There’s a lie we all want to believe — even against all available evidence. It trades on our God-given capacity for hope. It tempts even those with impeccable theology. It lures us in and then leaves us in the lurch. It goes like this: “Life will get easier if I just make it past this current challenge.”

We feel this way about life stages. “If I can just find a romantic partner . . . make it through grad school . . . marry and settle down . . . have children . . . survive the diaper stage . . . survive the terrible twos . . . survive the teen years . . . find a better job . . . retire . . . then, finally, all will be well.” We think this way about temptations. “If I can accumulate enough in my bank account, I won’t be anxious anymore.” “Once I own my own home, I won’t envy what others have.” “After I marry, pornography will no longer be an issue.”

You’ve probably seen medication commercials featuring ridiculously fit and happy older people with silver hair and perfect teeth playing tennis and laughing in a carefree fashion. That’s the lie. It’s not true. In many years of pastoral ministry, I’ve seen numerous people work hard and honor God through their childrearing years and careers only to retire and face increased challenges. Friends move away. Misunderstandings with grown children occur. Spouses die. Medications multiply. Often, retirement isn’t a quiet harbor but the open ocean.

Because the Bible is realistic, almost every page punctures the lie. In particular, the clear-eyed story of Nehemiah reminds us that God’s people face lifelong hardships and temptations. At the same time, Scripture is not a counsel of despair for those in Christ. Like Nehemiah, we can learn to let hard be hard yet also filled with hope. Consider how his story might supply fresh strength for your current season — not some unpromised future one.

Sea of Hardships

Tasked with rebuilding the Jerusalem wall, Nehemiah finds himself surrounded by enemies. They simply will not quit in their efforts to stymie his work. Like Wile E. Coyote, the famous cartoon nemesis of the Roadrunner, the adversaries are unrelenting, undeterred, always trying new schemes. Their initial strategy for hindering Nehemiah is mockery and public shame (Nehemiah 2:19; 4:1–3). When that fails, they try deception, pestering Nehemiah for a private meeting, meaning to harm him (6:1–4). Then, in an open letter (so that the rumor will spread), they mention that he’s rebelling against Persian authority (6:5–7). They try to ruin his reputation (6:10–13) and send more letters to scare him (6:19).

I can imagine Nehemiah saying to himself, “If I just get this wall rebuilt, life will be easier.” But that’s the lie. Because once the wall is completed, the houses of Jerusalem must be rebuilt and the city repopulated (7:4). And, as it turns out, those who fill the city are sinful, which means Nehemiah must respond to continued and complicated crises (see Nehemiah 13). It never stops. God’s people face lifelong hardships and temptations.

John Newton understood this. In his hymn “Amazing Grace,” he proclaimed his confidence that God would be his shield and portion “as long as life endures.” You need a shield only when spears and arrows are flying your way, so Newton clearly believed they’d be in the air as long as he lived. Yes, many “dangers, toils, and snares” were already in the past. But Newton knew that the baseline expectation for God’s people is that more will come. Our only safe haven is heaven, and there’s no heaven on earth. (Not yet, at least.)

“God’s love will outlast every discouragement, fear, anxiety, setback, and temptation we face.”

Yet biblical realism needn’t lead to pessimism or passivity. Despite stiff opposition, Nehemiah and his followers keep on working and complete the wall (Nehemiah 6:15). Despite the continued disobedience of those who returned to Jerusalem, Nehemiah continues to make reforms and call the people back to God (Nehemiah 13). Nehemiah chooses to face real hardships and temptations with energetic hope rather than slack despair. And upon closer inspection, his story also shows us how: by looking up and looking back.

Looking Up

In the midst of unrelenting opposition, Nehemiah repeatedly looks up. He speaks to the God of heaven who is here with him: “But now, O God, strengthen my hands” (6:9). Here’s the first key to joyful perseverance amid pervasive difficulties: look up to God.

Nehemiah is famous for setting his sights heavenward in tight spots. He tells us that, in the intimidating presence of King Artaxerxes of Persia, “I prayed to the God of heaven” (2:4). As he recounts his enemies’ taunts, he bursts into prayer: “Hear, O our God, for we are despised!” (4:4). He’s a shining example of how to look up.

And, of course, our experience of God’s presence is greater than his. We know the Messiah’s name and the details of his story. We’ve seen God’s glory in Jesus’s face. His very Spirit lives inside us, encouraging and emboldening us. We enjoy his continual help. Through him, we possess constant, confident access to the Father. So, ultimately, we don’t need hardships and temptations to end because we have God with us in the midst of them.

Looking Back

Not only does Nehemiah gaze heavenward; he also looks backward. God’s past faithfulness is a second source of indominable hope. My church supports global partners who recently realized that sharing stories of God’s faithfulness on the mission field is noticeably decreasing their anxieties while there. This can be true for us too. As we meditate on God’s help in the past, our confidence in him grows in the present.

Surely, this is one of the reasons for the otherwise baffling inclusion of Nehemiah 7, a long genealogy of the first wave of exiles who had returned to Jerusalem a century before Nehemiah’s day (see also Ezra 2). Why include it here? Because it’s a tangible, specific reminder of God’s meticulous past provision. It fuels hope. Similarly, the people’s celebration of the Feast of Booths (Nehemiah 8) reminds them of what God has already done for them.

We too should look back. “I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands” (Psalm 143:5). Of course, we’re able to ponder thousands more years of God’s faithfulness than Nehemiah could. The reservoir of God’s grace has grown, and that grace now includes Jesus’s life and redeeming work. God’s past work fuels present confidence in the face of future challenges. We press forward by looking back.

Onward

God’s people endure hardships and temptations that will not end before heaven. New difficulties are surely just around the corner for you — only a text, call, or email away. But don’t despair — and don’t pin your hopes on the vain expectation that suffering will cease. There is no paradise here.

Instead, look back and look up. God’s love will outlast every discouragement, fear, anxiety, setback, and temptation we face. Nehemiah shows us how to endure grave challenges with glad hope.

The Kingdom has come, but society is not uprooted. This is the mystery of the Kingdom.

I was converted at a young age and grew up in church. I heard expositional preaching and cut my teeth on Sunday School flannelgraphs, Vacation Bible School, and “Sword Drills” at Christian summer camp. At the encouragement of my grandmother, I read the Bible cover to cover as a teen. Later, I attended a Christian college, where I minored in Bible. So, by the time I hit my twenties, I knew lots of verses, could give you summaries of Bible books, and was very familiar with the message of salvation.

But never had I heard anything quite like what I encountered in a particular paragraph I read while preparing for ministry.

When Jesus Became Scandalous

I don’t remember how I came to be reading George Ladd’s A Theology of the New Testament, and I never read the entire volume, but these sentences (and the chapter of which they’re a part, “The Mystery of the Kingdom”) fired my imagination and permanently altered my understanding of God, the Bible, history, and my own life:

The coming of the Kingdom, as predicted in the Old Testament and in Jewish apocalyptic literature, would bring about the end of the age and inaugurate the Age to Come, disrupting human society by the destruction of the unrighteous. Jesus affirms that in the midst of the present age, while society continues with its intermixture of the good and the bad, before the coming of the Son of Man and the glorious manifestation of the Kingdom of God, the powers of that future age have entered into the world to create “sons of the kingdom,” those who enjoy its power and blessings. The Kingdom has come, but society is not uprooted. This is the mystery of the Kingdom. (94)

Until that moment in my life, I had read the Bible as a more or less static record of God’s revealed truth. I knew many important biblical facts, but had little sense of a larger story line, of a dynamically unfolding plan, of a developing work of salvation through time. Ladd began to put those pieces together, to excite me with a sense of the dynamism and progress of God’s redemptive work.

Before reading that paragraph, I hadn’t ever considered the ways in which Jesus’s ministry might be surprising or scandalous. Sure, it was extraordinary that he performed miracles and challenged the religious leaders. But having grown up hearing about those miracles and confrontations, they were familiar to me. Ladd opened my eyes to the mystery of the kingdom.

Through Ladd’s eyes, I now saw Jesus’s declaration that the kingdom of God had already come (but was not fully consummated) as the scandalous surprise it would have been to Jesus’s contemporaries. To liken the mighty end-time kingdom of God to a tiny, hidden mustard seed? Unthinkable! I had never truly understood the Matthew 13 parables of the dragnet, the mustard seed, or the leaven. Ladd’s teaching of the already–not yet kingdom unlocked them for me. Now 23 years later, I can still remember the excitement and satisfaction of awakened understanding.

Far Bigger Than Me

More than that, the teaching of the inaugurated-but-not-consummated kingdom helped me appreciate more fully the truly epoch-making significance of Jesus’s first coming. His life, death, and resurrection had inaugurated nothing less than a new age. He had brought to initial fulfillment the end-time promises of God, securing the future new creation.

To that point in my life, I had read the Bible almost exclusively as an account of something that mattered on a personal basis. Jesus came to save souls. Jesus’s work was between Jesus and me. To come alive to the cosmic significance of Jesus’s ministry, to the newness that Jesus brought in the redemptive-historical work of God, to Jesus as the climax of God’s plan for all things — all this exalted Jesus more highly in my mind and heart.

For me, the intellectual stimulus of Ladd’s inaugurated eschatology was deep and enduring. It prepared me to discover the richness of biblical theology in seminary, and subsequently to pursue a doctorate focusing on Jesus’s fulfillment of God’s end-time promises.

Making Sense of Me

Beyond a deepened understanding and appreciation of the New Testament and God’s redemptive work and the centrality of Christ, Ladd’s words helped me to understand my own life more clearly. I could look at Ladd’s famous diagram of the overlap of the ages (the lines of the “Present Age” and the “Age to Come” overlapping between the first and second comings of Christ) and see exactly where I lived. I could imagine, like a map at the mall, a marker located in that overlap saying, “You Are Here.” And this made sense of my life.

It explained God’s justification of me and the Holy Spirit’s ongoing transformation of my heart. These miraculous events were possible because the last days had already begun through the work of Christ. It also explained my agonizing struggles with sin. Why did part of me want to access sexual images with my dial-up modem, while another part of me desperately wanted to be free from those images? Welcome to the overlap. It explained the sadness of suffering that had touched my life. Why was my father in a wheelchair, despite my many prayers for his healing? Why was anxiety a sometimes-paralyzing reality for me? Welcome to the overlap.

“The already–not yet of the kingdom guarded me from both over-optimism and despair. It offered hope in hard times.”

The already–not yet of the kingdom didn’t answer every question, but it provided a powerful framework for understanding my sin and my sanctification. It guarded me from both over-optimism and despair. It offered hope in hard times.

Purpose of My Life

Two years after my discovery of Ladd, I was a student at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. On a bright and blustery day, I sat by the Atlantic Ocean, on the rocks at Magnolia, and read these words in Richard Hays’s The Moral Vision of the New Testament:

The church community is God’s eschatological beachhead, the place where the power of God has invaded the world. All Paul’s ethical judgments are worked out in this context. . . . To live faithfully in the time between the times is to walk a tightrope of moral discernment, claiming neither too much nor too little for God’s transforming power within the community of faith. (27)

This paragraph became as seminal and shaping for me as Ladd’s had been earlier, because it offered me a life purpose. I already knew I wanted to be a pastor. Understanding the church as God’s “eschatological beachhead,” the focus of God’s end-time power rushing into the present, made that calling even more significant and urgent.

“The ‘when’ of our lives is meant to shape the how of our everyday living.”

Hays confirmed my developing conviction that ethics and eschatology are meant to go together, that the when of our lives (life in the already–not yet kingdom) is meant to shape the how of our everyday living. To help God’s people understand the in-between nature of their existence (the power of God is already available to them through the dawning of the last days, yet the consummated new creation is still future), to help them grasp the practical, ethical, daily significance of this reality — that seemed to me a good use of my life.

I wrote on a page in the back of Hays’s book, “[This is the] purpose of my life.”

Sharing the Life-Changing Mystery

In the years since, I’ve sought to live out that life purpose. I’ve sought to help people understand the book of Revelation, with its earnest encouragement of suffering believers through gorgeous portrayals of our final future.

I eventually wrote a short book to help ordinary Christians understand the exciting and frustrating tension of being simultaneously restless and patient for the future new creation because of our assurance that it is superbly good and securely ours. In my teaching of seminary students, inaugurated eschatology has been a repeated theme. Throughout fourteen years of pastoral ministry, I’ve aimed to help the people of my church understand the story line of the Bible, the cosmic significance of Christ’s work, and the utterly practical implications of a future new creation that’s ours because of what Christ has already accomplished for us.

I rejoice to be a son of the kingdom, to savor already in part the power and blessings that Jesus secured. I’m grateful to have glimpsed more of the purposes of God. And by his grace, I hope to help others rejoice in Christ as the all-satisfying climax of all the plans of God.

It’s been said that the content of a prayer shapes the one who prays it, because we tend to pray what we love, and what we love makes us who we are. And this is not only true of individuals, but of churches too. Like when the early church once prayed,

Now, Lord, look upon their threats and grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness, while you stretch out your hand to heal, and signs and wonders are performed through the name of your holy servant Jesus. (Acts 4:29–30)

Of all the things they might have prayed — and of all things churches should pray at various times — the fledging church in the early pages of Acts wanted God to give them boldness: “Grant to your servants to continue to speak your word with all boldness.”

We as twenty-first-century pastors and churches can learn from this first-century prayer, but to do so, we need to first go back one chapter.

Words Filled with Jesus

The apostles Peter and John were walking to the temple one afternoon when they encountered a lame man. He had been lame from birth. The man was doing what he was always doing: asking for money from people passing by. But on this particular day, something unexpected happened. The man passing by responded, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!” (Acts 3:6).

In an instant, the man was healed. He leapt up and began to walk. He entered the temple “walking, leaping, and praising God” (Acts 3:8). The scene drew a crowd, so Peter did what Peter was always doing. He preached. His sermon was full of crystal-clear witness to the person and purpose of Jesus. He is the Holy and Righteous One (verse 14), the Author of Life and the one whom God has raised from the dead (verse 15). Jesus is the reason, the only reason, why the lame man was healed (verse 17).

Then Peter proceeds to show that the Hebrew Scriptures had long foretold Jesus, from Moses in Deuteronomy and God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis, to all the prophets “from Samuel and those who came after him” (Acts 3:24). It has always been about Jesus, and people’s response, now, must unequivocally be to repent (Acts 3:19, 26).

New World Breaking In

These Jewish leaders were “greatly annoyed because [Peter and John] were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead” (Acts 4:2).

The problem wasn’t only that Peter and John were witnessing to Jesus’s own resurrection, but that they were saying Jesus’s resurrection has led to the inbreaking of the resurrection age. As Alan Thompson writes, “In the context of Acts 3–4, Jesus’s resurrection anticipates the general resurrection at the end of the age and makes available now, for all those who place their faith in him, the blessings of the ‘last days’” (The Acts of the Risen Lord Jesus, 79). That, in fact, was what the healing of the lame man was declaring. The new creation had invaded the old.

“Jesus is the climax of all of God’s saving purposes, and we cannot ignore this without eternal consequences.”

In the resurrection of Jesus, everything has changed. He is the climax of all of God’s saving purposes, and we cannot ignore this without eternal consequences. This message ruffled the feathers of the Jewish leaders, and so they arrested Peter and John and put them on trial for all that happened that day.

“By what power or by what name did you do this?” they demanded (Acts 4:7). Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, and again with a crystal-clear witness, says the lame man was healed because of Jesus. Jesus is the Messiah who was crucified and raised, and who was foretold in the Hebrew Scriptures. Specifically, Peter says that Jesus is the stone mentioned in Psalm 118:22, the stone that would be rejected by the builders but then become the cornerstone. The stakes could not be higher. Only in Jesus could one be saved (Acts 4:12).

Outdone by Fishermen

The Jewish leaders were astonished. They could not reconcile Peter and John’s boldness with the fact that they were “uneducated, common men” (Acts 4:13). These were neither teachers nor even pupils, but fishermen. Fishermen. That agitated the Jewish leaders all the more. These unskilled regular Joes, as it were, had been teaching the people! And now they ventured to interpret the Hebrew Scriptures before these skilled Jewish interpreters, telling them who Jesus was, according to the Scriptures, and who they were, according to the Scriptures.

These Jewish leaders saw their “boldness” (Acts 4:13), but this wasn’t merely a reference to their emotional tone. Peter and John’s boldness wasn’t mainly about their zeal or behavior — it was about what they had to say. This kind of boldness is repeatedly connected to speech in Acts, so much so that another way to render “boldness” in many passages would be “to speak freely or openly.” That’s what Peter and John had done. They had spoken clearly, freely, openly, boldly about Jesus from the Hebrew Scriptures — and they had done so under intense intimidation.

As they watched this unfold, even the Jewish leaders began to connect some dots. “They recognized that they had been with Jesus” (Acts 4:13). So how did these untrained fishermen learn to interpret the Scriptures like that? How could they speak so confidently about the meaning of Scripture when they had never been taught? Well, because they had been taught — by Jesus himself. They had been with Jesus, and so they were unusually bold. They spoke of Jesus clearly, both of his person and work, on the grounds of what the Scriptures say, even when it might have cost them their lives.

Voices Lifted Together

This is the boldness the church pleads for in Acts 4:29–30.

The Jewish leaders had warned and threatened Peter and John to stop talking about Jesus, but eventually they had to release the men from custody. Peter and John went straight to their friends to report what happened. These friends of Peter and John, the nascent church in Jerusalem, “lifted their voices together to God” (Acts 4:24). Their corporate prayer was as rich with the Old Testament’s witness to Jesus as Peter’s sermon was. They knew the person of Jesus. They knew why he had come. And they knew how unpopular this message would be.

And what did they pray?

They did not pray for articulate positions on the current cultural issues, nor for increased dialogue with those of other faiths, nor for the ability to refute this or that ism, nor for the development of a particularly Christian philosophy or culture (all things we might pray for at certain times in the church). None of these are part of the church’s prayer in Acts 4. Rather, they prayed for boldness to speak the word of God. They asked God to give them the kind of speech Peter and John had modeled — to testify clearly about who Jesus is from the word of God, no matter the cost, as the new creation continues to invade the old.

Do our churches ever pray like this today?

Do we lack a similar heart? A similar perspective? Or both?

And yet our cities need our boldness every bit as much as Jerusalem did in Peter and John’s day. They need the crystal-clear witness of who Jesus is and what he has come to do.

Praying for Revival

What if the church of Jesus Christ, in all her local manifestations, was marked by a singular passion to know Jesus and make him known? This is the true priority of the church in every age and culture.

“The best, most important thing we ever have to say is what we have to say about Jesus.”

We are all about Jesus, and the best, most important thing we ever have to say is what we have to say about him. Our failures to live up to this calling are reminders of our need for revival — of our need to plead with God for boldness. Like the early church, may our heart continually beat to testify to Jesus’s glory and to what he demands of the world. Church, this is who we are. Recover it, as needed, and live it out — even though it’s the last thing our society wants to hear from us.

Our society wants the church to be “helpful” on society’s terms — what J.I. Packer called the “new gospel,” a substitute for the biblical gospel, in his introduction to Owen’s The Death of Death in the Death of Christ. Whereas the chief aim of the biblical gospel is to teach people to worship God, Packer explains, the concern of the substitute only wants to make people feel better. The subject of the biblical gospel is God and his ways; the subject of the substitute is man and the help God offers him. The market demands the substitute, and those who refuse to cater to it are at the risk of being considered irrelevant or worse. Against that mounting pressure, we should pray that we would speak clearly, freely, openly, boldly about Jesus from the Bible, no matter the cost.

Would this not be the sign of revival? Would God not answer our prayers like he did for that first church?

When they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness. (Acts 4:31)