The Aquila Report

Evangelicals Must Stop Their Preferential Treatment of the Left

Written by James R. Wood |
Thursday, August 1, 2024
Today, centrists and those on the right are more fertile soil, I believe, because they are more open to reality. They recognize that the cultural revolutionaries’ projects to rewrite reality are destroying civilization. These refugees crave clarity about basic moral realities because of how much confusion the negative world has produced. They are looking for voices who stand up to the civilizational destroyers—maybe even voices who boldly proclaim supernatural truths.

Aaron Renn’s “negative world” thesis broadly posits that in contemporary America the primary forces of culture are turned against Christians and Christian moral teaching. Identifying as a Christian and following the Bible’s moral teachings is viewed as regressive and antisocial, and even invites ostracism.
In recent months, however, several high-profile former critics of Christianity have pivoted to openly confessing the need for Christianity due to its social and civilizational resources, as Paul Shakeshaft has noted. While researching for his blockbuster book Dominion: How the Christian Revolution Remade the World, non-Christian popular historian Tom Holland became convinced that most of our cherished values in the West are indebted to Christianity. As a result, he realized that in his “morals and ethics” he is “thoroughly and proudly Christian.” Joe Rogan, the freethinker who hosts the most popular podcast in the world, and who has in the past repeatedly denounced Christianity as unreasonable and intolerant, admitted in February that “We need Jesus” to bring social and moral order out of our contemporary chaos. In a viral essay this past November, former New Atheist Ayaan Hirsi Ali narrated her conversion to Christianity, inspired at first by its ability to resist the authoritarian, woke, and Islamic forces that threaten Western civilization. She also credited Christianity as the source of our greatest values in the West. And arch-pop-atheist Richard Dawkins recently came to similar conclusions, referring to himself as a “cultural Christian.”
These high-profile “conversions” to cultural Christianity (and, in Ali’s case, genuine faith) don’t so much challenge Renn’s thesis as press us to consider what might be on the horizon. I am convinced Renn’s analysis remains essential for that task.
First of all, the negative world itself sparked the backlash represented by Dawkins and the others. The moral chaos, tribal hostility between identity groups, and loss of classical rights that now characterize the post-Christian West have made many nostalgic for the time when our social norms were rooted in Christianity. The very real threat of losing permanently the substantive goods of the classical liberal order has led them to recognize that that order cannot sustain itself apart from its foundation in living Christian faith. The figures mentioned above are merely high-profile examples of a broader phenomenon (evidenced, for example, by the flattening of the growth of “nones,” especially among Gen Z). Regular people know things have gotten crazy. They rankle at the destructive lies peddled by the woke. They crave common sense, the affirmation that they are not crazy, stupid, or bigoted. They recognize the need to labor together to build a society that promotes the true, the good, and the beautiful, not the fake, depraved, and ugly. This does not mean that we aren’t living in the negative world. Rather, it means we have reason to hope that that world’s days are numbered.
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Four Unexpected Consequences of Christian Celebrity Culture

Ministry is not a way to become famous. Ministry is not a show where some perform while the rest are entertained. There should be no ministry celebrities. All believers are workers together for God in His field and in the building of his church. In Lystra, when people tried to make Paul and Barnabas celebrities and treat them like gods, even offering them gifts and sacrifices, Paul protested and pointed them to the one true God.

One of the most talked about sections of De-sizing the Church is chapter 7, Inevitable: Why the Christian Celebrity Culture Guarantees Moral Failure. This is obviously a crisis that has become far too evident in recent months.
Rich Brown shows us that our obsession with celebrity is nothing new. It happened in the first century church, as well. Because of this, the New Testament offers wisdom about its dangers, along with some helpful solutions.
— Karl Vaters
Our youthful fascination with celebrities doesn’t end as we get older. We may go about it a little differently, but adults can still be enamored with the rich and famous.
In the American church we have developed our own born-again celebrities and evangelical superstars. What Karl Vaters identifies as the Christian celebrity culture can affect how the average Christian thinks about and lives out their Christian life.
Much of what is written about the repercussions of the Christian celebrity culture addresses the celebrities’ tendencies toward spiritual abuse, narcissism and excessive lifestyle. But it can also create a Christian celebrity mindset in the American church-goer that has severe consequences — of our own making.
Biblical Precedents
In the middle of the first century AD, even though there was no media to hype people, and when men like Paul, Peter, and Apollos were not seeking to be religious stars, some of the believers in the Corinthian church had become fans of one or another of these religious leaders (see 1 Cor 3:4 “I follow Paul, Apollos”; 1 Cor 1:12 “l follow Peter, I follow Christ.”).
Paul would eventually have something to say about those who were considered celebrities and “super apostles” (see 2 Cor 11:5; 12:11), but first he had something to say to the followers of those man-made religious celebrities.
In 1 Corinthians 3 he dared to talk about the consequences that a first-century Christian celebrity mentality was having on the lives of the Corinthian Christians.
Not surprisingly, these consequences look all too familiar twenty centuries later.
Consequence #1: A Christian celebrity mentality stunts our spiritual growth (1 Cor 3:1-2)
When the Corinthians were new believers and infants in Christ, Paul gave them milk. He did not blame them for needing infant-level teaching.
But when Paul wanted to speak to these Christians as spiritual adults, (people controlled by the Holy Spirit), he couldn’t.
Initially, Paul said they were just sarkinos (people made of flesh). Then he said they were sarkikos (people dominated by the flesh). They ought to have been able to ingest solid food, but their pre-occupation with Christian personalities had arrested their spiritual development.
Eugene Peterson wrote, “Fan clubs encourage secondhand living.” We become spiritual adolescents engaging in “compensatory heroism.” We quit aspiring to grow and have settled for watching our Christian heroes do it all.
In today’s Christian celebrity culture, we experience what has been called “the vicarious voyage of identity.” We substitute the fame of our Christian stars for our own personal spiritual growth.
Consequence #2: A Christian celebrity mentality promotes immature behavior (1 Cor 3:3-4)
One of the words Paul used to describe the Corinthians was nepios (infant, 3:1). This word implies that the Corinthians were adults who were displaying the irresponsible characteristics of a child.
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If this Is Such a Grievous Sin, Jesus Would have Mentioned It

Written by J. Warner Wallace |
Thursday, August 1, 2024
There are many things that Jesus “said nothing” about. This means very little, however, when you really stop and think about it. As Christians, we need to consider the entire counsel of God before we determine whether or not God’s Word approves or condemns a particular behavior.

A post at Stand Up For The Truth described the efforts of “progressive Christians” to “use the Bible to promote abortion”. It describes the effort among pro-choice “Christians” to establish the beginning of life at the point when the baby takes his or her first breath (rather than at the point of conception). The post cited an article on The Christian Left Blog (entitled, “The Bible Tells Us When A Fetus Becomes A Living Being”) making a case for life starting when a baby takes its first breath. I’ve already discussed the problems with such a view in a prior post, but I was struck by the final line in the Christian Left blog post:
“In the end, if abortion was such a grievous sin Jesus would have mentioned it.  He said nothing.”
I’ve heard this kind of argument many times over the past few years, applied to any number of behaviors that people are trying to justify or reconcile with the Christian Scriptures. I bet you’ve heard this kind of statement as well. “Jesus said nothing about (insert any number of behaviors) in all of his sermons to his disciples and the masses. If it’s such a big deal, Jesus would have preached on it.”
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How Tech Tempts Us to “Play God” with Birth and Death

Eating the forbidden fruit was nothing if not Adam and Eve’s attempt to live on their terms rather than God’s. Technology is making it ever easier for us to live with this “on my terms” posture. Optimize-everything tech fuels our delusions of the world’s controllability, tempting us to eliminate all threats and inconveniences. Other technologies tempt us to violently subdue nature—life, death, even our own gender—when it doesn’t suit the whims of our pleasure.

The beginning and ending of a life are the most sacred moments in existence. They’re mysterious miracles. God’s domain. A soul is born out of a void of nothingness and begins a story of being. And at the moment of death, a life’s physical reality ends, yet the soul doesn’t return to nothingness—it continues to exist in another place.
Life’s origin and ending are so sacred, so powerful, so profound that fallen humans can’t help but be tempted to control them. One of the great—and oldest—temptations of our flesh is to “play God” by assuming for ourselves what is the Creator’s prerogative.
Our Insatiable Desire for Control
Our high-tech modern world amplifies the ancient human impulse to achieve Godlike control over uncontrollable circumstances (especially those we perceive as threatening, harmful, or inconvenient).
This impulse isn’t all bad. We can’t control inclement weather, but we can minimize its harm through creative interventions like durable shelters, insulation, indoor heating and air conditioning, and weather-appropriate garments. Likewise, we can’t control myriad viruses, sicknesses, and ailments that affect our bodies, but we can reduce pain and preserve life through the wonders of modern medicine. There are good, God-honoring ways to employ technological tools as part of our “subduing the earth” obedience to the cultural mandate (Gen. 1:28).
But as William Edgar points out, the word for subduing (kabash) isn’t meant to be violent but gentle. When we gently intervene to bring order to some chaos in the world, we honor our calling. But when we violently, recklessly, or unnecessarily intervene—especially in ways that might help us but harm others—we fail in our task.
Modern technology conditions us to bypass gentle subduing in favor of reckless, convenience-first control. From smartphones and “app for that” culture, to one-day Amazon shipping, to the instant answers of Google searches and AI prompts, we’re becoming trained to believe we can get what we want when we want it. While none of these things may be problematic on its own, the cumulative effect is that we start to think everything can be optimized and efficient, that all vestiges of inconvenience, discomfort, and uncontrollability can be eradicated from our lives.
Playing God at Life’s Beginning and End
This expectation of control leads us to use technological interventions to “play god” with the beginning of life and end of life. We start to believe a new life can be created on demand in a laboratory or ended on demand via abortion. We start to believe that the circumstances of death can be planned and controlled via euthanasia, that dead loved ones can be brought “back to life” via AI seances or other “digital resurrection” technology, or that death itself can be defeated with enough data monitoring, supplements, and algorithmic tweaking. But this is folly. 
In his short book The Uncontrollability of the World, Hartmut Rosa argues the modernity is structurally driven “toward making the world calculable, manageable, predictable, and controllable in every possible respect.”
On birth, for example, Rosa argues that even though “there is still something palpably uncontrollable about the emergence of new life,” modern reproductive technologies (including IVF and surrogate motherhood) have “made children more ‘accessible’” as well as more “engineerable” (e.g., embryo screenings and other tests that “allow us to determine, even before birth, whether a child meets our expectations”). Yet he wisely asks, “If whether or not I have children, and what kind, lies entirely within my own power and that of my doctors—does this not change my relationship to life overall?”
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Digital Discipleship For Your Children (2)

We wish to shape people who love others in living, face-to-face relationships. Relationships do not thrive when characterised by exhibitionism, voyeurism, envy, boasting or gossip. Further, people who wish to escape to where they can live vicariously through their ‘digital presence’ are retreating from real relationships.

We are often lost because we do not know our destination. Unless we know where we want to go, we may not know whether we are progressing or regressing.
When it comes to parenting our children in a digital age, it will not be enough to simply react to the latest Disney LGBTQ propaganda, or forbid our children from using a particular app, once we hear of how it is abused. These responses are merely reactive, and do not look ahead to where we wish to go. Furthermore, like frogs in a pot, we may be acclimatising to what is bad for us, and tolerating all kinds of things that are spiritually toxic for our children. Judging technology and its dangers by the current fad or danger is like judging traffic from your car’s dashboard. You will see some dangers, but you need an aerial view to really understand what is going on.
We must begin by asking, what sort of disciples are we trying to make? What is essential to the makeup of a healthy, mature disciple? We can then proceed to ask, how do our technologies help or harm? Let me suggest seven qualities of a worshipping disciple.
1. We wish to shape people who can admire and adore through intense and sustained attention. The Christian life is one in which God is revealed for our admiring attention. But He is revealed to us in ways that require concentration, focus, and the prolonged gaze of the soul. A worshipper understands he presents a sacrifice of praise to God: his costly attention, admiration, focus, and desire.
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Samuel Davies, Colonial Presbyterian Patriot

Written by Ben C. Dunson |
Thursday, August 1, 2024
Davies believed that one’s indispensable duty as a citizen was to, if necessary, “take the field” in defense of his nation. He was not speaking metaphorically, nor was he understood as such: “a company of colonists with rifles at the ready enlisted” on hearing Davies’ exhortation.3 Soon after Davies preached a sermon on the phrase “Be of good courage, and let us play the man for our people” from 2 Samuel 10:12 in order to encourage the men from his congregation to follow through with their duty.4

In 1754 George Washington, then a young Lieutenant Colonel in charge of a regiment of troops from Virginia, attacked a small French force at Jumonville Glen, in what is today southwest Pennsylvania. The French contingent was nearly wiped out, being caught unawares by the combined Virginian and Iroquois force. Though tensions between England and France had been increasing for some time, many historians mark this battle as the beginning of the French and Indian War (Seven Years War). Washington was initially blamed for an unjust massacre of French troops, and for igniting the war, but his reputation had improved dramatically by the next year, largely on account of his skill and bravery in the subsequent battles at Fort Necessity and Fort Monongahela. On hearing of Washington’s bravery, Samuel Davies, a Presbyterian minister and fellow Virginian, remarked, in what proved to be an amazingly prescient intuition: “I cannot but hope Providence has hitherto preserved [him] in so signal a manner for some important service to his country.”1
Davies, born in Delaware in 1723, would go on to serve for many years as a minister, and eventually as the fourth president of The College of New Jersey (later renamed Princeton), following the death of Jonathan Edwards, the third president of the college. As a pastor and theological college administrator, Davies was one of the primary influences on early American Presbyterianism, the College of New Jersey being the only training institution for colonial American Presbyterian ministers at that time.2
The details of Davies’ storied life are all worth recounting, but I want to draw attention to one specific aspect, the way in which he combined a robust form of early American patriotism (one might even say nationalism) with an equally robust pastoral ministry, focused with passionate intensity on the centrality of Christ’s saving work, and a heavenly-minded piety centered on the excellencies of the Savior. American Presbyterians of previous generations, along with members of many other denominations, did not find it nearly as difficult to hold these two things together as have many of their more recent theological heirs.
Davies ministered to multiple congregations on the northwestern border of colonial Virginia, preaching as many as five times every Lord’s Day to widely scattered churches. This area was under constant threat from French and Indian attack. What message did Davies think his congregations needed to hear? The answer might surprise many. In a “war sermon” preached in Hanover, VA on July 25th, 1755 Davies urged his flock:
Let me earnestly recommend to you to furnish yourselves with arms and put yourselves into a position of defense. What is that religion good for that leaves men cowards on the appearance of danger? And permit me to say that I am particularly solicitous that you, my brothers of the dissenters [from the established Anglican church] should act with honor and spirit in this juncture, as it becomes loyal subjects, lovers of your country, and courageous Christians.
One could imagine a form of counsel that would simply urge his flock to trust the Lord and not fear for the future, but Davies is not in the least interested in opposing piety and action in the world. He finds, as he says in his sermon, such an opposition, in the face of grave earthly danger, to amount to cowardice, not heavenly-mindedness.
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Is Your Righteousness Better than God’s?

There is still within all of us the deep desire to prove ourselves. To justify ourselves by our actions. To make a go at righteousness on our own without submitting to the design for true righteousness.

I didn’t used to read the instructions.
I would get a piece of furniture, or some kind of electronic equipment, or decide to take on some kind of home repair, and just start in on it. In my younger days, I didn’t have the time for the whole “measure twice, cut once” principle; it was more of a “just get started and figure it out along the way” kind of vibe.
Now I recognize that for some people, that kind of methodology works; these are the people who have some natural proclivity towards being handy. But I’ve lived long enough to know that’s not true of me. Even when I have been able to muddle my way to some semblance of the end result I was looking for, it wasn’t done in the right way. Consequently, my past is littered with furniture that wobbles, retaining walls that don’t really retain, and dry wall repairs hidden by pictures on the wall.
So why did it take me so long to start reading the directions? Lots of reasons probably – impatience, the need for activity, the desire for something tangible to show my work – these are some of them. But perhaps in some way, if you look deeper, there was also pride lurking there. Pride that said I could figure it out. Pride that thought more of my own intelligence and ingenuity. Pride that my way was going to be just fine if I got close to the end result.
I was thinking about these projects when I read these words from Paul about his countrymen, the Israelites, recorded for us in Romans 10:
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The Cross: The Character of Our Christianity

To bear our cross is to take on ourselves whatever suffering, sacrifice and substitution is necessary for doing what interests God. Jesus was specific about saying that it is “our” cross that we are to bear, not His. But it is like His, having the same sacrificial qualities.

The cross is the character of Christianity.
As the self-appointed spokesman for Jesus’ handpicked coterie, Peter says the right thing at the right time: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But Peter cannot leave good enough alone. As Jesus goes on to explain for the first time that He will go to Jerusalem, suffer, die, and be raised again, Peter rebukes Him for such an outlandish notion. “Never! Not you! God forbid it, Lord!”
Within moments of Peter’s sky-scraping avowal, for which he will always be remembered, Jesus calls Peter “Satan” (“Get behind Me Satan”) and declares that he is not setting his mind on God’s interests, but man’s.
It was God’s interest that Jesus must go to the cross; it is His interest that you and I bear ours also. The next pronouncement follows this incident and the revelation of Jesus’ Jerusalem itinerary, and leans on it for meaning:
Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul? For the Son of Man is going to come in the glory of His Father with His angels, and will then repay every man according to his deeds. (Matthew 16:24-27)
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Strangely Attractive Lives at the End of an Empire

Because of the distinctive lives of many early Christians, and because of the early church’s focus on teaching and training its people in the basics of Christian theology and the requirements of Christian ethics, many in the surrounding culture were drawn to these strange and counter-culture people. May we live strangely attractive lives as well.

I’ve never been asked this question, but apparently it’s been quite the trend on social media. It turns out that 21st century men (and women?) think about the Roman Empire quite a bit. The reasons vary, but Christians, at least, should think more often than they do about how their ancestors in the faith lived, worked, and worshiped in the latter days of the Roman Empire.
Historians and scholars have long puzzled over how a movement led by marginalized Jews could have eventually overwhelmed one of the largest and longest-lived empires the world has ever seen. Others have pointed out the similarities between our cultural moment and the end of the Roman Empire. By examining some of the ways that the early church defined itself in the late Roman world, Christians today can learn valuable lessons for how to live in our own rapidly re-paganizing culture.
We often forget how odd the Christian movement was. Historian Larry Hurtado reminds us: “In the eyes of many of that time, early Christianity was odd, bizarre, in some ways even dangerous. For one thing, it did not fit what ‘religion’ was for people then. Indicative of this, Roman-era critics designated it as a perverse ‘superstition’” (Destroyer of the Gods, 1-2). Yet, this strange new religion quickly grew and conquered the Roman Empire. Early Christianity was simultaneously “perverse” and strangely attractive. What made the early Christian movement so attractive? What can Christians today learn from our fathers and mothers in the faith?
Faithfulness–Not Relevance
The early Christians focused more on being faithful, and in creating a distinct culture, than on being “winsome” or “relevant.” In his book, The Patient Ferment of the Early Church: The Improbable Rise of Christianity in the Roman Empire, historian Alan Kreider argues that several factors set apart the early Christian movement, and ultimately led to its surprising growth. Of primary importance was an emphasis on patience. Kreider writes:
Patience was not a virtue dear to most Greco-Roman people, and it has been of little interest to scholars of early Christianity. But it was centrally important to the early Christians. They talked about patience and wrote about it; it was the first virtue about which they wrote a treatise, and they wrote no fewer than three treatises on it. Christian writers called patience the “highest virtue,” “the greatest of all virtues,” the virtue that was “peculiarly Christian.” The Christians believed that God is patient and that Jesus visibly embodied patience. And they concluded they, trusting in God, should be patient–not controlling events, not anxious or in a hurry, and never using force to achieve their ends (1-2).
Perhaps paradoxically, this emphasis on patience led to high standards of life and morality in the early church, which created a distinctive Christian subculture. This is bound up in what Kreider terms habitus. Habitus is “reflexive bodily behavior” (Patient Ferment, 2). Early Christians focused less on winning arguments and more on winning others through their habitually patient behavior: “When challenged about their ideas, Christians pointed to their actions. They believed that their habitus, their embodied behavior, was eloquent. The behavior said what they believed; it was an enactment of their message” (Patient Ferment, 2).
Thirdly, Kreider notes the importance of catechesis and worship. “The early Christians were uncommonly committed to forming the habitus of their members” (Patient Ferment, 2). Pagans needed to be re-trained, and needed to develop different habits. On this score, the early church was probably too restrictive. New converts entered the catechumenate, a time of training and probation, which could last years. They were excluded from the latter part of the church’s worship service (the prayers and Eucharist). No doubt this increased the sense of awe and mystery, and created a sense of anticipation, but this already displays the unhealthy tendency to split the church into two tiers of those who are more holy/advanced Christians and those less committed or less mature. Our churches today veer to the opposite extreme, welcoming everyone with no standards at all for admission and inclusion. Surely there is wisdom in walking between these extremes. Groups like the Catechesis Institute are seeking to renew and apply the ancient patterns of catechesis to the contemporary church. Learning from the past requires creativity–not just a cut-and-paste approach. As Mark Twain put it: “History never repeats itself, but it does often rhyme.”
Fourth, the early church embodied what Kreider calls “ferment.” Although this was not an early Christian term or concept, it helpfully captures aspects of how the early church grew and how it interacted with the surrounding culture. “It was not susceptible to human control, and its pace could not be sped up. But in the ferment there was a bubbling energy–a bottom-up inner life–that had immense potential” (Patient Ferment, 3).
Kreider’s book is full of insights about how the early Christians lived their lives differently than the surrounding Greco-Roman culture, and how their radically counter-cultural lifestyle (“habitus”) was attractive and compelling to their pagan neighbors. Here’s one of the key takeaways: “Unlike many churches today, the third-century churches described by the Apostolic Tradition did not try to grow by making people feel welcome and included. Civic paganism did that. In contrast, the churches were hard to enter. They didn’t grow because of their cultural accessibility; they grew because they required commitment to an unpopular God who didn’t require people to perform cultic acts correctly but instead equipped them to live in a way that was richly unconventional” (Patient Ferment, 149). The Gospel calls us to live in a way that is noticeably different from our non-Christian neighbors. Like the early church, this will be either attractive, or will bring persecution. The early church can remind us of how to be faithful in both eventualities.
Revolutionary Sex
Another aspect of the early Christian witness is even more relevant to our hedonistic culture. In a world of sexual license, the early church preached–and tried to enforce–sexual purity and abstinence. In opposition to the pagans, Christians taught women and men that sex was a God-given gift, to be exercised only in marriage. Pagan cultures, as with most non-Christian cultures throughout history, had a double-standard. The purity of women was closely guarded, while men had much more freedom. Slaves, including children, were at the mercy of their master’s lusts. The first sexual revolution was the Christian moral revolution, as Kyle Harper points out: “The heightened place of sexuality in the overarching structure of morality, the respect for the human dignity of all persons, and the insistence on the value of the transcendent and sacred over the secular and the civic—these all went hand in hand in the growth of Christian culture” (“The Sexual Revolution”).
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Trusting God in Crisis (Psalm 31)

Hard times are going to come. What should we do? In crisis, turn to God, remind yourself what’s true, and then you’ll be able to help others take courage in God.

Someone I know and respect went through one of the hardest crises of his life.
He had reached the peak of his professional career. He’d had a solid track record of accomplishments. But out of nowhere, a powerful group of people turned against him and forced him out of his job.
“It just about took me out,” he said.
And so, for a year, their agenda was simple: “to try not to die, to pray, and to re-think at a profound level.”
To this day, it’s still a difficult time for them to talk about.
As a pastor, I’ve had the privilege of walking with people for over thirty years now. I’ve encountered many people like that.
What do you do when you face a crisis that almost takes you out, that leaves you trying not to die, that leaves you rethinking things at a profound level? That’s what I want to talk to you about.
A Versatile Cry for Help
Today I want to look at Psalm 31. It’s a psalm that cries out to God for help. It’s written by David. What’s the situation behind the psalm? We just don’t know. Some psalms give the historic situation, but this one doesn’t. David faced similar situations throughout his life, like when a city was going to give him to Saul in 1 Samuel 23, or when his own son turned against him later on.
What is the situation that David faced? As I said, we don’t know the incident, but David tells us the problems he faced. He faced a conspiracy of enemies against him, so much so that even his friends deserted him.
Because of all my adversaries I have become a reproach,especially to my neighbors,and an object of dread to my acquaintances;those who see me in the street flee from me.I have been forgotten like one who is dead;I have become like a broken vessel.For I hear the whispering of many—terror on every side!—as they scheme together against me,as they plot to take my life.(Psalm 31:11-13)
Whatever the problem, this psalm is pretty versatile. It’s been used by God’s people throughout the years as their own cry for help.

A later psalmist — perhaps David himself — re-used the first three verses in Psalm 71.
Jonah quotes from verse 6 when he’s trapped in the belly of the fish.
The prophet Jeremiah quoted from verse 13.
Jesus quoted verse 5 for his last words from the cross when he was abandoned by his disciples during his arrest.
Many Christians throughout history have also used this psalm, including individuals such as Saint Bernard, John Huss, Jerome of Prague, Martin Luther, Philip Melanchthon, and many more.

One of the most memorable uses of this psalm was by John Huss, who was burned at the stake. The bishop ended the ceremony by saying: “And now we commit your soul to the devil.” Huss replied calmly, “I commit my spirit into thy hands, Lord Jesus Christ; unto thee I commend my spirit, which thou has redeemed.”
This psalm can be used by God’s people in different crisis situations, such as death and betrayal. This psalm has given people — including Jesus — words to use in the middle of crisis. It can do the same for you and for me.
Responding to Crisis
How do we respond to crisis? David shows us three ways to respond.
Turn to God as your only source of refuge.
Where do you turn in times of crisis? Some of us try to escape. We dull the pain through food, alcohol, drugs, and pleasure. Or we turn to friends to help us. But David shows us that there’s only one place we can ultimately turn in a time of trail. There is only one true refuge, and that’s God. Only he will provide the refuge that we need when we go through times of trial.
The theme of refuge keeps coming up in this psalm. David writes:
In you, O LORD, do I take refuge;let me never be put to shame;in your righteousness deliver me!Incline your ear to me;rescue me speedily!Be a rock of refuge for me,a strong fortress to save me!For you are my rock and my fortress;and for your name’s sake you lead me and guide me.you take me out of the net they have hidden for me,for you are my refuge.(Psalm 31:1-4)
Over and over again in this psalm, the psalmist speaks of God as his refuge and says things like, “I trust in you” (Psalm 31:14).
We will face this choice every time we go through a crisis. Be honest: where do you turn in times of crisis? We all have coping strategies that we use in times of trial. Here is the one thing that they all have in common, apart from God: they will let you down. Your friends will let you down. Friends are great, but they can’t provide the refuge that only God can. Pleasure and escape tactics provide a temporary coping mechanism, but they don’t provide any true place of refuge at all.
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