This summer, I was blessed to attend the Refresh Europe Conference. Over the years, it’s changed, with more time given to friendships and teaching aimed at renewal. As a person in full-time ministry, I enjoy these times more and more, as well as the encouragement they give my family. They’re a reminder of rest and grace.

On one of the days, I was lazing through the library and found an older copy of a book that was such a game changer for me: Why Grace Changes Everything. Looking at it brought back many warm memories of a simpler time in my ministry and walk with the Lord. With chapters like “The Door is Never Closed,” “No Favorites in the Kingdom,” or “Won’t They Go Wild,” I realize how much I need to remember. With time, we know that though people and situations are complex, this can leave us worn and tired until we rest on an everlasting Gospel of Grace. I’d like to remember a few of the foundational tenets of the Gospel, inspired by Galatians 1:3-5.

There’s no better place to begin than Paul’s usual greeting, Grace and Peace — the heart of the Gospel. We know this is a standard greeting, and digging into the origin of the words in their historical context brings out a rich study, but I don’t want to take it too far. This is also the heart of everything we hope to see happen in our lives. We want to know God’s unlimited and unmerited favor in every aspect of our lives. I want to experience more of that holistic life-encompassing peace meant by the Hebrew word Shalom. The Galatians had forgotten that grace is not something to be earned. Even though expectations flow from grace as understood in Romans 12:1, a reasonable worship of a life submitted to the Savior—there’s a fine line between thanking and earning. We can live in thankfulness as we seek to live in a way we know pleases God. For example, I can preach to my congregation with a heart of thankfulness as I show through a text how excellent Jesus is. Or, I can seek to earn or impress the people I preach to as if I were trying to earn their approval, as if they were my boss or some distant family member. This is the opposite of grace, leaving the pastor and congregation empty.

God’s grace isn’t like that; it’s more of a rich, eternal banquet of all that’s good. His heart was shown in the Father sending the Son, the only One who truly deserves His approval, and substituting Him for us in His sinless perfection. This brings us deep peace that doesn’t fear being found out for who we really are because we are now God’s son or daughter. All anyone could hope to have earned is already accomplished in Jesus. This requires resting, accepting, and trusting. Nor does this grace lend itself to criticism, thinking it’s all too good to be true. It’s like the cooling effects of a pool or lake on a scorching summer’s day that brings the body temperature down to more liveable levels. The body of water is greater than the person who needs cooling and welcomes all who will come. This is God’s heart toward us; Paul shares it with his readership, us, even 2000 years later. Grace and Peace to each one of you!

Next, we turn to our only hope — Redemption through Jesus. When I think about this summer living in Paris, we began with surprise parliamentary elections, something the government is still trying to recover from as I write these words. We’re still trying to navigate the special Olympic Inflation and the Open Paganism Controversy that the entire world was privileged to watch on TV. In all this uncertainty, people seem to be looking out for themselves. It’s a natural part of a society that often debates truth, knowledge, and justice. For example, every year in France, high school-aged students (Lycéens) take a nationwide Baccalaureate test to continue their university education. Part of it is a four-hour philosophy test. This year’s questions were: Can science satisfy our need for truth? Or Does the State owe (us) anything? Through these questions, we can read into what people are struggling with, and it seems there might not be a lot of hope.

The Galatians looked to the law to make them right in God’s sight because false teachers were seeking to use their adhesion to their teaching for their glory. I imagine it like head-counting, as if to say the guys with the most clout and prestige had the most followers or congregations. This goes back to trying to earn a special place of prominence, like Pastor Chuck’s chapter on being “God’s Favorite.” In Jesus, we have everything opposite. He gave Himself, the only innocent One, to buy back with what was precious (Himself), what was lost to the dishonor and shame of our sin. Martin Luther said, “The Gospel is a doctrine that condemns all sorts of human righteousness and preaches the sole righteousness of Christ. To those who accept this, it brings peace of conscience and all good things, yet the world hates and persecutes it bitterly.”^[1] If we step back, it seems almost too strange to be true. Why be hateful to the one who has made such a personal investment to save us? Jesus isn’t the distanced investor who analyzes and calmly decides where to act. He has already accomplished all that was ever necessary. Yes, this age we live in is still evil, but we have hope that it’s alive and can never be taken away from us; Jesus redeemed us, and He gave His life to secure it!

Lastly, at the risk of sounding too much like a line from Star Wars, I want to remember what brings perfect balance, unity, and renewal — giving glory to God. Here’s the danger of an “everyone looking out for themselves, fighting to prove their merit in the world” society: it makes people into their idols through covetousness. Dallas Willard puts it this way: “To allow lust (or strong desires) to govern our lives is to exalt our will over God’s. That is why Paul called covetousness “idolatry” (Ephesians 5:5; Colossians 3:5). We are the idols, in that case, prepared to sacrifice the well-being and possessions of others to ourselves.”^[2] When one person’s glory interferes with another, a struggle must ensue, or someone must back down. In this way, glory-seekers are, by nature, absolute monarchs, which is why glory-seeking allows only one winner. What happens when the only one who deserves to win isn’t present? What happens when an underserving, ambitious person succeeds? Our world is teeming with such tragic tales.

Here’s a better story that gives a weary soul life and proper rest. Jesus is worthy of glory, but He didn’t choose to seek it. He decided to pursue His Father’s glory and lose all. His glory was His cross. Therefore, His life brings glory to the Father, who in turn gives glory to the Son. He made His name so great that every knee would bow. One day we’ll see it. Then, when all glory goes to the right place, genuine balance returns because the struggle for glory is over. In as much as it’s possible today, giving glory to God opens the door to authentic renewal. It’s a celebration of grace and to borrow a favorite author’s title—that’s what changes everything.

References

^[1] Luther, Martin. Galatians. Crossway. Kindle Edition. p. 21.
^[2] Willard, Dallas. Renovation of the Heart: Putting on the Character of Christ – 20th Anniversary Edition. The Navigators. Kindle Edition. pp. 219-220.

There’s been much written and discussed in the past few months about antisemitism. On the day I sat down to write this, in the news, there was yet another horrific example played out in a criminal act against a young person in a local school in our area. When we consider how long this has been happening, we want to cry out with Psalm 69, “More in number than the hairs of my head are those who hate me without cause (4)…You who seek God, let your hearts revive. For the Lord hears the needy and does not despise his own people who are prisoners (32b-33).”

Much of what I’ve read in articles recently has been positive in bringing awareness to an age-old evil that still plagues our world. That said, I’ve noticed that lines can get blurred between the State of Israel and Jewish people in some of the more heated debates. I support the State of Israel, and I pray continuously for this current conflict to end and for all the hostages to be returned. Lately, I’ve seen much done or said to Jewish people that are in no way connected to the State. With that in mind, I’d like to talk about antisemitism and use a definition from the Jerusalem Declaration of Antisemitism, which denounces “discrimination, prejudice, hostility, or violence against Jews as Jews (or Jewish institutions as Jewish).”^[1] To illustrate, I’d like to share a story from January 5, 1895, when two Jewish men, whose lives changed history, crossed paths but didn’t meet.^[2]

Austrian journalist Theodor Herzl was a correspondent for Neue Freie Presse in Paris. On that January day, he covered a breaking story of a certain army captain, Alfred Dreyfus, who was convicted of espionage, selling his country’s secrets to France’s enemies. Although Dreyfus maintained his innocence, he was publicly disgraced, defrocked, and exiled. Later, another investigation proved his innocence, and he was brought into the public eye in 1898 by Emile Zola, who wrote an open letter to the government in the newspaper Aurore called “J’accuse” (I accuse).^[3] Eventually, Alfred Dreyfus was reinstated to his position, and all charges brought against him were dropped.

What troubled Theodor Herzl so profoundly wasn’t just the lack of solid proof or the hasty conclusions of the judicial system. It was the onlookers at Dreyfus’s defamation chanting “Death to Jews.” It became clear to him that this wasn’t really about national security. To understand how deeply this moved Herzl, we must remember that for Europeans then, France was the defender of the Rights of Man, guaranteeing freedom from such abuses. And yet, Herzl saw that, once again, the dark forces of antisemitism were pushing the Jewish people out. This event inspired him to begin his life’s work, earning him the name of the father of Zionism.^[4] As in the case of the Dreyfus affair, antisemitism was alive and well before there was a State of Israel. To quote the Jerusalem Declaration of Antisemitism and its 210 scholars, “Criticizing or opposing Zionism as a form of nationalism…Evidence-based criticism of Israel as a state”^[5] is not considered antisemitic. What drove Herzl to find a solution for Jewish people in the ancient land was.

Sadly, as early as Gregory 1st in 600AD,^[6] Christendom was responsible for the persecution of Jewish people. Crusades, forced conversions, inquisitions, pogroms, and ghettos…not to mention marginalization and stereotypes, have circulated throughout our history. Thankfully, there’s been repentance by the Christian community. Vatican II saw the evils of its past conduct and sought reform.^[7] Protestants, in many different ways, also sought to repair the damage done and build a new path forward. One of the ways has been the support for Israel. Still, I fear that there’s been a transference in the collective evangelical non-Jewish mind of the State of Israel and its legal right to existence to our Jewish next-door neighbor who has lived with Jewish jokes and stereotypes his whole life. To take it the next step, I wonder sometimes if our insistence to the right of Israel’s existence as an end times cure in the present for antisemitism, might not in some cases be an indirect or perceived pushing away of the suffering person next to us. What I mean is, if our message to a suffering person is to encourage them to move to a foreign country or to proclaim our support for that same foreign country, have we comforted them as individuals made in the image of God?

I’m reminded of a few critical conversations I’ve had with our friends at Jews for Jesus. The first one is Joshua Turnil, the director of the Paris branch, and the other is Jacques Guggenheim, a Jewish believer, pastor, writer, and artist who, as a child, escaped the Holocaust. Joshua has often said that withholding the gospel from a Jewish person is the worst form of antisemitism. It cuts them off from knowing Jesus. Over the years, I’ve seen his point lived out through well-meaning Christians encouraging Jewish people to make “Aliyah” (immigrate to Israel) and never get around to sharing Jesus. My second example is Jacques Guggenheim, who was taken as a child to Switzerland to live with a Christian family during the war. Although traumatized, what melted his heart was how that family shared their lives, meals, Bible reading, and prayers through their love for Jesus.

In the examples of Joshua^[8] and Jacques, I see a way forward anchored in the gospel. Rather than looking for a solution that includes sending people away, we might consider opening up and sharing our lives with them here and now. If the underlying problem is antisemitism, we, who the gospel has transformed, are well-positioned to show love. We remember how Jesus was discriminated against, shamed, and abused to take away our guilt. He, therefore, can enter into the lives of hurting people through the transformed lives of those of us who are so privileged to be His agents of comfort. If we live like this, we’ll have a place to share our hope. I wonder if this might not be a more powerful arm against antisemitism and other forms of racism. This is especially true in these last days, as we look forward to the day when we’ll all come to the New Jerusalem, where the Lamb is its Temple, and live in the harmony we know we were truly meant to experience.^[9]

Footnotes

^[1] https://jerusalemdeclaration.org/
^[2] https://www.crif.org/fr/actualites/crifalfred-dreyfus-lantisemitisme-de-laffaire-dreyfus-un-point-decisif-pour-le-projet-sioniste-de-theodor-herzl
^[3] https://www.retronews.fr/justice/echo-de-presse/2018/01/10/lisez-le-jaccuse-de-zola
^[4] https://www.cjh.org/lapidus/Herzl.html
^[5] https://jerusalemdeclaration.org/
^[6] https://www.ushmm.org/research/about-the-mandel-center/initiatives/ethics-religion-holocaust/articles-and-resources/christian-persecution-of-jews-over-the-centuries/christian-persecution-of-jews-over-the-centuries
^[7] http://www.christianunity.va/content/unitacristiani/en/commissione-per-i-rapporti-religiosi-con-l-ebraismo/commissione-per-i-rapporti-religiosi-con-l-ebraismo-crre/documenti-della-commissione/en.html
^[8] Joshua just shared an excellent article from Jews for Jesus if anyone is interested in reading more: https://www.jewsforjesus.org.au/articles/christians-your-jewish-friends-are-not-okay
^[9] Revelation 21-22

One of the joys of parenthood is taking your kids to the park. I’ve always enjoyed watching children interact with each other and those they don’t know. There’s so much of human nature that can be learned, not to mention cultural differences. Now that my kids are mostly grown, those park days seem a ways off in the rearview mirror, this is until recently: my wife and I were met by a young boy hearing us speak English, and he looked us straight in the eyes and mimicked English-speaking gibberish sounds. Then, he smiled and trotted off to play with his friends. I was impressed by his ability to imitate what he heard, but it also got me thinking about the difference between mimicking and imitating.

In 1 Corinthians 11:1, Paul wrote, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” He was speaking about his ethical life within the church, having liberty and restraining himself for the benefit of others. He also talked about his spiritual life, as he refused idols but fought the good fight to bring blessing and order to the church. Imitating Paul was not a call to mimic him, which is more of an unconscious act, but to imitate, meaning thoughtful observation put into action with intentionality.

The difference between mimicking and imitating can seem thin. Mimicking is often used negatively, like kids mimicking another’s annoying habits by grossly exaggerating them to get a laugh. Imitating, at least the way Paul uses it, can mean copying or emulating, but reflection and action are at the heart of these words.

When it comes to imitating, we must know what to emulate. Mimicking, however, is a little more natural. The Corinthians mimicked or reflected their culture by dividing into factions, eating meat sacrificed to idols, or allowing disorder in the worship service. Even if Paul needed to correct some in ministry leading the disorders, chances are it wasn’t premeditated. They probably never considered the problems in such depth before Paul wrote to them. This is the power of the Word of God; it can take us out of our culture to see our behavior from His perspective. This allows transformation if we couple this with belief put into action.

My apologetics professor introduced us to a Christian philosopher who speaks about what he called the “mimetic desire”: René Girard. Girard developed his ideas in the U.S. after leaving France in the late 1950s. He spoke of how people grow and learn from birth through imitating others. This is vital to the sociability of children, who grow up to be like their parents and those around them who influenced them. As adults, the desire to belong is to conform to a culture, movement, or family that moves along seamlessly. There’s then built within our hearts, a need to fit in. This is a way of describing the “mimetic desire,” but what seems so natural that it goes unnoticed also has some downsides, notably in crises.^[1]

Within the framework of fitting in, there inevitably comes a moment when natural flow doesn’t work. Soon, the crisis moment is amplified by conflict, and emotions intensify. That’s when, through the “mimetic desire,” we try to look for culprits or scapegoats. The one not following could be easily confused with the deeper problem. We find someone annoying enough, someone who blew it, or simply someone who is out of step with the rest … They become the focus of the problem, marginalized and eliminated. One of Girard’s examples is Marie Antoinette, a foreigner who was singled out to alleviate the malaise of the French Revolution. She wasn’t a criminal and wasn’t exceptionally evil or any more immoral than anyone else. Still, her foreign accent and Austrian royal customs came to embody all that was wrong with the nation in the eyes of the starving people.^[2]

This is the danger of the “mimetic desire.” We aren’t imitating but herding or being herded against people created in the image of God. Once we find the person, movement, or group that seems to be causing our problems, we can isolate them and make them pay for the whole. When it’s done, we can be lulled into breathing easily again because we believe we’ve purged the situation. But what if the person, in their diversity, was a gift to help us see outside our cultural bias?

Girard’s ideas aren’t to be confused with crime and punishment. As a Christian, he’d put that in an altogether different category. This concerns society and culture. If we don’t allow differing voices, we can create a monotone culture of people who look, think, act, and speak alike. This is mimetism, which can undermine the Spirit’s natural way of adding diversity to the Church.

Mimicking and scapegoating will never purge the problem, even if it may release tension in a crisis moment. The problem always comes back — maybe not in the same form. Perhaps a problem was solved, but lasting relief is not possible on this side of Heaven. The problem is still humanity — it is within us — we are sinners!

When we see this mimicking happening in a group, and especially one that’s morphing into a type of prejudice-fueled scapegoating, we should be aware. One of the first things that helps us see it in others is that we are deeply entrenched in our own group. It’s the Marie Antoinette reaction. This is the time to stop. If we operate only within the bounds of our said group, we will only reason within their sphere of logic. Then, we can only cry out the slogans of our tribe, which, though they make perfect sense to us, will only be met with the slogans from the opposing group. There is only one escape—the gospel. I’m challenged by Frank Thielman’s statement, “Our efforts to limit the outreach of the gospel and the fellowship of believers to people like us and people with whom we are comfortable may show we do not actually understand the gospel.”^[3] This is a terrible reality because it goes against our natural mimetic desire to want to fit in and be surrounded by familiar people.

This is where the beauty of the gospel can come to our rescue. We don’t need to look for a scapegoat; we have the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world^[4] to purge the source of crisis. Jesus became sin so that we become righteous for God.^[5] Thus, he is the victor because he defeated the problem. The gospel helps us overcome the difficulties of mimetic desire. Because Jesus was singled out as the outsider, though as Creator, He is the ultimate insider, He takes our scapegoating tendencies and transforms them through His being the sacrificial Lamb. No more scapegoats are needed because a Lamb paid the price! In this way, we can imitate Paul thoughtfully and actively, just as Paul imitated Christ, whose letters, through the power of God, still draw us out of our cultural bias to see the One who has made everything right.

Footnotes

^[1] Joe Carter wrote this helpful article in 2012, explaining the “mimetic desire” using Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” series: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/why-batman-doesnt-know-jesus/
^[2] René Girard, Le Bouc Émmissaire. Éditeur Bernard Grasset. Paris, 33-34.
^[3] Frank Thielman, Galatians. ESV Expository Commentary. (Wheaton, Illinois: Crossway, 2018), 597.
^[4] John 1:29
^[5] 2 Corinthians 5:21

Editor’s Note: This year, Pentecost falls on May 19th, which is seven weeks after Easter Sunday.

What does it mean to be Spirit-filled? There are so many variations and mental pictures in books or sermons that it needs to be clarified. I’ve known of the Jedi model, someone so in tuned with the Spirit that they float from place to place as the Spirit gives utterance, ready to cast down any spiritual attack with the lightsaber of prayer. Holding a job with this model or consistently leading a local church is hard. What about the holiness version? The Spirit-led believer who’s always angry at sin is wholly cut off from the world around them lest they find themselves contaminated or, worse yet, calling into question their faith because they saw a TikTok that provoked doubt. I don’t think an article on a blog will give the definitive answer, but I believe we have an example in a holiday coming up that may provide us with some fuel for thinking through the question. Let’s look at Pentecost.

Pentecost Celebrated

As we remember in Leviticus 23, Pentecost is one of the Feasts of the Lord; the Hebrew name “Shavuot” means weeks, for the weeks counted, or for the fifty days until the feast of Pentecost. In contemporary Judaism, it’s celebrated by commemorating the reception of the Law on Mount Sinai. In synagogues, they read the Ten Commandments. Some also read Ruth. It’s common for more traditional families to stay up the first night, read the Torah, and pray the Tsikor, the prayers of remembrance for the disappeared.

Pentecost Sunday is not widely celebrated in Calvary Chapels, though we remember it as the Church’s birth and the Kingdom’s growth on earth. It’s a day that means a great deal to us, and like most continuationists,^[1] we like to believe that we celebrate Pentecost every day, especially on Sundays or in afterglows. For those of us who give time to wait on the Lord to allow the gifts to be practiced biblically, that’s the way we like to celebrate Pentecost. How many of us have experienced prophetic prayer and received healing, vision, a word, or comfort as the believers gathered to wait on the Lord? It’s one of our distinctives as a Church movement that I enjoy most, and I find myself in deep need of this.

Peter Proclaims Jesus the Messiah in Jerusalem

I want to pull out another aspect of Pentecost because it’s also vitally important. When Peter spoke up and preached in Jerusalem in Acts 2, he proclaimed Jesus the Messiah, Jesus the Lord. The way he makes his point at the end of his proclamation shows that the signs they were exhibiting confirmed this point. I like the way Darrell Bock puts it:

“Peter’s point is not that Jesus will have this throne one day sometime far in the future. In other words, the point is not that Jesus is merely appointed for the Davidic role now and qualifies for it through his resurrection and then will exercise this authority in the future, in the same way the anointing of David long preceded his actual functioning as king. Rather, Peter’s point is that the exercise of messianic authority is on display now in the Spirit’s present distribution.”^[2]

The speaking in tongues, the Holy Spirit-inspired sermon shouted in Jerusalem’s streets, heralded the Good News’s announcement. Jesus is the Resurrected Lord (Acts 2:24), anointed King in the line of David, sitting at the righthand of the Father, pouring out the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:32-36), and beginning His reign through His people (Acts 2:38-39). It’s not just a future reign (Acts 1:8). It’s the Promise of the Father (Luke 24:44-48).

The link between the Kingdom language in Peter’s Gospel presentation and the Gifts of the Spirit on display is often overlooked. One or the other seems emphasized, even when a teacher goes verse by verse. This usually follows the application the pastor wishes to make. We can all agree that given the enormity of the passage and all it has said to the Church for the past 2000 years, it still speaks today, and I doubt we’ve mined every lesson possible out of the text. We may have to wait to hear it from Peter himself, but thankfully, the Holy Spirit speaks through biblical scholars, pastors, teachers, and Christians everywhere.

In verses 14-21, Peter explains the speaking in tongues by referencing the prophet Joel’s apocalyptic vision of the pouring out of the Holy Spirit on all people in the last times. Peter quotes the passage all the way up to, “And it shall be that everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved.” In writing Acts, Luke is quoting the Greek translation (LXX) to his Greek-speaking readership; if we take it back to the Hebrew text, which says pretty much the same thing, it should be noted that the term for Lord is YHWH. This becomes all the more powerful in verse 36 as Peter concludes God has made Jesus, Lord and Christ (Messiah). His whole message leads to this point.

Another fun fact in the story, going back to Joel and reading it forward into the text in Acts, is found by reviewing the part of the verse Peter didn’t quote: Joel 2:32b “For in Mount Zion and Jerusalem there shall be those who escape, as the LORD has said, and among the survivors shall be those whom the LORD calls.” The word for “survivors” in Hebrew (śᵉrı̂ḏim) was translated in the LXX into a different word—to evangelize (euaggelizomenoi). This is another example of how this passage is massively profound, needing careful exegesis and thoughtful commenting.

Following the Spirit, Obeying the King

What if we were to say that Pentecost isn’t just the day the Church explodes on the scene of history in flaming power and with signs from the Holy Spirit but that it’s also a clear proclamation of the Lordship and Messiahship of Jesus, which was confirmed by these signs? What does this mean for us continuationists? It means that following the Spirit is to live under the reign of the Lord. It doesn’t mean to follow some vague inclining in a person’s heart. It can’t mean to follow one’s desires. It means obedience to One King.

I believe this is especially important if we consider some of the things we’ve been told growing up, messages we’ve been given through movies, messages that go back to writers that philosophers inspired with radically different worldviews than our own. Messages like follow your heart, be authentic, and trust your instincts sound so close to what one might imagine as living a Spirit-filled existence that the lines of communication can become confused. This can lead to acts of obstination, quarreling for evangelism, and the types of disorders in life and the Church described in 1 Corinthians. The reality is if we are filled with a spirit that leads us into behavior that isn’t reflective of the Gospel, we aren’t fully obeying our King. Perhaps in part, but not in heart.

However, if we live under our King’s reign, we’ll allow His Spirit to lead us. This may not begin with the big questions of where to go or what to do before it redirects our worship like tongues of fire and sweet, profound times of prayer in His presence. It’ll most likely lead us to examine our motivations and hopefully reveal points in our lives where we’ve been led more by unbelief than vibrant trust. It’s a wild ride, to say the least! But I wonder how it would affect our witness in this world if, having begun in the Spirit, we continue and advance in Him as He gives us strength.

Footnotes

^[1] The belief that the gifts of the Spirit are for today.
^[2] Darrell L. Bock, Acts (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament) (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing Group, 2007), Kindle Edition.

In the everyday moments of city life, I’ve noticed a growing tendency toward individualism and find myself reflecting on the role of Fellowship. Navigating our local church through the post-pandemic landscape, I’ve had conversations with friends worldwide about the place of communion and brotherly love. Beyond the shifts in societal dynamics, Fellowship remains an unwavering priority—proof of its eternal resonance. I realize it’s still on many of our pastoral radars.

How Fellowship Enriches Reality

I noticed this recently during two different events: a pastor’s conference and a seminary class. The subject matter of the two events couldn’t be more different. In one, we were meditating on the Letter to the Ephesians; in the other, the focus was adult learning theory. One was in person, and the other online. And yet something happened in both that ministered to my soul. There was a human connection, sharing, and transparency; there was communion. That moves us beyond pandemics, the business of life, and an ever-changing world, “the family fellowship in the church’s life.”^[1]

During these two events, I could share my heart and concerns with others, receive prayer, correction, and encouragement, and then reciprocally give them to others. For those in the ministry, we know how difficult this can be. The fear of being judged and the fierceness of our ambition can become a bulwark against such vulnerability. Yet, in a place of confidence, with mature friends seeking the Lord together, this relationship enriches our lives. This kind of spiritual family drew most of us into the church in our early days of belief. And yet, wasn’t this kind of fellowship supposed to be the norm?

The Reality of Fellowship

We can’t always be in conferences or experiencing exceptional times of fellowship with friends and colleagues. There’s a time for work, there’s a time for Sabbath, and there’s a time for confiding and encouraging. But fellowship is an outflow of the Holy Spirit’s ministry. We see this in a familiar passage to us Calvary-Chaplites, Acts 2:38-42.

As Peter finishes his historic sermon to Jerusalem on Pentecost, he calls his listeners to repentance, as the BDAG says, to feel remorse and be converted. He then urges them to be baptized in the name of Jesus and to receive the Holy Spirit. This (verse 39) was promised to them for as many as “the Lord our God” will call to Himself. That day, 3000 souls responded to the Trinitarian invitation and were brought into fellowship. Why is the Trinity important here? Because of the relationship. The Godhead who lives in perfect relationship, speaking and blessing in the Creation Story, said in Genesis 1:26 (ESV), “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” Us. Our image. Our likeness. We were created in the beginning in His image, and in this eloquent passage in Acts, we can observe the Trinity at work in our new birth.

What is the result? Acts 2:42 (Mounce NT), “And they were devoting themselves to the teaching of the apostles, to the fellowship, to the breaking of bread, and prayers.” What I love about this verse is the balance between spiritual and regular human activity. There’s teaching and prayer; there’s fellowship and eating. These activities can and often are included in conferences or church services, but they’re not limited to them. They spill out into the everyday world by the power of the Holy Spirit. In this way, I believe that fellowship should be the norm. Here’s an example by Enoch Wan.

Fellowship is Christian Reality

In much of his writing on Christian adult education theory, Dr. Enoch Wan developed a concept he calls “Relational interactionism.”^[2] I want to concentrate on a few of its applications for our purposes here because I believe it’ll help us. The first concerns reality: reality isn’t what our senses perceive; it’s not what society imposes on us, not wholly based on our history or what was done to us. The ultimate reality is God Himself. He’s the Creator of all, and our movement and being are all in Him. Everything moves from Him. That’s what Wan is getting at. If we empty all we know of the existence, there’d still be God because He’s the starting point. This means all we perceive, even through our senses, eyes, hands, noses, etc., is within a larger world created by God. This is important because of the implications. It’s like an escape game. If the players keep in mind this is just a game created for entertainment by someone they don’t know, they’ll have an exciting experience. If they mistake the game for an emergency crisis, they’ll never see the fun they intended to have, even if they solve the mystery. Knowing God is the foundation of our lives, leading us to understand Him as the ultimate reality.

The following application is about relationships. As we pointed out, God, in His tri-unity, was, is, and forever will be. The relationship begins with Him and then flows down to us. When we’re born again, we’re born of the Spirit, made alive in Christ, and adopted as a child of the Father. He’s our lifeline. But the relationship doesn’t stop there. It continues to flow as a river over and through all our relationships. As Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, we know and interact with each other through Christ; just as we can only know God through Christ, we can only know others through Him.^[3] Thus, we live, first of all, in a vertical relationship with God. He’s above all and lives in us; there’s this ebb and flow of prayer and communion with Him in our existence. Next, that same relationship doesn’t stay locked up in a never-ending flow between us and God. He’s put us in contact with other people. Our relationship with God flows down to empower our relationships with others in a horizontal movement. This means that reality is God; our reality, relationally speaking, is our relationship with Him and how we relate to others. Fellowship is a massive part of the Christian reality; we should be concerned as we fight to keep it.

I find this all the more persuasive as I think about the communal nature of Jesus’ crucifixion. Though horrifically degrading, dehumanizing, and demonic as a form of execution, it was chosen for the Savior by the Father for our redemption (Psalm 22, 1 John 2:1-2, Rev 13:8). And yet, the Chosen One, while hanging on the Cross, brought a man into salvation (Luke 23:39-43), cared for His mother (John 19:26-27) and openly prayed to the Father (Matt 27:46, Luke 23:34, 46). However, what inspires me is knowing that all those conversations on the cross have been brought to an even more excellent place in the light of the Resurrection. Jesus is our life; through His resurrection power, we can know true fellowship. In this way, we see Enoch Wan’s vertical and horizontal relationships and, more importantly, the reality of fellowship. This is how we were meant to live in fellowship, following Jesus.

References

^[1] Geoffrey W. Bromiley, ed. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (TDNT) “Little Kittel,” (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Erdmans Publishing, 1985), 450. Fellowship in Gal. 2:9 shaking hands expresses the full fellowship of a common faith in Christ. In Acts 2:42, koinōnía denotes not the Christian society nor its community of goods, but the family fellowship established and expressed in the church’s life.
^[2] Enoch Wan and Jon Raibley, Transformational Change in Christian Ministry, 2nd ed. (Stanford, CA: Western Academic Publishing, 2022), 19.
^[3] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: Paper One Reedition of the 1954 Classic (New York: Harper One, 2005),, 23-24.

As I’ve been teaching through Revelation this year at church, a thought has echoed in my heart: eternity is closer than we might think. By closer, I don’t mean sooner, as often we take it in our Calvary circles. I believe the Lord’s coming is imminent. I believe we need to live in expectancy, but that’s not the closeness I’ve been meditating on. I’ve been thinking more about nearness, less about time, and more about God’s presence. It’s similar to what Jesus said in Luke 17:20-21, “Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, he answered them, “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”

Eternity, or the heavenly realm, isn’t so far away in distance but is close. The Kingdom is in the midst of us. I see this in Revelation, but I also see it in how Abraham communicated with God. Let me explain.

To begin, in Revelation 1:10, John worships the Lord when Jesus speaks to him.

He didn’t have any distractions like we might today. He was banished, and there was little hope for meaningful human interaction. The vision he saw of Jesus is frightening, with the eyes of flaming fire and sword coming out of his mouth. It wasn’t quite the Jesus meek and mild we remember from the Gospels! But the words we have recorded lend more in the direction that when John heard the voice, he looked over his shoulder rather than up. Jesus was right there, and he didn’t even know it, at least not until he heard the voice. The revealed presence of the Lord gives us the sense that John was never alone in worship in the first place. It reminds me of those times in worship when we felt so close to Him, as if He were in the chair next to us.

N.T. Wright explains it like this: “‘Revelation’ – the idea, and this book – are based on the ancient Jewish belief that God’s sphere of being and operation (‘heaven’) and our sphere (‘earth’) are not after all separated by a great gulf. They meet and merge and meld into one another in all kinds of ways.”^[1] As John prayed, he experienced the unfolding of the earthly sphere into the heavenly one, showing us eternity is close. It reminds me of praying with our elders about something that troubled us. We received an answer that night in a phone call, where the caller, who wasn’t at the meeting, used almost the same words we used in our prayers. It was as if he overheard our prayers; more precisely, God was closer than we realized as we prayed.

Then there’s the story of Abraham, in Genesis 18, shielding himself from the heat of the day in his tent.

The narrative begins in a way that sounds as normal as life could be in that part of the world without air conditioning, all except the fact that the Lord appeared to him in verse 1. He looked up and saw three men standing before him. Where did they come from? The text tells us that the Lord appears, but moving into what Abraham saw, we realize he was merely in the presence of three men.^[2] It’s expected that three men walking in the day’s heat would catch anyone’s eye in those conditions. It’s dangerous. But Abraham doesn’t fear for their well-being; he bows down and says, “My Lord.”

He’s not shocked by the imprudence of foreigners but sees something else. It would appear he realizes that the heavenly sphere has just melded into the earthly one. As the chapter unfolds, his conversation with the Lord weaves in and out of the dialogue. Dallas Willard brings out the same idea: “The Old Testament experience of God is one of the direct presence of God’s person, knowledge and power to those who trust and serve him. Nothing — no human being or institution, no time, no space, no spiritual being, no event — stands between God and those that trust him.”^[3]

Even in everyday events, Abraham experienced a taste of eternity. He understood he wasn’t just helping a few guys walking in the sun. In the same way, I think about those moments when talking with someone I just met, when the conversation suddenly becomes eternally significant. It’s a moment shared with the Lord when I’ve felt His close presence.

How does this work itself out in our daily lives?

There was only one John to write Revelation and only one Abraham, too. I believe it’s possible to cultivate a sense of the closeness of eternity in our lives, and it comes from a passage I was given to meditate on for the monthly CGN prayer meeting with Pastor Wayne Taylor—John 15:7-8. These two verses are taken from the beautiful passage of our daily and constant demeure in Him, the True Vine. The promise is remarkable. “If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified in this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

The key is abiding in Him and, practically, letting his words have such a place that they take up residence, remodel our lives, and sign the property deed. It’s a way of living in that open door to eternity. Better yet, it’s the Kingdom taking its place among us.

Yet some things can abide in us to the detriment of our fellowship with God. I’m thinking about what can reside in our hearts more than the words of Jesus and even eclipse our sense of eternity in the present. One typical example in my life is my to-do list and worries. I’m goal-oriented and can become overly focused when concentrating on an objective. Then I think of the words of Jesus and how they bring the beauty of eternity back in. “Seek ye first the kingdom of God” in Matthew 6:33.

Another example? Simple frustration and anger can cloud my judgment, if not add negative judgment to an already sensitive situation. The Lord’s words bring me back as He told us to pray, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors” (Matthew 6:12). One last instance? Ambition. How easy it is to let pride and ambition take me out of the heavenly perspective and right into the area of this world. And yet Jesus said, “What does it serve a man to gain the world and to lose his soul?” (Mark 8:36).

Allowing the Lord’s words to bear fruit in our hearts is much better. It’s giving place to eternity in our lives that allows dialogue with our souls. The power of this type of prayer and meditation is truly transformative. If I forgive others and ask for the Spirit’s help, I seek to be a peacemaker. If I make my goal to care for my soul and help others to gain the riches of God, I know I’ll experience more of the infusion of the eternal into everyday existence.

The Father is glorified in this type of disciple, as Jesus said, because it displays the life of our Lord through the simplicity of prayer and living. Better yet, it’s living eternity in the present physical world. In that way, I believe eternity is closer than we might think.

Footnotes

^[1] N.T. Wright, Revelation for Everyone (Louisville: Presbyterian Publishing Corporation, 2011), Kindle Edition, 3.
^[2] There’s a lot to be said about these men. It’s interesting that Augustine entertained the idea that this is a possible example of the Trinity because the text flows from the Lord appearing into the physical presence of the three men.
Augustine of Hippo, On the Trinity: Book 2, Chapter 11 (Boston: Wyatt North Publishing, 2014), 35.
^[3] Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1998), 78.

The Nativity Is Not Naïveté

Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays. It’s more than the songs, the city lights, or the food. Even in my young adult life, when I was at odds with anything Christian, the Manger Story always drew me in. To my eyes, it looked so peaceful, hopeful, like home. It wasn’t until many years after coming to faith that I realized the warm feeling was my soul longing for Jesus.

As told in Matthew’s Gospel, the Christmas story is a salvation story. We’re narrated into the mind of a man trying to do the best he knows how to do. His betrothed is pregnant, and he’s not the father. This is enough to cause much anguish. To his credit, he doesn’t want to shame her, but the text doesn’t say that he bought into the pregnant by the Holy Spirit explanation when he first heard it either. It took an angel to stop him.

Thanks to the divine intervention, Joseph could hear things from another perspective. This perfectly timed conversation with the right person allowed him to. This wouldn’t be the great scandal that he feared, although obviously, people would talk. Mary was innocent. Her child was conceived of the Holy Spirit. It was true. All of this followed the plan in Isaiah 7:14. The Messiah was to be born, God would walk among His people, and Joseph was given a most privileged place in the salvation story.

The name of Jesus, given to Joseph when he was in doubt, is a name that’s so special to all who know Him. His name, if its meaning is understood, “YHWH is salvation,” is a statement that gives us strength. He is salvation; He will accomplish all He has promised. He will save us. He has saved us from our sin, our shame. Then, understanding what His name means can become a prayer. Lord save. It’s not some strange magic; there’s power in His name. Jesus is the Savior. Personally, as a rebellious twenty-something, I remember finding myself in a life-or-death situation, frightened to my core, beyond trembling. I had only one thought at that moment: the cry of my soul. Jesus, save me. And He did. It is powerful to call out to the Lord.

Decisions, Choices, and Actions

It touches my heart that Joseph received the Lord’s name at such a confusing moment. Life is often unknown, and decisions must be made. How often do the apparent choices we planned for take a sudden, unexpected turn that menace imminent disaster? The threat of public scorn paralyzes in any culture, but in a more shame-based one like first-century Galilee, this would be a terrible blow to the man and his family. The angel says beautifully, “Joseph, son of David, don’t be afraid to take Mary as your wife” (Matthew 1:20). Don’t be afraid, or as the TDNT says, the word translated fear is “ the primary verb phébomai, “to flee.”^[1] As emotion transforms into action, being startled and running away suggests “fear.”Joseph’s fears were real, and his proposed action of putting her away discreetly, though a noble, protective act in his time, was also an escape route.

The escape routes we take, while panicked or shamed, can lead us far from stability. At times, they make the most sense, but the long-term perspective reveals their folly. After all, who wants to bear the actual or imagined scorn we might face when our failings go public? The flight or fight instinct has served many during life-threatening danger. But what if the Lord steps into our story as He did for Joseph? What if He invites us to weather the storm because His plan, despite everything we know, will lead to His glory? This requires faith that cannot be blind; otherwise, it’s naïve at best or, at worst, presumption. Joseph was guilty of neither.

Joseph trusted the One who had been watching over his family for a thousand generations, the One who had promised a Savior. His name was to be called Jesus, “YHWH is salvation.” Sure, it was a common name, and sure, the child would blend in, but that was also the plan. Jesus was the name given, even graciously following the rabbinic tradition that the Messiah’s name would be known from all eternity.^[2] Joseph did as the angel said; he took Mary as his wife and named her firstborn Jesus.

The Name of Above Every Name

This name is the center of the salvation story. In Philippians 2:9, we read it’s the name above every name. And in Acts 4:12, it’s the name by which we must be saved. For us in the West, this Christmas season is quite uncertain; there seem to be more worries on a global scale than we knew even last year. Will we shrink back in fear of the unknown, seek an escape, or call on His name? Jesus remains the same.

Better than fleeing in times of trouble is being saved. Jesus truly saves. As Joseph resisted the temptation to put away his fiancée quietly, let’s not quietly put away our hope either. Jesus is the Savior, and we’ve yet to see how He will transform the bad into good this time. In the meantime, we have a statement and prayer every time we say His name. So come and let us adore Him.

References:

^[1] Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (TDNT), “Little Kittel” edited by Geoffrey W. Bromiley, Copyright © 1985 by William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company.
^[2] Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13, vol. 33A of Word Biblical Commentary. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2000, 19.

Book Reviews

Mike Dente

Hard is Only Half the Story: Real Adventures From My Journey Into the Unknown is a poetical book exploring cross-cultural ministry’s deeper side. Beginning with the opening poem and with each chapter, Wendy Zahorjanski unveils her spiritual, emotional, and psychological journey. Yet it’s not a Mémoire or a Confession. She uses both first and second-person voices to bring us along with her while adding a well-crafted summary that adds an aspect of encouraging and instructing.

Honestly, I think this book would’ve been helpful for me as I made my way through the wilds of missionary life. Her inviting style made me want to read with a cup of coffee. But the subject matter never let me get too comfortable; the lessons are subtle and profound amid prose that draws us in, like talking to a friend.

I enjoyed Wendy’s transparency. She lets us see the reality of her heart and the very human struggles of being a cross-cultural minister. She doesn’t allow us to get off the hook easily; she invites us to look into our hearts and see what lies in the dark corners. In this way, she paints an accurate picture of the most challenging yet rewarding parts of missionary life. Although she shows hope in Jesus, this book is not afraid to look into the darkness and doesn’t shy away from the real pain of ministry.

Elaine O’Connor

Editor’s Note: I also read Wendy’s latest book and can’t keep quiet about its potential to inspire and encourage solo readers and groups alike. Here goes. –Elaine O’Connor

As someone who wants to remember what I’ve read, to have it impact my life, I was thrilled to discover Wendy included a list of key takeaways at the end of each chapter—as well as Discussion Questions and a Verse for Meditation for each chapter (located at the end of the book). They serve as bookends of sorts, increasing the possibility that Wendy’s goal of “attempt[ing] to expand your perception of the unknown” is met.

I read this book three times and have been thinking about it quite a bit. As a result, the way I look at the unknown has morphed from one of fear to one of anticipation. I’m an extremely grateful reader.

To give you a sense of what I’ve been experiencing, here’s a peek at the “Things Worth Remembering” from chapter four:

• Strange people and strange places = spike in humility
• You will, at some point, be embarrassed
• Open yourself to the idea that it can be the source of growth
• Don’t run
• Allow yourself to be rebuilt

Suffice it to say this book has earned a spot on my books-I’ll-read-again-and-again bookshelf.

Of note, Wendy dedicated this book to her fellow cross-cultural workers. She wanted to encourage them to keep following and to keep looking … “no matter how dark the shadows grow.” Although not a cross-cultural worker myself (in the strictest sense of the term), I benefitted greatly—as have those I’ve engaged with. I sense the same will happen to anyone who contemplates the wisdom Wendy’s latest book has to offer.

I could go on, but I think I’ll let the book speak for itself.

From the back cover of Hard Is Only Half the Story: Real Adventures From My Journey Into the Unknown by Wendy Zahorjanski:

“Do you ever feel that if life was just a little bit easier, it would be a hundred times better?

In this faith-filled, open-hearted memoir, author Wendy Zahorjanski proves that the opposite is true. When we go through difficult times and trials in life, hard is only half the story. As Zahorjanski explores the journey into grief, doubt, and struggle, she admits that she was surprised to find joy, faith, and friendship on the other side.

In a culture that both intrigued and confronted all of her expectations, Zahorjanski was forced to embrace imperfection, look past seeming dichotomies, and be willing to let her well-laid plans for her life look as if they had turned to mush.

Take a walk into the woods with this raw, real account of one Christian missionary’s hike into the unknown where you’ll learn how to:

• Embrace vulnerability to find some of the most precious moments in life.
• Experience that even when things are far from perfect, God still is.
• Laugh at the failures and absurdities that happen with authentic joy.
• Honestly look at your past and present hours of grief and embrace the person they’ve helped you become.
• Take a look at who God is making you into, one persistent action at a time.

This book is an invitation to step beyond the veil of fear to enrich your existence with the rawness of life by looking to God: the bringer of life and healer of sorrows.

Are you ready to embrace the hard moments in your life so that you can finally see what the other half of hard can really bring? It’s time to lean into the transformation that awaits you. Grab your copy of Hard Is Only Half the Story: Real Adventures From My Journey Into the Unknown today.

Wendy Zahorjanski is a nonfiction writer whose life has been an incredible journey guided by faith. Her writing goal is to unveil the amazing moments of opportunity and spiritual growth concealed within seemingly unsurmountable moments.“

It was 1924 when the Summer Olympic Games were last held in Paris. The world had yet to feel the weight of the Great Depression or the specter of Nazism. These were also the first Olympic Games to be commented on via radio. Yet, more known in some Christian circles, they were ones that provide the setting for the movie Chariots of Fire to tell the story of Eric Liddell and his gold medal run.

In the movie, Eric famously said that he felt the favor of God when he ran. The scene opens in joy as he announces his acceptance as a missionary to China. He tells his sister, Jenny, then explains that he will defer his call to China until he finishes the Summer Olympics. Jenny doesn’t understand; he has to talk her into it. From a pastoral point of view, I wonder if my reaction wouldn’t have been like hers. It’s rather presumptuous of Liddell to say. There’s no Bible verse to back him up on this, just a feeling he has. How many of us would have counseled him to come back down and serve the Lord with the incredible gift he’d been given: an honored chance to serve the Lord in foreign missions?

But we know Eric was right. If you look closely at the actual pictures of his face as he was crossing the finish line, we can make out the face of someone in the ecstasy of total praise. It reminds me of the blessing taken from Numbers 6:24-26 that many pronounce on Sunday at the end of the service. A blessing was given to Aaron and his sons through which they were to bless Israel in the wilderness and throughout their history so Israel would bear God’s name to all the world. I want to look at this blessing in three parts, knowing that God’s face radiates love when He sees us in Christ.

May the LORD bless you and keep you.

To be blessed by the Lord is a happy state that envelops every part of our lives. Like Israel in the wilderness, one of the great reasons for this is because God is there. When Aaron blessed Israel, the Presence was visible: He gave manna, a physical blessing, to eat; water from a rock; and even quails when they complained …

Aaron would speak the blessing, but God was there and acting through the experience. As the Theological Lexicon of the Old Testament explains: “God’s activity can be actualized through human speech; it can be ignited by it.” It’s visible and palpable yet invisible and spiritual.

Another example comes from Deuteronomy, where Moses recounts: “ So He humbled you, allowed you to hunger, and fed you with manna which you did not know nor did your fathers know, that He might make you know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the LORD. Your garments did not wear out on you, nor did your foot swell these forty years” (Dt 8.3-4). This was His provision and instruction, the Lord’s blessing and name upon His people.

His blessing is to know his protection. If God keeps us, it’s having Him as a Shepherd who protects and directs. This reminds me of that scene where Balaam tried to curse Israel, but wound up blessing them every time he opened his mouth (Nu. 22-24). The Lord’s protection was upon them. The prophet was powerless. It also reminds me Jesus taught us to pray that God would not allow us to enter into temptation but to deliver us from evil. In this way, He keeps us. His protection is here with us as He is here, present, and watching over us.

May the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you.

This part of the blessing brings us close to what Eric Liddell expressed. He felt the Lord’s favor, His face like a benevolent light. This is interesting because John writes that God is light without shadow (1 Jn 1.5). He is, therefore, pure and life-giving. When God turns “His face,” His regard toward us “radiates.” What’s communicated responds to the fundamental need of humanity that begins at an early age. It’s the need to know we are seen. It’s the need for acceptance and love.

Babies manifest this need from the beginning. They seek the loving gaze of their parents. They need their full attention, more than mere eye contact. As they grow, children go on showing this through what they do. On the playing field, they watch the stands to see who’s watching. They run in the door from school with a picture in hand, their creation. They want one thing: to be seen.

This blessing responds to this need, like in the case of Eric Liddell, who knew God called him but felt God’s favor as he ran. The Lord’s face turns toward us, shining with His favor, His grace.

It’s often said that grace is the undeserved favor of God, and it’s even more! His grace is love that’s infused into the dynamics of everyday life. More than saving grace, it’s holistic, physical, and, why not, emotional. He wants to do good to us. Then, this grace is like the rays that emanate from His gaze. Why? Because He has adopted us, we are His children.

May the LORD turn His face to you and give you peace.

His gaze is favorable toward us. It’s important to let that sink in. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament puts it this way: “to raise the face, turn towards, lift the countenance, to encourage, take sides, show partiality toward the one He blesses.” This is how He sees us in Jesus. God sees us and smiles with affection. We do the same when looking at someone we love. His face radiates love. Knowing that God loves us this much strengthens us when times are difficult.

If that weren’t enough, He gives us His peace. It is one of the most precious aspects of this blessing: peace with God. Jesus became our peace because we were enemies with God. Let’s allow Scripture speak: Colossians 1:21-22 “And you, who once were alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked works, yet now He has reconciled in the body of His flesh through death, to present you holy, and blameless, and above reproach in His sight.” Jesus became our peace, between us and the Father.

Yet His peace goes beyond judicial righteousness. Jesus spoke of the peace He gives through the Holy Spirit. John 14.27: “Peace I leave with you, The peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

Then, we can even go further. His peace translates into a state that covers everything, just like it says in Isaiah 26.3-4: Y“ou will keep him in perfect peace, Whose mind is stayed on You Because he trusts in You. Trust in the LORD forever, For in YAH, the LORD, is everlasting strength.” Because He is there, we know that all will be well, and the storms that swarm around us will calm down with the power of His loving gaze into our lives.

In the end, Aaron would pronounce this blessing on Israel so that God’s name would be upon them. Knowing that we bear the name of Christ, His name is upon us, too. That is why we end our worship services with this blessing and can go into the world knowing of His favorable gaze towards us. He loves us. Maybe you are like Eric Liddell. You know God has something for you, but you are on another project today. I hope this article encourages you. What God has given you today, do it with all your heart and enjoy His favor. It’s He who takes care of His plans. It’s enough today for us to trust Him, receive His blessing, and live in His favor.

The first time I discovered Chuck Smith’s teaching, my wife and I were on our honeymoon. The pastor mentoring us as a couple invited us to a conference Chuck was to speak at. My first reaction was, “Thanks for the invite, but it’s our honeymoon.”

“I know,” he told me, “but it’s at Warm Beach Conference Center, which is already a fantastic place to be. Come on, you won’t regret it!”

He was right; this place was magic even for a couple of twenty-year-olds in love. It’s one of those places where Puget Sound folds into an estuary surrounded by endless evergreen forests and a farming community. And at the time, you could easily spot a bald eagle.

Chuck was already speaking by the time we got to the conference hall. Our friend saw us standing at the entrance. As we walked in, Chuck’s deep, rich voice and slow cadence instantly mesmerized us. He was speaking from Galatians 3, “Having begun in the Spirit…” a subject we’d hear more about as time went on. The message was enough to stop us in our tracks, and praise God, it spoke to us. But that day, we were still on our honeymoon and headed out as soon as he finished speaking.

Fast-forward a few years to the first time I truly listened to Chuck Smith; I was in a different place. We were in our first year on the mission field. We’d come to the stark realization that our high school French was sorely inadequate, but we were thankful for our friend who had tutored us before we left. This was before the World Wide Web changed our lives, back when we’d have to call our families in the US from a phone booth to avoid overspending on a long-distance call.

We lived in that isolated sound bubble where an entire culture and their dogs communicate in a language we couldn’t understand. During those days, the pastor who hosted us, seeing its profound spiritual effect on us, began feeding us cassette tapes from the 5000 series. “You’ve never listened to Chuck Smith before?” he asked.

“No, but we heard him at a conference at Warm Beach.”

“You should start with this.”

We took a few tapes home. Genesis 1. Nothing too fancy, a white tape with a blue label printed everything we needed to know. Pressing play in our little apartment, that warm, deep voice filled the room. There was a dynamic I hadn’t heard for some time. The Spirit moved in my heart as he taught the Word. Yet the message wasn’t simplistic. Sure, he was speaking from what I imagined was the 1970s, but there was something pertinent about it. If I didn’t keep President Carter or the Iran Hostage situation in mind, I could see the applications to the late nineties I was living in. I was hooked.

Tape after tape, we couldn’t stop. Little did I realize that my Biblical theology was developing. He covered every book of the Bible, chapter by chapter; it entered my ears, transformed my heart, and infused into my worldview.

Eventually, we did learn French, and one day, I became a church planter myself. I met Chuck Smith at my first Pastor’s Conference at the Murrieta Conference Center. We were back in the US to take care of some visa issues. A pastor friend from Southern California invited me to the Conference.

“You’ve never been to Murrieta,” he asked.

“No, I’m from Seattle.”

“You have to come. You will come and stay with me.”

So I did.

One day, we were walking through the grounds. I was enjoying the perfectly manicured environment, the warm California sun, and the palm tree shade when a white golf cart passed us. I instantly recognized Chuck in the driver’s seat. He greeted my friend, who introduced me.

“You’re Mike Dente from Paris.”

I couldn’t believe it. He knew who I was. Then he said, we were praying for you! I was done. I couldn’t think how he knew who I was, but he seemed genuinely happy to meet me. But I was meeting my hero, who knew my name. That’s the day he became my favorite. It was also the day I realized a personal side of him that can’t be caught on tape. He didn’t just teach; he taught people. It was a profound lesson.

That’s why I was so happy to participate in this Tribute in memory of his life and legacy. Even though I didn’t know him well, I’m deeply thankful for him. His ministry kept me at my post when we were in a very fragile place. His teaching inspired me to seek the Lord to see if pastoring was in his divine plan for my life. His example gave me rich insight into serving and loving God’s people.

Moses is such an incredible person to look at in the scriptures that though I lack commonality with him, I find myself drawn to his story. His narration brings you to the Red Sea parting, shepherding days, and how he handled leadership situations. Through all this, he drew near to the Lord and remained faithful to him, even after he knew that he would never see his greatest desire come to pass: Israel home and free in their land.

One aspect that recently caught my attention is how Moses worked with others. We don’t always think of him as a team player. For years, I thought of him as more of a visionary type who led from the top down, marching down the mountain with the two tablets in hand. Then there’s the story of him hiding his face behind a veil because of the glow or hiding in the mountainside, protected by the hand of God as the glory passed by. There’s also the first-person narrative of Deuteronomy, the one man retelling the story before the people of Israel who were to enter their inheritance as he was to pass into eternity. We think of the solitary man, but without closer reading, we might forget that there was a little more to it than that. Maybe Moses worked constantly and even well with other people.

The Surprising Ways Moses Valued Teamwork While Leading Israel

One of the first things that astounded me in this man’s life was how much he wanted to work with others. The first example is when he pleads with God not to send him before Pharaoh. Admittedly, this is not a decisive moment for him. Arguing with God is never a good idea. Despite this, it would seem that the Lord provided Aaron, who was already on his way over to meet Moses while the prophet was trying to get out of his responsibilities (Ex. 4). No matter how we interpret what happened, we realize Moses worked near a brother who was maybe a little too gifted at public speaking. It’s important to remember that he was in this situation because Moses insisted on it. At that moment, the roles were clearly defined in Exodus 4:30. Moses heard from the Lord and told it to Aaron. Aaron spoke to Pharaoh, and then Moses performed the signs. This is how ministry was done before the King of Egypt, but it was also a precursor to how Moses would lead the people of Israel.

Let’s take the example of Exodus 18. Moses receives his father-in-law, Jethro, and shows him all the beautiful things God is doing. Then, the next day, Jethro watches Moses in action. His father-in-law sees something that could potentially hurt Moses and the people. The man is doing too much. He was wearing himself out in matters he didn’t need to be involved in; today, we might call them warning signs of burnout or adrenal fatigue. From that day, the team grew into a cohesion of many people working together. It could be argued that this wasn’t Moses’ idea, which I would concede, but having been in a blinding tunnel of work that I couldn’t see out of, I also made many mistakes that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. Jethro’s advice was needed and implemented willingly by Moses.

It seems Moses took the lesson to heart in Numbers 11. When the people’s complaints weighed him down, he cried to the Lord to alleviate his burden. The Lord responds by instructing him to name 70 elders to help. Everything seems to go well as the Lord fills the men with His Spirit until Joshua sees two men prophesying who were not chosen… I find Moses’ response to Joshua’s jealousy extremely revealing: “Are you zealous for my sake? Oh, that all the Lord’s people were prophets and that the Lord would put His Spirit upon them” (Nu. 11:29). It appears to me that Moses dreamed of a more considerable cohesion of God’s children working together through the power of the Holy Spirit, much like what Paul would develop later in 1 Corinthians 12-14.

Teamwork: Everyone Had a Place

In the book of Leviticus, we see in God’s design for the Children of Israel that everyone had a place. It’s true that Moses spent time alone with God and spoke to Him as one spoke with his friend, but Moses also shared ministry with other people. He didn’t build the utensils, provide the materials, physically slaughter the animals, carry the tabernacle on his shoulders, pick up the sword, and fight the enemies. Instead, he appointed artists and specific people for each task so that it could continue without him. He chose twelve spies and seventy elders and sent the soldiers into battle under the head of another man, Joshua. In the end, I would argue that Moses’ teamwork was so interwoven in the fabric of his ministry that we don’t even see it. It’s much like a political candidate whose name is on the billboard but who is supported by a well-coordinated team, without which it would all be impossible.

Not everything Moses did as a team ended well. We could point to the 12 spies as a crisis moment that ended horribly. And yet, two men remained faithful to the Lord and entered the promised land, while the other ten did not. Another less-than-brilliant moment comes to mind in Numbers 20. It was the moment when Moses, in anger, struck the rock rather than speak to it and misrepresented God before the people. Was Moses alone in this moment? In verses six through ten, we realize Aaron was with him. The Lord’s rebuke in verse twelve was to both brothers. Though Moses and Aaron were both accountable to God, that didn’t stop him from committing one of his most regrettable errors. We can’t forget that another mistake at the beginning of his public life came when he alone murdered the Egyptian he caught abusing one of the enslaved Hebrew people…

Serving Together in a Way that Brought Glory to God

Was Moses a team player? Let’s be prudent in using today’s terminology ripe with modern nuances foreign to his worldview and the biblical text. Moses was, after all, just a man, though incredibly blessed. He braved situations we will never have to see because of his unique calling. He had times of recluse, times of social gathering, and times of prayerful solitude. One of the best parts of his story is that it stops us from making him two-dimensional, with a title that fits our day’s hermeneutic. We can say that he loved Israel and that his policies enabled many people to serve together in a way that brought glory to God.

And in the thick of it, I’m encouraged to see a man who gave away power to others and worked actively to a continuing legacy that would far outlive his long life on earth.

In closing, my favorite scene of Moses collaborating with others is in Exodus 17:12. “But Moses’ hands became heavy; so they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. And Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side, and the other on the other; his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.” As Joshua led the army into battle below, Moses watched and prayed. But he wasn’t alone. He had two men standing there with him, who at the right moment held up his hands, giving Moses and then Joshua the strength they needed spiritually. That is the sweet teamwork that inspires me most, one not too far from Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus when the Lord went to pray on the mountain with three of his disciples. It would appear from these passages that teamwork isn’t just for this world; maybe our collaboration here is just a preparation for something greater to come.

Have you ever had a conversation where you knew you were missing something? It could be a point of reference that everyone else knew, leaving you two steps behind. I’ve had many discussions I wished I’d been more prepared for. Often they became part of my life training where thanks to a name dropped here or there, I could go back and catch up. Otherwise, it’s like speaking a common language, but the meaning behind words and thoughts are worlds apart.

I’ve noticed this trend on some of my social media feeds: friends expressing sincere concern in a way they both feel is loving and biblical but communicate the opposite.

There’re many reasons for this. Sometimes it’s awkwardness, sometimes a lack of listening; sometimes, it’s a missing reference. It’s that last possibility that I’d like to address. I want to share some of those essential names. Though most are non-Christians, they’ve shaped our world, and their work has become a reference point.

In Christian ministry, we can learn from them, even if our worldview contradicts theirs. At the very least, knowing them can help us understand others. Paul did this by quoting a pagan while sharing the gospel in Athens. He didn’t adhere to everything the poet said but used truth in Acts 17.

With this in mind, I’d like to talk about Hannah Arendt (1906-1975), a Jewish thinker from Germany. Her works on philosophy and political theory are still incredibly influential today. She’s often quoted by thinkers and writers worldwide as her thoughts on the political realm, violence, power, totalitarianism, thought, pleasure, and the human condition remain at the forefront of current conversations. In the Christian world, one can find her quotes from podcasts like “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill” hosted by Mike Cosper to more academic works like The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self by Carl R. Trueman.

Her ideas have become such a part of our way of thinking that it’s possible today to adhere to them without knowing her name. She’s one of the rare thinkers influencing both the political right and the left while providing sharp questions that make both sides uncomfortable.

Although summarising her entire work would be difficult, I’d like to concentrate on only three books, The Origins of Totalitarianism, The Human Condition, and Eichmann in Jerusalem, to show what we can glean from them.

The Origins of Totalitarianism (1951)

This book gives me chills. It was like reading a non-fiction horror story. Arendt traces the lines of the rise of Totalitarian regimes beginning with antisemitism and racism; then, she moves to Hitler’s Nazi party and Stalin’s Soviet Union. She describes the strategies that became normalized through their application, which means people came to accept what these men were doing as expected.

She observes how the masses supported Hitler and Stalin, bringing them into power and applauding their initial policies. These masses, she explains, are isolated, independent thinkers disenchanted with the status quo of the political system, with a taste for the unveiling of secret intentions (complot theories) and the demasking of the elite’s hypocrisy. Sound familiar? Ultimately, she says they had less interest in science and reason than in happiness and pleasure …^[1]

What this book gives us today is a system of looking into power, politics, and society that transcends the traditional divide between conservatism and liberalism. She asks what is good and evil. These concepts are helpful to Christian workers today because the world has already been working with them and judging itself (and us) by them.

Honestly, differentiating between good and evil above politics has been the Christian perspective since the beginning.^[2]The Bible also warns us against following the crowd^[3] and tells us to speak the truth in love,^[4] not to show partiality,^[5]and to pray for those in power.^[6] Moreover, the Bible gives us a blueprint of how to live as individuals and the necessity to live harmoniously in a community.^[7]

The Human Condition (1958)

This chef-d’oeuvre was taken from a series of lectures at The University of Chicago and later developed at Princeton University. It’s a whirlwind, but stick with it: it’s a true treasure! The Human Condition traces humanity’s philosophical and political development from Antiquity to the mid-twentieth Century. Although there’d be too much to underline in this article, she does discuss the loss of faith and slip into a relativism that brings the West back to the Greek philosophers.

Though she doesn’t use these words, she describes a post-Christian era. She speaks about doubt and the esprit critique,which lead humanity to the point of finding meaning in themselves, their fulfillment, and their hedonistic pleasure.

In her final exhortation, she laments the difficulty of modernity to adequately process under pressure, “No other human capacity is so vulnerable, and it is in fact far easier to act under conditions of tyranny than it is to think.”^[8] This is where Christian leaders can gain from this book. We’ve been called to think about our lives in many Bible passages,^[9] especially in those calling God’s people to return to Him.

Another reference point for all those in ministry is understanding what she describes concerning humanity’s center of truth. She illustrates how Western society is no longer centered on a physical earth-bound reality but on a point somewhere in the heart of our desire. This brings us biblically back to the Book of Judges, where everyone does what’s right in their own eyes. We need to recognize that this worldview (contrary to our view) is not seen as a state of abandoning God, but as the world sees it, no longer needing Him and thus the best way to live. This is our chance to show His reality in our lives and have a patient conversation with them.^[10]

Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (1963)

This book is easier to read in some ways, but only if you have all the cultural references. It falls somewhere between journalism and philosophy. The story is that she went to Jerusalem for The New Yorker to cover the trial of Adolph Eichmann, a Nazi bureaucrat responsible for the deaths of many in the Holocaust. She chronicled and analyzed the trial from a different perspective than expected and received harsh criticism for her work. Arendt questions if Israel had the right to kidnap Eichmann in a foreign country and bring him to trial and if Jewish leaders had collaborated with the Nazis during the War.

But what she is most remembered for today is the idea of the banality of evil. She describes how unimpressive Eichmann was: middle-aged, balding, a dedicated worker who always followed the rules and took pride in being a good employee. In his own eyes, he wasn’t antisemitic; he did nothing more than obey his hierarchy. Ultimately, he committed horrendous crimes against humanity while sitting at a desk, following orders without thinking about the human cost. It was banality because it was so shockingly normal and yet tremendously evil.^[11]

Christian leaders should know this book because sometimes they work in abusive conditions, either in their day job or even in some ministry situations. Eichmann in Jerusalem provokes us to think about the price of silence,^[12] not in a spirit of constant denunciation but in a sober way. It would call us to seek help or advice and to consider the consequences. The Bible tells us not to accept everything we hear^[13] but also that facts are to be established through the word of two or three witnesses.^[14] This requires Christian leaders to be prayerfully aware and to keep hold of our consciousness.

Embracing Disagreement and Divine Dialogue

Hannah Arendt was a genuinely great writer of our time. We may not agree with everything she wrote, but some of her closest friends didn’t either. In that way, she’s an excellent example of debating, reasoning, and disagreeing while remaining friends.

This reminds me of how God calls His people into dialogue to win them back. Isaiah 1:18 says, ”Come now, and let us reason together,” says the LORD. The Lord invites those who disagree with Him to talk. But if we come to Him, He can show us where we are lacking and how much we need Him. Then we can know the promise: “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”

References

^[1] Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism, 2nd ed. (Meridian Books, 1951), 305-342.
^[2] 1Kings 3:9, John 7:24, Romans 12:2
^[3] Exodus 23:2
^[4] Ephesians 4:15
^[5] James 2:1-13
^[6] 1 Timothy 2:1-2
^[7] 1 Corinthians 12-14, Philippians 2:1-11
^[8] Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, 2nd ed. (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1998), Kindle 324.
^[9] 2 Chronicles 7:14, Haggai 1:7, Zechariah 1:3, Matthew 4:17
^[10] Matthew 5:14-16
^[11] This book can be consulted in its original format from The New Yorker’s website or the Internet Archive,
^[12] Proverbs 31:9, 1 Peter 3:15-16
^[13] Proverbs 3:5-6, Ephesians 5:6-10, 1 John 4:1
^[14] Matthew 18:16

Biblical prophecy is quite a massive subject. When looking at all the various interpretations floating around in the evangelical world, one can feel a little like a Marvel Comics character voyaging through the multiverse. We in the Calvary Chapel movement have added to the conversation. We’ve followed Pastor Chuck Smith’s pre-millennial, pre-tribulation, dispensational approach made famous in the 1970s with Hal Lindsey’s book, The Late Great Planet Earth. This position has become a key figure in Pastor Chuck’s teaching and books, including Calvary Chapel Distinctives.

Although there’s quite a variety of Dispensational views within Calvary Chapel, we all tend to circle around the idea of the rapture, God’s particular plan for Israel, and the literal thousand-year reign of Jesus Christ.

Having come to the Lord in my twenties after a dramatic conversion experience, I grew up in the faith with Dispensationalism. My first years on the mission field were greatly encouraged through Chuck Smith’s 5000 series, with the constant reminder that the Lord is coming soon and an exhortation to prepare for the rapture. As an avid reader, it didn’t take long before I began to read anything on the subject I could get my hands on.

During this time, I ran into the book Things to Come: A Study in Biblical Eschatology by Dwight Pentecost. This theological textbook draws out the covenantal lines of Dispensationalism while looking at some serious opposing views. This book became an excellent source for me; though some of its terms from the 1960-70s are no longer being used, the theology remains current.

Why I Interviewed Dr. Darrell Bock

In more recent years, another form has grown in popularity in our ranks and is called Progressive Dispensationalism. When I first heard the term, I was intrigued. But what is it? I found it hard to find a good succinct definition. This led me to ask our Content Strategy Director, Aaron Salvato, if I could do an article on the topic to help others who might also be looking for some clues. He suggested I begin with doing a podcast interview with Dr. Darrell Bock from Dallas Theological Seminary.

I followed Aaron’s advice and then emailed Dr. Bock, who responded immediately and positively. He agreed to an interview on The GoodLion Podcast, which Aaron and I have completed!

My first thought was to present the discussion here in an article form, but the more I dug, the more I realized the subject is more book-size, and here at calvarychapel.com, we like to keep our articles to 1000-1500 words. So I’d like to briefly answer the question that set me on this quest and end with a few takeaways, while encouraging our readers to watch or listen to our upcoming podcast.

Editor Note: This audio episode of the GoodLion podcast won’t be available until next season, but as a blessing to our readership at CalvaryChapel.com, we have provided a full video version you can watch by clicking the image link below!

What’s Dispensationalism?

Let’s begin at the beginning. What is Dispensationalism? It’s a movement in biblical theology and eschatology that sees God’s action in the world moving in “dispensations” toward the consummation of all things. What is a dispensation? Here’s how Darrell Bock and Craig Blaising explain it:

“The word dispensation refers to a particular arrangement by which God regulates the way human beings relate to Him. Dispensationalism believes that God has planned a succession of different dispensations throughout history, both past, present, and future. Furthermore, dispensationalists believe that these dispensations are revealed in Scripture, in both biblical history and prophecy.

Understanding these dispensations, these different relationships God has had and will have with humanity is crucial for comprehending the teaching and message of the Bible.”^[1]

Another way to look at dispensationalism is to see it as concerning the various covenants in the Bible. For example, the Covenant with Abraham showed, among other things, God’s choice of a man who, through His blessing, became a Nation (Israel) through which the entire world would be blessed. Later, God covenanted with Israel through Moses introducing the Law, showing them the way to life and the terrible consequences of abandoning Him.

In the same way, God’s Covenant with David showed that He would raise a King from among his sons through which His blessing would flow. Then the New Covenant, expressed in Jeremiah 31, spoke of a coming time when Israel would know God personally and the law would be written on their heart.

Traditional Dispensationalism tends to see the separations in set periods that don’t overlap. This is why they’ve been accused of promoting a dualistic or discontinuous theology, as if to say there are two disconnected peoples of God under two parallel covenants, implying, in the worst cases, that they both lead to heaven.

Progressive Dispensationalism has looked at these problems, among others, and sought to address them.

What Makes Progressive Dispensationalism “Progressive?”

How is it progressive? It’s not a politically progressive movement, nor is it a reference to a sort of progress over and above what came before. Instead, the term “progressive” speaks to how God moves in the revelation of Himself to mankind, crescendoing in the physical return of Jesus to earth and beginning in His thousand-year reign. Rather than adopt a hard stance on separating dispensations, Progressive Dispensationalism moves more fluidly, permitting overlap.

In the words of Dr. Bock, “Progressive Dispensationalism is not so much a movement demanding the choice “either-or” but one that asks why not “both-and”?”

Again, Blaising and Bock state, “Progressive dispensationalists understand the dispensations not simply as different arrangements between God and humankind, but as successive arrangements in the progressive revelation and accomplishment of redemption.”^[2]

This isn’t to say that it adopts an everything-goes mentality. Since its beginning with Bock and Blaising in the late seventies with Dallas Theological Seminary, and then later in the mid-eighties while taking shape on a more national level with theologians like Dr. Gerry Breshears at Western Seminary, it’s been steeped in deep theological reflection. They work within a Historical-Grammatical interpretation but also delve into the Literary-Theological method, all while not ignoring the Canonical-Systematic hermeneutic nor ignoring the Typological-Prophetic reading.

Regarding hermeneutics, they summarise their goals as follows:

“Scripture constructs a worldview. The Word is not just about a random series of events, facts, doctrines, or propositions. Nor is it even a picture of different groups all with equal access to God. There is no relativism in Scripture about how one enters into relationship with God. Rather, the Bible speaks to relationships, whether healthy or crippled, and calls the reader to enter into blessing on God’s terms through Jesus or else be left on the outside, subject to the story’s divine outworking.

“Ultimately, Scripture is about God’s promise realized in Jesus. Everyone is accountable to Him who is our Creator. In the message of Scripture, we find how God created and entered the world of humanity. God tells us just how He did it, does it, and plans to do it. He invites us to join Him in the journey. The task of hermeneutics is to listen carefully and humbly for His voice, so we might walk with Him.”^[3]

Why You Might Want to Listen to the Interview with Dr. Darrell Bock

The questions I’ve tried to answer may lead to more questions, as they did for me. This is why I’ve wanted to quote only one source besides the podcast. Progressive Dispensationalism by Blaising and Bock set the theological foundation of the movement in a well-rounded presentation. Ultimately, it isn’t easy to present succinctly because it requires enough time to consider the points it touches and how it relates to other theological systems. But I’d encourage anyone interested to jump in.

Whether you finish by being convinced or not, you’ll immerse yourself in Scripture through the process, which will reap many spiritual rewards.

My Biggest Takeaways

That quest to know God more and gain insight into His Word is probably one of my biggest takeaways from this excursion. Talking with Dr. Bock and, more recently, with Dr. Breshears, I’ve been encouraged to do the hard theological and exegetical work. It can be tempting to shy away from these subjects, to write them off as squabbles among the intelligentsia that have no importance to the everyday world of the Church.

I’d take issue with that point of view, though I held it in the past.

We’re all theologians; in some ways, even an atheist is a theologian who espouses a vision of God in their belief system, conversations, and daily life. Being a theologian is inescapable as we’ve been created in His image.

The question is, what kind of theologian do we want to be? One characteristic that separates an excellent theologian from others is the question of love. If we love God and seek to know Him more, we’ll grow in humility as our learning becomes a form of worship.

This is what I’ve observed speaking to these and other academic theologians who’ve dedicated their lives not only to know God more but to serve the greater Church by helping us in our walk.

References

^[1] Craig A. Blaising and Darrell L. Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Publishing Group, 1993), Kindle Edition 14.
^[2] Blaising and Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism, 48.
^[3] Blaising and Bock, Progressive Dispensationalism, 105.

Calling and desire, though close in emotional intensity, aren’t the same thing. I’ve known people come to serve with all the proper credentials, with holy fire, yet something was missing. Others have come to help us with a weight of family or church expectations that ultimately burnt them out. Maybe their place, in the end, was similar to the one they sought, but I fear we can do a disservice to them if we force them into a role they weren’t made for. I give them much credit for braving the call and even recognizing when it was time to move on. God honors those who walk by faith, but sadly there’ve been many casualties. Such was the case of Vincent van Gogh serving as an evangelist in the Borinage, Belgium.

In November 1878, Vincent arrived in the Borinage excited to begin his newest attempt at serving the Lord. By now, he’d known several setbacks in his professional life and was feeling the pressure from his family to find a suitable job. The ministry felt natural to him; his father and grandfather were pastors. He also served as a pastoral assistant in Isleworth, England. His few months in the London area began with great enjoyment.^[1] In November 1876, he gave his first sermon based on Psalm 119. Vincent was so happy with it that he sent a copy to his family. His thoughts, although unorganized, are doctrinally correct. His points are brilliantly illustrated in a way that would become famous in his paintings. But something troubled Vincent. A few months later, he resigned. Was it the charge of collecting money from low-income families or the rejection of his first and unrequited love? We may not know for sure, but the specter of depression clouded his mind when he left Isleworth.

Seeking Relief and Looking for His Place

Mental illness (as we would call it today) plagued the van Gogh family. Although his father and uncles had learned to live with depression by soldiering on, Vincent was more sensitive to its paralyzing effects. A good deal should be written about this struggle, especially about people in the ministry; in Vincent’s time, getting help could bring shame.^[2]Though he spent time in a few hospitals, he struggled under the weight of his thoughts and guilt at not measuring up to the expectations both he and others had placed on his life. He sought relief through hard work, letters, long walks in nature, and art. But the Bible was his most present comforter throughout his years.

Vincent also fought to find his place in life. Several of his family were art collectors. His thriving art broker uncle gave his nephew his first job. This took him from Paris to London, where he found purpose in art and isolation in professional setbacks. Vincent was stubborn. He put his entire being into whatever he loved doing. Yet, when a conflict would come, Vincent was capable of change so radical that he finished by loathing what he first adored. This could also be seen in the year he prepared to enter seminary. Though he could translate his Flemish Bible into French, English, and German, he couldn’t be bothered to learn Latin or Greek. His observation astounded his teachers, but his refusal to follow lesson plans and fierce anger kept him from advancing. But still, he desperately wanted to serve the Lord.^[3]

Ahead of His Time, Thus Silenced

Arriving as an evangelist in Belgium was a new beginning for the young van Gogh. Inspired by reading Spurgeon’s Gems, he worked tirelessly on his messages and visiting families. He slowly assimilated into the miner’s culture. That day, the evangelist was expected to bring the people up to the bourgeois standards of the middle class, to elevate their station as the Gospel elevated their souls. Vincent’s ideas were ahead of his time. He thought it best to assimilate into the culture and to become a bridge of contextualization. Like Maurice Denis, a French apologist and artist, wrote a few years after Vincent died, “What are we looking for in religion? Neither morality, nor moving music, nor that mystery that flatters our intimate aspirations. No, we’re looking for the truth.”^[4] Vincent wanted to share the truth with a suffering community by embodying it and showing them the truth in love.

One day, Vincent’s descent into their world became life-changing; he accompanied a miner 700 meters below the earth. He broke. He’d never experienced human suffering at that level before. At the time, the horror of the Northern European mines denounced by Dickens and Zola was unknown and often glamourized to the general public, who lived far from their reality. Vincent became one of the first observers, and in his utter shock at the dehumanizing conditions, he learned he could express himself to his brother and superiors better in his drawing than through words. They were moved, despite the crude sketches made before his artistic training. His heart spoke through his pencil. Christian philosopher Calvin Seerveld put it this way: “No cruel mistral wind ever tortured the clouds and grains field of the southern Provence in France as Van Gogh’s madly sentient eye and hand put them on canvas, but no one can quibble why this brush stroke is here and not there, for the works have an impressive metaphorical consistency.”^[5] At this moment, his nascent calling was revealed through a trembling hand trying to express the injustice he’d discovered.

As time passed, a springtime mining accident took the lives of 121 miners. Crushed by the tragedy, he poured himself into his work, eating next to nothing and giving away his clothes to the point where he was forced to make a shirt out of paper. His hosts began to worry that children would mock him in the street, and word got out to his mission that he looked homeless. Eventually, he would be let go and quarrel with his brother resulting in a year of silence between them. He left the Borinage feeling rejected by his church and alienated from his family but finally walked toward his true calling. He devoted his life to expressing, witnessing, and preaching through art. Though his departure was mixed with sorrow and hope, his life would be prematurely snuffed out ten years later.^[6]

Ultimately, Speaking through His Paintbrush

In the years that followed, he transformed into the artist we know. His Scripture references are fewer, he begins writing to his brother in French, and he becomes to the artistic world what he sought to do with his mission to the miners. The weight of his family’s disapproval was inescapable; he never shook the guilt of relying on his brother Theo for living expenses while waiting to sell his paintings. And yet his brush spoke. Artist Makoto Fujimura wrote, “Time spent in consideration of Vincent’s famous Starry Night can become a journey into (his) heart … The painting is set in Arles, France. Notice that at the very center of the painting is a white Dutch Reformed church … The church is the only building in the painting that is completely dark. Herein lies Vincent’s message, particular to the reality of being a border-stalker: the Spirit has left the church—at least the building—but is active in nature.”^[7] If only Vincent had a brother in the faith to walk with him through the valleys of artistic wandering. What paintings might we have today that move us like Starry Night?

Vincent’s story is one of loss for the Church. But it’s also one of hope if taken with an eye open to those around us. There are many Vincents in the Church looking for their place. Although we may not have recognized them initially, been frustrated because they just don’t fit the mold, or given them the patience or help they needed, it’s not too late.

I’m reminded of a description of Jesus that I think Vincent would’ve painted one day if given a chance. Isaiah 42:3 “A bruised reed He will not break, and smoking flax He will not quench; He will bring forth justice for truth.” This comes from the Servant passages. In it, we prophetically see the heart of Jesus, even in laying down His life to heal our brokenness. The Lord teaches us to live like Him through the Gospel, helping people while encouraging them to follow Him.

References

^[1] Van Gogh’s letters are translated into English and are available at https://vangoghletters.org/vg/
^[2] Unfortunately, I can’t develop this theme as I’d like, but I’d encourage anyone, whether in ministry or not, who knows the struggle of mental illness, not to go it alone. Getting help is wise and courageous. I’d also suggest reading Matt Kottman’s three-part article.
^[3] For most of this biographical part, I heavily leaned into this work:
David Haziot, Van Gogh, Éditions Gallimard, 2007, p. 13-131
^[4] Maurice Denis, Nouvelles Théories sur l’art moderne, sur l’art sacré, 1914-1921, L. Rouart et J. Watelin, Éditeurs, p. 182
^[5] Calvin Seerveld, A Christian Critique of Art and Literature, WIPF & STOCK, 1995, p.46
^[6] Bruno Voutera, Van Gogh au fond de la mine, Éditions La Voix, 2013 p. 3-64
^[7] Makoto Fujimura, Culture Care: Reconnecting with Beauty for Our Common Life, InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition, p. 74

Last November, I wrote an article about knowing God as a conventional relationship. I developed an idea from John Frame that describes how profound our friendship with the Father is. It’s a living, loving knowledge we experience that grows through time. Even when things are uncertain or anxiety and frustration run as an undercurrent to the current conversation—He promises to walk through it with us. He will see to it. We know our generous God gives us the courage to face the challenges of today. We know this because we know Him, and He sees us. Living consciously under His watchful gaze adds a perspective that deepens our friendship with the Almighty. Not that we look for the quick fix, easy answer that places a Band-Aid and smiles over a heart truly shaken; instead, in reality, we look to His provision.

When it comes to provision, the question isn’t only financial: it’s the condition of the heart. His providence (the fact that He takes care of his Creation, guides it, maintains it, and uses it to accomplish His purposes) enables us to know Him. It would be wrong to claim that God doesn’t see. In His provision (taking care of us), He also walks with us in our troubles, enabling us to walk with others in theirs, as He did with Abraham in Genesis 22.

How Abraham Found the Strength He Needed

The patriarch’s faithfulness in the passage is remarkable. I can’t imagine a father’s stress, confusion, and sadness in such a situation. Moreover, God said: “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love” (v. 2). Abraham obeyed; he got up early (v. 3) and walked for three days following the Lord (v. 4).

The small conversations in the passage reveal the human side of his trial. It’s the theology of everyday life. God called him by name, and Abraham immediately answered, “Here I am” (vv. 1, 11). He listened to the Lord. But I’d go further to say Abraham lived by listening to God. He knew the presence of God, as his shield (Genesis 15.1), as a friend (Isaiah 41:8), as the provider of a new homeland (Hebrews 11:14-15), and as the One who always keeps His promises. The way Abraham spoke to God reminds me of something Dallas Willard wrote:

“The air that our souls need also envelops all of us at all times and on all sides. God is round us in Christ on every hand, with his many-sided and all-sufficient grace. All we need to do is open our hearts.”¹

Abraham’s heart was open, living under God’s kind and watchful eye—experiencing Him in the daily routine, answering Him when the call led him to a place beyond comprehension.

I’m also fascinated by the conversation between Abraham and Isaac (vv. 6-8). Isaac sees everything that happens and questions his father about the apparent lack: Where is the lamb? Isaac was curious, but Abraham’s answer reassures us about God’s providence: “God will provide for himself the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” (v. 8). He trusts in the One who has provided everything until that moment, hoping in the resurrection (Hebrews 11:19), even while discovering the reality of the trial.

God Sees To It

To return to God’s provision, it’s in verse 8 where we come across the word י ר א ה (Yi-ré-he), which is traditionally transliterated as Jireh. It comes from the Hebrew verb ראה (r’h), which means to “see,”² meaning that God will see for himself or see to it.³

This is why we read in verse 8 that God “provides” a lamb; He saw to it. In other passages, we translate the same verb (י ר א ה or Yi-ré-he) as “appearing” in Exodus 3:16, Leviticus 9:4, and 1 Samuel 3:21.

If, in these passages, (ראה – r’h) means that God appears in one way or another, why would Bible translators put “provide” here? Because literally, that’s what happens in verse 13. Abraham raised his head and saw that God had provided a ram caught by the horns in the bush beside it. However, “see” (ראה) is still nuanced in the text. Interestingly, in their translation of Genesis and Rashi’s commentary, the French rabbinate incorporates the meaning of the verb “to see” in the text.

What’s the relationship between “seeing” and “providing”? The verb to see (ראה) in Genesis 1 reads that God “saw that it was good.” True, this is a description of the work of Creation, but isn’t it a description of His providence at the same time? God created it, saw it, and validated it. All that He made, the laws of science that run through His completed work, testify to His seeing that all His creatures should be well cared for in His creation.

Thus, the link between “see” and “provide” also benefits us. But it’s a subject that also concerns our belonging to Him. For example, in Genesis 16:13, Hagar, mistreated by Sarah and chased away, found herself in the wilderness under God’s loving gaze. He saw. Receiving the consolation of her soul, she said: “You are the God who sees me.” Do we not find, even in her recollection of God, the provision for her life and soul in His benevolent gaze? Esther Lightcap Meek notes:

“We need the face of the Holy, the personal Other—we need it as the decentering and recentering of who we are, to be well, and to know well.”⁴

That means God’s provision is personal and accurate. He sees the situation in which we find ourselves, appears, and provides for our needs in a more profound way than our prayers can adequately express.

Therefore, returning to the link between “seeing” and “providing,” there was no question of God allowing Abraham to sacrifice his son. He provided a ram, and then in 2 Chronicles 3:1, on Mount Moriah, where the scene took place (v. 2), provided what would become the site of the Temple and the perpetual sacrifice. This is where YHWH says, “I will always have my eyes and my heart there” (2 Chronicles 7:16). The place He saw, where He provided, was also where He appeared. To use the reflective verb Jireh, God provided or saw to it himself in Jesus, according to the words of John the Baptist in John 1:29, “Behold, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” The words reflect a beautiful image of Jesus and the Father. The Father sends the Son, his “beloved, his only” (John 3:16), to become the substitute for all the Isaacs of the world. We’re not far from the model of “Jireh”: God sees, appears, and provides.

How We, Too, Can Find the Strength We Need … and More

That’s why it’s too restrictive to see this passage only in light of our financial or physical needs. I believe that the passage speaks instead of the Person who embodies the providence of God and who is, in reality, all that we need. Of course, we need God to provide for everything in this economy and time of social uncertainties. That isn’t a quick-fix solution but more of a long-term accompanying of His presence and work in our lives. Yes, He taught us to pray for daily bread, and He will provide. But, even more, we need to receive Jesus. He sees us, knows our struggles, and His gaze toward us is full of lovingkindness. Looking back into His strong, comforting eyes in times of silence and biblical meditation will give us the strength we need. It’ll also enable us to enjoy His presence as we wait for Him to see to it.

References

¹ Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy, (New York: Harper Collins Publishers, 1998), 90.
² The “yod” (י) shows us that the verb is conjugated to the “niphal,” which gives it a reflexive or passive tense.
³ John Piper, Providence, (Wheaton: Crossway, 2020), 30-32.
In the first chapter, “What is Divine Providence?”, Piper explains how the English word providence, as used in this passage, came about. First, he begins with the Latin suffix pro (to), and the verb vide (to see). Then he explains the theological rationale for the translation of the word provide: “The answer I suggest is that in the mind of Moses, and other authors of Scripture, God does not simply see as a passive bystander. As God, he is never merely an observer. He is not a passive observer of the world—and not a passive predictor of the future. Wherever God is looking, God is acting. In other words, there is a profound theological reason why God’s providence does not merely mean his seeing, but rather his seeing to.”
⁴ Esther Lightcap Meek, Loving to Know: Introducing Covenant Epistemology, (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2011), Kindle 287.