What is Look at the Book?

You look at a Bible text on the screen. You listen to John Piper. You watch his pen “draw out” meaning. You see for yourself whether the meaning is really there. And (we pray!) all that God is for you in Christ explodes with faith, and joy, and love.

Audio Transcript

We end the week with a sobering email from an anonymous wife who listens to the podcast. She’s reaching out for help. This episode will cover mature themes — just a heads up.

The wife writes in to say this: “Dear Pastor John, I am married to a professing Christian husband with a twenty-year history of hidden porn use. He’s confessed it, though he struggles also with sins like lying to look good, not disciplining his children, and using a flippant demeanor. These are continuing with regularity in my husband’s life. As far as I can tell, he’s not showing fruits of repentance. My question: How do I, as a wife, relate to him biblically? Hebrews 3:13 says to ‘exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.’ But 1 Peter 3:1–2 commissions women, saying if some husbands do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives. I understand that 1 Peter 3 is commanding a respectful, submissive attitude that may win a husband. I’m hung up on what the phrase ‘without a word’ means. Does it mean that a wife in my situation should not ever exhort her husband, as it says in Hebrews 3? Should I never bring up my concerns over the continuing sin that wreaks havoc in our home? I would truly appreciate any insight or advice you can give me.”

Not many things are more heavy on the heart than long-term marital disappointment. We hoped that there would be sweet harmony in those early days, and spiritual mutuality. And there has been very little of either, maybe for decades. We see our whole life going by, imagining what might have been, and it can be utterly disheartening. So, one of the things that needs to be dealt with is this: What if change — say, in this husband — never comes? What if all the things you dreamed, hoped, and prayed for don’t happen?

“There is great reward for those who endure in a godly, Christ-exalting way the disappointments of this life.”

I want to say loud and clear that there is grace — there is great grace — for that situation. Even grace for flourishing in it, not just coping with it. And there is great reward forever and ever for those who endure in a godly, Christ-exalting way the disappointments of this life. Now, that’s not what she’s asking, but I felt it’s important to say it. She’s not asking how to cope with disappointment, but rather what strategies are permitted or encouraged for a godly wife to seek change in her husband who’s living in sinful ways. So, let me offer a few clarifications of what I hear in this question.

Unbeliever or Believer?

First, 1 Peter 3:1–6 is dealing most immediately with a woman who is married to an unbelieving husband. I say that because when 1 Peter 3:1 says that they “do not obey the word,” that language elsewhere in 1 Peter refers to believing the gospel and becoming a Christian. For example, 1 Peter 1:22 refers to “having purified your souls by obedience to the truth,” which in the context means having obeyed the command in the gospel to believe, and thus experiencing its purifying power.

The same thing is true in 1 Peter 4:17: “It is time for judgment to begin at the household of God; and if it begins with us, what will be the outcome for those who do not obey the gospel of God?” — which again refers to those who do not obey the command to believe the gospel and be saved. So, when 1 Peter 3:1 says, “Likewise, wives, be subject to your own husbands, so that even if some do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the conduct of their wives,” it’s referring to a marriage to an unbelieving husband.

Now, the reason that matters in this case is that massive new realities are in play when we are dealing with a professing Christian husband and a professing Christian wife. And that’s not the case in 1 Peter 3:1, but it is the case in this question that I’m being asked. New factors come into play when we are talking about two Christians.

Members of Christ’s Body

For example, with regard to the husband, under God he is not only responsible to his wife, to live with her in a certain way — like providing for her, protecting her, leading her spiritually, honoring her, as it says in Ephesians 5:25–33 and 1 Peter 3:7 — but this Christian husband is also responsible to the leaders of his church. Hebrews 13:17 says, “Obey your leaders and submit to them.” He’s responsible to his church covenant — that is, to the biblical implications of being a member of the body of Christ.

That’s what the biblical language of “members of Christ” means in 1 Corinthians 12. “The body does not consist of one member but of many” (1 Corinthians 12:14). One cannot say to the other, “I have no need of you.” This husband can’t say that about the other Christians in the church, especially his leaders. “You are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (1 Corinthians 12:27). Now, whether he thinks in these terms or not, that’s true about this husband. And he needs to think in those terms. He needs those other believers. He needs those Christian leaders in his life.

“The Christian husband is not a free-standing moral agent, doing whatever he pleases in this marriage.”

The Christian husband is not a free-standing moral agent, doing whatever he pleases in this marriage. He is a member — an arm, a leg, a finger, an ear, a tongue — of Christ and responsible to Christ as the head and to other members, especially the leaders of the body of Christ that he’s a part of. That’s true of the wife as well, which means that this marriage is not an isolated couple with no accountable relationships. They are part of the body of Christ. She and he have recourse to the church for help. They are members of Christ’s body.

Now, in this case, the husband does not seem to be seeking help from the body of Christ or from the leaders, but rather is prone, she says, to cover up — to cover up his need rather than seek help for it. This means that more of the burden is falling to his wife, which is not the way it’s supposed to be, and it’s putting her in a very difficult position.

Massive New Realities

So, let me underline for her the new realities that her belonging to Christ bring into play in this marriage. For example, she’s not only his wife, with the biblical implications that has for submission (which I’ll come back to in a minute), but she is also his sister in Christ, with appropriate implications for how a caring brother and sister might speak to each other.

She’s his fellow heir of the grace of life (1 Peter 3:7), which implies a kind of regal dignity as God’s daughter, and which, if she’s mature, has implications for dealing with her co-heir, her husband, in a mature, humble, and fitting way.

She is, as we’ve seen, a member of the body of Christ as he is. This implies, as Paul says, that we are individually members of one another. That is, she’s part of her husband’s very being, and to speak to him is in a profound sense to speak to herself.

Also, because they are one flesh, this has profound significance in view of the Golden Rule — do unto others as you would have them do unto you (Matthew 7:12) — because, in this case, he is you.

And she’s also indwelt by the Holy Spirit. This means not only that she has the treasures of wisdom and knowledge from God in her, but that she may be empowered at any given moment for some perfectly suited gift from God for what that husband needs.

And she’s created in God’s image — not only as all humans are, but doubly so because she’s been recreated in the image of Christ. As a Christian, she has, Paul says, become a new self, a new person, “created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness” (Ephesians 4:24).

Now, I’m pointing out all of these glorious realities about this wife as they come into play because she asks, Should I never bring up my concerns over the continuing sin that wreaks havoc in our home? And I want her to see that these many realities about her position, her identity — in Christ, in relation to the church, in relation to the Lord, and in relation to her husband — all of them imply that she’s fully competent to think biblically about herself, her husband’s behavior, their relationship, and the impact it has on their children, and to approach him earnestly with her concerns for him and for them.

Submissive Confrontation

Now, I said I’d come back to the issue of submission. In my understanding of submission, none of this that I’ve just itemized — about all of the wife’s remarkable dignities — implies that in speaking to a husband about her concern she would necessarily be acting in an insubordinate or unsubmissive way. She might be if her attitude is wrong, but I think a mature, godly, Bible-saturated woman knows the difference between nagging a husband in a pushy or insubordinate way, on the one hand, and humbly and wisely bringing to the husband her concerns and seeking with him a way forward toward relational health that would make both of them and the children holier and happier.

If they can’t seem to make progress together, then it might mean seeking the husband’s agreement that they would bring a wise biblical counselor into their lives. I don’t think they should be ashamed of that. It is a mark of wisdom and maturity when we admit that we have reached the end of our resources and must seek help from some wise member of the body of Christ.

If you could articulate what you want to see in the world, what would you say? In other words, what is your vision? Before we answer, perhaps we should ask a preliminary question: What is Jesus’s vision? What does he want to see in this world?

When Jesus began his earthly ministry, he preached, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” (Matthew 4:17). He taught his disciples to pray, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10). And he told his disciples, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness” (Matthew 6:33). What does Jesus see? He sees the coming of the kingdom of God. His vision is that the gospel will spread throughout the world, the church will grow, Satan’s kingdom will be destroyed, and his own reign will extend to the ends of the earth. For those who have been radically changed by Jesus and the good news of his kingdom, shouldn’t Jesus’s vision be ours as well?

If our vision is what we want to see, what is our mission? What we are called to do? Jesus our King gives us our mission: “Go . . . and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (Matthew 28:19–20). Do you see how this mission is tied to our vision? The more we make disciples among the nations, the more we will see the reign of Christ extend to the ends of the earth as people from every tribe, tongue, and nation bow the knee to King Jesus and live out his kingdom ethics.

How Crisis Fuels Missions

Maybe you’re thinking, “This is a crazy time to think about missions! We have been navigating a global COVID-19 pandemic, there is a war in Ukraine, and the world seems more divided than ever. What in the world is going on?” This is precisely the question to address. Put in a different way, What is God doing in his world today? Let’s focus specifically on answering this question: How is God using all the effects of COVID-19 to accomplish his purposes in the world?

Let’s remind ourselves that God is not surprised by these world events. In fact, as we look back on the history of modern missions, we see that he has launched many missions movements following major crises. The 1980s AIDS epidemic in Africa led to many missionaries going to Africa. The fall of communism in the late eighties and early nineties brought many missionaries to Germany and Eastern Europe. The September 11, 2001, attacks in the United States sparked a great interest in reaching Muslims. The Arab Spring uprisings in the early 2010s and the subsequent refugee crisis drew more missionaries to the Middle East and Europe to reach those displaced by war.

God does not waste anything. And he seems to use the brokenness and darkness of this world, in particular, to shine the gospel of Jesus Christ most brightly.

Post-Pandemic Opportunities

What might gospel advance look like in this post-pandemic era? What are the greatest needs?

Though we all have been affected by COVID-19, the poor and destitute have suffered the most. For example, severe lockdowns have greatly affected day laborers. If they stay at home, they can’t earn money to provide food for their families; if they go to work, they are the most susceptible to getting the virus. The consequences of getting sick are grave for those who don’t have the means for medical care or who are the sole providers for their families. Many of these families are still recovering from their losses.

“There is a large overlap between the world’s poor and those who are unreached and unengaged by the gospel.”

At a macro level, COVID-19 as well as the war in Ukraine have increased global economic inequality. Importantly, there is a large overlap between the world’s poor and those who are unreached and unengaged by the gospel. This has created the opportunity for the church, especially in the developed world, to step in and demonstrate the love of God through acts of mercy and generosity, proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom in word and deed.

For many others, these past years under a global pandemic have led to deeper existential questions about life, meaning, and purpose. Being confronted with our mortality, dissatisfaction with work, disillusionment with our governments, feelings of loneliness, and the need for relationships all have contributed to a spiritual hunger. COVID-19 has not been good for the overall physical, mental, and spiritual health of the world. But in this context, we are seeing greater openness to the gospel of Jesus Christ as it provides the answers to life’s most basic questions.

No Substitute for Missionaries

What about our missionaries? Like the rest of us, many missionaries are tired, stressed, lonely, and feeling isolated. Many have taken an early retirement. This has highlighted the need for more robust, accessible member care and counseling. Post-pandemic missions will be at its best when missionaries have support systems in place to care for them as they care for others.

Some may be wondering, “Why are we still sending missionaries? Can’t we just use Zoom and other electronic media to get the word out as we have been doing these past two years?” While we are grateful for technology that enables us to have virtual gatherings, worship services, and teaching opportunities, there simply is no substitute for face-to-face discipleship. Why? Because discipleship is more than transferring information. It is relational. It happens when you eat together, laugh together, and cry together in formal and informal settings. There simply is no substitute for being present.

We see this in the apostle Paul’s letters, where he expresses eager desire to see his brothers and sisters face-to-face (Romans 1:11–12; 1 Thessalonians 2:17–18). The apostle John even writes to the church, “I had much to write you, but I would rather not write with pen and ink. I hope to see you soon, and we will talk face to face” (3 John 13–14). Discipleship is more than imparting information.

Greatest Need for Missions

So then, what is the greatest need in seeing the gospel advance globally? The greatest need is a new generation of missionaries who will go and make disciples among the nations. Our Lord Jesus saw the crowds and had compassion for them “because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd” (Matthew 9:36). It was in this context that he said, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest” (Matthew 9:37–38).

What is the greatest need to reaching more sooner? Laborers for the harvest field.

“Could it be that COVID-19 is God’s means for preparing an army of laborers for his harvest field?”

Early in the pandemic, all the rules changed, and we were forced to live in a new reality, a new culture. Work, church, and life were all radically shaped by COVID-19. So, what did we do? We adapted, we endured, we worked through the emotions and grief, and most of us survived. This experience reminded me of our family’s first years on the mission field, which were crucial for our development and growth as missionaries. Could it be that COVID-19 is God’s means for preparing an army of laborers for his harvest field? Could it be that these past couple of years living under COVID-19 have trained a generation of more resilient, adaptable, and persevering saints for the purpose of God’s global mission?

Taste, See, Go, Disciple

What in the world is going on? God is opening opportunities for kingdom growth and advancement across the world, especially among the unreached and unengaged.

According to Joshua Project, there are still 7,415 unreached people groups, which make up 42.5 percent of the global population — about 3.34 billion people. Everyone has been affected by COVID-19 in one way or another. God is cracking open the door to people’s hearts and minds to hear the good news of the kingdom. And he is calling those who have tasted and seen the goodness of God to go and make disciples among the nations.

Perhaps God has been preparing you for his kingdom service. Perhaps you will be numbered among the many who answer the call to global missions. Maybe we will see in our generation a great movement of the Holy Spirit, leading many to repentance and faith in Christ, the growth and development of the church, and the gospel of the kingdom advancing throughout the world. May it be so, Lord Jesus!

On the night he was betrayed, our Lord Jesus wanted to give his people a sign of his covenant love. As God had once assured Noah with a rainbow, and lifted Abraham’s eyes to the stars, and sanctified the Sabbath for Israel, so now Jesus wanted to give his disciples, and us, some tangible token of his promises, some visible seal of his faithfulness. And so, he broke a loaf of bread, and he poured a cup of wine.

Bread and wine, loaf and cup: in these two ordinary elements, our crucified, risen, and reigning Lord declares to us his victories. He tells us who we are. And he gives us a taste of his coming kingdom, when once again he will preside over a supper, this time with no coming sorrow.

And yet, if we are going to receive Christ’s covenant love in this meal, and not just bread and wine — or crackers and juice, as the case may be — we need the meaning of the elements clear in our minds. As John Calvin writes, “Assuredly this is the chiefest thing in all sacraments, that the word of God may appear engraven there, and that the clear voice may sound.”

What word, then, has Jesus engraved upon the bread and the cup? What voice sounds forth from the Supper?

Bread and Wine

When Jesus took up the bread and the cup of the Last Supper, he was handling objects thick with associations from Israel’s past. Bread and wine appear regularly, together and apart, throughout the Old Testament and Jesus’s own ministry. Here was bread long baked, and wine well aged.

At the most basic level, bread and wine sustained the life of God’s people (Genesis 27:28; Leviticus 26:26). Both were staples of Israel’s diet — bread because of the simplicity and reliability of grain, and wine because water could be so scarce in the ancient Near East.

For that reason, bread and wine were also valuable gifts of friendship and hospitality, first from God to man (Psalm 104:15), and then from man to his neighbor (Genesis 14:18; Ruth 2:14).

In similar fashion, bread and wine reflected the blessings and curses of God’s covenant with Israel. When the nation walked closely with their God, then they ate bread and drank wine in abundance (Deuteronomy 7:13); when they strayed after other gods, famine struck their fields and vineyards (Hosea 2:9).

Finally, bread and wine could serve as symbols of Israel’s eschatological hope, when God would swallow death and spread a feast for all peoples (Isaiah 25:6–8; 55:1–2). “Behold, the days are coming,” God says through Amos,

When the plowman shall overtake the reaper     and the treader of grapes him who sows the seed;the mountains shall drip sweet wine,     and all the hills shall flow with it. (Amos 9:13; see also Jeremiah 31:12)

“Life sustainer, gift giver, covenant maker, eschaton bringer, Jesus is Israel’s God made flesh.”

More associations could be mentioned, but these suffice to give some sense of the broad background to Jesus’s own uses of bread and wine. It is no accident that, in his ministry, Jesus multiplies both (John 2:1–11; 6:1–14), likens himself to both (John 6:35; 15:1), consecrates both to serve as his church’s covenant meal (Luke 22:14–20), and promises both in the age to come (Luke 22:18; Revelation 2:17). Life sustainer, gift giver, covenant maker, eschaton bringer, Jesus is Israel’s God made flesh.

And yet, we can get more specific. When Jesus took the bread and the cup, he took up not only the broad tapestry of Old Testament history and revelation, but also a few particular threads, now amplified and fulfilled in him.

Bread of the Passover

Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper on a day already charged with tremendous significance: the Passover (Luke 22:11). For centuries, the families of Israel had gathered on Passover to eat the meat of a slaughtered lamb, along with bitter herbs and unleavened bread, and to relive the night when the sacrificial blood shielded them from God’s wrath (Exodus 12:7–13, 42). God had swept his arm through Pharaoh’s land, judging his enemies and rescuing his people through a marvelous exodus deliverance. Annually, then, Israel was to remember that though they once were slaves, they now were God’s redeemed.

Yet on this Passover, as Jesus gathers with his disciples in the upper room, he looks not to the past, but to the present; he directs their gaze not upon the lamb, but upon himself. Taking up the unleavened bread, he gives thanks, breaks it, and says, “This is my body, which is given for you” (Luke 22:19).

By mapping his Supper onto the Passover, Jesus does something remarkable: he gives his disciples familiar categories for understanding his covenant meal, even as he expands those categories far beyond their hopes. Like the Passover meal, the Lord’s Supper recalls a past deliverance from slavery and declares those who eat to be God’s redeemed people. Unlike the Passover, however, the lamb of the Supper is the Lord himself, whose blood protects us not only for a night, but for eternity (Hebrews 9:12). The death he dies is once for all — unrepeated and unrepeatable (Hebrews 9:26). And the exodus redemption he accomplishes rescues us not from Pharaoh, but from sin and death and hell (Colossians 1:13–14).

Whenever God’s people eat the bread, then, we say with Paul, “Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed” (1 Corinthians 5:7), and we celebrate a festival of God’s favor that will never, ever end (1 Corinthians 5:8).

Cup of the Covenant

The cup of the Lord’s Supper, like the bread, has resonances with the Passover meal, but it also takes us to another scene shortly after. After Israel left Egypt, passed through the Red Sea, and heard God’s law at Sinai, Moses sprinkled them with sacrificial blood (Exodus 24:8). They were now God’s people by covenant, and God himself was their God (Exodus 6:7).

Jesus, recalling this covenant moment, passes the blood-red wine to his disciples and says, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood” (Luke 22:20). Here again, Jesus explains the Lord’s Supper with familiar categories — and here again, he wondrously expands them. For his blood and covenant are far, far better.

In the cup, we receive not the blood of goats and calves, “which can never take away sins” (Hebrews 10:11), but “the precious blood of Christ” himself (1 Peter 1:19). Jesus’s blood not only purifies the flesh but cleanses the conscience (Hebrews 9:14), not only covers sin for a time but forgives it forever (Ephesians 1:7; 1 John 1:7). His blood “speaks a better word than the blood of Abel” (Hebrews 12:24), for it pleads not for vengeance, but for mercy. With his blood, Jesus secured the eternal for his people: an “eternal redemption” yielding an “eternal inheritance” bound within an “eternal covenant” (Hebrews 9:12, 16; 13:20).

Or, as Jesus puts it, alluding to Jeremiah, his blood purchases a “new covenant” (Luke 22:20; Jeremiah 31:31) — and, indeed, a “better” one, “since it is enacted on better promises” (Hebrews 8:6). Under the new covenant, God writes his law not on stone but on hearts, he is known by both greatest and least, and he pledges a covenantal forgetfulness as glorious as it is divine: “I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more” (Jeremiah 31:33–34).

“Jesus, our most worthy Lord, snatched the cup of judgment from our lips and exchanged it with his own cup of favor.”

And all because Jesus, our most worthy Lord, snatched the cup of judgment from our lips and exchanged it with his own cup of favor. On the cross, he drank “from the hand of the Lord the cup of his wrath,” the dreadful “cup of staggering” (Isaiah 51:17, 22), so that, in our hands, it might become “the cup of blessing” (1 Corinthians 10:16). And oh how it overflows (Psalm 23:5).

Our Portion and Cup

Bread and wine, loaf and cup: they could not look more ordinary, but they could not contain more glory. Small enough to fit in the palm, they are big enough to hold the world. We eat and drink them in a moment, but this moment wraps both past and future in its grasp (1 Corinthians 11:26).

And what word do we find engraved on these elements? What voice sounds forth from this Supper? In summary, this: in Jesus Christ, our Bread of Life and true Grapevine, God has shielded us from his wrath, delivered us from sin and Satan, and bound us to himself in a covenant that can never be broken.

Take, then, and eat. Take and drink. And taste the covenant love of Christ.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15602947/we-live-if-you-stand-in-faith

Do you ever feel that you are carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders? That the responsibilities, duties, and burdens of life press upon you with their almost intolerable reality?

“The weight of the world” might refer to your vocation, to the calling that you have in life. The pressure of a calling can feel crushing. There aren’t enough hours in the day. There aren’t enough resources available. The possibility of failure is real; it looms on the horizon. You feel pulled in too many directions, and at some point you’re going to break.

“The weight of the world” might refer to the burdens in your family. Parents feel the enormous gravity of raising children, of having the responsibility to shape and mold the souls of our kids. We want so much good for them. We long to give them everything they need. And again, we feel our limits. We can’t change hearts. We can’t protect them from everything. We are neither omniscient nor infallible.

Sometimes “the weight of the world” is simply the sheer gravity of existence, of reality. We are mortal. We live in a world where death is certain until Jesus returns. More than that, we live in a world where eternity hangs in the balance. Heaven and hell are real, and everyone we know is journeying toward one or the other, toward eternal joy or eternal misery. In his inimitable way, C.S. Lewis expressed this kind of existential burden in his sermon “The Weight of Glory”:

It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor’s glory should be laid on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken. (45)

A load so heavy that only humility can carry it — what does this mean? And how can we grow in the humility necessary to carry the vocational, familial, and existential burdens that we face?

Heavy and Growing Burden

In my own life, especially in those moments where the burden feels greatest, I find myself returning to a few sentences in Lewis’s novel Perelandra. It may be odd to find solace in a science-fiction novel, but Lewis is a master of embedding truth and comfort in stories.

The novel is the second in Lewis’s Ransom trilogy, in which the hero, Elwin Ransom, journeys to the planet Perelandra in order to stave off disaster. The novel is Lewis’s variation on the temptation narrative of Genesis 3. The Queen of Perelandra is tempted by the Unman, a human from earth who has been possessed by a demonic power. The Unman attempts to draw the Queen into disobedience to Christ (called Maleldil in the novels), appealing to her imagination to elicit a tragic act of rebellion to Maleldil’s law.

The variation on the temptation narrative is the presence of Ransom. He is on Perelandra not merely as a witness, but as a participant. He is an intrusive third party, and he feels the burden of preserving the innocence and righteousness of the Queen in the face of the Unman’s lies and deception. For days he attempts to argue with the Unman, countering his lies with truth, only to see the truth twisted to serve the Lie again. His burden grows as he sees the Queen’s imagination clouded by the lies and her resolve weakening.

Then, one night, Ransom encounters Maleldil himself and comes to realize that he is not there to argue the Unman into submission, but to engage him in physical combat — to fight him and kill the body that the devil has possessed and is his only anchor to Perelandra.

‘Be Comforted, Small One’

With the burden of Perelandra’s future resting on his middle-aged shoulders, Ransom submits. He attacks the Unman, wounding him, and then pursuing him across the oceans, until the two are pulled beneath the waves and cast ashore in a cavern beneath a mountain. In the end, Ransom kills the Unman, but only after enduring a tremendous crucible — the combat itself (in which his heel is wounded), the descent beneath the mountain, and then the long, arduous ascent out into the light.

After his journey, Ransom finds himself in a great mountain hall, speaking with two eldila, angelic powers who serve Maleldil. In the course of their conversation, Malacandra, the eldil who rules Mars, informs Ransom that “the world is born to-day.” The Queen has passed the test, and the King of Perelandra has passed his own as well. As a result, “To-day for the first time two creatures of the low worlds, two images of Maleldil that breathe and breed like the beasts, step up that step at which your parents fell, and sit in the throne of what they were meant to be” (169).

Hearing this, Ransom falls to the ground. The weight that he has borne is too much, and he is overwhelmed by the burden. And the burden not just of the responsibility but, apparently, of his own success. It is at this point that the angelic power speaks the words that have been such an encouragement to me when I feel the weight of the world.

“Be comforted,” said Malacandra. “It is no doing of yours. You are not great, though you could have prevented a thing so great that Deep Heaven sees it with amazement. Be comforted, small one, in your smallness. He lays no merit on you. Receive and be glad. Have no fear, lest your shoulders be bearing this world. Look! It is beneath your head and carries you.” (169)

Great Comfort of Smallness

Here is the paradox of comfort that Lewis offers. On the one hand, Ransom really did have a responsibility. The burden of fighting the Unman rested squarely upon him. It lay within his power to embrace his calling, or to shrink back. And yet, after completing his task, at the moment of triumph, the words are clear: “It is no doing of yours. . . . He lays no merit on you.”

“Resting in our smallness, we are delivered from fear, lest our shoulders should bear the weight of the world.”

The comfort offered here is the comfort of smallness. And Lewis offers it not only to Ransom, but to the reader. Ransom is not great. Neither are we. Everything we have is gift, and therefore we ought to receive and be glad. Resting in our smallness, we are delivered from fear, lest our shoulders should bear the weight of the world. This is the humility that keeps our backs from being broken by the weight of glory.

Bear Your Load with Hope

Lewis is not the only one to comfort us in our smallness. King David too offers this comfort in Psalm 131. David’s heart is not lifted up, he says; his eyes are not raised too high. His mind is not occupied by realities above his station (Psalm 131:1). In humility, David refuses to carry the weight of the world. Instead, he comforts himself in his smallness.

I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me. (Psalm 131:2)

“Bear the load that is yours with humility, like a weaned child, as one who hopes in the Lord forevermore.”

A weaned child does not attempt to bear the weight of the world. A weaned child is content in the arms of his mother. He seeks no merit; he labors under no delusions of grandeur. He simply embraces his smallness with gladness.

And so, when I feel the weight of leadership, or teaching, or pastoring, or parenting, or the sheer weight of existence pressing upon me, like David, I seek to calm and quiet my soul. In the face of lofty thoughts that are too high for me, in the teeth of turbulent passions and emotions, under the weight of reality, I say to myself,

Be comforted, small one, in your smallness. He lays no merit upon you. The weight of the world is not yours. It was borne by another, by one whose bloody shoulders were able to bear it — up to Golgotha, into the tomb, down to Sheol, and then out, out again into the light of resurrection. Have no fear, small one. Bear the load that is yours with humility, like a weaned child, as one who hopes in the Lord forevermore.

Audio Transcript

Welcome back on this Wednesday. We have often taken up the topic of anger on the podcast. And that’s because we get a lot of questions on anger — hundreds of questions over the years on anger. Last time we looked at one dimension — namely, getting mad at God when life doesn’t turn out the way that we had hoped. Is it ever virtuous or righteous or godly or innocent or even morally neutral to feel heartfelt anger at God? That’s the question we took up last time, on Monday in APJ 1828. But most of our emails on anger are in the context of the home. In wondering what Pastor John has said here, I searched the sermon archive and found this clip that I want to play for you today. It’s for dads. And it’s a reminder of how a dad’s anger in the home kills the kindness and the tenderheartedness he is called to display to his family. So how do we confront the powerful and seemingly unstoppable force of anger inside the home? Here’s Pastor John with a wonderful gospel answer in a clip taken from one of his 2007 sermons. Here he is, talking about the fatherhood of God.

So here he is, as our Father, and he has never done us wrong or done anything to give us a legitimate cause for anger, and the relationship is broken with everybody in the world. Whose fault is it? It’s man’s fault. It’s always our fault. It’s always our fault when the relationship breaks down between us and God — always.

Pattern for Fatherhood

Now, here’s the point: Who takes the initiative to fix that? Our Father in heaven does, at the price of his Son’s life. This is not a small, “Well, I’m going to give it a little try here to see if I can save my children.” This is the Father and the Son, from all eternity, knowing our rebellious anger against him and saying, “Son, we’re not going to let them go. We will not let our elect go. We will do everything it takes to have them in this family and have them happy.”

“The gospel is the only hope for child-rearing.”

Now I mention it, dads, because that’s our pattern. And it was all our fault. It’ll never be all your children’s fault when they give you trouble. Some, but not all. And therefore, the call to be like God to our children will be more warranted than if we were perfect fathers. And even if we were perfect fathers, the knock on the door would still be, “I would like to talk to the man of the house, and we’ll work on this.” We will lay our lives down to have these children back, and to have them free from anger, and to have them whole emotionally and moving into their own little nests whole.

Gospel-Powered Parenting

Now, I said I would point you back to the way Paul worked with anger. Turn to Ephesians 4:31–5:2. This text is a model for fathers and how to attack the anger in the family — in himself, in his children, in his wife. Let’s start reading at 4:31. “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another . . .” (Ephesians 4:31–32). Now stop right there. That’s all command — and as command, powerless.

You go to a dad who’s angry in this church tonight and say, “Stop feeling that way.” He’ll look at you like, “You mean you want me to fly? It doesn’t work.” That’s what he would say, probably, if you just said, “Stop the anger” — or like Paul, “Put it away.” That’s powerless. But the next phrase is all power: “. . . as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32). There’s the only hope, dads. The gospel is the only hope for child-rearing.

“A soul that has shriveled up to one solitary emotion, anger, can begin to melt under the smile of God.”

The main issue in making kids mad is that we’re mad. And if we’re going to pull the plug on our anger, this is it. I don’t know any other Christ-exalting answer to how to overcome anger than to do it the way Paul says here. “Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you” (Ephesians 4:31). Reverse it. Let there be kindness and tenderheartedness — those other sweet emotions that are being slaughtered by the anger. Replace the anger with tenderheartedness, and forgive one another. And then here it comes: “as God in Christ forgave you” (Ephesians 4:32).

Anger’s End

So according to the text, God doesn’t just come to us dads and say, “Stop being angry, and stop provoking your kids to anger — period. I mean it. I’m God. Do what I say.” That’s not the gospel. What God says is this: “From eternity, I planned to save you. My Son and I, in a covenant of redemption, agreed to do it. I’m going to let him go. He’s going to die. He’s going to rise again.” For every dad who will look away from himself to Christ to see the punishment he deserves and the righteousness God requires, and who will receive all that precious, glorious treasure — at that moment, God says, “I am totally for you, forever.”

And out of that forgiveness, out of that right standing, out of that sweet, tenderhearted experience of the living God folding me like a father into his family, you know what can happen, dads? A soul that has shriveled up to one solitary emotion, anger, can begin to melt under the smile of God. It can happen. It will happen.

http://rss.desiringgod.org/link/10732/15599456/can-the-gospel-come-in-vain-to-the-elect

When we face a big decision, sometimes the decision-making process can feel more like a game show than a guided path. We can easily slip into the thinking that God is hosting “Let’s Make a Deal,” where we have to choose one of a slew of suitcases, hoping we pick the right one. When we face multiple doors and potential pathways, the freedom to choose can feel like crippling anxiety and pressure.

Thankfully, our God does not play games with us, nor does he leave us to our own devices when making decisions. Contrary to popular belief, decisions are not puzzles to solve, but privileges to steward with the guidance of our triune God.

Triune Guidance

God offers triune guidance to his children as we face the decisions of life, from the minute to the monumental. Rather than stand far off from us, watching as we make decisions in consternation, he comes near to us, offering to guide us gently through a process that ultimately leads to more of himself.

“Contrary to popular belief, decisions are not puzzles to solve, but privileges to steward.”

As the Father who stands outside of time, God knows all that will happen and assures us that none of his plans will be thwarted (Isaiah 14:27; Job 42:2). He providentially steers all of creation, even the decisions of humans made in his image, working all things according to his everlasting and good purposes (Ephesians 1:11; Romans 8:28). He knows the number of hairs on our heads, the length of our days, and the tears we shed as we wrestle to make decisions (Luke 12:7; Psalm 139:16; Psalm 56:8).

As the Son who stepped into time, Jesus is the pioneer and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:1–3). He knows what it feels like to live within the limits of time and space, as he made decisions daily during his time on earth. While the first Adam led the way into disastrous, self-centered decision-making, as the second Adam, Christ always made decisions in light of the goodness of his Father (Romans 6:17–21). His perfect decisions cleared the path so that we can make our present decisions in the presence of the triune God.

As the Spirit who makes his home within us, the Holy Spirit guides us into all truth, convicting us of our selfish propensities and pointing us to God’s promises as we make decisions (John 16:12–15). He offers us comfort and peace when we feel dizzied by the sheer amount of decisions we make daily.

Triune Perspective

In addition to these timeless truths that anchor our souls in the sea of decisions, a Trinitarian perspective can also serve as a practical help in the process. When we face decisions large or small, we are limited by our own perspective as embodied creatures. We simply cannot see or imagine all the possible angles, try as we may.

God does not live within these limitations. As John Frame wisely notes, God “sees all things from every possible perspective” (Theology in Three Dimensions, 4–5). While the Trinity is a unity (meaning all of God does all that God does), Frame’s triperspectivalism creates a framework that helps us approach complex truths from three different angles or perspectives within the Trinity. The normative, the situational, and the existential perspectives (which correlate to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) can serve as different entry points for considering decisions.

The normative perspective relates to God’s authority. God acts as our loving authority, providing principles and revealing truths by which we can understand the normative human experience. As Creator and Father, God sets the standards by which his creatures operate best in his world. When we approach a decision from the normative perspective, we ask, “What does God’s word say about the decision set before me?”

The situational perspective relates to God’s control. Through his eternal Word, God perfectly controls and orders the movement of every proton and every person. If God is in complete control over all things (which he is), then we can trust that he has perfectly ordered our present circumstances with their opportunities, challenges, and limitations. When we approach a decision from the situational perspective, we assess the realities and circumstances in which we find ourselves.

The existential perspective relates to God’s presence. The triune God has always sought to be close to his people, and by the Holy Spirit, he now lives within every believer. He is closer than even the air we breathe. The Spirit searches and permeates the deep waters of human hearts and personalities (1 Corinthians 2:10–13; Proverbs 20:5). When we approach a decision from the existential perspective, then, we are asking more internal questions about personal desires and feelings.

Three Perspectives in Action

If we can get past the length of the word triperspectivalism, we will begin to see the depth of practical wisdom we can glean from this approach to decisions.

For example, when a couple is praying through a potential marriage, walking through the decision from the normative, the situational, and the existential can provide helpful insight. In Scripture, God is clear that marriage is between a man and a woman and that believers are to be equally yoked spiritually (normative). If the couple’s friends and family are not opposed to the union, and present circumstances seem to allow it (situational), the couple is then free to consider whether they desire to commit to each other in the covenant of marriage (existential).

Let’s consider a different example. A young couple is eager to grow their family and has prayed and processed through adoption. They know that physical adoption is one of the most powerful pictures of the spiritual adoption we have received through Christ into the household of God (normative). They have been going through the prerequisite steps of training, they have conducted a home study, and they have even begun to check out agencies. There are countless options in their county, all of which they are able to pursue (situational); however, they both feel especially pulled toward the foster-care system, even though they know it will likely present unique challenges (existential). While God is pleased with all forms of adoption, they plan to forgo international and private adoption after much praying and processing within their local church.

“God promises to use the decision-making process as a means to make us more like him and to give us more of him.”

Finally, let’s look at a more ordinary, everyday decision through these three perspectives. A child has been invited to play in a sports tournament on a Sunday. The family has already prioritized worship in the local church (normative). The child knows that he will miss the first game because attendance at worship is a high point of the family’s weekly rhythms; however, he really wants to play in the afternoon game (existential). The parent of another player offers a ride to the second game that does not interfere with the rest of the plans for the day (situational). The parents are left to discuss what the child thinks is the best way to serve as a team member (existential).

Guided Process to More of God

When we are facing a significant decision, it is natural to be overwhelmed at the various paths set before us. But no matter which of the potential pathways you choose, remember that Jesus has opened up the most significant pathway for us already: he has opened up the path to fellowship with God through his own body (John 14:6).

He has not left us alone to see how we fare in our decisions, as if he were a game show host. Rather, he takes us by the hand and leads us toward glory (Psalm 73:23–24). And along the way, he promises to use the decision-making process as a means to make us more like him and to give us more of him, who is our great reward (Genesis 15:1).

Becky lived with a nagging sense that there was a rule book to life, but she didn’t get her copy. Insecurity and a pervasive sense of uncertainty loomed over her like a perpetually blinking warning light on the dashboard of her car.

Eric tried to live with deep reverence for God, but it meant life always felt heavy. When conversations turned light, humorous, or casual, he felt like he wasn’t being a good Christian. How could he honor the holy God in such moments?

People who are interested in studying the attributes of God frequently feel like Becky and Eric. If we’re not careful, theology can become exclusively cognitive and lose its relational qualities. But we study the attributes of God to deepen our relationship with God. That’s why, in this article, I will write with highly relational images and metaphors.

Even when we try to think relationally about God’s attributes, we can still get emotionally conflicted. When we reflect on God being patient, for example, we can think, If God is patient, I should be patient. How can I be as patient as possible as quickly as possible?

“If we’re not careful, theology can become exclusively cognitive and lose its relational qualities.”

Do you catch the irony? We try to be patient for God as if God were impatient with our progress. We ask questions of emulation before we ask questions of rest. We try to imitate an attribute of God before we find security in it. When we do this, each quality of God becomes an intimidating standard rather than a source of refuge.

God Is Happy

Let’s flip the script with God’s happiness and simplicity. Nehemiah 8:10 says, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.” The reality that God is joyful steadied Nehemiah’s life. Life is hard. It requires endurance. Nehemiah drew resilience for the demands of life from the awareness that God smiled.

As children, we experienced this. If our parents were happy, we had the emotional freedom to play and explore the world. If we sensed our parents were displeased, we tried to determine what we did wrong or identify the stressor that troubled them.

In Ephesians 5:1, Paul draws on this parent-child imagery to illustrate how God’s character motivates change in our lives: “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children.” In other words, let God’s delight in you fuel your efforts to be more like him. When we study each of God’s attributes, we are to be like children who put on our father’s oversized work clothes, smile, and say, “Look at me! I’m just like you,” because we find joy and security in the relationship.

“Let God’s delight in you in Christ fuel your efforts to be more like him.”

That works when we’re having a good day and the major decisions of life seem clear. But what about when we’re confused — when we are unsure what God expects from us? These are times when its hard to feel like the playful child trying on our parent’s attire.

God Is Simple

In moments of confusion, God doesn’t seem simple (plain, clear, noncontradictory). Our instinct, often, is to pit one attribute of God against another. We think, “Because God is loving, he would want me to do A, but because he is just, he would want me to do B. But I can’t do both A and B.” We feel torn because we think God is complicated.

God’s simplicity means that all of God’s attributes live in harmony with one another. As fallen people in a finite world, we’re not like that. We want the attributes of pleasure (eating whatever we want) and fitness (being thin). We want the attributes of spontaneity (purchasing something on a whim) and responsibility (saving for the future). Even when we’re not being sinful, we are not simple.

God is simple. God does not live with internal tensions. Therefore, God doesn’t have expectations of us that are in tension with one another. But life doesn’t always feel as simple as the character of God. We rightly get frustrated with people who conclude that because God is simple, life is too. They make life seem easier than it is.

Because we live in a broken world, with fallen people and as fallen people, life can feel complicated. How do we reconcile the reality that God is simple, but our lived experienced is complex? Let’s return to the image of a parent and child.

Admiration Leads to Emulation

Imagine a child who feels torn because he has chores to complete, homework to do, and its Grandma’s birthday. Let’s assume, for this illustration, that the child has not been negligent with his work. He is stressed because he wants to please his parents but doesn’t know what to do. The child thinks,

“My parents are smart and want me to do well in school, so I should do my homework.”
“My parents are neat and want me to be orderly, so I should clean my room.”
“My parents are loving and want me to value family, so I should go to Grandma’s birthday party.”
“My parents are going to be mad at me because I can’t do all three.”

The child begins to fear his parents, dreads seeing them, and starts to cry. How do good parents respond to this child? They smile, pull him close, affirm his strong desire to honor them, and help him think through the situation. Since we are using this illustration as a metaphor, God’s happiness is revealed in the parents’ smile. Even though the situation is legitimately hard (paralleling the brokenness of the world), we see God’s simplicity in the response that values character more than immediate outcome.

Let’s continue to use our sanctified imaginations as we peer through the lens of Ephesians 5:1. How does the child feel about his parents after this interaction? Safe, trusting, and loved. Where does he want to go when life gets hard again? To his parents. This admiration (rest) leads to emulation (refined character and maturity).1 The emulation will always be imperfect — because of the limitations of the child and the conflicting responsibilities of a broken world — but resting in the parents’ character allows his progressive growth to not feel futile.

Exhale. We can be honest — life is challenging and complex, and God is simple. We can be perpetually in process and God can still be happy. This removes the sense of desperate striving that exhausts so many of us as we live with a felt sense that we’re not good enough. God doesn’t feel compelled to rush the process (after all, progressive sanctification was his idea). He delights in each marker of our growth as parents delight in their child’s first step.

Under the Happy, Simple God

How might we respond to this reflection on God’s simplicity and happiness?

When we pray about the parts of life that are hard and confusing, we can visualize God smiling like parents who admire the hard work and tenacity of their child. When we feel the conflictedness of our own hearts, we can reflect on Ecclesiastes 12:13 to regain a sense of simplicity: “Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.” We can wear this verse like a child wears his father’s shoes and tie, knowing God delights in imperfect, incremental emulation.

Savor the simple moments of joy and pleasure in your day and realize that, no matter how trivial, God’s joy echoes your joy in those moments like parents watching their child play with Christmas presents.