We must all grow in true Christian teaching lest we be “carried about by every wind of doctrine” (Eph. 4:14). But we should use Scripture, and especially the preached Word, not as ammunition for disagreement but as a means of grace to strengthen our faith in Christ. Instead of looking for the preacher’s shortcomings (see Luke 11:54), we should listen like prospectors eagerly panning for gold, examining what we hear with Spirit-generated charity.

When you read in Scripture that church members must submit to their leaders (e.g., Heb. 13:17), do you cringe, imagining servile compliance to even unbiblical demands? When you hear Luke praising the Bereans for fact-checking Paul’s preaching (Acts 17:11), do you hear an endorsement for church members independently evaluating which parts of pastoral leadership they’ll respect?
Both those responses are wrong.
Yet Scripture does require us to be both submissive and thoughtful. These two principles are hard for us to harmonize; we mustn’t reject proper authority or abdicate our responsibility to be intelligent listeners. There must be another way.
The closing admonitions of the book of Hebrews call church members to submit to their leaders and practice discernment by refusing to be “led away by diverse and strange teachings” (Heb. 13:9). We must submit thoughtfully.
What Is Thoughtful Submission?
Thoughtful submission is the practice of respecting and obeying proper church authority while maintaining a biblically judicious walk with God.
God Requires Believers to Be Submissive
The author of Hebrews says, “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who will have to give an account” (13:17). We must trust them, listen to them, and heed their biblical instruction. In traditional vows for church membership, members promise to “submit to the government of the church,” and “to its admonition and discipline” in the sad event of personal backsliding.
Church leaders are overseers under Christ (Acts 20:28), tasked by him to use the keys of the kingdom to bind and loose on earth as he does in heaven through the preaching of the Word and the practice of church discipline (Matt. 16:19). This is a challenging command. Our leaders are ordinary and flawed people; they’re peers who wield Christ’s authority. Yet as we love and submit to them, we show our love for and submission to God (see 1 John 4:20).
But submission isn’t servility.
God Requires Believers to Be Discerning
The Reformation rejected the Roman Catholic notion of implicit faith, or an uninformed trust in church teaching. Seventeenth-century Reformed theologian Francis Turretin argued that Roman Catholic leaders sheltered the Bible that they might “the more easily . . . subject the people to them by a blind obedience.” But God calls faithful Christians to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ” (2 Pet. 3:18). This requires more than simply accepting what a church leader says. 
The “noble” Bereans exhibit this discernment. “They received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so” (Acts 17:11). By refusing to be ruled by human opinions, they exemplify the calling of all believers to share in Christ’s priestly anointing, striving “with a free conscience against sin and the devil,” as one Reformation catechism puts it.
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What is the difference between an ancient man calling a piece of wood a god and a modern man calling a biological man a woman? They are both a fabrication. The ancient may have been able to work out a pulley system to move the arms or head of his wooden idol but how different is that from injecting a hormone into a male breast so that it will lactate? Both are a fiction. Both are manipulations of reality.

Whatever we may think about an idol, foolish as it may be, we must not be in doubt about the infatuation that these chunks of metal and blocks of wood inspire in their worshipers. idols are precious to idolaters. What is more, idolaters are often witnesses for their idols, even though their witness proves their folly. In fact, idolatry is the epitome of sin lacking sense. We see that in the Scriptures. Just think about the description in Isaiah 44:12-17. The prophet tells us that a man plants a tree, he prunes it, cares for it and when it is tall enough, he cuts it down and cuts it in half. With one half he builds a fire. He cooks his food and warms himself with it. And he says, “Ah, I am warm; all is well!”
But with the other half of the log, he takes a chisel and shapes it. He measures it and uses a chalk like to make sure the lines are straight. He labors long like this even going without food and water using his strength to craft the wood and in the end the piece of wood looks like an image. The man sets up the image and then does the oddest thing, he bows down to the wood in worship and even prays to it saying, “Deliver me, for you are my god!
Now, anyone who hears that story from Isaiah is going to laugh because it sounds so utterly foolish.  In fact, people are wont to disparage the ancients for being primitive, underdeveloped, and lacking in understanding. But let’s wait just a minute. What if we were to ask one of those ancients about this story.  What might they say?
Well, we might be surprised at the sophistication of their answer. Take Psalm 135 as an example. There, in verses 16 and 17, the Psalmist explains the psychology of idolatry. He writes that idols have “mouths but cannot talk…eyes but cannot see…ears but cannot hear…noses but cannot smell, throats but cannot make a sound.” All very obvious observations. But notice verse 18, “Those who make them become like them, so do all who trust in them.” What’s the point? Simply this, idolaters make their idols in their own image. The idolater has no instincts for God. He has no eyes with which to see him, no ears with which to hear him, and no mouth that he might praise him. Idolatry illustrates ignorance. Certainly, that is an answer steeped in reflection.
Now, what’s my point in bringing this to your notice?
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We cannot bear to look at the crucifixion any more than we can bear to look at the worst sins and most painful sorrows in the world—or to look inside and see the darkness of our own depravity. The old, ugly cross therefore serves as a proof that Jesus did what he meant to do and put an end to all our sin.

Yet at the center of God’s plan for the beautification of the cosmos is an act of appalling ugliness and degrading humiliation that nevertheless took place according to “the definite plan and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23). I refer, of course, to the cross where Christ was crucified, as well as to what the Scripture says about the physical form of our Savior. If God is beautiful, if people made in his image are beautiful, and if the life of the Son he sent into the world is beautiful, then why does the Bible explicitly tell us that the Messiah, Jesus, was not beautiful? The prophet Isaiah could hardly be clearer on this point:
He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.Isaiah 53:2
The promised Christ was unattractive in his appearance. Indeed, the prophet says that Jesus “grew up” this way (Isa. 53:2), which implies that our Savior was more homely than handsome. Certainly, in his sufferings and death, Jesus became so physically disfigured that he was socially rejected. The horror of his cross thus screams against every sensibility of the divine aesthetic. It was so hideous that even the Father (in a manner of speaking, during the dark hours that his Son bore the guilt of our sin) looked away. Nevertheless, the Bible still tells us to look to Jesus on the cross for our salvation (e.g., Heb. 12:2).
Here we confront the paradox of the crucifixion, which was both the ugliest sin ever committed and the most beautiful sacrifice ever given. When we look at “the Passion and crucifixion of the Lord of glory,” writes Thomas Dubay, we witness “consummate splendor in monstrous horror.” There “at one and the same time we find supremely horrific ugliness and supremely divine and loving beauty.”1 In this paradox we also find our salvation, for the crucifixion of the Christ was the ugly sin that alone had the power to make this world beautiful again.
Why So Ugly?
To understand this shocking paradox, it will help us if we linger at the foot of the cross. Before rushing on too quickly to Easter Sunday and the triumph of the resurrection, we need to take a closer, harder look at the sufferings of our Savior.
What they did—what we did—to Jesus was ugly. It was ugly to betray that innocent man with a Judas kiss, ugly to put him— wrongly—on ecclesiastical and political trial, ugly to parade false witnesses against him and condemn him to die for crimes he did not commit—crimes that were not even crimes at all. It was ugly to mock him royally for claiming to be the King, to crown him with bloody thorns, to beat him, strike him, and spit in his face. Ugly too were the nails that pierced his hands and his feet, the game of chance to steal his last garment, the dark insults hurled against him in his dying hours, and the absolute agony of gasping for every breath—naked and afraid—as his life bled away.
According to the prophet Isaiah, these travails were so repulsive that people could not bear to look but despised the crucified Christ by hiding their faces (Isa. 53:3). This prophecy is especially profound when we consider how much Isaiah said throughout his writings about beauty and splendor. Of all the prophets, he was the most sensitive to beauty as the destiny of the people of God (see Isa. 62:3). Yet when he came to the saving work of the suffering servant, Isaiah saw it as so ugly that he turned away.
How ugly was the cross? It was as ugly as what Jesus was dying to deal with—as ugly as sin and death.
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