and [is!] eternal life” (1 John 5:20). This idea of Jesus as life is all over Scripture:

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).
“I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25).
“The Son gives life to all whom he will” (John 5:21).
“Everyone who believes . . . has been born of God” (1 John 5:1).
“He has passed from death to life” (John 5:24).
He has died with Christ and been raised to “walk in newness of life” (Romans 6:4).
“The life of Jesus [is] manifested in our bodies” (2 Corinthians 4:10).
He has the Spirit, and “to set the mind on the Spirit is life” (Romans 8:6).

So, yes. This is at the heart of Christianity: real life, Christ’s life, true life, final life, has come into our lives. This life is our real life. But oh how imperfectly we now experience it, and how hidden this life is. Colossians 3:3–4: “You have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.” So, I say it again. Paul’s point in 1 Timothy 6:19 is this: You don’t have it yet fully. So, take hold of it! Take hold of that which is truly life. Handle your possessions so as to gain that. Live for that. True life. Real life.

Entering and Being Swallowed by Life

Jesus thought in these same ways about present life and future life. For example, he said in Matthew 18:9, “If your eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away. It is better for you to enter life with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into the hell of fire.” We have a kind of life now. But there is life that we don’t have — a life yet to be entered. Live so as to enter it.

The apostle Paul raises the issue of how this future life relates to our bodily life. In 2 Corinthians 5, he speaks of our bodies as tents or garments. He says that as much as he wants to be away from the body and at home with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8), it’s not his first preference. He does not want to be unclothed — that is, stripped of his body in death — even though that would mean being at home with the Lord.

What is his first preference? His first preference is the second coming of Christ, when this mortal body puts on immortality. Here’s the way he puts it: “While we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened — not that we would be unclothed [bodiless], but that we would be further clothed [or clothed over], so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life” (2 Corinthians 5:4).

Why do we need to be swallowed up by life if we are alive? Because there is a greater life, a real life, a true life. Life that is life indeed. And we have tasted it. We are defined by it. But we are far from experiencing it to the full — body and soul. Our final destiny, our final condition, is true life, real life.

And that life is in God and in his Son. Paul describes unbelievers in Ephesians 4:18 as “alienated from the life of God.” God the Father is absolute life. Jesus said, “As the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself” (John 5:26). And the Spirit gives life, carrying the life of the Father and the Son.

God — Father, Son, and Spirit — is absolute life. He is not stone or gold or silver. Not a primal gas. Not a cosmic computer. He gives life. He defines life. He is life. Thought. Feeling. Energy. Action. But more. Oh, so much more. This is our destiny for countless ages: to be alive with such life, God’s life, real life. This more is where we are headed. Live for this. Preach this. Help your people lay hold of life that is really life.

What Will True Life Be Like — for the Body?

What will true life be like? For the body, Paul says it will mean being swallowed up by life (2 Corinthians 5:4). The life of the age to come — real life, true life, full divine life, as much as it can be shared with a creature — will swallow up our bodies. Which I think means they will be transformed and perfectly suited to that new life, the real life. We’ll see this more clearly in a moment.

So, how much like our present bodies will they be? The New Testament wants us to expect significant similarity and great dissimilarity. On the one hand, there wouldn’t be a resurrection of the body if there were no continuity with our present body. You don’t raise specific bodies in order to do away with those bodies.

As Paul says, “The dead in Christ will rise” (1 Thessalonians 4:16). And “Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). Christ will “transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body” (Philippians 3:21). The body raised is our body. His resurrection body was recognizable, touchable. J.I. Packer wrote, “Risen Christians will be recognizable to each other, and joyful reunions beyond this world with believers whom we loved and then lost through death are to be expected” (Concise Theology: A Guide to Historic Christian Beliefs, 264).

But on the other hand, Paul says,

What you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body. . . . Flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. . . . But we shall all be changed. (1 Corinthians 15:37–38, 50–51)

In what way? No death. No pain. No crying (Revelation 21:4). And every saint “shining like the sun in the kingdom of their Father” (Matthew 13:43). “[The body] is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body” (1 Corinthians 15:43–44).

A spiritual body! That’s what happens when the body is swallowed up by life — real, true, full, final, divine life. It transforms the body. It fits the body for this new life. The body is so enlivened by God’s Spirit, and purified by the Spirit, and endowed by the Spirit, and empowered by the Spirit, and in perfect harmony with the Spirit, that it may be called a spiritual body. Swallowed up by life — the life of God, the life of the Spirit.

The spiritual body will have the kind of brain that can really know as it is known (1 Corinthians 13:12). It will have the kind of eyes that can really see, truly see, what is really there. And all the senses will be tuned perfectly by the Spirit to detect in every created thing, every created person, the revelation of God.

What Will True Life Be Like — for the Soul?

What about the soul, the non-bodily aspect of our being, when we are swallowed up by life? What effect does it have on the mind and the heart? Jesus said in his prayer in John 17:3, “This is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” True life, real life, final life, divine life, is to know God and his Son. Why would you call that life? Why would you call knowing God life? Let me make an attempt to answer: because that is what God’s life is.

True Life Knows

For God, to live — to have life; no, to be life — is to know. And if we would share that life, we must know as he knows — know God, for that is what God chiefly knows — the infinite reality that he is. In his absolute existence, without beginning or ending, absolutely there before anything else existed, when there was only God, and nothing besides, God was a knowing God. To be God was to know — to know perfectly and infinitely because he was the perfect and infinite object of his own knowledge.

“When there was only God, and nothing besides, God was a knowing God.”

And he not only knew; he loved. I make the connection between knowing and loving because Jesus does in John 17, as we will see in a moment. Thus, to know God is to share in not only God’s knowing, but also his loving. First John 4:7–8: “Love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.” And, as Paul says, “If anyone loves God, he is known by God” (1 Corinthians 8:3). So, God knows and God loves. God’s life is the life of knowing and loving. And our eternal life, true life, is to come into that knowing and loving.

Before there was a creation, when there was only God, God knew and God loved. He knew God and loved God. The Father knew the Son and the Son knew the Father. As Jesus said in Matthew 11:27, “No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.”

And the Father loved the Son (Colossians 1:13), and the Son loved the Father (John 14:31). And the Holy Spirit carried that knowing love between the Father and the Son. And there was life. That was and is the life of God. The ground of the universe — the life from which all else springs — is the knowing and loving God.

Therefore, when we taste that life, and finally are swallowed up by that life, we know God. We know him experientially. We know as he knows. “This is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3).

True Knowledge Loves

And when Jesus said that at the beginning of his prayer in John 17, he knew how he would end the prayer. He didn’t mean, “Know God the way the devil knows God and Jesus.” That’s not life. To know like that is death. What then did he mean? He meant, “Know with affectionate intimacy. Know in such a way that the knowing awakens loving — knowing the way God knows God. Knowing so that knowing and loving are inseparable.” Where do we see Jesus make this plain? We see it in the way he ends the prayer.

Jesus closes his prayer by praying into existence divine knowing and divine loving — that is, divine life — in the souls of his people. John 17:26: “I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” Here’s my paraphrase:

I gave them life, real life, true life, our divine life, Father. That is, I caused them to know you for the treasure and beauty that you really are in your knowing and loving. And their knowledge of you is so affirming, and approving, and satisfying, that your love for me has become their love for me. They know you as I know you. And they love me as you love me. Indeed, they love me with your very love for me as it is poured out into their hearts by the Spirit.

This is life — the true, real, final, divine life. This is the life we will possess in fullness for countless ages: to know God and to love God and his Son by his Spirit. Which means that we will enjoy God forever, because to love him is to enjoy him with the very knowledge and love of God himself.

True Life Cannot Be Boring

Lest we think this true life, this eternal life, will become boring after some millions of years, remember two things. First, remember that this life is a loving rooted in knowing, and our knowing will increase forever, so that loving increases forever. Let Jonathan Edwards say it:

Their knowledge will increase to eternity [with what? He answers: with “a whole million million ages of those great and most glorious things that come to pass in heaven”]; and if their knowledge [increases], doubtless their holiness. For as they increase in the knowledge of God and of the works of God, the more they will see of his excellency; and the more they see of his excellency . . . the more will they love him; and the more they love God, the more delight and happiness . . . will they have in him. (Works of Jonathan Edwards, 13:275–76)

“There will be no boredom among the redeemed for the countless ages of eternity.”

There will be no boredom among the redeemed for the countless ages of eternity because his mercies will be new every morning (Lamentations 3:23), and our knowledge of them, and our love for them, and our joy in them will only increase.

Second, remember the passage that prompted Marshall Shelley to raise his question: “Could it be that when I finally begin serving with God’s name on my forehead, I will find that this is what I was truly created for?” That is, finally true life? Revelation 22:3–5: “The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face. . . . And they will reign forever and ever.” To which Shelley responds, “Serving God and reigning — those tasks sound like they have more significance than the careers most of us pursue in our lifetimes.” That’s an understatement.

Therefore, the true life that we will have for countless future ages will not be boring, not only because it will be a life of ever-increasing knowledge of God, ever-increasing love of God, and ever-increasing enjoyment of God, but also because that knowing and loving and enjoying will be the “spring, which setteth every Wheel a going.” We will not be idle. We will find our true calling. We will serve. We will reign. We will be up and doing, making, creating, singing.

Baxter’s wisdom is true not only for our present life, but forever: “The Love of the end is the poise and spring, which setteth every Wheel a going.” If that’s true now, in view of how little we taste of true life, how much more will it set the wheels a going when the fullness comes! So, brothers, for the sake of your own soul and the good of your people, “Take hold of that which is truly life” (1 Timothy 6:19).

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/16004407/how-sanctification-confirms-saving-faith

For Adam there was not found a helper fit for him. (Genesis 2:20)

Helper. Many women in our day have chafed at this word, at this characterization of our calling from God. A helper is clearly not in charge. A helper is not usually center stage. A helper may feel (and rightly!) that she has gifts and talents that enable her to do the work better. A helper rarely gets as much recognition for her work. A helper may feel like a second-class citizen. And we could go on.

Some of these assumptions may be true, some are outright lies, but all of them miss the point. Each of the above statements comes from the perspective of fallen creatures, socialized in the modern world; none seriously attempts to consider what the Creator himself had in mind when he designed and assigned callings to men and women.

“When God created male and female, he did not mean to glorify men and demean women.”

When God created male and female, he did not mean to glorify men and demean women, as if helper somehow meant lesser. God created humans — men and women together — as the pinnacle of all creation, crafting both in his very image (Genesis 1:27). He created them with distinct and complementary attributes, inclinations, and gifts that make them indispensable to one another and to his plan for filling the earth with his glory.

Helper with Equal Honor

Now, God did make man first, and he gave man the primary responsibility (and accountability) for the outworking of his plan (Genesis 2:7, 15–17; 1 Timothy 2:13) to extend his glory (Ephesians 1:10). But by giving man primary responsibility and accountability, did God intend for Adam to be a mini-god on earth, decisively higher than his wife, who was also made in God’s image?

No. Before God made Eve from Adam, he humbled Adam by permitting him to discover how impossible his task would be without help — God’s help and human help. God had already indicated that it was not good for man to be alone (Genesis 2:18), but then he set Adam to naming all the animals, building to the discovery that “there was not found a helper fit for him” (Genesis 2:19–20). Then, at the creation of Eve, Adam’s “at last” shows the relief and delight he felt (Genesis 2:23). He knew he needed a helper for this mission.

Woman, then, was not created as a subjugated slave, but as a means of mutual blessing for them both. She was, and is, an essential partner and helper in the grand work of subduing the creation and filling the earth with God’s imagers, giving glory upon glory to the eternally worthy God.

The twisted lie that Adam is more important, that Adam’s call means power and privilege, and Eve’s subjugation, springs out of the pride that human hearts have harbored since the fall. Men too often have been puffed up to lead with domineering power, and women too often have been puffed up with righteous indignation, asserting that they have just as much of a right to power and privilege as men do.

“Self-centered, bullying leadership was never God’s plan. Neither was self-centered resentment when called to help.”

Of course, Adam could not assume responsibility (and accountability) without the associated ability (and burden) to make critical decisions. But all throughout the Bible, and especially in the life of Jesus, we see that every earthly power is subject to the righteous and holy God. A holy exercise of any ability may not please everyone, but it is never to be self-serving or oppressive, and is always to be characterized by humility and self-sacrifice. Self-centered, bullying leadership was never God’s call. Neither was self-centered resentment when called to be helper.

Pride on Both Sides

At this point, I expect some women today want to say, “But men’s leadership throughout the ages has rarely reflected humility and self-sacrifice. Men have abused power and oppressed women (and others) in every generation!” Yes, they surely have. And I’m not excusing that in any way. To the contrary, we long and pray for justice in this earthly life, and my soul trembles when I see men misuse their authority. If you believe for a moment that a righteous and holy God will not hold men accountable for such sinful behavior, you are not familiar with the God of the Bible. Judgment is real, and it is coming.

At the same time, we can’t condemn men without acknowledging that women, too, have been guilty of being more concerned about our own image, advancement, power, and perhaps even “rights” than about honoring our God by being the kind of people he made us to be. God’s people were made to humbly, sacrificially, and joyfully welcome the privilege of their God-given callings and delight to reflect God’s own beauty and righteousness in those callings. Oh, how men and women should both fall on our faces in repentance — and thanksgiving — as we acknowledge our failures and lean on God’s loving grace through Jesus.

Exceptions and the Rule

We cannot escape the conclusion, then, that God made men to act as the head of our homes and our churches. In a few cases in the Bible, as a desperate measure revealing desperate times, God called women to leadership roles typically assigned to men, but Scripture doesn’t suggest that God altered his original plan. There is no indication, for example, that after Deborah there were a growing number of women judges (Judges 4:1–16), or that Abigail, after quietly taking initiative to protect her community from the poor judgment of her “worthless” husband (1 Samuel 25:14–35), and later married David, took charge in that relationship.

When Jesus enters the picture in the Gospels, we do see women deeply involved in and around his ministry (as in Luke 8:1–3). If anyone would have been justified in lording his power and position over others, it would have been Jesus, but he never led that way (Mark 10:42–45). He clearly loved and welcomed women’s contributions to the ministry. At the same time, however, Jesus did not name women among his Twelve. Paul, too, treats women with a remarkably high regard throughout his ministry, even commending Phoebe as his messenger to the church of Rome (Romans 16:1–2), but he clearly did not ordain women as pastor-elders (1 Timothy 2:12–3:7).

God’s ways often turn ours upside down, but this we know for sure: God does not want us to sin and rebel against him, but to see the all-surpassing wisdom and love behind his design and eagerly dedicate our lives to his call. We bring glory to God when we believe and joyfully obey him.

Are We Helping?

Sisters in Christ, it is wonderful that God has called us to be helpers. We are helpers in God’s very image, and we alone are made to bear God’s image-bearers. What a sacred and holy responsibility! If God has given you a husband, you were made to fit with and help this man whom God has charged with leadership. If you aren’t (yet) married, but would like to be, the word helper is a reminder to be wise and discerning before accepting a husband. Choose a godly man you will gladly help as he leads.

If we humble ourselves before our God, we will have the opportunity to use our faith, creativity, discernment, gifts, and abilities to join with, build up, and encourage husbands, pastors, and other male leaders. If we bring a humble servant-heart and true joy in Jesus to our task, who knows how we might change relational dynamics and contribute far more than we can think or imagine?

Are we helping? Is our spirit filled with discontent and envy at the calling God has given us, or are we delighted to be given such an important opportunity to rule and reign with our men under Christ? Are we judging rather than trying to understand? Are we critical rather than compassionate and encouraging? Are we faithful — trusting that God has placed the male leaders in our lives for his good purposes?

Women, let’s set aside our own distorted views of what it means to help and ask God to show us how he planned this calling to be a blessing to us, to the men in our lives, to our community, and to all creation. We live and serve to please One, and he delighted to make us helpers in his grand plan. Oh, that we may delight in this calling too.

Audio Transcript

Good Friday to you. Welcome back to the podcast. Well, many Christians live right now in a republic, a form of self-governance where we choose our representatives — we vote on them. And maybe more than ever, Christians live in free societies. For them — for us — are we required to vote? Is voting a Christian duty? Would it be negligent for a Christian, as a citizen of a free society, to abstain from an election?

We get this question a lot, and especially in the last six years it has become common. And we’re closing the week with the most recent version of it, from a listener named Danny. “Hello, Pastor John! I have been struggling with the question lately about whether or not a Christian who lives in a free society is obligated to vote. God commands us to submit to governing authorities (Romans 13:1), to pray regularly for them (1 Timothy 2:1–2), and he gives us an allowance for civil disobedience in rare cases when it is necessary (Acts 5:29). But if, in a given election, the choices boil down to options I feel no strong conviction toward, or if the election comes down to an option of the ‘lesser of two evil’ choices, do Christians have the choice to simply not vote at all? In my circles, this does not seem to be an option for a faithful believer. I’ve been told that this would amount to neighbor-neglect on my part. Would it?”

Let’s come at this by quoting 1 Peter 2:9–17, and what we’re going to hear in this text is the double identity of the Christian in this fallen world. One identity is that of a sojourner and exile. In other words, this world is not our home. And the other identity is that of being subject in this world to the God-appointed authorities of governors and kings. So one identity is slaves of God (and, yes, that is the word used, “slaves of God,” not at all excluding the glorious truth of “child of God” — both have aspects of truth in them), owned and ruled by God and no other. And the other identity is one sent by our owner, God, into a foreign world to make his glory known through gospel words and good deeds. So listen for those two identities as I read this text.

Our Double Identity

“You are a chosen race [Christians], a royal priesthood, a holy nation.” Let that sink in: a holy nation, and that’s not referring to any earthly nation. That’s Christianity. That’s the born-again people of God from all the nations. “You are a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). So that’s what I mean by gospel words. He called you to proclaim.

“That’s our goal: make God look glorious in this land where we live temporarily as aliens and sojourners.”

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds” — that’s why I refer not only to gospel words but also good deeds — “and glorify God on the day of visitation” (1 Peter 2:11–12). So that’s our goal: make God look glorious in this land where we live temporarily as aliens and sojourners. Make him look beautiful, great, valuable. That’s our goal. Make God look great.

“Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and praise those who do good” (1 Peter 2:13–14). So that’s our identity as subjects of God-appointed authority.

“For this is the will of God, that by doing good” — there it is again; we’ve seen “doing good” three times now — “you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. Live as people who are free, not using your freedom as a cover-up for evil, but living as [slaves] of God” (1 Peter 2:15–16). Now, there’s our identity as God-owned slaves, who are in bondage to no man. “Live as people who are free” — that is, free from whatever human authority is claiming you — but know that your master, God, sends you for his sake into that foreign land for his purposes.

“Honor everyone. Love the brotherhood. Fear God. Honor the emperor” (1 Peter 2:17). That’s the end of the text.

Every Nation a Foreign Land

So here’s our double identity. Christians are a holy nation called the church — God’s own possession. And therefore, as a holy nation, we are sojourners and exiles in every other nation on the planet, including America. Or to say it another way, we are God’s slaves — meaning we are owned by him and responsible ultimately to him alone, not any man.

Then the other part of our double identity is God’s call or vocation for us to submit freely — not because earthly rulers have any final authority over us — to governors and kings, and to do good in these foreign nations where we live, like America, for the glory of God.

This is the fundamental reality, the structure of the Christian existence that we need to keep in mind when we are thinking about things like voting in this foreign land where we live called America — or wherever you happen to live (to those listening to this around the world, your own foreign land where you live as aliens and exiles, as Christians).

So, what are the implications of what I’ve just read and said? Here are three.

1. Corporate worship is politically explosive.

We cast a vote every week by assembling in congregational worship and singing our allegiance to Jesus as Lord over all lords, King over all kings, President over all presidents, Premier over all premiers, Chief over all chiefs. Christ-exalting corporate worship is politically the most explosive thing we do. It is absolutely seditious in any regime that presumes to claim ultimate authority or ultimate allegiance over human beings. In worship, we say out loud, for all to hear, “Jesus Christ is our King over all other rulers. We must obey him. Obedience to earthly rulers is relative; obedience to Jesus is absolute.” “The Most High rules the kingdom of men,” Daniel says, “and gives it to whom he will” (Daniel 4:25).

“Obedience to earthly rulers is relative; obedience to Jesus is absolute.”

As legitimate and even as desirable as a proper affection for our earthly nation (in my case, America) may be, if weekly worship begins to sound like patriotic rallies rather than a celebration of King Jesus over every nation, including our own, we’re moving away from biblical faithfulness and toward idolatry. That’s the first implication.

2. Christians should want to do much good.

There should be no question that Christians, as sojourners and exiles on the earth, want to do good for the people and the nation we are part of. Christians care about all suffering — especially eternal suffering, especially suffering nearby. Proximity applies some measure of accountability.

So we bless our communities with gospel words and good deeds. That’s the implication of 1 Peter 2:9–17. Christians do not want to be part of life-ruining problems in society. We want to be a part of life-bettering solutions in society. We don’t want police to be unjust or unhelpful. We don’t want leaders to be corrupt, but to have integrity. We don’t want the infrastructures of water, and sewer, and electricity, and natural gas, and roads, and bridges, and streetlights, and fuel supplies, and flood control, and building codes, and 911, and fire stations — we don’t want any of these to fail. We are willing to pay for them and do our part to keep things functioning for good, the common good of as many as possible.

We want to be a part of helping with the problems of homelessness, and poverty, and drug addiction, and mental illness, and criminal behavior, and domestic violence. We want there to be safe neighborhoods, and good schools, and affordable housing, and ample jobs, and stable economic conditions, and international peace. This is why Peter, two times in this short text, said that we are to be busy doing good deeds so as (1) to silence those who say Christianity is bad for the world, and (2) to make God look glorious. That’s the second implication. We’re not sitting buried away in our little caves, indifferent to the suffering and the needs of our society.

3. Voting is one form of doing good.

Here’s the third, last implication. Voting is one form of doing good. It is one kind of good deed. We hope — by voting for worthy, competent, wise candidates — that the common good will come to more people. That’s our goal. But I don’t think it follows from any biblical truth that voting is an absolute duty for Christians. It is one possible good deed alongside many others, one way of serving the good of society, but there are too many other factors at stake to describe it as an absolute duty.

One of those factors is this: when the duty to vote is elevated to the point where it overrides other Christian principles of virtue, it has been taken too far. That duty has been taken too far. At times, it happens in a fallen world that a vote for any proposed candidate is so offensive, so morally compromised, so misleading that it may be a matter of greater integrity, more faithful obedience to Christ, and a clearer witness to truth if we do not vote for any of the proposed candidates.

It would be irresponsible to assume that a choice not to vote for some party or person on the ballot is a failure to love our neighbor, when in fact, the non-voter may be much more involved in doing socially transformative good deeds than the one who votes for a morally unfit candidate because he’s considered the lesser of two evils. Life is not simple. It is inevitable that Christians will disagree on strategies for how to do the most good with gospel words, good deeds, and Christian example-setting. We must be slow to judge the moral strategies of other well-meaning people.

Just one more thought. If you believe, as I do, that in principle, voting is a great gift and privilege in our society, and you want to uphold that privilege, it is almost always possible to vote by writing in the candidate you think is worthy, though not on the ballot. In that way, you may uphold the precious gift of democratic self-government while avoiding the ruinous effects of supporting unworthy candidates.

Money and joy. Across the passages in the New Testament that speak to Christian leadership, these are the two most repeated themes. And we might see them as two sides of one motivational coin. That is, what gain are pastor-elders to seek (and not seek) in becoming and enduring as local-church leaders? Why pastors serve really matters.

What Makes a Pastor Happy?

The apostle Paul worked with his own hands, making and mending tents — which made him a good man to make the case for “double honor” (respect and remuneration) for pastor-elders who give themselves to church-work as their breadwinning vocation. However, necessary and good as it is for staff pastors to receive pay, Paul would not have greedy men (paid or unpaid) in either the pastoral or diaconal office. “Not a lover of money,” he specifies in 1 Timothy 3:3 (memorable in the King James as “not greedy of filthy lucre”). For deacons, in 1 Timothy 3:8: “not greedy for dishonest gain.”

So too, the final chapter of Hebrews moves seamlessly from “keep your life free from love of money” (Hebrews 13:5–6) to “remember your leaders” (Hebrews 13:7), and it’s no wonder. The one should go hand in hand with the other — as they do right at the heart of Peter’s passage for elders: “Shepherd the flock . . . , not under compulsion, but willingly, as God would have you; not for shameful gain, but eagerly” (1 Peter 5:2). The apostles would have us speak, in the same breath, of lives free from love of money and local-church leaders who exemplify that lifestyle.

The other side of the coin, then, is the positive motivation: joy. Paul begins 1 Timothy 3 by not only condoning but requiring the holy pursuit of joy in ministry: “If anyone aspires to the office of overseer, he desires a noble task.” Pastor-elders must aspire to the work, that is, want it, desire it, anticipating that it will, in some important sense, make them happy. They should not have their arms twisted to serve, but genuinely desire such work from the heart — as Peter says, “not under compulsion, but willingly.” Even though prospective church leaders hear (and may have observed or even experienced) that this line of labor can be especially taxing emotionally and spiritually, they can’t seem to shake a settled desire and aspiration for the work. They desire it, from and for joy.

Gain That Matches the Work

Peter succinctly captures the two sides (not money but joy) of our motivation coin: “not for shameful gain, but eagerly.” Notice he doesn’t say “not for gain.” Rather, he says “not for shameful gain,” meaning that there is a gain without shame that he is not excluding. And in fact, he requires it. “Eagerly” presumes some motivation to gain — just that this gain is not “shameful.”

“Honorable gain in Christian ministry is benefit that befits the work.”

What, then, might be honorable gain in Christian leadership? We wouldn’t be right to rule out any financial remuneration (which would require ignoring Paul’s case). But we would be correct to rule out money as the driving motivation. What gain, then, are pastors to seek? We might say it like this: honorable gain in Christian ministry is benefit that befits the work. Or we might say: gain that is commensurate with the work. We might ask the potential or present pastor, “Do you have joy in the work, and receive joy from the work, that strengthens the work itself? Or does the gain you seek from the work of Christian ministry take you away from the work?”

In other words, Is the gain you seek from ministry in, or apart from, the good of the flock?

Joy, Not Groaning

Hebrews is particularly striking in that it puts the pursuit of joy at the heart of the work of pastors, both for the pastors and for their people. Addressing the congregation, Hebrews 13:17 says,

Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with groaning, for that would be of no advantage to you.

In the healthiest of churches, the pastor-elders aspire to the work and do it willingly and eagerly (1 Peter 5:2), and (now we add) the people do their part to “let them [labor] with joy.” Which makes for a kind of holy conspiracy of joy in three critical stages.

1. The Leaders Aspire

First, the leaders aspire to the work, as we’ve seen, and joyfully undertake it. Good pastors want to do the work of pastoral ministry, from joy and for joy.

“Let them [labor] with joy” assumes that the pastors are starting out with joy; they are operating from and for holy joy in Christ, and in his people. Let’s be honest, pastors don’t get into this line of work for the money; the pay is modest at best in the vast majority of pastorates. Rather, God moved on these men, whether over time or seemingly in some particular moment, to give them an unusual desire to give more of themselves for the good of the church. They came into the work with a particular joy-fed and joy-led desire to love and serve the church through diligent teaching and humble governance.

“Unlike other vocations, mere willingness is not enough in pastoral work.”

Unlike other vocations, mere willingness is not enough in pastoral work. Christ appoints and provides a kind of eagerness in pastors for the calling, not just to make a living, but to give of themselves, beyond what can be fully reckoned and remunerated, for others’ progress and joy in the faith.

2. The Church Cooperates

The people then, encourages Hebrews, “let them do this with joy.” That is, the people try not to disrupt or derail that happiness by turning pastoral joy into groaning. Healthy congregants don’t want to interrupt happy labor with needless and sinful complaining and grumbling.

Note well, the church is not charged to make the pastors’ work joyful, but to let them labor with joy. In other words, “Church, your pastors are working with joy. Don’t make their work miserable or unnecessarily difficult. Your miseries might want company, but for your own good, don’t seek to make your pastors groan.” The church is not responsible to make their pastors happy; neither is it the church’s job to make them miserable.

Now, to be sure, there’s a word here for pastors too: brothers, labor with gladness, not groaning, even when ministry gets hard, for both your own joy and the church’s, which is the third and final part.

3. The Church Gains

Finally, ongoing, resilient, joyful labor by the pastors brings about the joyful gain of the congregation. That’s the explicit reason Hebrews gives: “Let [your leaders labor] with joy and not with groaning,” he says, “for that would be of no advantage to you.” When the pastors labor with joy, and the people don’t unnecessarily interrupt that joy, the people themselves benefit. Those who undermine the joy of their pastors do so to their own disadvantage.

And the pastors, who have been aiming all along at the holy and enduring joy of their people, have their own joy made complete in seeing the advantage and gain of the flock. So it is, in the apostles’ complementary callings on the pastors and their people, a kind of holy conspiracy of joy: the leaders aspire to the work and joyfully do it; the people “let them do this with joy,” striving to not give their pastors reasons to groan; and that joyful labor by the pastors then brings about the greater joy, advantage, and benefit of the whole church.

In it all, why is joy so central to the work of pastoral ministry? Because Christ is most glorified in his people when they are most satisfied in him. Joy in Christ in the heart, radiating out in audible and visual expressions, and life together in the church, magnifies its source and focus. So if pastors want Jesus to be glorified in their work, then one major, even central, reality to take into account is joy — the pastors’ joy in the people’s joy in Christ.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/16001142/god-wont-leave-salvation-to-chance

[Better is] the day of death than the day of birth.

I realize that’s an abrupt way to begin an article, but that’s how the Preacher begins Ecclesiastes 7. No easing in; he just pushes us into the deep end of the existential pool. So, here we are. What do you think about the Preacher’s statement? Do you agree with him?

The statement becomes more disturbing when we realize that the Preacher isn’t talking about our deaths, but about the deaths of people we know and love — deaths we experience as losses. He’s talking about the deaths of our grandparents, parents, siblings, spouses, children, extended family members, friends, colleagues, and neighbors.

Think about that for a moment. Is the Preacher — and God through the Preacher — really saying that the day we weep over a loved one’s death is better than the day we laugh for joy over a loved one’s newborn baby? Yes, he is. But he means it in a limited, specific sense.

What Death Has to Say

We can see what the Preacher means by reading more of the context:

A good name is better than precious ointment,     and the day of death than the day of birth.It is better to go to the house of mourning     than to go to the house of feasting,for this is the end of all mankind,     and the living will lay it to heart.Sorrow is better than laughter,     for by sadness of face the heart is made glad.The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning,     but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. (Ecclesiastes 7:1–4)

This clarifies the Preacher’s point. The day of death is better than the day of birth in the sense that death speaks to us in ways birth does not. For death says,

You too are going to die, perhaps sooner than you think. And so will every other person you love and every mourner who pays his respects to this loved one whose final earthly end has come. If you are wise, you will take this to heart and live with your end in mind.

That’s not a message anyone hears at a baby shower.

Wisdom’s Counterintuitive Way

When we read through the wisdom literature of the Bible, we see this strange motif: we gain wisdom by paying careful attention to and learning to embrace things we would rather avoid.

We would rather avoid the significant discomfort that discipline requires, yet we see that “whoever loves discipline loves knowledge” (Proverbs 12:1).
We would rather avoid the unpleasant, humbling experience of being corrected, yet we see that “whoever ignores instruction despises himself, but he who listens to reproof gains intelligence” (Proverbs 15:32).
We would certainly rather avoid the more painful correction of being rebuked, yet we hear a wise man say, “Let a righteous man strike me — it is a kindness; let him rebuke me — it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it” (Psalm 141:5).
And we would really rather avoid afflictions of any kind, yet we hear another wise man say, “It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes” (Psalm 119:71).

“We gain wisdom by paying careful attention to and learning to embrace things we would rather avoid.”

The way of wisdom is often counterintuitive. We must learn to love instruction from teachers we intuitively fear because they have lessons we cannot live without. That’s why, when it comes to baby showers and funerals, the Preacher says, “The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth” (Ecclesiastes 7:4).

But he doesn’t mean that we’re fools if we ever celebrate a baby’s birth. For the Preacher also says, “For everything there is a season,” including “a time to be born, and a time to die,” and God “has made everything beautiful in its time” (Ecclesiastes 3:1–2, 11). There’s a time to enjoy the beauty of a new life. But the Preacher does mean that we’re fools if, because we fear death, we avoid listening to its depressing instruction by keeping ourselves distracted and entertained in houses of mirth. For the wise discover that essential springs of life flow from what we learn in houses of mourning.

What Endings Reveal

The Preacher also wants us to know that we’re wise to listen carefully not only to what a death has to teach us, but to what every significant ending has to teach us. That’s why he widens his focus from death to include endings in general: “Better is the end of a thing than its beginning” (Ecclesiastes 7:8).

“The end of a thing reveals what its beginning conceals.”

He says this not only because every significant ending in our lives carries the echo of death’s message, but also because the end of a thing reveals what its beginning conceals. Whereas a beginning makes us hopeful by promising a better future, we discover only in the end whether the promise, or the promise-maker, was truly worthy of the hope we had. And significant endings also often reveal the true spiritual state of our hearts — what we truly trust in, what truly gives us hope, and what we truly treasure.

Here’s one example of a revealing end.

Death of a Promise

One day, years ago, when my brother and I were washing windows to put ourselves through college (me) and seminary (my brother), we were working at the home of a well-to-do elderly couple. The husband had attained remarkable career success as the founder of a company that ran a large regional chain of supermarkets, which he then handed over to his children when he retired. He had achieved the American dream.

But he turned out to be a dour, depressed, angry, bitter man. At one point, after he’d said something needlessly harsh to us and trudged off, his wife came over and apologized. She turned out to be just the opposite: buoyant, joyful, gracious, and kind. As we talked, we discovered she was a sister in Christ and had an earnest, vibrant faith. She discreetly shared with us her deep heartache over her husband’s rejection of Christ and her concern over his severe depression, which had set in when his declining capacities and health forced him to relinquish his leadership and influence in his beloved company. When his career ended, so did any meaningful purpose to his life. When we finished the windows, we prayed with her and for him.

The following year, when the woman hired us again, she was alone. Her husband, having nothing more to live for, had died. She was grieving. But her hope in Christ was strong, and her peace surpassed mere human understanding.

No doubt, this man began his career with the hope-fueled energy of a promising future. But its end revealed that the expiration date on this promise was the same as the career’s. When it was over, his remaining prosperity and prestige were hollow, having been emptied of a future and a hope.

Are You Paying Attention?

The Preacher knows how attracted we are to the hopeful siren songs wafting from the houses of mirth, and how repulsed we are by the fearsome dirges emanating from the houses of mourning. But he also knows how deceptive those siren songs can be and how those dirges can lead us to the Source of the springs of life.

So, in Ecclesiastes 7, he pushes us into the deep end of the pool by declaring that the day of death is better than the day of birth, and the end of a thing is better than its beginning. In other words, “You would be wise to pay careful attention to what your endings are telling you, especially when you encounter a death. These fearsome instructors will make you wise if you listen to them, but you ignore them at your peril.”

The Preacher leaves each of us with an implicit question to answer: What are your endings revealing? For if we pay careful attention, they will reveal to us what we’ve truly placed our faith in, what is truly our ultimate source of hope, and what is truly our greatest treasure. They are important lessons to learn. For all we will carry with us beyond our death is our faith, our hope, and our love.

Audio Transcript

On Monday, we celebrated the glorious depths of Hebrews 10:19–20. We now have “confidence to enter the holy places” — we go right into the presence of God — “by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh.” And that means, according to verse 22, we should now “draw near [to God] with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” It’s an incredible invitation.

And as Pastor John said on Monday’s episode, we cannot repeat these claims too often — that all our communion with God is done by direct access to him, an access that Christ purchased for us through his torn body, torn like the temple curtain from top to bottom. Thus, we pray directly to God. Christ is our mediator, our only mediator. Our prayers don’t require angels, or priests, or saints, or even Mary or Hail Marys. For your prayers to be heard, you don’t have to be on your knees or inside a cathedral or at a temple or near a holy shrine or even standing at a holy place in the Holy Land. We need none of that to draw near to God.

The entire book of Hebrews is given to us to celebrate this new access that we have been given to God through Christ. There, the phrase “draw near” is used over and over. “Draw near” is actually one Greek word — proserchomai — and that word appears seven times throughout the book of Hebrews (4:16; 7:19, 25; 10:1, 22, 25; 11:6). It’s a profound word, as Pastor John explains in this 1997 sermon clip.

This word “draw near” is a favorite word in Hebrews. In fact, I would argue that almost (maybe not quite) the main point of the writing of the book of Hebrews is this word, to help you draw near to God without being consumed by his wrath as a sinner, and without being hindered by an evil conscience and a sense of unworthiness.

Draw Near to What?

So to answer the question “Draw near to what?” he uses the word seven times. Let’s just look at one or two of the others. One is Hebrews 4:16, where he says, “Let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace.” So that’s what he’s talking about here — the throne of grace, God’s throne. Or go to Hebrews 7:25, where he says, “He is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him.” So we’re drawing near to God, drawing near to the throne of grace, and if you go to Hebrews 11:6, it says, “He who draws near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” You have three ways of saying it now: (1) Draw near to a throne of grace. (2) Draw near to God. (3) Draw near to a rewarder.

“We have access to, and we’re to come boldly into, that holy place to meet with God.”

If you come back to the text then and say, “Yes, but is that what is meant here?” wouldn’t it be confirmed by looking at Hebrews 10:19, where it says that “we have confidence to enter the holy places”? You know the image if you’ve been here for a few weeks. You know that the image of the tabernacle in the Old Testament — with its court and then its inner sanctuary and then its most holy place, where God met once a year with the high priest and the glory came down — that’s the word here. We have access to, and we’re to come boldly into, that holy place to meet with God. So the answer to the first question, “Draw near to whom?” is God. God, the gracious king on his throne. God, the bountiful rewarder with his hands full of blessing. “Draw near — draw near to me,” he says.

How We Draw Near

Here’s the second question: Which direction do you head when you’re doing this? Do you go west, east, north, south, altar, knees, to an enemy to get reconciled? The answer is you don’t move a muscle. You don’t move the muscle of your tongue. This is a spiritual act, not a physical one. When he says, “Draw near to God, draw near to the throne, draw near to the rewarder,” it is something you can do standing rock solid. It is something you can do flat on your back in a hospital bed, and it is something that you can do sitting in a church on a Sunday morning at 11:12 listening to a sermon. And I plead with you right now, in the name of Jesus, to do it. You do not have to wait until this sermon is over — to go home and get on your knees, or to get in a quiet place somewhere after this church service — to do this. This is something that I commend for the doing of right now.

By saying in your heart, mind, will, with eyes open or eyes closed, “God, I come. I draw near. I want to listen to the rest of this sermon in your presence. I want a hand on my shoulder. I want a hand of blessing on my head. I want support under my back. I want the priest at your right hand cleansing my heart. I don’t want to go through the rest of this service right now distant from you like I felt when I walked into this room.” You don’t need to bow one millimeter to do that. Beware, lest you think coming to God is coming to church. Beware, lest you think coming to God is coming to an altar. Beware, lest you think it’s going to small group tonight. It might be all of those and it might not be. It is a spiritual act of the heart, without a motion of a muscle.

Heart of Christianity

When I think about this and meditate on this central command in Hebrews, repeated seven times, I was struck this week how this is the center of the gospel. This is the New Testament. This is Christianity. Just think about this for a moment. What is the heart of Christianity? What’s the essential message? So if somebody at work this week says, “You’re one of those born-again-type, Baptist-type, Christian-type, evangelical-type people. What’s that?” If you wanted to start at the center, what would you say? Take a few verses.

Take 1 Peter 2:24; 3:18: “[Christ] bore our sins in his body on the tree . . . that he might bring us to God.” Is that drawing near? That’s the gospel. Or take Ephesians 2:18: “Through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.” That’s the gospel. Or take Romans 5:11: “We rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation” — home with God, no longer estranged or enemies.

Or take the prodigal son. Almost everybody knows the story of the prodigal son, but not everybody remembers the context of the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15, which begins with Jesus eating with tax collectors and sinners (the bad people) and the Pharisees saying, “Why do you eat with tax collectors and sinners?”

“Draw near to God by the blood. Draw near to God through the flesh. Draw near to me.”

Jesus says, “Let me tell you a story. There was a woman who lost a coin. There was a man, a shepherd, who lost a sheep. There was a father who lost a son. And when he took his inheritance and became dissolute and got tired of eating pig food in the world, he remembered there was food. ‘Ho, everyone who thirsts, come.’ And he headed home. And this father, old and dignified, pulled up his robes between his legs when he saw this dirty, rascally, no good, inheritance-wasting son coming home, and ran into his arms and kissed him and put a robe on him and a ring on his finger and killed the fatted calf and threw a party and said, ‘My son who was dead is alive.’ That’s why I’m eating with tax collectors and sinners. That’s the meaning of my ministry. That’s why I came, to open a way home to the Father. Draw near.”

Would you agree with me, I wonder? Are we at the center of the gospel here? Draw near to God by the blood. Draw near to God through the flesh. Draw near to me. The whole point of Christianity is to look upon a lost world moving in the opposite direction, toward destruction, and to stop them and say, “God has made a way home.”