As we look back on the race we ran, we will see that the God who planned our days, the God whose providence knew the end from the beginning, laid out his provision for us at exactly the points we most needed it, the points we would otherwise have been most likely to be disqualified.

I recently read an account of one of the world’s most dangerous and demanding races. Over the course of a week, participants must run nearly 300 kilometers over scorching desert terrain. Once they set out, they are expected to remain mostly independent and to follow a track that has been staked across flatlands and dunes, dry river beds and infrequent oases. To ensure participants have the provisions they need, the race organizers leave stores of food, water, and medical supplies at a number of locations. The racers set out smartly with great pomp and vigor, then stagger and stumble bedraggledly across the finish line 6, 7, or even 8 days later.
These being modern times, each of the racers carries a GPS tracker with him so he can later trace his route and analyze his progress. Each of the racers sets out with his mind fixed firmly on the finish line, and each would insist that he has spent a week exerting superhuman effort in running straight toward it. Yet the GPS would show that while his route has led from beginning to end, it actually led through each one of those supply stations. And, in fact, both are true. His single-minded devotion to the race led him to each of the locations where he could be resupplied.
The Bible often compares this life to a race—a race in which we are to be every bit as focused, every bit as single-minded, every bit as driven to reach the finish line. “One thing I do,” says the Apostle Paul. “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” “Let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,” says the author of Hebrews. The Christian life is a long and grueling race through a wearying desert world.
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Puritans viewed habits in developing spiritual maturity was through aligning a believer’s will to that of God’s. Through habits, or frequent practice, the Puritans would say that a believer begins to now want what God wants by being regularly conditioned spiritually in frequent obedience to Him. God works through the repetitive obedience of believers to conform their desires to His.[18]

The Puritans spoke, wrote, and preached about the importance of frequent, regular, godly actions, which they termed habits, holy works, labors, duties, heavenly services, or holy efforts. They believed that habits were critical for spiritual maturity. But what did they consider “spiritual maturity,” and how do habits help to that end?
In speaking of “spiritual maturity,” the Puritans always emphasized that this could only be a discussion for those who were in the Spirit.[1] To use the example of Watson, the smoking flax must be blown up by the believer’s efforts—but notably there is a smoking flax with which to begin.[2] This spiritual maturity looks like three primary evidences in the believer’s life, according to the Puritans: (1) greater capacity for future obedience, (2) a believer’s will is conformed to God’s will, and (3) greater Christlikeness.[3] The first two will be covered here, saving the third for another post.
Greater Capacity for Future Obedience
Many of the Puritans believed that habits gave a person the capacity for greater obedience in the future. “In keeping the commandment there is this reward,” said Oliver Heywood, “that every act of obedience doth increase the ability to obey. Every step reneweth strength. Saints go from strength to strength, for the way of the Lord is strength to the upright.”[4]Heywood was stating something very striking: the frequent practice of obedience enables a believer to obey more. Thomas Cole similarly wrote,
“As all graces grow up together in the heart, in an apt disposition to actual exercise, when occasion is given to draw them forth; and as no grace in the heart grows up alone; so no duty thrives in the life alone. One duty borrows strength from another, is bounded within another. As stones in a wall do bear up one another; so a Christian is built up of many living stones, many graces, many duties.”[5]
Duties borrow strength from another. There is a compounding of sorts, according to Cole. The more one does something, the more strength and capacity it gives them to do it again. He later said, “present obedience gives understanding for the future.”[6]
David Clarkson agreed, stating that “the act strengthens that good motion and disposition which leads to it [emphasis added].”[7] Therefore, Clarkson advised to quickly act upon an inclination to a good work, since good works enable for more consistent obedience.[8] In other words, when believers act on a godly inclination, their actions strengthen the desire to do it again.
Thomas Watson also expressed a similar idea:
“There are two things that provoke appetite. Exercise: a man by walking and stirring gets a stomach to his meat. So by the exercise of holy duties the spiritual appetite is increased. ‘Exercise thyself unto Godliness’ … [emphasis added].”[9]
Watson was citing Matthew 5:6, while stating that the exercise of holy duties enables and promotes one to hunger and thirst for righteousness. And through that exercise of duty does the spiritual appetite increase.
Thomas Woodcock’s thoughts on the matter mirrored what Watson, Burroughs, and Clarkson said; he wrote, “Every step a man takes he goeth into a new horizon, and gets a further prospect into truth. Motion is promoted by motion, actions breed habits, habits fortify the powers, the new life grows stronger and fuller of spirit. The yoke of Christ is easier, smoother, and lighter, by often wearing it.”[10] Regular practice or habits, “fortify the powers.” Woodcock was saying what the other Puritans did, that habits promote the ability of greater obedience (a more consistent, godly habitual lifestyle).
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If a pastor abdicates rightful authority, that absence of guidance still exerts massive influence. A gaping hole is left in the church, and the congregation is likely to be swayed by various factions grappling for power.

A podcast as popular as The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill—a journalistic-style narrative chronicling the demise of an influential pastor and megachurch—is going to have cultural ramifications. No way around it. The cautionary tale of Mark Driscoll and the lessons from Mars Hill Church will affect the thousands of pastors and church leaders listening each week.
Some of the influence will be good. I hope future pastors develop a strong distaste for “the pastoral strut,” that air of a leader who sees himself as a big deal. Maybe The Rise and Fall will inoculate the next generation from some of the excesses of evangelicalism’s celebrity culture.
Other good results?

The podcast provides an opportunity for people who have been bruised and burned in toxic environments to speak out, to join with others, to find healing and regain their love for the church.
Driscoll’s downfall sounds the warning to pastors who, for the sake of the “movement,” might abuse their authority and bully the sheep they’re called to serve.
The Rise and Fall could jumpstart important conversations about the misuse of authority, how an anti-establishment ethos can itself turn into a behemoth of oppressive power, and the ways that a reaction to feminist ideology can drift far afield of what the Bible teaches about the differences between men and women.

If The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill leads to internal examination among churches and leaders, and if that self-reflection results in an aversion to the kind of ruling and authority Jesus said was the way of the world, the next generation will be better off.
But some of the cultural influence from this podcast could be bad.
Pastoral Passivity
One area stands out. Younger pastors and church leaders listening to the podcast may be vulnerable to the lie that the exercise of pastoral authority itself is wrong and dangerous. Some may assume that any kind of church hierarchy is suspect, even if explicitly spelled out in Scripture, where the apostles urge Christians to “obey the elders” (Heb. 13:17). Reacting against the abusive overreach of authority in the case of Mars Hill, a future generation of pastors may drift into a pool of passivity.
It’s not hard to picture future church planters and pastors who, out of deference to every church member—constantly concerned about offending the flock or hurting the feelings of someone in the congregation—refrain from making tough calls for the good of the church. What if an unintended consequence of these recent leadership debacles is a pendulum swing, so that our rightful concern about the abuse of authority leads us to abandon authority?
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