Written by Daniel P. Miller |
Thursday, April 4, 2024
Set your eyes on eternity. This is not a means of ignoring reality, but the only way of truly facing it. There is a day when all the pain you suffer from the presence of sin and Satan will vanish. Focus more on your future accounting before Christ than on those who fail you on earth. Above all, trust in the Lord who promises never to leave or forsake his children (Heb. 13:5). Local churches hurt people. Thankfully, the Lord of the church will one day wipe away every tear, including yours.

Dear Brother or Sister,
Local churches hurt people. People hurt people, of course, but since churches are people, churches have the capacity to inflict severe relational pain.
By God’s grace the reverse is also true. The local church is designed by Christ to function as a spring of encouragement and joy to its members. I hope that you have experienced the blessing of walking in fellowship with a body of believers that Jesus used, or is now using, to strengthen your faith and envelop you in covenantal love.
But despite Christ’s gracious provision, you may find yourself experiencing heartache in the context of a church for which Jesus died. Ironic, isn’t it? By grace alone the risen Christ is gathering out of the nations a people for his name (Acts 2:38–39). He forms us into a new humanity, uniting us to himself (Eph. 2:11–22; Gal. 2:20). We are adopted as his children and chosen as his holy bride (Rom. 8:14–17; Eph. 5:23–32; Rev. 19:6–8). He sovereignly places us in the body to complete one another (1 Cor. 12:12–27). How ironic, then, that relating to God’s people can result in such deep heartache.
Ironic, but not mysterious. The closer the human relationship, the more pain one suffers when that relationship falters. We routinely witness this in families. It’s why divorce, child rebellion, family feuds, neglect, and the like are such bitter heartaches. The closer the relationship, the greater the potential not only for joy but also for sorrow.
In the spiritual family of a local church, such heartache often stems from personal offense—one member wrongs another. At other times the problem is more corporate in nature—the departure of a leader, a change in policy, an altered ministry direction that seems to betray much of what you once loved about your church, and the like.
It’s not hard to identify the source of the pain we suffer in the context of a body of believers. It’s considerably harder to respond to that pain in God-honoring ways.
Don’t breeze past that “God-honoring” bit. Expressive Individualism programs us to feel our pain while avoiding hard questions about our responses to it. Hurt feelings are as natural as shivering from cold on a wintry day, we are assured by our therapeutic world. Therefore, how I feel about someone’s ill treatment of me or how I feel about a hurtful ministry change becomes not only my responsibility to own but everyone else’s obligation to affirm.
The Bible does not counsel us in this direction. Rather, it calls us to respond to such pain with a devotion to love others and glorify Christ in his church. This means that despite how terribly I may feel, Christ’s renown remains of supreme importance. Therefore my affections for his honor in the assembly must never fall below affections for my own. If they do I am likely to cause as much damage in the future as I’ve suffered in the past.
Our Redeemer is never surprised by sin, nor has he ever promised us a church that’s free of it. Every church family hurts people one way or another. What the Lord has done is to arm us with wise, Christ-honoring habits of response. While not an exhaustive list, consider the following disciplines.
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Written by Jeffrey T. Riddle |
Saturday, November 12, 2022
At one point he makes reference to the inherent binary convictions of traditional Christianity when he writes, “Christianity make a clear distinction between those who follow Christ and those who fail to believe” (134). Key to his argument is the idea that even those who reject traditional borders, paradoxically invent new ones to replace them. This recalls Paul’s insight that even pagan Gentiles “which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law…

Frank Furedi, Why Borders Matter: Why Humanity Must Relearn the Art of Drawing Boundaries (London and New York: Routledge 2021): 193 pp.
The mere title of this book might lead one to think it is about immigration, a topic much in the news these days. In fact, however, though applicable to immigration, this book is about much more than that. It is about borders or boundaries as a salubrious sociological phenomenon meant to establish order and promote flourishing in human individuals and societies. Borders are important not only in distinguishing one nation from another, but in demarcating boundaries in numerous other crucial areas of life, including the differences between the public and private spheres, adults and children, males and females, and even humans and animals. The author, an Emeritus Professor of Sociology at the University of Kent in the UK, brings the requisite expertise required to examine this topic with authority. This work challenges the contemporary promotion of a “borderless spirit” as ideal.
Review of Content
We begin with a summary of the book’s content. In the opening chapter (Introduction) the author suggests there is a contemporary “paradox of borders,” epitomized in those who reject border walls, on one hand, while decrying “cultural appropriation,” on the other. Contrary to the spirit of the age, Furedi suggests that the creation of boundaries is vital. He notes, “The marking out of space and the tendency to draw lines constitutes humanity’s need for signposts and guidance” (5). This is true not just of physical but also of symbolic boundaries, including moral ones. “When symbolic borders lose their meaning, a cultural crisis ensues” (7). According to Furedi, “Western society’s estrangement from borders is not an enlightened step forward—rather it expresses a self-destructive sensibility of estrangement from the conventional sign posts that guide everyday life” (12).
Chapter two addresses challenges represented by the modern value of “non-judgementalism,” presented “as an enlightened and liberal attitude towards the world” (19). Furedi defends “the act of judgement,” however, as “a deed through which people can establish connections and develop a shared understanding of one another’s outlook” (20). The condemnation of moral judgment has led to moral indifference.
Chapter three examines “openness” as a predominate modern value: “In popular culture, openness supposedly rejects preconceived notions, refuses to possess durable commitments and ideas, and does not abide by fixed points and permanent boundaries” (31). The convergence of openness with non-judgementalism has resulted in “a mood of moral malaise” (33). Oddly enough, advocates of these values often express “bitter hostility” that is “visceral and characteristically militant” to any who see value in “closed communities” based on “ties of kinship, family, friendship, religion, and community membership” (36-37).
Chapter four further addresses how these values have challenged notions of national sovereignty, democracy, and citizenship. It questions “the project of delegitimizing territorial borders” (49). According to Furedi, belonging to a particular people inhabiting a bounded place constitutes “an important source of solidarity” and provides “moral significance for members of a national community” (53).  There can be no democracy without a demos. Advocates for the new values, however, promote “global citizenship” preferring “a heterogeneous space to a homogeneous one” (65).
Chapter five addresses the erosion of boundaries between the public and private spheres. “Personal and emotional openness are regarded as cultural ideals and promoted through media and popular culture” (73). The “classical virtue of stoicism” has been replaced by public and unrestrained “emotionalism” (74). He cites as an example “the relentless drive to ‘normalize,’ routinise, and demystify the domain of sex” (76). “Pornography,” for example, “has become a culturally, even socially, validated fetish” (76). The old value of reticence is dismissed as prudishness. In contrast, Furedi suggests, “The protection of the private realm is essential for the conduct of a healthy public life” (85). He concludes:
Once the space for secrecy is lost, the individual’s capacity to question, doubt, and act in accordance with their inclinations is undermined. In this area as in others, the        flourishing of freedom is inseparable from the maintenance of limits and boundaries (88).
Chapter six addresses how the erosion of the public and private distinction has had unsettling effects in public life. This has included the development of “identity politics” and charges of “micro-agression” (100).
Chapter seven addresses how the “boundaryless spirit of our time” has created confusion for “intergenerational relations” (112). In the post-traditional world, the self is made rather than “passively inherited” (113). One result has been “a diminished sense of adult responsibility” and the “phenomenon of infantilization” (115), leading to the erosion of parental authority, the tendency to treat children as adults, and of adults to act like children. A side effect has been failure to socialize children and confusion as to what values to transmit to them.
Chapter eight addresses current hostility against the practice of binary thinking, and its dismissal as “morally wrong” (130). “Binary thinking is sometimes presented as a psychological deficit—a symptom of anxiety, and a marker for intolerance of ambiguity and complexity” (132). According to Furedi, however, binary thinking is not simply a “cultural tool” but a fundamental feature of the practice of human conceptualization” (136). He notes, in particular, how “anti-binary activists” have attacked the basic human distinction between men and women. They have attempted “de-authorising not just gender but also the difference of biological sex” with “the character of a religious duty” (142).
Chapter nine suggests that the rejection of conventional boundaries has, in fact, ironically resulted in “new ways of drawing lines in everyday life” (151). This includes emphasis on “personal boundaries,” the “Me too” movement, and the desire for “safe spaces.”
The book ends with a conclusion noting again that, “Hostility towards conventional boundaries and borders coexist with the demands for new borders” (165). Furedi notes that some are even challenging the boundaries between humans and animals. Human morality is dismissed by some as “an anthropocentric conceit” (165). He concludes that “the decisive influence” is the West’s unwillingness to affirm clear borders in all areas, resulting in “a lack of clarity about the moral values that underpin the self” (173).
Final Analysis
This is a work of sociology and not theology, and yet it contains many helpful insights for the church today. Furedi offers a compelling description and analysis of the contemporary Zeitgeist and its rebellion against traditional boundaries or borders, with respect not only to nations (cf. Acts 17:26) but also with respect to the fundamental differences between men and women, adults and children. At one point he makes reference to the inherent binary convictions of traditional Christianity when he writes, “Christianity make a clear distinction between those who follow Christ and those who fail to believe” (134). Key to his argument is the idea that even those who reject traditional borders, paradoxically invent new ones to replace them. This recalls Paul’s insight that even pagan Gentiles “which have not the law, do by nature the things contained in the law… Which shew the work of the law written in their hearts….” (Rom 2:14-15). This book challenges the Christian reader to consider not only how to understand and resist the spirit of the age as it works upon us, but also how to extend a winsome alternative in Biblical Christianity to a confused world.
Jeffrey T. Riddle is Pastor of Christ Reformed Baptist Church in Louisa, Virginia.
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The triune God has graciously revealed himself to us. Historically and on biblical grounds, Christians have held two affirmations about who and what God is—God is one God, and he exists as three persons. This identification of God as triune stands at the heart of the Christian faith, along with the confession that the second person of the Trinity, the Son, took on a human nature without ceasing to be God.

The Way We Talk about God
Imagine that you’re trying to describe what God did on the cross. What do you say? Here’s how we’ve heard it described (including, at times, by ourselves!):

The Father poured out his wrath on the Son.
The Father turned his face away.
The Father abandoned his Son.
The Son felt the pangs of hell because he was separated from the Father on the cross.

Notice that in describing the cross this way, we are saying that there are two primary actors, two distinct individuals, the Father and the Son, the first two persons of the Godhead, and that each is doing something different at the crucifixion. For now, notice also that the third person of God, the Spirit, is never mentioned in these statements.
Let’s use a different example. You’re asked to describe God’s providence. What do you say? Here’s how we’ve heard it described (again, at times, by ourselves!):

The Father chose this path for me because he cares for me.
When we talk about election, we’re talking about the plan of God the Father.
We have a good Father who has planned all things to work together for our good.

Notice that in describing providence this way, we’re attributing God’s “plan” specifically to God the Father, and sometimes it sounds as if it’s only God the Father who plans out providence. One last example will suffice. Imagine that you’re told to describe how a Christian receives and uses spiritual gifts. What do you say?

The Spirit gave me the gift of [X, Y, or Z].
I can [use gift X, Y, or Z] because the Spirit empowers me.
I’m gifted at [X, Y, or Z] because the Spirit chose to make me that way.

Are the Father and the Son involved in the spiritual gifts? Or just the Spirit?
In each of these examples, and even in the way we’ve asked the follow-up questions, what we’re trying to help you see is that we often think about God’s acts as divisible between the persons and distributed according to their roles. So in these scenarios, sometimes the actor is primarily the Father, as in the examples about providence; sometimes the actor is the Son, as in the examples about the crucifixion; and sometimes the actor is the Spirit, as in the examples about the spiritual gifts.
Let’s return to the examples related to the crucifixion. A question we often ask our students when talking about this subject, and after we’ve described the crucifixion in the ways we gave above, is, “What was the Spirit doing while the Father was forsaking the Son?” Was the Spirit just watching from the sidelines? Was he taking a break from his divine duties? Are the Son and the Spirit also wrathful toward sin? Returning next to providence, do the Son and the Spirit sit on the bench while the Father governs his creation? And with respect to the spiritual gifts, do the Father and the Son renounce their authority and hand it over to the Spirit to let him distribute gifts to whom he wills?
These questions, we hope, help us see that the way we talk about God’s acts often divides the persons of God in a way that is contrary to our confession that God is one God in three persons. If only one divine person, or in some cases two of the three, is acting on any given occasion, how is that consistent with the Christian confession of one God, or with its roots in Jewish monotheism? Aren’t there now three Gods, each of whom acts in different ways in different times? Or is there one God who is sometimes Father, sometimes Son, and sometimes Spirit?
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