Audio Transcript

Welcome back to the podcast on this Monday. Last time we were together, you said, Pastor John, that “God enlists us into his service, which means he calls us to have a part in accomplishing his purposes, not in meeting his needs.” Yes. That’s really key. He uses us — and in using us, we meet no need in God. And if that’s true, then comes this question: What do we do with all the texts that talk about what we give to God?

That’s the dilemma in the mind of a listener named Jeff, thinking about Sunday mornings. “Pastor John, thank you for this podcast. You have taught that we are to come to corporate worship gatherings hungry to receive, not to give to God, as if he needed anything. That’s Acts 17:25. Yet there are other passages related to corporate worship that clearly use the language of ‘giving.’ Like: ‘Let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that acknowledge his name’ (Hebrews 13:15). Or ‘bring an offering’ to him (Psalm 96:8). Or, ‘Give thanks to him; bless his name’ (Psalm 100:4). How do you harmonize these two seemingly opposite perspectives on our role in corporate worship? What do we give to God?”

It’s true that I have said very often that I think pastors make a mistake if they scold their people for coming to worship to get rather than to give. That’s a mistake. They shouldn’t do that. If I hear a pastor say, “If you people would just come to give to God rather than get from God, we would have meaningful worship services,” I think that’s a serious mistake. In fact, I don’t hear that so much anymore, which makes me happy.

Now, I do suspect that such a pastoral rebuke is really onto something true. People can come to worship to get the wrong thing. They can come to get seen for their new outfit — that used to happen on Easter at the church I grew up in. They can come to appear moral in the community as an upstanding churchgoer. They can come to merely see their friends. They can come to merely take their children to get some moral instruction. They can come in the hopes that their marriage will get better. And pastors sense this wrong coming to get, and they know it’s not healthy. “My people are coming to get all the wrong things.”

But when the pastor diagnoses this problem as a disease of wanting to receive instead of wanting to give, that’s the mistake.

Godward Longing

It’s not a disease to want to receive in worship. I have argued that the very essence of worship — and not just the outward acts of worship, but the inward essence of worship — is being satisfied in all that God is for us in Jesus.

Therefore, the way people should come to worship, if I’m right, is to come hungry to be satisfied in God, to see God more clearly, to taste God more sweetly, to be amazed at the way God is, to feel the admiration and the wonder of his greatness, and to feel hopefulness and thankfulness and confidence of heart welling up because of the bounty of his grace. All that is a way of getting, not giving. And the right posture of that kind of getting is a sense of hunger and neediness and desperation and longing and praying for more of God, more of Christ, more of grace, more power. That’s the kind of getting I’m talking about.

And my point is that when we assume that kind of needy, expectant, Godward posture, God gets glory, not us. And that’s the essence of worship. And worship services and preaching should aim to awaken and satisfy that kind of God-hunger, that kind of God-getting.

Giving in Worship

But Jeff is right to ask if I am contradicting the biblical language of giving to God in worship. Of course, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to contradict the Bible. I love the Bible. I believe the Bible. I’m getting all this from the Bible.

If we read our English Bibles, we will see texts like these:

“Give praise to [God]” (Joshua 7:19).
“We give thanks to you, O God” (Psalm 75:1).
“Bless the Lord” (Psalm 103:1).
“He gave glory to God” (Romans 4:20).
“[Give] power to God” (Psalm 68:34).
“Offer up a sacrifice of praise to God” (Hebrews 13:15).

“When we assume a needy, expectant, Godward posture, God gets glory, not us.”

I know these texts are in the Bible. I love them. I aim to obey them. And I don’t think they contradict what I just said about the essence of worship as being satisfied in all that God is for us, and coming to worship services hungry to get more of God.

So, here are five quick observations to support this claim that that’s not a contradiction.

1. ‘Giving’ to God rarely appears in Hebrew.

Now, this is just a pointer; it’s not a kind of absolute statement about the use of giving language in worship. If you look up all the uses of the word “give” (which I did to get ready for this) — the Hebrew word nathan, a super common word for “give” in a hundred contexts — there are nintey-five uses in the Psalms, and only three refer to giving to God. Two of those three deny that we should:

“No man can . . . give to God the price of his life” (Psalm 49:7).
“You will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it” (Psalm 51:16).

The single text says, “[Give] power to God, whose majesty is over Israel” (Psalm 68:34). Virtually all other places in the Psalms where we read in English that we should give to God praise or give to God thanks, the Hebrew has no word for give. It’s just the word praise and the word thank, and we use the word give and so create the problem for ourselves.

None of that says we should not use the language of giving to God; I don’t want to go that far at all. But it should be a caution that maybe the psalm writers were jealous not to put God in the position of being the main receiver in worship rather than the main giver in worship, since the giver gets the glory. That’s number one.

2. We ascribe rather than add to God.

That text in Psalm 68:34 that says, “[Give] power to God” is translated in the ESV, “Ascribe power to God.” And surely that is right. So, I think what we ought to mean when we speak of giving God glory — or giving honor or giving strength or giving wisdom or giving power — is that we are ascribing those things to God, not adding anything to God. We are, in essence, receiving those things as gifts for us to enjoy, and echoing back to God our admiration and enjoyment that we call, “give God glory.”

3. Our willingness to give is a gift.

The Bible teaches that all our gifts to God — whether ourselves or our resources or our praises or our thanks — are already God’s, and he himself is giving us the willingness and the ability to give him what is his. In 1 Chronicles 29:14, when the people of Israel gave generously, David says — I remember I used to use this over and over when I was a pastor to try to encourage the right kind of giving to the church — “But who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able thus to offer willingly?” In other words, the willingness was a gift. “For all things come from you, and of your own have we given you.” Now, that means that both the thing given and the act of giving are gifts to us.

4. We are always receivers.

Paul says in Romans 11:35, “Who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid?” Of course, the answer is nobody. And then he gives the reason: “For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever” (Romans 11:36). In other words, the Bible really wants to discourage us from thinking of ourselves as originating any gift to God. We are always receivers, even in our giving, and we should love to have it so.

5. Giving is really getting.

C.S. Lewis expresses why it is that our giving in worship is really a getting. Our giving praise to God is really getting joy in God. Here’s this famous quote that I’ve quoted so many times. I love it. “The Psalmists,” Lewis says,

in telling everyone to praise God are doing what all men do when they speak of what they care about. My whole, more general, difficulty about the praise of God depended on my absurdly denying to us, as regards to the supremely Valuable, what we delight to do, what indeed we can’t help doing, about everything else we value. I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment. (Reflections on the Psalms, 110–11)

That’s the key right there.

Okay, here’s Lewis again. Praise is the joy’s “appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed” (111).

So, I end where we started. Yes, we come to worship to give praise to God, but the essence of that praise is being satisfied in all that God is for us in worship, and the overflow in outward acts is the completion of the joy — joy in God — which is a gift from God to us.

Audio Transcript

Welcome back this Monday. Thank you for listening. Well, there are many factors that would disqualify a man from holding the office of elder, or pastor, in a local church. And that raises an important discussion about a man’s history. To what extent does a man’s sinful past come into play in his qualification (or lack of qualification) today, specifically when that sin is sexual sin? That’s the question we have from a young man.

“Dear Pastor John, hello! Ever since I was converted about four years ago, I’ve felt a strong desire to pursue full-time pastoring. My heart’s desire is to serve the Lord and the flock for the rest of my life. And that desire has only grown more intense as time goes on. Not only this, but, in this past year, the Lord has set before me everything needed to pursue this, like seminary training and support from my elders. There’s just one major question I must answer. Does my pre-conversion life of fornication disqualify me for pastoral ministry now? I have repented, but that life was filled to the brim with sin. According to 1 Corinthians 6:16, I became one flesh with the girl I committed this sin with. I’m unmarried now. But considering 1 Timothy 3:2, does my sinful past disqualify me from eldership today?”

No, I don’t think your past fornication disqualifies you for ministry, not in and of itself. And the reason I say it like that is because it would be part of what disqualifies you if it were part of an ongoing character flaw of bondage to sensuality, or pornography, or lack of self-control. Past fornication need not disqualify from ministry unless it’s part of an ongoing, sinful, unsanctified blemish in the present.

“Past fornication need not disqualify from ministry unless it’s part of a sinful, unsanctified blemish in the present.”

So let me step back then and give three (I think it’s just three) reasons from Scripture why I think that’s true — namely, why a man who is rebellious in a season of life, commits fornication, but has been free from that sin and repentant of its moral and spiritual Christ-dishonoring ugliness for long enough to prove his genuine newness, why it may be right to consider that man for Christian ministry in Christ’s church.

Paul, the Foremost of Sinners

So here’s the first argument. Paul’s example in his past life and present ministry with Christ’s blessing is really quite astonishing because of the actual use he himself makes of that example. Paul was complicit in Stephen’s murder in Acts 7 (see Acts 7:58; 8:1). Then as he became a ringleader in the efforts to stamp out Christianity with imprisonments and murders, it got even worse and more intentional. Acts 9:1–2: “Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to . . . Damascus.”

In short, Paul was a murderer, and “no murderer has eternal life abiding in him,” John said (1 John 3:15). Paul’s own assessment of his pre-Christian life was that he was the worst, the foremost of sinners. And that God saved him and used him anyway — precisely as an example to others who feel hopeless about their future possibilities of forgiveness and usefulness — is a precious reality in Scripture.

Here’s the way he says it in 1 Timothy 1:15–16: “The saying is trustworthy and deserving of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost. But I received mercy for this reason” — and this is why it’s so remarkable, because we don’t have to make this application; he’s making the application — “that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience as an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life.”

So Paul gives his own experience of mercy as an example that I think extends to a person who may not have murdered, but has, in fact, committed fornication. That’s my first argument.

Husband of One Woman

Second, it’s a little more complicated because the young fellow that we’re dealing with here is sharp. He has studied, and he’s thought through the possible blockages to his own eldership. He’s asking a more sophisticated question. He asks on the basis of 1 Corinthian 6:16 whether, in fact, fornication is a unique kind of sin that may exclude from ministry when, in fact, murder may not.

Now that’s a thoughtful question because of the way Paul argues against fornication in 1 Corinthians 6, and because of 1 Timothy 3:2, to which he refers. In that text, Paul says that a minister in the church must be “the husband of one wife,” which some translate as “a one-woman man.” That’s pretty common paraphrase, a “one-woman man.” In other words, our friend wonders if he can qualify as a one-woman man because he committed fornication. That’s the way he’s thinking, which is a good way to think — I mean, it’s a good question to ask. It means he’s not weaseling. He’s not trying to squeak out of the rigors of Scripture.

So let me try to clarify what I think Paul means by “husband of one woman” (that’s important in the way his argument against himself is working), and why “one-woman man” may be a misleading translation. I have a lot of friends that translate it that way, and I have misgivings about that translation. Suppose your pastor is single. (Now, I think that’s legitimate: Jesus is single; Paul is single. I think it’s legitimate to have a single man for a pastor.) Suppose your pastor is single, and he commits fornication regularly with only one woman. Would he qualify as being a one-woman man? Well, good grief. Technically, yes — and we all know that’s not what Paul meant.

So translating “a husband of one woman” as “one-woman man” can get us into difficulty if we’re not careful. Paul really is dealing with marriage, and whether a man is faithful to his wife or whether he commits adultery.

Is Fornication a Marriage?

Now, the question then becomes, what do we make of Paul’s argument against fornication in 1 Corinthians 6? Some might say, “Well, Paul really does argue that, in essence, a sexual relationship before marriage is a kind of marriage.” Then our young friend might draw the conclusion, “Well, so I was in a sense married, and I’m not faithful to that girl today by not being married to her officially — not to mention that I can’t even get married legitimately if I’m still married to her because of that old relationship.” Is that what Paul meant?

He says in 1 Corinthians 6:13–18, “The body is not meant for sexual immorality [that is, fornication], but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body. . . . Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ?” And here he’s getting very specific; he means our sexual organs. So our body parts are Christ’s body parts. “Shall I then take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute?” And he cries out, “Never!” And then here’s the tricky part. He argues like this: “Or do you not know that he who is joined to a prostitute becomes one body with her?” And he quotes Genesis 2:24, which is about marriage: “For, as it is written, ‘The two will become one flesh.’ But he who is joined to the Lord becomes one spirit with him. Flee from sexual immorality.” Now that’s the end of 1 Corinthians 6:13–18.

“What makes fornication so horrible is that it takes the one-flesh design of marriage and prostitutes it.”

So Paul portrays the horror of fornication for the Christian as taking the body parts of Christ, because ours are his, and making them body parts of a prostitute. That’s how intimate and profound sexual intercourse is in Paul’s apostolic, inspired mind: you become one body with her. What makes the text look ominous for our young friend is that Paul quotes Genesis 2:24, which is a text about marriage: “The two will become one flesh.” So does Paul mean that, in essence, then, the one who fornicates with a prostitute is married to her? That’s what he wonders. That would exclude him because of 1 Timothy 3:2.

Prostituting Sex

My answer is no, that’s not what Paul means. He could have said that. He doesn’t draw that inference, or that conclusion. That would have been powerful if he had said that, but he didn’t go there. So what’s he doing?

I think what he’s doing is this. He says, “What makes fornication so horrible is that it takes the one-flesh design of marriage and prostitutes it.” He prostitutes that part of marriage by stripping it out of the covenant relationship of marriage and treating it as though it were designed for a prostitute. It’s precisely that this is not a marriage that makes the prostitution of Christ’s body parts so horrible. The one-flesh union designed for marriage — which represents Christ and the church, which is why it’s not idolatry to have sex in marriage — to take it out of that sacred covenant with a wife and with Christ and to prostitute it in fornication is what makes this fornication so horrible.

So I conclude that Paul was not treating fornication as a kind of marriage. There is no covenant formed at all with this prostitute, and that is precisely what makes the sexual similarity to marriage so morally and spiritually ugly. Therefore, I don’t think Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians 6 means that our young repentant, transformed friend should use this text to argue that he’s excluded from eldership simply because of 1 Timothy 3:2, which says he must be “the husband of one [woman].”

Washed, Sanctified, Justified

One last observation, which is also precious. In this same chapter, Paul specifically refers to fornication as something in the church that has been cleansed and forgiven.

Do not be deceived: . . . the sexually immoral [and he’s referring to fornication there, because later he refers to adulterers] will [not] inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. (1 Corinthians 6:9–11)

To which I say, “Praise God that any of us can be saved from our sin.”

So my conclusion is that the elders of this young man’s church should (and if they’re listening to me, greetings in the name of Jesus) carefully and biblically assess his qualifications for ministry and not let that past sin of fornication be decisive in excluding him.

My desire to pray when I’m suffering can swing wildly in a single day — and sometimes within the hour. Through the severe trials in my life — losing a child, having a debilitating disease, losing my marriage — prayer has been both arduous and exhilarating. Exhausting work and energizing delight.

In relentless suffering, I can struggle with prayer. More accurately, I don’t want to pray. When I haven’t seen any change, it can feel pointless to pray. So, I avoid it. Or I pray mindlessly. As my motivation fades, my heart slowly drifts from God. When that happens, I first need to recognize the battle raging inside me. Only then can I admit my wandering heart and cry out, “Help me to want to pray!” After that, I follow the Puritan admonition: “Pray until you pray.” I pray until I’m truly talking to God again.

Other times, I want to pray, but I just can’t do it. Praying feels impossible when I’m overwhelmed by pain. I’m either too exhausted, too numb, or too desperate to focus, and I can only manage to plead, “Help me.” I don’t know what I need, or even how to articulate what I’m feeling. In those moments, I can rely on the Spirit with his groans too deep for words. God knows what I need, and the Spirit will intercede for me (Romans 8:26–27).

“Life with God, even when everything is falling apart, can be a place of joy and abundance.”

Still other times, my prayer life blossoms in suffering. I see God provide for all my needs. I sense his presence and pour out my heart to him throughout the day. I find that life with God, even when everything is falling apart, can be a place of joy and abundance. Such connection with God in the storm has led to exquisite intimacy, a mystical communion I will never forget, not because my circumstances were good, or even changing for the better, but because God felt near.

At a Loss for Words

There are also times when I want to pray, but words escape me. When I don’t know what to ask or say, I borrow the wisdom of others. Many mornings, my prayer time has begun with quotes I’ve pinned to my bulletin board to realign my heart. For example:

Lord, do thou turn me all into love, all my love into obedience, and let my obedience be without interruption. (Jeremy Taylor)

Lord, please lighten my load or strengthen my back. (Puritan prayer)

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. (The Serenity Prayer)

Everything is needful that he sends; nothing can be needful that he withholds. (John Newton)

“God’s provision doesn’t always mirror my requests, yet his grace unfailingly meets me.”

These words have helped me focus as I add to them my own petitions. I might ask for rescue from my trials, wisdom for my decisions, strength for the day ahead. God’s provision doesn’t always mirror my requests, yet his grace unfailingly meets me. When I ask for a changed situation, I often receive a changed heart. When I ask for wisdom, I often have to proceed without clarity. When I ask for strength, I often still feel weak and uncertain. I have had to move forward in faith, trusting that God will provide what I need. Yet it is trusting God with the unknown, not leaning on my own understanding or even knowing where I am going, that has anchored my faith in him.

T.R.U.S.T.

Besides our pressing needs, what else might we pray for in suffering? The acronym T.R.U.S.T. encapsulates what I need in suffering — what we all need — but often neglect to ask for:

Turn me from temptation.
Revive me through your word.
Use this pain for good.
Show me your glory.
Teach me your ways.

Turn me from temptation (Luke 22:40; Luke 11:4).

Jesus encouraged his disciples to pray that they wouldn’t give in to temptation. Heeding his words means praying before we are tempted, which requires that we know what might derail us so we can be on the lookout for it. While each person’s struggle is unique, in suffering I’ve been tempted to

stop talking to God and subtly move away from him,
want certainty more than I want Jesus,
harbor bitterness toward those around me, even God, and
run from pain rather than staying dependent on God in it.

Revive me through your word (Psalm 119:25).

God has restored me countless times through Scripture. I’ve come to the Bible feeling hopeless and weary, unsure of how I can even make it through the day, and he has revived me through it. God has spoken directly to me through his word, giving me exactly what I’ve needed: reassurance when I’m doubting, comfort when I’m crying, peace when I’m panicking.

But first, I need to open the Bible, which in suffering can feel uniquely challenging. I often resist it at first, as I imagine it will taste like cardboard. So I pray for motivation to read, and then I specifically ask God to give me spiritual eyes to see his truth in it (Psalm 119:18). And then, miraculously, the words become sweet (Psalm 19:10).

Use this pain for good (Genesis 50:20; Romans 8:28).

Knowing that my pain has a purpose makes it easier to endure. Even when I can’t understand how God could use it for good, I can be confident that he will. I know that God will never allow me to suffer needlessly, and that he has precisely measured out my trials so that not a single drop of my suffering will be wasted. While these truths are unchanging, my prayer is to glimpse what God is doing through my suffering. I’ve seen God use my pain to draw me closer to him, to comfort others with the comfort I’ve received, to increase my endurance and faith, and more.

Show me your glory (Exodus 33:18–19; 34:6).

Seeing God’s glory means seeing, with the eyes of faith, his indescribable beauty and his invisible attributes. His love and faithfulness. His goodness and compassion. His mercy and grace.

When I ask God to show me his glory, part of that request is to see and experience his love. I don’t want to know just intellectually that he loves me; I want to experience and sense his love in my daily life. God demonstrates his love in myriad ways — this prayer is asking him for spiritual sight to see them.

Finally, when we see God’s glory, we know that he is with us. His presence is unmistakable. And that awareness is our greatest need in suffering.

Teach me your ways (Exodus 33:13; Psalm 25:4–5).

We don’t know the ways of God. His thoughts are so much higher than ours, and nothing can compare to his wisdom. Our perspective is partial and imperfect, while God’s view is unlimited and eternal. So when we ask God to teach us his ways, we’re acknowledging that we don’t know what’s best for us and are relying on the one who does. He alone can prepare us for what lies ahead. We need wisdom for our decisions and direction. Do we act now, or should we wait? Do we need courage or patient acceptance? Do we need lighter loads or stronger backs?

The work of prayer aligns our hearts with God and teaches us to trust him for all our needs. In prayer, we ask God to open our eyes to the realities before us — his presence in our lives, his provision for all our needs, and his purposes in our pain. Our deepest need is to find our rest and fulfillment in God alone, and suffering offers a unique opportunity to do that. And when we do, we learn that God really is enough, and that a life of dependence is a life of unending grace.