The wise see the hand of God in their best seasons; they also see their best seasons in the hand of God. “My times are in your hand,” the psalmist says (Psalm 31:15). And if our times are in God’s hand — his good, wise, kind hand — then we don’t need to try to keep them in ours.

“You are living the best days of your life.”
The comment caught my wife off guard. She was carting our two young boys toward the grocery-store checkout when an older woman ventured the prophecy. The woman spoke from experience, as a mother whose own cart had once held little ones. Perhaps she saw in my wife a past version of herself. Perhaps our boys brought back dear memories. Either way, she felt stirred to speak from hindsight: “You are living the best days of your life.”
My wife and I feel the truth of her words. Even amid the chaos of these little years, we often catch glimpses of what life will be like when our home no longer hears the patter of little feet or the laughter of little voices. We won’t be surprised if we look back on these years — these wild, exhausting, wonderful years — as the sweetest of our lives. We also won’t be surprised if they leave sooner than we’d like.
Moments like this one in the grocery store have left me wondering how to live through precious days you know will pass away. How, as Christians, should we watch children grow, tables empty, friendships fade, faces wrinkle?
Every Good Season Will End
In a world of change and decay, good gifts are fleeting by nature. Kids get big and hair turns gray. Honeymoons pass and anniversaries add up. Good ministries end and new beginnings quickly become old. These facts are so obvious, so unavoidable, that you’d think we’d be more ready for them.
But something in us — something in me — tries to deny the obvious and outrun the unavoidable. We, of course, have developed a dozen ways and more we try to dam the River Time. Some take pictures: many pictures, beautiful pictures, pictures to freeze and frame our happiness. Some try to choreograph moments meant to be enjoyed, not arranged. Some become relationally clingy. Some treat their children as if they were several years younger than they are. I sometimes find myself attempting to extend moments longer than they should go, like a man who keeps shouting “Encore!” after the band has gone home.
Such impulses often come from a kind of anticipated nostalgia, an awareness of present gifts we can’t bear to imagine as past, as gone. So we hold a net over our brightest days, trying to catch the butterfly of lasting joy in the fields of time. But the holes are always too big. No matter how much we try, we cannot seize good seasons from the vanity of our Ecclesiastes world, where “there is no enduring remembrance, seeing that in the days to come all will have been long forgotten” (Ecclesiastes 2:16).
No, we cannot stop the breezes that carry away our best moments. But we can learn to live more wisely in the wind.
The Hand That Holds Our Seasons
The brevity of beautiful seasons can seem like a kind of cruelty. And in some ways, of course, our losses do remind us of our fallen lot, that we dwell in a land where good things die. Our seasons, like our selves, go from dust to dust, the casualties of a sin-cursed world, subjected to futility (Romans 8:20). But for God’s people, Scripture would have us see our passing seasons differently. Ultimately, time does not take our best days from us; God does (Job 1:21). And therefore, wisdom comes from seeing the hand that holds our seasons.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven,” the Preacher tells us (Ecclesiastes 3:1). And God is the one who has made it so.
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In summary, the recent enthusiasm that many Protestants have shown for Thomas is a mistake. The church has not been well-served by its eminent men lavishing praise upon an idolater and commending him to her members. There are many among us, especially young men, who are zealous to learn all that they might about the things of God, but who are impressionable and have not the prudence to discern between good and bad in the study of God. To commend an idolater to them is at best irresponsible; and if any of them stumble into the vanity of scholasticism or the pitfalls of Romanism on account of it….

Aquinas taught the propriety of worshipping images of Christ (“the same reverence should be shown to Christ’s image as to Christ Himself”)[1] and the cross (“in each way it is worshiped with the same adoration as Christ, viz. the adoration of ‘latria.’ And for this reason also we speak to the cross and pray to it, as to the Crucified Himself”).[2] Scripture teaches that worshipping images is idolatry and wholly forbidden: “You shall not make idols for yourselves or erect an image or pillar, and you shall not set up a figured stone in your land to bow down to it, for I am the Lord your God” (Lev. 26:1; comp. 19:4; Ex. 20:4, 23; 34:17; Ps. 97:7; Isa. 42:17; 44:9-20; Jer. 10:1-16). It teaches further that even lawful things can be used for idolatry (2 Kgs. 18:4), and that no tolerance is to be given to those that propagate such practices but that they are to be summarily rejected as false teachers:
If your brother, the son of your mother, or your son or your daughter or the wife you embrace or your friend who is as your own soul entices you secretly, saying, ‘Let us go and serve other gods,’ which neither you nor your fathers have known, some of the gods of the peoples who are around you, whether near you or far off from you, from the one end of the earth to the other, you shall not yield to him or listen to him, nor shall your eye pity him, nor shall you spare him, nor shall you conceal him. But you shall kill him. Your hand shall be first against him to put him to death, and afterward the hand of all the people (Deut. 13:6-9).
That commandment was given to Israel as a civil law, but the principle contained in it – namely, that idolatry is so evil that it must be stamped out at its first appearance – applies to the church as well, though we are to apply it differently by rejecting idolaters and refusing their company rather than using physical force against them (2 Cor. 6:16-17). Elsewhere both Paul (“my beloved, flee from idolatry,” 1 Cor. 10:14) and John (“Little children, keep yourselves from idols,” 1 Jn. 5:21) teach believers to have nothing to do with idolatry and those that promote it in the church, and in the letters to the churches at Pergamum and Thyatira the ascended Lord rebukes them for tolerating idolaters in their midst and threatens divine judgment upon them for this failing (Rev. 2:14-16; 20-23).
Scripture therefore mandates we reject Aquinas entirely, not merely in part, for one should not attempt to learn the true knowledge of God from an idolater and false teacher. Why would we peruse such a person when God has raised up such an abundance of faithful lights? What is there in Aquinas that cannot be gotten elsewhere? Why pass over a purer theologian’s work for that of an idolater? And why not regard Scripture itself as sufficient? For in this matter there is an implicit denial of that precious doctrine even if it is explicitly professed by Aquinas’ admirers. If Scripture is truly sufficient for all that we need to know unto the salvation of our souls – and if our souls, guided by the Spirit, are competent to understand Scripture aright – then it is not apparent what benefit we might gain from Aquinas. No one who desires the waters of life should depart from their source in order to partake of them as diluted and poisoned by a secondary agent.
In summary, the recent enthusiasm that many Protestants have shown for Thomas is a mistake. The church has not been well-served by its eminent men lavishing praise upon an idolater and commending him to her members. There are many among us, especially young men, who are zealous to learn all that they might about the things of God, but who are impressionable and have not the prudence to discern between good and bad in the study of God. To commend an idolater to them is at best irresponsible; and if any of them stumble into the vanity of scholasticism or the pitfalls of Romanism on account of it, it may prove that it will be a source of woe unto those that have caused their novice brothers to stumble therein (Lk. 17:1-2). Nor is this possibility an idle speculation: it is common knowledge that reading Aquinas played a large part in Francis Beckwith, the president of the Evangelical Theological Society, converting to Rome in 2007. (And such is his fondness for Aquinas that he has continued to attempt to propagate his teachings among us, notably with his 2019 book Never Doubt Thomas).
Dear reader, do not allow yourself to be caught up in the madness of the Aquinas craze. Let the Spirit instruct you in his Word with all humility, prayerfulness, and trembling (Eph. 6:18; Phil. 2:12-13; Jude 20), and do not allow a discontent spirit to arise within your breast that will set your ears to itching (2 Tim. 4:3) and your mind to wandering after sophistry and vain speculation (2 Tim. 2:14-19; Tit. 3:9-11). If you wish to know God in truth (Jn. 17:3) you do not need this:
The Philosopher in the Book of Predicaments (Categor. vi) reckons disposition and habit as the first species of quality. Now Simplicius, in his Commentary on the Predicaments, explains the difference of these species as follows. He says “that some qualities are natural, and are in their subject in virtue of its nature, and are always there: but some are adventitious, being caused from without, and these can be lost. Now the latter,” i.e. those which are adventitious, “are habits and dispositions, differing in the point of being easily or difficultly lost. As to natural qualities, some regard a thing in the point of its being in a state of potentiality; and thus we have the second species of quality: while others regard a thing which is in act; and this either deeply rooted therein or only on its surface. If deeply rooted, we have the third species of quality: if on the surface, we have the fourth species of quality, as shape, and form which is the shape of an animated being.”[3]
In fact, such eye-splitting, mind-numbing prose may well prove a stumbling block even apart from its speculative content. Let it not be said of you that you are “always learning and never able to arrive at a knowledge of the truth” (2 Tim. 3:7) or that you have departed into vain speculation. Rather, “see to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ” (Col. 2:8) and that you “let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things [inc. idolatry, v.5] the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience” (Eph. 5:6). “Hold firm to the trustworthy word as taught” (Tit. 1:9), and “if anyone teaches a different doctrine and does not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching that accords with godliness” (1 Tim. 6:3) – that is, if (among other things) anyone is inclined to imagine that idolatry is anything other than a catastrophic sin with eternal consequences (1 Cor. 6:9; Rev. 22:15) – be sure to reject such a bad example (1 Tim. 6:4; comp. 2 Tim. 3:5) and to be content with the Scriptures which God has given us to know his will in all things. You will probably be reviled as an anti-intellectual, sectarian biblicist, but this is nothing (for reviling is a part of the Christian life, Matt. 5:11-12; comp. 2 Tim. 3:12), as it is better to keep from bad influences and please God than to have the good favor of society, the church, or the academy at the price of regarding favorably an idolater.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Simpsonville, S.C.
[1] Summa Theologica III, Q. 25, A.3
[2] Ibid., Q. 25, A.4
[3] Summa Theologica IaIIae, Q. 49, Art. 2. This is the beginning of Aquinas’s answer to the question “whether habit is a distinct species of quality?” and in the next sentence after this he contradicts what has been quoted here.

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The Proverbs speak often about honest work and the importance of guarding against laziness and sloth (Prov. 12:24, 27; 15:19; 18:9; 19:24, 21:25; 22:13, 24:30; 26:13–15, KJV). And this is the type of sloth that most people think of when they think of sloth. Where the theologically slothful are misapplying doctrine, the proverbially slothful are choosing sinful foolishness over God’s way of godly wisdom. A man who doesn’t even work to take care of his basic needs is foolish and slothful. 

When was the last time you used the term sloth? It doesn’t count if you talked to one of your children about a minor character in Ice Age or Zootopia. A quick Google Ngram search, which allows users to chart the frequency of words and phrases in literature, shows that the use of the word sloth peaked in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and nineteenth centuries. Now, let’s go one step further. When was the last time you repented of sloth as a sin? Maybe never. Should sloth even be a sin on your radar as something for which Jesus died, something for which we should repent?
What Is Sloth?
Sloth is one of the seven deadly sins in Dante’s famous work The Divine Comedy, and Dante considers sloth from the perspective of love. He puts three of the seven deadly sins under the theme of love distorted: pride, envy, and anger. He puts another three sins under the theme of love excessive: avarice, gluttony, and lust. In between the first three and the last three, Dante places a single sin, sloth, calling it “love defective.”1
With this theme of sloth as “love defective,” Dante comes close to a biblical definition of sloth. Sloth isn’t just laziness. There is a deeper inner motivation to sin that, at its core, is a defective love. Biblically speaking, sloth is laziness that comes from carelessness about the commands and priorities of God, a lack of love for God and His ways that undermines a biblical doctrine of vocation (Judg. 18:9; Eccl. 10:18; Matt. 25:26, KJV). For a working model of sloth, we can consider two different types of sloth—theological and proverbial.
Theological Sloth
The Christians at Thessalonica had what we might call an over-realized eschatology. It seems that someone had sent a Pauline forgery to the church at Thessalonica, teaching that the day of the Lord had already come (2 Thess. 2:2). And in the soil of false theology, sinful idleness had sprung up (2 Thess. 3:6).
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