Jesus sent out seventy-two disciples into the towns where he was about to go. He said to them, “Heal the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you’” (Luke 10:9). When they came back from their ministry, Luke tells us,

The seventy-two returned with joy, saying, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!” And [Jesus] said to them, “I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” (Luke 10:17–20)

Do not rejoice at your stunning power over evil (even in my name!), but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.

Written for Redemption

What does it mean to have your name written in heaven? The apostle John tells us that names were written in heaven before the foundation of the world. We also know that the book where these names are written is called “the book of life of the Lamb who was slain” (Revelation 13:8). In other words, it is the book of salvation, the book of the redeemed.

If your name is in the book, these things are true of you (or most assuredly will be):

You are chosen by God in eternity.
You are predestined for sonship in his family.
You are ransomed from every evil bondage.
You are purchased for God’s precious possession.
Christ has taken your place under the punishment of divine wrath.
God has caused you to be born again; he has taken out the heart of stone and put in its place the heart of flesh.
He has made you alive in Christ Jesus and given you the gift of repentance and faith.
He has forgiven you all your sins, and declared you innocent before God.
You are irrevocably rescued from the terrors of hell.
You stand righteous in the court of heaven and have peace with God.
He has adopted you as his own child, and made you an heir of eternal life with the inheritance of all things.
He has made his Holy Spirit to dwell in you, and brought you into the fellowship of his beloved Son.
He is omnipotently committed to holding on to you so that nothing can separate you from the love of God.
He will make every pleasure and pain work for your eternal good.
He will lead you in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
He will bring you safely to his eternal kingdom and present you blameless before the throne of his glory.
He will grant you to see the glory of Christ and be changed into his likeness.
He will give you a new glorious body for the enjoyment of all the endless delights of the age to come.
He will grant you to sit with him on his throne, and share in his universal rule.
He will give you access to the very presence of God, where there will be fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore.

That is what it means to have your name written in heaven.

Joy of All Joys

Now, when the seventy-two returned rejoicing that powers of darkness, evil, and destruction had fallen before them in Jesus’s name, why would he say, “Do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20)? Why would he say that?

“Be more irrepressibly thrilled that you are saved than that you are gifted — even in the name of Jesus.”

I don’t assume that Jesus was giving an absolute prohibition of rejoicing over the rescue of people from satanic evil. Because in Luke 15, in the parable of the prodigal son, he tells us to rejoice when we rescue a lost sheep (v. 6), a lost coin (v. 9), or a lost son (v. 32). So, when Jesus says, “Do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but [do] rejoice that your names are written in heaven,” I take him to mean that rejoicing in our salvation — in the God of our salvation — is something more essential.

It is to be your most essential joy — that is, the joy with the deepest roots, the joy that is most durable, the joy with the greatest satisfaction, the joy that sustains and shapes all joys, the joy that is unmistakable to those around us, the joy that can’t be suppressed, but marks your ministry and your life. Let that joy be this: that your name is written in heaven. Let that joy be this: that you are saved.

Be more deeply, more durably, more gladly, more pervasively, more unmistakably, more irrepressibly thrilled that you are saved than that you are gifted, or competent, or productive, or successful, or famous, or powerful, or fruitful — even in the name of Jesus.

Do not rejoice that, with degree in hand, you are equipped to make a difference, but that your names are written in heaven. To be precise, when you take your diploma, and rejoice to enter the world for the good of others and the glory of God, do it in such a way that people say, “His truest joy, her truest joy, is to be saved. Those Bethlehem graduates are thrilled that their names are written in heaven. Everything flows from that.”

Seven Reasons to Rejoice

Now, back to our original question. Why did Jesus say not to rejoice in ministry success but to rejoice that your names are written in heaven? Why does this matter? It matters for seven reasons: legalism, authenticity, zeal, glory, love, death, and shame.

1. Legalism

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, we will move toward legalism. If ministry is not the overflow of joy in Christ, it will become the achievement of joy — and it won’t be in Christ. If our work is not coming out of joy, it will become the desperate striving after joy.

2. Authenticity

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, we will not be able to commend Christ with authenticity as the all-satisfying Savior. There will always be a niggling sense of inauthenticity in our ministry and our witness: “If he does not satisfy me, why am I trying to show him to others?”

3. Zeal

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, our zeal for any worthy cause will be distorted, out of tune. The cause may be totally righteous, but it will be missing the melody of God’s all-satisfying presence. People may admire your stature as a warrior, but the music of your life will not sound like the pleasures of knowing Christ.

4. Glory

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, God will not be glorified in our vocation the way he ought to be. Why? Because the fullness of his worth and beauty and greatness is known and shown only where he is manifestly felt as the deepest, sweetest, most durable joy in life.

5. Love

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, our love for other people will be compromised. Because what is love but to labor, at any cost to ourselves, to give people what is best for them, what is fully and eternally satisfying? That labor of love is weakened by every degree of joy we do not find in our own salvation.

6. Death

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, we will approach our own death without peace. We will be tormented late at night with the nagging fear that we loved service more than the Savior. (A precious parenthesis here: In my last interchange with Tim Keller, Luke 10:20 was the verse we reveled in. He wrote, “That book in heaven is the one that Lloyd-Jones was comforted by. You probably know the story of him quoting it near the end of his life.”) Dear young graduates, I promise you that sixty years from now, if you have spent your life reveling in the Savior more than in his service, you will be so glad.

7. Shame

To the degree that we are not thrilled to be saved, we will be afraid to face the Lord on the last day. When he asks, “What did you enjoy most in the life I gave you on earth?” how will we face him? How will we face him if we must confess, “You were not my most essential joy”?

Joy Now, Joy Forever

I say with Jesus to all the graduates (and to the rest of us), “Do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Luke 10:20). Make that joy your most essential joy. Let that joy be known to all.

Then you will be delivered from legalism, and you will minister with authenticity, and your zeal will have the melody of heaven, and God will be glorified in your life, and you will taste the sweetness of loving people, and you will face death without fear — and you will face the Lord without shame.

Did Jonathan Edwards neglect his family?

What would prompt such a question as this? Is there well-known or newly discovered evidence that pastor Jonathan Edwards (1703–58) — a leader of the First Great Awakening and widely considered America’s greatest theologian — neglected his family? Are there reasons to believe he had a troubled marriage with Sarah? Did his children turn out badly?

No. Rather, it’s likely that the only reason anyone would even pose the question arises from a short but famous remark by Samuel Hopkins (1721–1823), Edwards’s first biographer.

Behind the Study Door

Hopkins, who would later become an influential theologian in his own right, once lived in the Edwards home for six months to observe and learn from the renowned minister.

In The Life and Character of the Late Reverend Mr. Jonathan Edwards (1764), Hopkins wrote that “he commonly spent thirteen hours every day in his study.” Hopkins passes immediately from the remark without so much as a word as to how Edwards spent that time. It is not hard to guess the general contours of those thirteen hours, given Edwards’s propensities and the extant sermon manuscripts and publications. Still, nowhere do we read of a routine schedule or specific details describing Edwards’s activities behind the door of his study.

That’s it. When people read Hopkins’s ten words through the lens of modern life, and then factor in time for sleeping, eating, and other matters, some conclude that Edwards must have neglected his family. Those familiar with Edwards also recall his daily four-mile round-trip visit on horseback to the Sawtooth hills west of Northampton, where he would dismount to meditate and pray while walking, as well as his habit of chopping wood for exercise. Adding it all up, even Edwards’s most loyal supporters can be prone to wonder if — as so many pastors have done — he sacrificed his family on the altar of ministry.

The title of Elisabeth Dodds’s insightful book on “the uncommon union” of Jonathan and Sarah — Marriage to a Difficult Man — doesn’t help dispel these suspicions, at least for those who know of the book but haven’t read it. But as we shall see, Dodds instead sheds a reassuring light on life in the Edwards home.

His Little Church

Readers of Edwards’s sermons on the subject of family life will find them biblically orthodox. It isn’t surprising that, from a contemporary perspective, Edwards’s instructions about the governance of a home may seem rather strict. But they were in harmony both with the Christian parental guidance of his day and the spirit of the biblical teaching on the family.

His favorite analogy of the family was that it was like “a little church.” He used the image in one of his earliest published sermons (1723) and again in his “Farewell Sermon” to the Northampton church 27 years later, saying, “A Christian family ought to be as it were a little church, consecrated to Christ, and wholly influenced and governed by his rules.” As a church should be marked by love, Christ-centeredness, and biblical order, so, said Edwards, should be the home.

In his 1739 sermon “The Importance of Revival Among Heads of Families,” Edwards warned of the “great offense” to God “if heads of families are either God’s enemies or are cold and dull in religion.” He advocated for the practice of regular family worship and the responsibility of fathers to instruct their children in the ways of the Lord. And yet, all the instruction, regardless of how faithful to Scripture, “will have little effect unless example accompanies instructions.” Thus, Edwards was well aware of the importance of being a Christlike example in the home. But he also knew that no amount of modeling or teaching was sufficient apart from the work of the Spirit in the hearts of children. Therefore, he urged the parents to “earnest prayer” for their children: “You should travail for them.”

Perhaps you’ve heard of hypocritical pastors who failed to practice in private the orthodoxy they preached in public. Edwards, however, has never been counted among them, but rather is renowned for the general congruence between his life and preaching. So, let us look elsewhere.

Uncommon and Happy Union

Why did Elisabeth Dodds refer to Edwards as “a difficult man”? It wasn’t because he was a disagreeable man or a distant man. Rather, it was because “a genius is seldom an easy husband” (31).

“As a church should be marked by love, Christ-centeredness, and biblical order, so, said Edwards, should be the home.”

In fact, Dodds argues that Edwards’s devotion to and dependence upon Sarah was one of the reasons why he would have been no easy husband. According to Dodds, Edwards often invited Sarah to join him in his late afternoon rides into the woods. There he would pour out the contents of the day’s study and sermon preparation for her consideration or seek her input on some parish problem. Although the break from her heavy domestic duties and the opportunity to be outdoors provided some physical refreshment, Dodds concluded that sometimes Sarah “must also have been singularly drained” by such intense mental demands at the end of the day.

Before the third paragraph of her book, Dodds says of Jonathan, “He was in fact a tender lover and a father whose children seemed genuinely fond of him.” Still, living with a man of such “labyrinthine character” meant their marriage was not a “radiant idyll” (i). No marriage is, even for two people as godly and well-matched as the Edwardses.

Being a pastor’s wife — especially the wife of the only pastor in town — is often difficult. Sarah knew she was scrutinized every time she left the house, down to what she wore, how much money she spent, and how her children behaved. Jonathan was always underpaid, so money was always tight, and the financial pressures increased with the birth of each of their eleven children. Add the criticism Jonathan received (which also weighed heavily on Sarah) to the problems of the church, and you have a mix that would strain the bonds of any marriage.

Yet, to the end Jonathan and Sarah loved each other and enjoyed what can only be considered a happy marriage. In fact, on his deathbed — literally in the last moments of his life — Edwards’s final words included this message to his wife of thirty years, who had not yet made the move to Princeton where Edwards was the new president: “Give my kindest love to my dear wife, and tell her that the uncommon union, which has so long subsisted between us, has been of such nature, as I trust is spiritual, and therefore will continue forever.”

Incidentally, Jonathan named his first child Sarah.

Three Meals a Day

When specifying the qualifications of an elder, the apostle Paul wrote, “He must manage his own household well, with all dignity keeping his children submissive” (1 Timothy 3:4). Edwards met this qualification with flying colors, for each of his eleven children turned out well. Of course, pastors can (and have) kept their “children submissive” harshly and with dictatorial domination, but Edwards did it “with all dignity.” And to the point of this article, every good parent knows that neglected children seldom turn out well.

Abundant evidence proves that Edwards did not neglect his children at all. For starters, “Sarah could count on one hour a day when Edwards gave the family complete attention,” writes Dodds (49). “He made sure to save an hour at the close of each day to spend with the children.” How many of those who charge Edwards with neglect do this? Hopkins observed and wrote about this hour.

Moreover, the Jonathan Edwards Encyclopedia reports that “when [the children] were old enough, he took them with him one at a time on his journeys. He often wrote his children when traveling alone” (87). Additionally, Edwards “had the idea, unusual in those times, that girls as well as boys should be educated. . . . The girls, tutored by their father at home, learned Latin, Greek, rhetoric, and penmanship” (Marriage to a Difficult Man, 50).

But Edwards placed the greatest emphasis on the commitment required for the spiritual instruction of his family. In his prize-winning biography, George Marsden writes that Edwards

began the day with private prayers followed by family prayers, by candlelight in winter. . . . Care for his children’s souls was, of course, his preeminent concern. In morning devotions he quizzed them on Scripture with questions appropriate to their ages. . . . Each meal was accompanied by household devotions. (133, 321)

Each meal! Note that this also implies that he ate three meals a day face-to-face with his family. If we knew nothing else of his interaction with his children, what we know of the gathering of his “little church” for family worship several times each day demolishes any suggestion that Edwards neglected his family.

‘Thirteen Hours Every Day’

Although the Edwardses lived in a two-story home, it was by no means large by today’s standards. Often as many as fifteen people lived there. That alone generated significant noise to interrupt a study in which there was no streaming music, white-noise device, or noise-canceling earphones to insulate Edwards from the distractions.

And though he was there thirteen hours a day (where else would he have gone to do his work?), he would have emerged as needed to quell a sibling dispute or address any other issue that required his attention. Moreover, the children were not forbidden to enter the study when necessary. After his evening hour with the children, Edwards retreated to his study for another hour or so. At bedtime Sarah would join him there, and they would close the day together in prayer.

So, when Hopkins writes that Edwards was in his study thirteen hours every day, it’s wrong to envision him there totally alone the entire time (that’s also where he counseled church members), completely disengaged from his family. In fact, from everything we know, he probably had more personal contact and interaction with his large family than almost any father does today.

Finally, although this article was specifically about Jonathan, I cannot close without emphasizing that much of the character and success of the Edwards children was, of course, attributable to the love, nurture, and training of the remarkable Sarah. And I’m sure Jonathan would agree. Together they truly had an “uncommon union,” and from it resulted an uncommon family.

“Your church lacks community.”

“You botched caring for me during my husband’s affair.”

“You are not a warm church.”

“Too much red tape at the church.”

“The church is too big.”

“Your scripted prayers seem silly.”

Ouch, I thought when reading these words. These were comments directed at our church, our people, and our leadership. Each critique stung like a handful of gravel hitting my face. As anyone in leadership knows, criticism stings. Though we asked for this feedback from departing members, criticism is never pleasant when it comes.

As biting as such disapproval can be, however, it’s still better than open hostilities and quarreling. Disagreement, misunderstandings, frustration, and disunity can tear at the seams of Christ’s church. Conflict leads to hurt feelings, judged motives, and flared tempers. Church members might take sides. Gossip and whispers spread like wildfire, and soon the forest is raging. If criticism is like a sprained ankle, conflict is the fracture.

Conflict Goes Way Back

Conflict and criticism in the church are inevitable at times. Life is messy, full of bumps and bruises. The church is a gathering of sinners who unfortunately still sin. Misunderstandings happen. Sharp words cut and attack, impossible to reel back in. Criticism can lead to conflict and conflict to criticism, running on a dreadful treadmill of hurt and pain. The last several years brought about increased friction in many churches, but conflict is not new. Disunity that divides churches has been around since the beginning.

In Philippians, Paul entreats two beloved co-laborers of the gospel — Euodia and Syntyche — to “agree in the Lord” (Philippians 4:2). These two women have labored side by side with Paul, and their names are written in the book of life (Philippians 4:3). They are genuine followers of Christ who were “together for the gospel” but are now divided by some sharp disagreement that has become known to the entire church. Church conflict is as old as the church.

Addressing conflict is not easy work. It’s like plunging the toilet: messy, unpleasant, but necessary. Ignoring conflict only exacerbates it, like closing the basement door as the black mold creeps up the walls. It’s not going to go away by itself, and the results will be catastrophic.

Three Ways to Lead in Conflict

How, then, can pastors and elders move toward the fray rather than retreat? Like courageous first responders who run toward chaos, how can pastors be ready to engage conflict with courage, conviction, humility, and gentleness?

It’s no easy task. Some can be paralyzed by fear of man and fear of failure. Still others are much too eager to jump into battle. Like prizefighters eager to find sparring partners, such pastors are unfit to engage. Consider Paul’s wise words to the young Timothy:

The Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kind to everyone, able to teach, patiently enduring evil, correcting his opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant them repentance leading to a knowledge of the truth, and they may come to their senses and escape from the snare of the devil, after being captured by him to do his will. (2 Timothy 2:24–26)

“Pastors cannot run from conflict, nor can they be too eager to fight.”

We see the difficulty of the task. Pastors cannot run from conflict, nor can they be too eager to fight. Kindness, patience, and gentleness must accompany the willingness to engage, exhort, admonish, and rebuke. How does one thread the needle? What truths help Christian pastors and leaders engage in conflict willingly, without relishing the next quarrel? Consider three foundational beliefs for those who seek to serve in conflict.

1. Humbly remember this is God’s church.

First, remember that the church is not yours. Moses models this humble attitude. After the exodus, God’s anger is stirred up against Israel’s idolatrous worship of the golden calf. What does Moses do? He intercedes by reminding God “that this nation is your people” (Exodus 33:13). Moses makes clear that Israel isn’t his people, but God’s. He models humble dependence upon God to work among his people for their good.

The parallel for pastors is this: humbly remember that the church is Christ’s church. When conflict comes, spiritual leaders are wise to resist the urge to fix things in their own strength and wisdom. Jesus is sanctifying his church. He is eager to give his help, his wisdom, and his grace for the good of his church. Pastors are also wise to remember they, and their churches, are being sanctified. Lessons remain to be learned; grace remains to be given; more wisdom is yet to be bestowed. God works in and through conflict for the good of his people. Remember, Jesus is the master carpenter, crafting his ultimate creation, the glorious church of God.

Pastors, pray like King Solomon as he faced the daunting task of leading God’s people:

Now, O Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of David my father, although I am but a little child. I do not know how to go out or come in. . . . Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, that I may discern between good and evil, for who is able to govern this your great people? (1 Kings 3:7, 9)

Humbly pray for discernment to lead the great people of God. Ask for wisdom from the God who gives generously and lavishly, for the benefit of his church (James 1:5).

2. Humbly remember Christ’s example.

Second, emulate Christ’s example of selflessness and sacrifice. Pastors are undershepherds who take cues from the chief Shepherd himself. And Jesus “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. . . . He humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:7–8). All believers, and especially leaders, are called to imitate his humility, servanthood, and sacrifice.

“Nothing will undermine leadership more quickly than selfishness and a lack of humility.”

Selfish ambition, conceit, envy, and rivalry have no place in the church, much less among the church’s leaders. Some of the strongest condemnations in Scripture are against the self-serving shepherds of Ezekiel 34. God’s people were scattered, devoured, and preyed upon by Israel’s shepherds. Nothing will undermine leadership more quickly than selfishness and a lack of humility. God’s servants must indeed be servants, humbly obeying the master. Pastors are to “share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus” (2 Timothy 2:3). We pastors serve at the pleasure of the King. We are under authority. When armed with the mind of Christ, pastors are able to maintain the unity of the Spirit, outdo one another in honor, and “reprove, rebuke, and exhort, with complete patience and teaching” (2 Timothy 4:2).

As pastors, we put aside personal preferences and opinions, and seek to serve as Christ would have us, exhibiting his selflessness and patience. We eagerly and humbly embrace the role of servant as undershepherds of Christ.

3. Humbly speak the truth in love.

Finally, speak the truth in love. Godly pastors exhibit an unswerving commitment to truthfulness that is honed and shaped by a deep, abiding love for God’s people. They cultivate Paul-like love, yearning for their people with the affection of Christ Jesus (Philippians 1:8). Their words build up rather than tear down; their speech is loving. What they say, even while admonishing, is infused with gentleness and care. Their teaching has the essence of love coupled with the unflinching truth.

It’s here that many a pastor has gone astray. The temptation to appease, placate, and quell conflict and tension is great. Yet, undershepherds’ words are to be “gracious, seasoned with salt,” never lies or half-truths masquerading as graciousness (Colossians 4:6). Pastors are to “set the believers an example in speech” (1 Timothy 4:12). With Paul, pastors renounce all the disgraceful, underhanded ways of the world (2 Corinthians 4:2).

Candid speech sheds light, rather than obscuring. So, pastors stubbornly let their yes be yes and their no be no (James 5:12). We seek to be tenaciously true to our words. We labor not to undermine the trust we have been given by God to be heralds of the great truth of the gospel. We resist any temptation to mollify critics by modifying the truth. Instead, we refuse to tamper with the truth, but proclaim the truth in love so that the church might grow up into Christ (Ephesians 4:15).

Hope in God Who Is Working

In the midst of choppy waters, remember God’s promise to his servants and to his people. God promises undershepherds a glorious reward: “When the chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the unfading crown of glory” (1 Peter 5:4). Conflict and criticism will never be easy, but the pains and labors will be small compared to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ.

Similarly, God promises his people that he will complete the good work he has begun (Philippians 1:6). The church is being sanctified so that it will be pure and blameless for the day of Christ. Hold onto that promise as a raft of hope as you dive into the choppy waters for the good of Christ’s church.