Audio Transcript

Well, some Christians are dramatically saved out of a life of scandalous sin and have an amazing testimony of deliverance to share. Many other Christians, particularly those saved at a young age, don’t really have a dramatic conversion story. And that leads to a challenge for at least one young Christian, a young woman named Rachael. She writes in, “Hello Pastor John, and thank you for taking my question! I’ve been a Christian all my life, as long as I can recall. I’m not perfect. I have a ton of issues and God is still working in me. But I’ve never indulged in alcohol, never done any drugs, never engaged in premarital sex. I guard my heart to the best of my ability and pray often when I’m struggling with temptations. I’ll be the first to tell you that I need God’s grace just as much as, if not more so than, anybody else.

“But sometimes, I get a case of FOMO, the fear of missing out. Sometimes I feel like the older brother in the prodigal-son parable. Like when I see people at church who turned away from sinful hedonism and became Christians, I’m happy for them and rejoice with them. But at the same time I feel like, ‘Wow, no one cares that I’ve always said no to drugs and sex and wickedness my whole life, but boy they all care when all the people doing that stuff turn away from it.’ And I know that’s not what I should be thinking. I shouldn’t be bitter or resentful. But sometimes those feelings manifest. I’m not proud of these thoughts and I often pray to God that these feelings would flee so I can just bask in his presence, but it’s hard. Any advice you have would help. Thank you!”

I appreciate Rachael’s honesty, and I appreciate her self-recrimination at the temptation to feel resentment that her lifelong faithfulness to Christ feels unacknowledged and less valued than recent converts from lives of flagrant sin. And one of the reasons that I appreciate this is that it shows me that Rachael is not in the category of the Pharisee in Luke 18:9–14:

Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.” But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other.

Now, Rachael is aware of that danger, and she’s not proud when that temptation rises. That’s a good sign.

Sons and Slaves

She mentions the older brother in the parable of the prodigal son. Now that is a dangerous comparison because she doesn’t want to be in the category of the older brother. The older brother was very angry that the father was so lavish in his celebration of the return of the younger son who had wasted the father’s inheritance.

But the problem with the older brother, more deeply, was that he related to his father like a slave instead of a son. He reminded his father “how hard I’ve served you all these years.” You could just hear, “. . . like a slave,” but the father shook his head as if in bafflement and said, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (Luke 15:31).

“The problem with the older brother, more deeply, was that he related to his father like a slave instead of a son.”

In other words, the problem with the older brother is not merely that he doesn’t love his younger brother the way he should, but that he doesn’t see or feel the glory of what he has in his relationship to his father, and the inheritance from the father. So, Rachael does not want to be like this older brother.

Who Are the Ninety-Nine?

Now, let’s go one step further with this parable, because it gets insightful for her situation. The parable of the prodigal son is the third of three parables that illustrate joy when a lost sinner is rescued by Jesus for the kingdom of heaven. In the first parable, there’s the man who leaves ninety-nine sheep behind, and he goes out, and he finds one lost sheep. And it says, “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” (Luke 15:7).

And then there’s the woman in the next parable who has ten coins. She loses one, and she desperately sweeps all of her house, finds the coin, gathers her friends, and rejoices. And Jesus says, “Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Luke 15:10).

Now that might sound like the situation Rachael is frustrated about. The church throws a party for one amazing convert out of a life of flagrant sinning — why? Well, doesn’t Jesus say in Luke 15 that one sinner who repents is more to be celebrated than ninety-nine faithful Rachaels? No, that is not what it says. These three parables are not about a church with ninety-nine godly, faithful, lifelong Christians who know they need grace, and who live by the mercy of God. That’s not what these parables are about.

These parables are about a dinner party where Jesus is eating with tax collectors and sinners, surrounded by Pharisees who are ticked off that Jesus is offering his forgiving fellowship to sinners. The elder brother represents the Pharisees, not the faithful, humble, believing church member. And when Jesus refers to ninety-nine persons who need no repentance, he’s speaking ironically, because there is no such thing as a person who needs no repentance, especially the Pharisees.

Where We See Our Sin

But here’s what I would say, both to Rachael and to Rachael’s church leaders. It is a serious mistake to give the impression that Christians come to understand the depth of depravity from which we’ve been saved, and the glories of grace by which we’ve been saved, by focusing on the remembered experience of conversion and the sins that went before.

That’s a profound mistake to think that we can know the depth of our depravity by recalling our pre-conversion sins, or that we can know the glories of grace by recalling that night when we were set free from drug addiction and sexual bondage. That is utterly naive for pastors to think that way or people to think that way.

“Nobody can know the depths of their depravity and the glories of God’s grace by focusing on remembered experience.”

Nobody, nobody can know the depths of their depravity and the glories of God’s grace by focusing on remembered experience. I don’t care how horrible the lifestyle was or how dramatic the conversion was, all such estimations of depravity and grace will be superficial without the biblical revelation of what depravity really is in relation to God, and what grace really is in the heart of God. That reality can only be learned from what God has said in his word, not from any analysis of our sinful lives or our conversions. Listen to Paul:

You were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the [age] of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience — among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. (Ephesians 2:1–3)

They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to their hardness of heart. . . . But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved. (Ephesians 4:18; 2:4–5)

If we don’t penetrate into this kind of God-given description of our condition before and after grace, we will never know the depth of our depravity or the glory of God’s grace.

Glory of Grace

Which means for Rachael and her church, by all means, let there be celebrations of every conversion of every hardened sinner. Amen. And let there be celebrations of every 8-year-old child who genuinely repents and embraces Jesus as Savior and Lord and Treasure. And let every Christian marvel every day that he or she has peace with God, and that we swim in an ocean of grace, and that we owe nothing to ourselves and everything to God.

And let the elders teach the people, so that year by year the people tremble more and more at the horrors of what they were saved from at 8 or 18 or 58. And so, year by year, they leap with greater joy at the increasingly amazing grasp of grace by which they live.

Audio Transcript

Good Monday morning. Well, we’ve talked briefly about lament on the podcast, particularly about whether or not we can get angry with God. We addressed that back in APJ 931. Since that episode aired, an episode that compares godly lament with ungodly lament, several more questions have come in on this. Here’s one example, a most recent version, from a listener named Bryan. “Dear Pastor John, thank you for the podcast. I’m wondering if we can be honestly angry at God for things that happen to our lives? Or is such a response out of the question?” Pastor John, what would you say to Bryan?

Let me try to interpret Bryan’s question so that I can try to answer what I think he’s really asking. He says, “Can we be honestly angry at God?” I’m not sure what he means by honestly because I don’t know what a dishonest anger at God would be. I think he means by “honestly angry” really angry, truly angry. The other word that I wonder about is the word can. Can we be truly angry with God? I think he means, “Should we be?” — or, “Is it morally permissible or right to be?” And when he asks, “Is it out of the question?” I think he means, “Is it so wrong that we should avoid it at all costs?”

So the question I’ll try to answer is this: Is it ever virtuous, or righteous, or godly, or innocent, or even morally neutral to experience, to feel — I’m not talking about what you say, I’m talking about what you feel — heartfelt anger at God, whatever the reason? That’s my question.

Doubly Out of Place

The short answer is no, never. It is never right, never good, never virtuous, never merely neutral to feel anger at God — never. Now, Paul imagines a situation where a man sees God as something he doesn’t like. He doesn’t approve of the way God is acting, and this man expresses this in very forceful terms of resistance to God’s ways. It’s described in Romans 9:18–20 like this:

So then [God] has mercy on whomever he wills, and he hardens whomever he wills. You will say to me then, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?”

“It is never right, never good, never virtuous, never merely neutral to feel anger at God — never.”

So here’s a situation where a human being watches God’s action and does not like what he sees. And Paul doesn’t say it makes him angry. He says that it makes him question God: “Who can resist your will? Why do you still find fault? Why have you made me like this?” And Paul responds to this kind of questioning of God with, “Who do you think you are, O man, to get in God’s face about the way he acts?” That’s a pretty strong rebuke.

So if Paul says that the mere words of questioning God are so out of place, what would he say if those questioning words were enforced with strong emotion and anger? He would say, “They’re doubly out of place. It’s not right for a creature to call into question his Maker — and doubly wrong for a creature to back that up with the force of an emotional no to God.”

Now, don’t confuse this with humbly trying to understand the perplexing ways of the one you trust. Oh my goodness, that’s worth a lifetime, right? That’s all I do. At least, I try to be humble and say, “God, I want to understand. I want to understand as much as you reveal in your word. Grant me eyes to see.” It’s not wrong to ask God questions.

Like Mary, when the Lord said to her, “You’re going to have a baby, Mary, while you’re a virgin.” And Mary bows and said, “I’m your handmaid. But how can this be?” (see Luke 2:31, 34, 38). God did not get upset with that question. That was a good question, a how question. A humble longing to understand is not a bad thing. But it’s always wrong to question God as though he were in the wrong.

Responding to Objections

As I’ve thought now about why Christians who believe the Bible might think otherwise (and evidently they do), I’ve tried to get inside their heads and see some possible ways that they’re thinking. So, let me respond to a few of those.

Moral Weight of Emotions

First, maybe some people think that since anger is not a decision of the will, but rather an emotion that arises spontaneously out of the heart, maybe it doesn’t have the same rightness or wrongness that a decision of the will would have. But that’s not what the Bible teaches about emotions.

Emotions are not morally neutral. Many emotions are forbidden by God, and other emotions are commanded by God. We’re told not to fear (Matthew 10:28) and not to be anxious (Matthew 6:25). We’re told to put away bitterness (Ephesians 4:31). We’re told to abstain from desires of the flesh (1 Peter 2:11). We’re told to love God (Matthew 22:37), and delight in God (Psalm 37:4), and find pleasure in God’s presence (Psalm 100:1–2), and praise God (Psalm 67:3), and be thankful to God (Psalm 107:8), and rejoice in all his works (Psalm 92:4). So it’s simply not true that emotions are morally neutral. They’re not morally neutral. They are morally significant.

A good tree bears good fruit; a bad tree bears bad fruit. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, and out of the abundance of the heart the emotions flow (Luke 6:43–45). So, whether anger at God is right or wrong, it cannot be settled simply by saying it’s an emotion.

Avoiding Hypocrisy

Second, I wonder if people who think that anger with God is morally good or neutral are confusing the approval of anger with the approval of honesty and authenticity. In other words, I wonder if, in refusing to disapprove of anger at God, what they are really disapproving of is hypocrisy, of feeling anger and not expressing it. I wonder if they really do assume lots of people are angry at God, and people like Piper are cultivating class-A hypocrites by telling people it’s wrong to express it. So, maybe some of the people who say it’s okay to be angry at God are really on a crusade to help people who are angry at God be honest and say they are.

Now, my take on this is that if you are angry with God, there is absolutely no point in hiding it from him. You can’t. You may as well tell him that you’re angry. The telling is not the problem. I’m not on a crusade to shut people’s mouths; I’m on a crusade to change people’s hearts. The feeling of the anger is the problem, not the mouth. So don’t add sin to sin: don’t add the sin of hypocrisy to the sin of anger. The battle is not with your mouth; it’s with your heart.

Anger and Love

Third, I wonder, since it’s possible to be angry at someone that we love very much (a spouse, a child, God), it seems to some people that, therefore, we can be angry with God while still loving him, and it must not then be bad. But that doesn’t follow does it? It may still be a sin to be angry with God even though we love him. Because anger toward God is not what flows from loving God.

Caring for the Grieving

Fourth, I wonder if some pastorally sensitive people (I think this one probably is very prominent) are very reluctant to disapprove of anger at God because they know that if they do, they may be heaping guilt on people who are already experiencing the pain of a huge loss, which has made them angry at God in the first place.

“It is a pastoral failure of nerve or failure of wisdom if we think we have to condone sin in order to bring comfort.”

Now, in my experience of dealing with hundreds of people in times of great loss over the last fifty years, God in his wisdom has always provided a way to minister to people’s true need and true pain without compromising the truth. It is a pastoral failure of nerve or failure of wisdom if we think we have to condone sin in order to bring comfort. There’s always a better way.

Never Blameworthy

And finally, number five, I wonder if people who approve of anger at God have really thought through what anger at a person is. It is strong, emotionally laden disapproval. That’s what anger is: strong, emotional disapproval. God does something; we assess it; we disapprove of it; we oppose it emotionally; we resist. Anger is the counterpart in the heart to the indictment of God in the head. Our minds judge God to be in the wrong, and our emotions say this with anger.

And my response is that God always acts justly. He always acts wisely. He always acts with love toward his people. He never wrongs anyone. He is never blameworthy. He is always pure, and holy, and righteous, and good. He is infinitely worthy of our trust, and our love, and our admiration, and our delight. And when we don’t understand his ways, we put our hands on our mouths and kiss the rod and say with Paul, “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!” (Romans 11:33).

Audio Transcript

On Monday we looked at the topic of suffering — in particular, the divine design behind suffering. What is God doing inside of us when trials hit? That was APJ 1852. God is the great physician, and he knows how to use pain in our lives to kill inside of us the sin that robs us of the greatest pleasures — namely, enjoying Christ as our greatest treasure. That Monday episode was a deep exploration into why suffering is not paradoxical to the joy-aims of the Christian Hedonist.

As a complement to that episode, today I want to play for you a sermon clip that stands out to me. In this clip, Pastor John explains how to prepare for suffering. If we are going to suffer well, what groundwork must happen inside of us first? This is a critical point to be made, with principles drawn from Paul’s own testimony in Philippians 3:1–11. Here’s Pastor John to explain.

You know this list, don’t you? He’s listing off his characteristics that, as an unbeliever, he really enjoyed: “Circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews” (Philippians 3:5). This is a pedigree that, in the Jewish culture, was simply awesome.

“‘I’ve got a pedigree, and people know it.’ That’s the unbeliever’s satisfaction. That’s the old Paul.”

And when you have a good pedigree, you strut your pedigree. You get the praises, and you bask in the pleasures of the admiration of being a man with a pedigree. “This feels so good,” says the man. “This is satisfying. I’ve got a pedigree, and people know it.” That’s the unbeliever’s satisfaction. That’s the old Paul.

Blameless and Blind

And then he adds, at the end of Philippians 3:5, “I have three other things that make my life glorious. First, I am a Pharisee. There are no better law-knowers and law-keepers than Pharisees. And I’m outstanding.” Or as Paul says in Galatians 1:14, “I was advancing in Judaism beyond many of my own age among my people.” Oh, he had a lot going for him in his reputation.

Paul goes on to say in Philippians 3:6, “And zeal-wise — I took on the church, this renegade sect that’s undermining what I’ve lived for, calling this crucified criminal ‘the Messiah.’ What a blasphemy! And I’m taking it on from city to city and bringing it down. That’s who I am. That’s my identity. Has anybody got zeal? I’ve got zeal. The rest of you cowards are afraid to take on this sect. I’ll take it on.” Oh, how he had meaning, significance, purpose in his life.

And finally, he says, “As to righteousness under the law, blameless” (Philippians 3:6). This verse is why I think Paul was, by and large, free in his conscience. I know a lot of people try to say things like, “His conscience was killing him all the time because of this and that.” I’m not sure of that because Paul used to say, “I was blameless.” He was blind, but he was blameless in his eyes.

When Loss Becomes Gain

Now he meets Christ in Acts 9, on the Damascus road, and suddenly his world collapses. He was getting his meaning from a zeal for the law, an allegiance to the law, as he understood it. A passion for God, as he understood it. And at the core of it was the opposite: Jesus, crucified pretender, criminal, rightly executed — and people saying, “He’s the Messiah.”

And there he was before Paul, alive with a glory so bright, a greatness so great, that he blinded Paul. All Paul could do was listen as Jesus said, “Why are you persecuting me?” (Acts 9:4). And Paul’s life was over.

“This is how you prepare to suffer: you turn your value system upside down.”

How, at that juncture, did he prepare himself to suffer? Look at Philippians 3:7. He said, “But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ.” That’s what he did. He looked at his life and all that list — all that pedigree, all those achievements, all that reputation — and he said, “Now I will regard that as loss. I will regard that as loss.” In other words, “I have now consciously reversed, turned upside down, my value system.” This is how you prepare to suffer: you turn your value system upside down.

Before he was a Christian, he had a ledger. He had a loss column and a profit column, a gain column. Over here, in the column of profit or gain, was “Hebrew of Hebrews” (astonishing pedigree), “Pharisee,” “zeal,” “blameless” (Philippians 3:5–6). Off the charts — what a gain column he had. And over here, in the loss column, was this horrible opposition: Christ Jesus.

And the possibility that Christ Jesus might be the Messiah — well, that’s not going to happen, Paul thinks. But then he meets Jesus. And what does he do? He takes out a big red pencil, and on the gain column he writes, L-O-S-S — and above the Jesus column, G-A-I-N. And everything is reversed in his life.

Preparing to Suffer

Has that happened to you? That’s what it means to become a Christian, right? The shortest parable, Matthew 13:44, says it this way: “The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.” The man counts everything he has as loss, that he might have the treasure.

It was just a field before — just walking through a field on his way to his treasure. Then he stumbles over King Jesus in glory, and he realizes the field is full of diamonds. It’s full of gold and full of silver. God opened his eyes, and now everything else — it’s all loss.

Once your eyes are open, then your mind also makes that transition. Your mind considers everything in your life that way: “It’s all loss.” This is how you prepare to suffer. You get up in the morning, and you consider your life that way. That’s how Paul says it in Philippians 3:7: “I consider it, I regard it, I consciously, mentally am looking at all the goods in my life and regarding them, compared to Jesus, as loss. They’re in the loss column, and Jesus is in the gain column.”

And if you think, “Well, that was just Paul,” he says in Philippians 3:17, “Brothers, join in imitating me, and keep your eyes on those who walk according to the example you have in us.” This is normal Christianity. Jesus said, “Any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:33). Period.

Now, you’ve got clothes on. You probably have a car out in the snowy parking lot. You might have an apartment or a house and other possessions. You probably have an iPhone or computer. So, you own things. And this text says, “You can’t be a follower of Jesus if you don’t renounce those.” You can check out different translations on that word renounce in Luke 14:33. Wouldn’t that be the same as Paul saying to “count as loss” in Philippians 3:7?

So this coat that I am wearing — this is my coat. It is mine. It’s my preaching coat. And I should count this coat as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Jesus.