Two Ways News

We’ve spoken quite often here at Two Ways News (and before that in ‘The Payneful Truth’ years) about how the gospel is a particular thing. You can express it using different words and in your own style, but it’s not infinitely malleable. It has a definite content that we can know from the New Testament, and which we can explain to other people. The same is true with the Bible generally.These days, both of these claims are controversial, and the common form of the pushback goes something like this: “How can you be so sure? We all bring our own preconceived ideas and contexts to our reading, after all. And nobody seems to be able to agree about what the Bible says. So when you so confidently declare that an outline like Two Ways to Live is a true and good summary of the one true biblical gospel … well, isn’t that just your interpretation?” I put this objection to Phillip to kick off a lively conversation about interpretation, the gospel and how to read the Bible. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

This week’s edition features a piece from Tony about the strange and elusive phenomenon of the ‘public square’. What is it exactly? Should Christians be concerned that we are excluded from it? And what should we do if we are?In this podcast version, Tony and Phillip chat through a first draft of the piece, and try to improve it. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Gambling has always been a social problem in our culture. In our part of the world, there is intense debate at present about how to reduce people’s access to poker machines (or gaming or slot machines as they are called elsewhere).How should we think about all this as gospel people? Do Christians have something unique and important to say about gambling?(We’ll also answer one of your questions about the place and importance of historic Creeds and Confessions at the beginning of the conversation.) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

With Phillip away this week, I’ve gone to the substitute’s bench and hauled in Mark Thompson for a chat. Good to be able to get the Principal of Moore College as a fill in!Mark also lectures and writes in theology, and just last year, he published a more general book for Christians called The Doctrine of Scripture: An Introduction (through Crossway) which is not the most funtastic title in the world but does tell you exactly what the book is about. In this conversation, we'll be hearing from Mark how this book can help Christians build their understanding of what the Bible really is, and their confidence in its truth and clarity and power. The details of Mark’s book: The Doctrine of Scripture: An Introduction, by Mark D. Thompson, (Short studies in systematic theology series), Crossway, 2022. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

As we send our kids back to school (as parents in Australia are doing this week), a question many of us might face is 'What are we actually doing?' With the government running schools for the most part, it isn't strange when parents wonder whose role it is to teach our children.As we discuss this topic, we hope to shed some light on some of the challenges that we face as Christian parents, and equip you with some encouragements as you seek to educate your children in the ways of the Lord in such a complex world.* If you’d like to catch up with Phillip and Tony in person, they’ll both be at the Nexus Conference in Sydney on Monday, March 13. (Tony will be interviewing Phillip as part of the program.) Nexus is aimed mainly at pastors, gospel workers, ministry trainees, and so on, but it’s open to all. The venue is Village Church, Annandale. Find all the details here. * Matthias Media (Aus) is having a big January sale that ends TODAY (if you’re reading this on Tues, Jan 31). Get in quick! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Everyone has an opinion, it seems, about the significance of the late Cardinal George Pell—about his culpability (or otherwise) in the Roman Catholic response to child sexual abuse, about his own guilt or innocence on sexual abuse charges, and about his role within Roman Catholicism itself (in the struggle between conservative and liberal factions). But what should we say when the topic comes up in conversation? As evangelical Protestants, what contribution can we make to the assessment of a Catholic cardinal's legacy? And what opportunities does the conversation present for speaking about the gospel of Jesus? This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

In our first episode for 2023, Tony takes a typically roundabout trip through New Year's resolutions, repentance, self-denial and John Calvin, and ends up blaspheming a modern god. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

In our end of year episode, we talk about the positives and negatives of Christmas and ministry. Plus some book recommendations for summer reading: The Case Against the Sexual Revolution, by Louise Perry.The Gospel of the Kingdom, by David Seccombe. The Coming of the Holy Spirit, by Philip Jensen.Busy: Tackling the Problem of an Overloaded Christian Life, by Ian Carmichael. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

What are the fundamentals that we share as evangelical Christians—the beliefs that bind us together as partners in the gospel, and which enable us to work together? And correspondingly, how much difference and disagreement is too much? When and how can we still work together despite our differences?And what has all this got to do with the Federalist Society?Listen to the full conversation, or read Tony's summarising article at twoways.news.Resources referred to:Student Witness and Christian Truth, by Robert M. HornThe Limits of Fellowship, by Phillip Jensen (article with link to audio). This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Religion causes wars.It’s a common accusation flung at religion generally but at Christianity in particular. And figuring out how to answer this kind of attack is a helpful case study in how to approach apologetic conversations generally.That’s our subject in this episode’s wide ranging conversation. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

When Peter asks Jesus "How many times should I forgive my brother?", it's another example of Peter being sort of perceptive but also missing the point by a wide margin. In this week's edition, we talk about forgiveness: what it means, how it is at the heart of the kingdom that Jesus brings, and why the spirit of forgiveness and mercy must permeate our lives. Plus we deal with some of your questions, including a curly one about tribalism and Sydney Anglicans. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

In this week's conversation, Phillip and I talk about the value and dangers of academic scholarship -- particularly the kind of biblical and theological scholarship that is done in mainstream universities. How can we appreciate and benefit from the work of scholars, but not be gullible about the motives and assumptions from which many of them work?To chase up our reference to Helen Pluckrose and what has become known as 'The Grievance Studies Hoax', this article on Wikipedia gives a decent summary. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Phillip is away this week, so Tony flies solo as he interacts with Al Stewart's fascinating and impressive new book The Manual: Getting masculinity right. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Sometimes evangelicals are accused of making such a big deal of full-time Christian work that it sends an implicit (or even explicit) signal that people who don’t go into full-time ministry are second class. At other times, we panic about the ‘minister drought’ and bemoan the fact that no-one is being challenged to go into full-time ministry any more.Is it possible to avoid these problems? What’s the right way to challenge people to consider full-time Christian work without devaluing those who don’t pursue that path?A conversation with Tony Payne and Phillip Jensen.Links:Ray Galea's new book on this very topic is now available to pre-order. Eager to Serve: Facing our fears, counting the cost, and stepping up in gospel ministryTony's little book for every Christian on seeing yourself as a disciple-making disciple is also worth a look: The Thing Is: God, you and your purpose in life. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

In last week's episode, we touched briefly on 'postmodern progressive tribalism' -- a description that sounds mostly negative, especially about tribalism. But is tribalism necessarily bad? Is individualism (which is its most frequent alternative) any better? And is there a gospel way of thinking about tribalism and individualism that saves us from the pitfalls of both? Join Tony Payne and Phillip Jensen for a lively discussion of these questions. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

The first edition of Two Ways News, a new podcast and newsletter collaboration between Tony Payne and Phillip Jensen. Find out more, subscribe, and read or listen to past editions of Tony's newsletter 'The Payneful Truth', at the Two Ways News website. To get in touch, make comments or ask questions, send an email to [email protected]. And if you’d like to listen to the whole clip of Stephane Grappelli’s swing version of Bach’s Double Concerto, you can find it here! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Some significant changes are coming up for The Payneful Truth. I’ll talk about those changes below, but first (and more importantly) to this week’s topic and guest.A conversation on evangelism with John LavenderOne of the things I’ve loved most about doing The Payneful Truth over the past couple of years is the interaction with readers and listeners. Of all those who’ve sent in encouraging comments and questions, the prize for quantity with quality easily goes to John Lavender. John is a church planter and minister here in Sydney, who has been working over the last couple of years with Evangelism and New Churches (an organization within the Sydney Anglican diocese that promotes and resources evangelism). His main job over the past couple of years has been to visit churches and work with them to encourage and improve evangelism, and for a while now I’ve been wanting to talk with him about what he’s learned doing this. What’s the state of play around Sydney evangelistically? Here’s an edited version of the conversation John and I recently had.TP: John, in your work with ENC, you get quite a picture of what’s happening evangelistically in churches around Sydney. We keep being told in the media that Christianity is declining (as the Census data apparently tells us) and that all is doom and gloom. But where do you see good things happening?JL: I hear so many good news stories. Little things like a guy who meets a new neighbour, strikes up a conversation and boldly asks him to read the Bible with him. And the neighbour says yes, and so he works through the Bible with him, and invites him to church.Or a group of ladies who meet new people who move into their street, provide meals for them, and then invite them to church.I see lots of little things like that where people take the initiative to invite, to read the Bible—that’s wonderful.In terms of the bigger picture, some of the churches I’ve visited are just so committed to helping people come to know Jesus. They have a really good structure: there’s good training, the church is welcoming, you arrive and are followed up, the vibe is good, people show interest in you, the sermon is engaging, and you’re invited into a follow-up course. It’s really good! There are churches where there are only one or two converted every now and then, but I’ve been in other contexts that are having 10 or 20 or 30 new people coming each week, where there are significant numbers of people hearing, responding, and wanting to hear more. It’s very encouraging.TP: What about where it’s not working so well. What weaknesses have you seen?JL: This can be a bit sad, because you see people who aren’t gripped by who Jesus is, or they don’t see they have a role to play in speaking about Jesus. There are churches that just haven’t connected at all with their suburb or the community around them, and that’s really sad. Some churches aren’t really sure how to actively reach the people around them. The people are reluctant or afraid or not sure how to bring Jesus into an everyday conversation.But I’m encouraged because the ministers will say me to me, “John, can you help us? How can we raise the evangelistic temperature at our church? How can the congregation be better equipped? How can we connect with people, and follow them up?” It’s encouraging that they see the problems, and want to give it a crack. TP: What do you think is the main problem?JL: Before I point at others I want to think about myself. Two passages I’m passionate about are 2 Cor 4 and 2 Cor 5.In 2 Cor 4, the contrast is between the temporary things of this world and eternity, and I’m just so conscious how often I’ve got my eyes set on the things of this world rather than on eternity.In 2 Cor 5, Paul talks about being compelled or convinced of Christ’s love—I want to be convinced and compelled by that every day! He talks about the urgency. As I think about myself and our churches, I’m conscious that we’re lured into chasing the things of this world. We’re not fully convinced of the need to be Christ’s ambassadors (as 2 Cor 5 says); we’re not gripped by the urgency of the whole thing. I want to work hard to change the focus; to help people see that eternity is at stake; to be convinced and compelled by what Christ has done for us. That’s what I want to encourage people and churches to be on about.I think the other issue is love. I’ve been reading Before you Share your Faith by Matt Smethurst, and reckons that one of the major reasons is simply that we don’t love people. What a slap in the face that is! If we loved people we’d be ready to talk to them about Jesus and about their future and about why Jesus is so good.TP: How do you address this? How do you raise the temperature of evangelism and love and conviction?JL: Well, one way would be by working through chapters like 2 Cor 4 and 5! Another one is Matt 9, where Jesus sees the people harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. It’s encouraging them to look out, and to seek t

I wrote about being a ‘conservative’ a few weeks ago, and now the evil Anglican conservatives are at it again. Forming breakaway ‘churches’. Causing material harm and distress to LGBT people by blatantly refusing to agree with them. Engaging in schismatic actions that miscellaneous bishops sadly shake their heads at, and purport not to really understand (which would be hilarious if it weren’t so disingenuous). And so on.When friends and family ask me what’s the story with this new ‘Diocese of the Southern Cross’, I tell them that they’ve got to understand the background. The Anglican denomination has been home to two different and incompatible belief systems for decades now. Some people limp between these two opinions; others try to find a way to live and let live. But allowing for all the variations of individual circumstances, and all the ways in which the world is a complex place, when it comes down to it, there are still two fundamentally opposed religions at work within Anglicanism, and the current disputes are just the latest manifestation of this fact.JI Packer once summarized these two belief systems as ‘objectivist’ and ‘subjectivist’ like this:[The objectivist position] is the historic Christian belief that through the prophets, the incarnate Son, the apostles, and the writers of canonical Scripture as a body, God has used human language to tell us definitively and transculturally about his ways, his works, his will, and his worship. Furthermore, this revealed truth is grasped by letting the Bible interpret itself to us from within, in the knowledge that the way into God’s mind is through that of the writers. Through them, the Holy Spirit who inspired them teaches the church.…The second view applies to Christianity the Enlightenment’s trust in human reason, along with the fashionable evolutionary assumption that the present is wiser than the past. It concludes that the world has the wisdom, and the church must play intellectual catch-up in each generation in order to survive. From this standpoint, everything in the Bible becomes relative to the church’s evolving insights, which themselves are relative to society’s continuing development (nothing stands still), and the Holy Spirit’s teaching ministry is to help the faithful see where Bible doctrine shows the cultural limitations of the ancient world and needs adjustment in light of latter-day experience (encounters, interactions, perplexities, states of mind and emotion, and so on). Same-sex unions are one example. This view is scarcely 50 years old, though its antecedents go back much further. I call it the subjectivist position. (Briefing 204, March 2003, p. 17; reprinted from Christianity Today)This is typical Packer. Thoughtful, careful, comprehensive, and crystal clear in highlighting the issues. But it’s very English and polite all the same.I wonder if we could express it a bit more … vividly. If I were one of those old-time, African-American preachers, who liked to use the same rhythm and structure for an escalating series of comparisons, I might flesh out the differences between these two belief systems more like this:There’s one religion based on an objective revelation; There’s another religion based on a subjective implication;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion in which the Bible changes human culture;There’s another religion in which human culture changes the Bible;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion that is inflexible about truth but flexible about human traditions;There’s another religion that is flexible about truth but clings to human traditions tenaciously;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion that puts the highest value on listening to God’s word;There’s another religion that puts the highest value on listening to each other;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion about God seeking the lost;There’s another religion about the lost seeking God;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion that calls me to repent from my sin;There’s another religion that tells me I can stay as I am;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided. There’s one religion that believes that God knows the truth about men, women and marriage because he created all three;There’s another religion that believes that there’s no solid truth about men, women and marriage because all three can mean what we say they mean;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion that the mainstream media loathe and oppose;And there’s one religion that the mainstream media tolerate and occasionally support;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion that looks plain and unimpressive but trusts the power of God;There’s another religion that has the gawdy appearance of godliness but denies its power;And that’s why Anglicanism is divided.There’s one religion that is seeing churches grow and lives transformed;There’s another religion that is seeing churches die and l

There is a time for every matter under heaven, Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us. But is there a time for Ecclesiastes itself?We’ve been studying and preaching our way through Ecclesiastes recently at church, and that old question has arisen more than once. Is its pessimistic view of the world limited in some way to its pre-Christian time? Or is its sobering message about the vacuousness of life just as relevant for us today, this side of the redeeming, revealing work of Christ?The answer makes quite a bit of difference.If the vanity of life under the sun is really a kind of pre-Christian despair that Christ comes to solve, then Ecclesiastes tells us more about what the Christian life is not than what it is. That would still make it a useful and challenging part of Scripture, but in a particular way. It would function as a kind of kategoria or critique of humanity's doomed attempt to find wisdom and meaning on our terms and by our own lights. And it would be a warning to the Christian not to fall into proud or worldly attitudes towards riches, work and pleasure.But would Ecclesiastes then actually provide positive wisdom for our lives? Or not so much?To take the most striking example, should we eat, drink and be merry, or not?In 1 Corinthians 15:32, Paul says that this hedonistic, live-for-the-moment approach is the attitude of people who deny the resurrection. “If Christ is not raised, then what’s the point?” says Paul. We might as well live it up and enjoy each passing moment, because that’s all there is. Or, as James Taylor says, “The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time … Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill; but since we’re on our way down, we might as well enjoy the ride”.However, when we turn to Ecclesiastes, we find the Preacher giving his readers this James Taylor kind of advice—and often. For example, after describing the capriciousness, injustice and vanity of man’s constant striving for wealth and advantage, he says:Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of his life that God has given him, for this is his lot. Everyone also to whom God has given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil—this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart. (Eccl 5:18-20)You might as well enjoy the moment, because that’s the best we can hope for in this confusing, confounding world. He says the same thing in 2:24-26, 3:9-13, 8:15-17, and in this classic from chapter 9, which I like to write out in nice cursive handwriting on a beautiful card and give to my wife on our anniversary:Enjoy life with the wife whom you love, all the days of your vain life that he has given you under the sun, because that is your portion in life and in your toil at which you toil under the sun. Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with your might, for there is no work or thought or knowledge or wisdom in Sheol, to which you are going. (Eccl 9:9-10)The constant conclusion of the Preacher is that life is an opaque mess. Not only do bad and unjust things happen, but we can never grasp why. We can’t see through our circumstances to decipher their meaning or end—apart from the fact that we’re all going to die. As he says in the famous chapter 3 verse 11:He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put the vast continuum of time into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.God has put into our hearts an awareness that we have come from somewhere and are going somewhere; that we exist at one point on vast time continuum stretching back and forward. We sense that life should therefore mean something, and indeed we constantly experience the beauty or fittingness of individual events and times. And yet, the larger picture is hidden from us. We can neither see what is coming next, nor comprehend the significance of what has just happened. Just when we think we understand what’s going on, and have things sorted and planned out, it all slips through our fingers. Life is hebel—vanity, absurdity, an airy nothing that we desperately try to pin down with a local habitation and a name, but fail to.These God-given limitations are meant to humble us, says the Preacher. God did it this way to cut us down to size, and to help us realize that everything we work at and achieve and obtain is really a gift from him, to be enjoyed as it comes to us.This is why the Preacher’s over-arching advice is to fear God, to do good and keep his commandments, and to enjoy whatever gifts come to you from his hand (including eating and drinking and enjoying the satisfaction and fruit of your work). God will bring everything into judgement, not us.Looked at it this light, perhaps the Preacher’s teaching is not so different from Paul’s after all. The person who deni

Rummaging around through my digital files last week, I discovered this paragraph: The very experience of 21st century living, with its utterly bewildering array of nearly limitless choice—in knowledge, information, entertainment, commodities, interests, lifestyles, and so on—has the psychological effect of fragmenting our lives, and destroying any illusion that there might be one overarching truth or ‘big story’. There is no fixed truth, no unifying story, no galvanizing purpose. There is nothing that explains me, or locates me in the world as part of a fixed tradition or community. Everything is difference, diversity, plasticity, fluidity. It is up to the individual to try to fashion some satisfactory ‘self’, some thing that is uniquely and authentically ‘me’, by selecting from the google-sized cultural menu.It’s from an article I wrote 15 years ago reviewing David Wells’s book Above all Earthly Pow’rs: Christ in a Postmodern World, which I suspect many of you will never have heard of, but which was quite the thing in 2007. Books are like sermons in this regard. Even the best of them get forgotten; it just takes a little longer.I came across this article because I was searching for background reading on truth and lies, in preparation for the CCL event on ‘Deception’ that’s coming up next week. (It’s not too late to register!) And Wells’s book casts a fascinating perspective on that subject. He charts the collapse of the modernist confidence of the Enlightenment, that humanity could find its own way to the truth about life and the universe.The Enlightenment project failed, he suggests, for a number of reasons. At one level, it simply failed to deliver. The modernist dream was that humanity would craft its own destiny, and that science and education would lead us all into a unified bright new tomorrow. We were promised progress, enlightenment, knowledge and an inspiring humanist quest for truth. Instead we got the holocaust, propaganda, a nuclear arms race and environmental degradation.But it also failed, he argues, because of the very structure of its thought, and all that followed from it. The Enlightenment ideal is profoundly individualistic. Human reason and experience is sovereign, which means that my reason and experience is sovereign—so who are you to tell me what to do? Or to tell me what constitutes ‘progress’? Or what ‘truth’ is?In the end, Wells argues, the Enlightenment dream buckled, sagged and collapsed under the massive variety and weight of the consumer options that have opened before 21st century Westerners. We didn’t become ‘postmodern’ because we all started reading Derrida and Foucault but because contemporary culture is built on ‘you doing you’ and ‘me doing me’ (as we now say it), and we now have the financial and technological resources for us to try to do just that. Postmodern culture is an individualistic consumer culture in which I define meaning for myself by what I buy and choose and experience; by how I thus create the unique thing that is ‘me’.So what does this mean for how we think about lying and deception in a postmodern world?Disappointingly for my preparation, Wells doesn’t explore this angle, nor (therefore) did my review.His interest lies elsewhere, in how the postmodern crisis of ‘truth’ relates to how Christians preach the gospel.And so, as is so often the case when you rummage around in old books and articles, I found myself going down a completely different rabbit hole. But it was also one that very much relates to current events and issues.The big issue for Wells—and it is still very much ours 15 years later—is how secular, postmodern people deal with the fracturing of truth and meaning, and how churches deal with it, as they reach out with the gospel in this environment.He notes that while church-going and general trust in Christianity has declined in the West, interest in ‘spirituality’ and ‘spiritual experience’ has not. He cites a survey showing how in the same period in which church attendance in Britain fell from 28% to 8% of the population, the number of people who described themselves as ‘spiritual’ or having had ‘spiritual experiences’ rose from 48% to 76%.There is a spiritual yearning there. Can Christians bring the gospel to that spiritual yearning?Here is where Wells asks a crucial question that many others in the early 21st century weren’t asking, and are still not asking: Just what kind of spiritual yearning does the postmodern person typically have?Here’s my summary and reflection on his answer (from the 2007 review):As Wells describes it—and his analysis rings very true—the current spiritual quest is intensely personalized, individualized and eclectic. It is part of the postmodern person’s project to make their life happy, satisfying, fulfilled and meaningful. It is about finding something real and meaningful in my life, given that I have lost confidence in a big Answer coming from an outside God. It’s like another panel on my Facebook page: my spirit

The painful truth this week is that this is a rather bitsy Payneful Truth; a series of short bites rather than a single vaguely coherent article: about reading Christian books, explaining the gospel powerfully, and defending the truth of the Bible. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Before we get to the subject of why Christian books are so vital, a follow up from last week’s post about being a ‘conservative’. Geoff Robson, who has taken over much of the editorial work I used to do at Matthias Media, got in touch to share a great quote from Peter Jensen. Geoff writes: You reminded me of when PFJ became Archbishop (when I’d been working at Anglican Media for just over a year), and the media picked up on the label ‘radical conservative’ that had been applied to him at some point. He said he liked the label and accepted it (I had to transcribe the press conference for work, so I still have it filed away!). PFJ said:Only a conservative could be radical. A conservative, to my mind, is someone who takes matters through to the foundations and is convinced about the foundations. In a postmodern world, this is rare. And indeed some of the flack we get, as a Church—with complaints about the way we behave and the way we speak—are simply a misunderstanding. We are very serious people, with a serious intellectual and moral agenda in a world where these things are treated somewhat as though they don’t matter as much.Now, we have certain base convictions which are terrifically important to us. Having those base convictions frees us to be extraordinarily flexible about things that are of secondary nature.Precisely. But onto this week’s post, which is about bananas and Christian books. The road to spiritual health is paved with Christian booksAs a writer arguing in favour of Christian books, I feel a bit like a banana-grower arguing in favour of bananas—like my family did when I was growing up. My dad’s people grew bananas at Dunoon, outside Lismore. My grandfather was even the president at one time of the North Coast Banana Growers Federation (he was the Big Banana, you could say).So it is hardly surprising that our family consumed bananas in impressive quantities and in every conceivable format. We had them mashed on bread, sliced onWeet-Bix and baked in the Queen of All Cakes (banana cake with lemon icing). We ate them raw, frittered and barbecued. They were our morning tea, our afternoon tea and our sneaky late-night snack.We were banana people, and had the banana key rings and other banana-themed merchandise to prove it. This poster was on the wall on the back verandah:It always struck me that having a road paved with banana peels was also quite possibly dangerous to health. But perhaps the banana lobby could be forgiven for overlooking this. What else would you expect them to be but blindly and joyously pro-banana?I feel rather like this in arguing that the road to spiritual health is paved with Christian books. What else would I say, as a life-long Christian writer and publisher?However, it’s a little different. I’m not sure that a conviction about the all-purpose benefits of bananas was the reason my grandfather spent his life growing and promoting them. Perhaps it was—maybe the banana passion came first, and then the desire to grow them. But it has certainly been that way with me. It’s precisely because of a strong conviction about the value of Christian books that I’ve spent my ministry life writing, editing and publishing them.That conviction has three pillars.The first is a theological belief in the power of the word. It’s a cliché to say that we live in a visual age where people prefer to watch rather than to read. This is true, but only in so far as it is a description of every age. People have always preferred the immediacy of the visual. This is why that little thing called idolatry—the worship of a visual representation of the divine—is condemned so widely and vigorously in the Bible. It has always been humanity’s besetting sin.The ‘humiliation of the word’ (as Jacques Ellul described it) is a feature not just of modernity but of history. Our rejection of God is a rebellion against him who cannot be seen, and a turning to the worship of created things that can be seen. Rather than seeing in the creation evidence for the invisible God, and honouring and thanking and listening to him, we turn away and suppress that truth. We turn to what can be immediately seen and worship it instead.The visual is immediate and uninterpreted. It has no words. It is ‘dumb’, as Isaiah describes the idol that we make out of a piece of wood. Five minutes ago we were barbecuing bananas over it; now we’ve fashioned it into a shape and are thinking that it provides the meaning for our lives. The visual suits us very well, because we simply experience it and decide for ourselves what it means.A preference for seeing and watching over listening and reading is more than a difference in learning styles or personal taste (although of course it is partly that). It is also deeply rooted in our human unwillingness to learn the truth about ourselves and God by humbling listening to his word. The Christian, by contrast, lives by faith not by sight, and our faith is in the word of Christ that we hear (2 Cor 5:7; Rom 10:17

Before we get into today’s topic, some exciting news. Learn the Gospel (part one of the new Two ways to live training framework) has finally arrived, and is available for purchase. (In Australia, that is. It will be a few more weeks before the books find their way through the US ports and land in our American warehouse.)I know many of you have been wondering and waiting for it to be available, and are keen to think how this resource could be used to teach the fundamentals of the gospel in your churches.To this end, Matthias Media is encouraging churches to run a pilot program in Term 4 (say in two or three small groups) to see how Learn the Gospel fits and works in your context—and offering a friendly bulk price to help you have a go at this. If you’re in Australia, and would like to participate in this pilot, and test the waters for how your church could utilize Learn the Gospel, send an email to Gavin Shume ([email protected]). (This is an invitation only pilot—just for Payneful Truth subscribers and a few other churches we’re asking.)But onto this week’s subject … Who wants to be a conservative?I’ve lost count how many times over the course of my life that ‘conservatives’ and ‘progressives’ have fought over different issues in my (Anglican) denomination.Through the fog of time, different figures and controversies rise up and recede in my memory. I see Archbishop Peter Carnley (at that time the Primate of Australia), arguing that the resurrection was a spiritual experience rather than a physical event, and that Christ was not the only path to salvation—and then the godly, gracious Archbishop of Sydney, Harry Goodhew, copping a pounding in the secular press for daring to object (that was in around 2000 I think). I see the radically revisionist Bishop John Spong emerging from the mist, visiting Australia not long afterwards at the invitation of Carnley and the ‘Progressive Christian Network’. And once again the nasty ‘conservatives’ were the ones who criticised Spong’s denial of pretty much every tenet of orthodox Christian doctrine.Then I think of the long-running skirmishes (starting back in the 80s) over multiple issues—women’s ordination, gay ordination, the blessing of same-sex unions, and more. In each case, the ‘progressives’ or ‘liberals’ sought to change or update the doctrine and morality of Christianity, and in the opposing corner were the ‘conservatives’. And given that on all these issues I found myself barracking for the conservatives, I guess that makes me one. And you too, quite possibly.So how do you feel about being a ‘conservative’?I can’t say that the label thrills me to the core.What’s a ‘conservative’ after all? When we think ‘conservative’, we think of a stick in the mud; a reactionary; a stuffy, buttoned-down member of the establishment who wants things to stay the same. Conservatives are risk averse, change averse, and very likely excitement averse. They wear cream blazers over blue chinos. With their thin, cold and (invariably) white hands, they cling to the dogmas and traditions of the past, in a desperate and doomed attempt to forestall the new and better future that everyone else is longing for.Just what I always wanted to be—a conservative.Of course, like many such words in our culture, ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’ are dependent on their predicate (or should be). It’s like being ‘narrow’ as opposed to ‘broad’. It entirely depends what you’re talking about. I would prefer my waist to be more narrow and my shoulders more broad. I’d like my fridge to be conservative of the food inside it, and my five-irons very progressive and if possible in the right direction.It all depends on what you’re conserving.Interestingly, this is also true in politics.British and European political ‘conservatism’ is quite different from American ‘conservatism’, because they seek to conserve different things. I’ve recently been reading George F. Will’s book, The Conservative Sensibility, and he describes the difference like this: [The European tradition of throne-and-altar conservatism] has generally sought to conserve institutions and practices, such as social hierarchies and established churches, that were produced by the slow working of historical processes spanning many centuries. American conservatism seeks, as Alexander Hamilton did in the Republic’s infancy, to conserve or establish institutions and practices conducive to a social dynamism that dissolves impediments to social mobility and fluency. So American conservatism is not only different from, it is at bottom antagonistic to British and continental European conservatism. The latter emphasizes the traditional and dutiful, with duties defined by obligations to a settled collectivity, the community. Because American conservatism is about individual liberty, it cultivates spontaneous social order and hence encourages novelty.[1]American political conservatism wants to preserve the norms and principles of the Declaration of Independ

I was doing some teaching on apologetics recently on Campus, and as we milled around outside afterwards, one of the students asked a thoughtful question.Why is it that contemporary apologetics mostly focuses on the two approaches that enjoy the least biblical support and have the most risks attached?To understand the question, some background.My presentation had been based on the ‘Seven types of apologetics’ essay that I rolled out on The Payneful Truth last year (pt 1, pt 2). As a refresher (or to save you reading from scratch), I argued that in the varied world of contemporary apologetics and evangelistic persuasion, the word ‘apologetics’ gets thrown around pretty loosely—so much so that it’s possible to identify seven different kinds of persuasion or argument that might have the label ‘apologetics’ slapped on them these days. They were:* Gospel persuasion: the arguments and evidence and reasoning that we employ when actually explaining the gospel of Jesus’ death and resurrection (e.g. evidence that Jesus did indeed rise from the dead).* Gospel objections: having explained the gospel, we answer the various questions and objections that people raise against it (e.g. “Did Jesus really rise from the dead?”; “I don’t believe that we are all sinners and rebels”; and so on).* Pre-emptive objections: before we get to talking about the gospel itself, we might address the general objections people have to God and Christianity (e.g. “Why does God allow suffering?”; “Hasn’t science disproved Christianity?”; “Why is Christianity so anti-women and anti-gay?” etc.) * Building Christian confidence: one function or type of apologetics is bolstering the confidence of Christians by providing answers and reasons for their doubts, and for the common objections that society throws at us.* God talk and life: way back at the ‘engage’ or pre-evangelistic end of the spectrum, the way we talk and behave in everyday life can open up and commend the subject of the gospel, in a Colossians 4:5-6 kind of way.* Positive reasons: These are positive arguments we put forward for the truth or attractiveness of the Christian faith. They might be some version of the classic proofs of the existence of God; they might be arguments that start with the people’s inherent desires and aspirations and show that Christianity fulfills them; they might seek to present the positive goodness of Christianity in the most reasonable and attractive way, to get some traction with the modern, secular person.* Critique (kategoria): Rather than provide a defense or ‘apologia’, this form of persuasion points out the inconsistencies and dysfunctions in the non-Christian worldview. It critiques the world, rather than answering the critiques of the world. (Paul’s speech in Acts 17 is a classic case in point.)I argued that we find types 1, 2, 4, 5, and 7 in the example and instructions of the apostles, and suggested that these were the ones we should also focus on in our own evangelism and persuasion. Types 3 and 6—‘Pre-emptive objections’ and ‘Positive reasons’—are not only difficult to find in the New Testament but have considerable risks attached. The ‘pre-emptive objections’ approach puts us on the backfoot, and often gives too much credence to the validity or genuineness of the objection; the ‘positive reasons’ strategy often seeks to frame Christianity in terms that are attractive to the prevailing secular mind, thereby risking a distortion of the counter-intuitive, offensive nature of the gospel.Unfortunately, it is precisely these two latter types (3 and 6) that tend to dominate the field of contemporary apologetics and persuasion.Hence the question I was asked: How has this come to be the case? Why do we end up focusing on the two apologetic approaches that have least to commend them?In answer, I made a few vague, stuttering remarks about the trends of modern thought, and our temptation to give the world too much credit, and our lack of belief in the power of the gospel itself, and how everything had gone to pot since the Enlightenment, and so on. All no doubt true, but a bit incoherent.But then a few days later, in the slow process of moving some books around at home—slow because I keep stopping to browse through old favourites—I came across Graeme Goldsworthy’s underappreciated Gospel-centred Hermeneutics. Not a light read but full of gold. And I remembered and found again this section on page 60:Sinful thinking is ‘snake-think’, the kind of noetic rebellion proposed by the serpent in Eden. It is diametrically opposed to the mind renewed by the gospel … At this point we can say that the godless presuppositions underlying the temptation and fall in Genesis 3 include the following:* If God is there, he does not communicate the truth.* We do not need God to reveal the rational framework for understanding reality;* Human reason is autonomous, and the ultimate arbiter of truth and falsity, right and wrong.In essence, these presuppositions are those of the secul

In one of the many memorable scenes in Chariots of Fire, the two old Cambridge dons look out the window on the departing Harold Abrahams and lament that his attitude is just not that of an English Christian gentleman. “Well”, says John Gielgud as the Master of Trinity College, “there goes your Semite, Hugh. A different God; a different mountaintop.”It’s not often that the contrast between the two mountains in Hebrews 12 is alluded to in popular culture. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that this may be the one and only and final time.Abrahams belongs to the God of Sinai, the Cambridge don is saying—to the smoking, terrifying, mountain of the law. We (he implies by way of contrast) have a different mountaintop, the heavenly Zion, the joyful assembly of the justified. What’s going on here? Are the two stuffy academics casting the professionalized pursuit of individual athletic glory (that they see in Abrahams) as a kind of works-based striving for acceptance? Or is it just the hide-bound prejudice of the self-satisfied Christian elite against the upstart pushy Jewish outsider? Or could it perhaps be a bit of both? This complexity is one of the many layers of meaning that make Chariots of Fire such an entertaining and satisfying story. At this point in the film, the British establishment (in the form of the dons) is arguing for the spirit of the amateur and against the win-at-all costs professionalism of the modern athlete. Sporting endeavours, they say, are about the creation of character: “They foster courage, honesty and leadership. But most of all, an unassailable spirit of loyalty... comradeship and mutual responsibility.” Later in the movie, the British establishment (in the form of Lords Cadogan and Birkenhead, and the Prince of Wales) try to dissuade Eric Liddell from precisely these ideals. They try to talk him out of the courageous, loyal, honest expression of his Christian beliefs (about running on Sunday) so as to win Olympic glory for Britain. Which mountain do the British elites belong to now? The compromised nature of the establishment is highlighted by Liddell’s character. He is also an outsider; a Scottish, non-conforming Christian. In many ways, he represents the calm assurance and joy of the heavenly Zion. He runs with a kind of liberated abandon and pleasure that his rival Abrahams can only dream of, and with a sense of commitment, courage and integrity that the Cambridge dons would surely approve of. And yet, ironically, the climactic plot device of the movie—Liddell’s Sabbatarian refusal to run on Sundays—suggests that the old mountain of the Law still has some hold on him. The movie closes (and opens) with another twist—the funeral of Harold Abrahams in the church of St Martin-in-the-fields, Abrahams having converted to Christianity around a decade after the events portrayed in the film. Recalling all this is making me want to go and watch again for the umpteenth time, and if you haven’t ever done so (i.e. you’re probably under 40), let me highly recommend it. But before I zip downstairs and fire up my steam-powered Panasonic VCR and rifle through my VHS collection, a word about why I’ve been thinking about Chariots of Fire again after all these years. It’s because I’ve been reading Hebrews again, and thinking about how important and climactic the two mountains passage in chapter 12 is in the message of the whole book. As you no doubt know, Hebrews sharply and constantly contrasts the old covenant and the new. For all its glory, the old covenant of Moses is a shadow and forerunner of the ‘things that were to be spoken later’. It testifies and points forward to the new and infinitely better covenant that has now been finally revealed and enacted by the Son. Israel set out on a journey to the promised land of rest, and most didn’t make it. We have set on a pilgrimage to a heavenly sabbath rest, under the leadership and ministry of “a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God” (4:14). The contrasts mount up as the book unfolds—the better and final revelation (1:1-4), the better servant-leader (3:1-6), the better sabbath rest, the better high priest and sacrificial atonement made in the better tabernacle (ch 5-10), the better city, the better country, the better resurrection (ch 11), and finally in chapter 12, the better mountain. In all of these contrasts, the ‘betterness’ of Jesus’ ministry and the new covenant is heavenly. In particular, the sacrificial ministry of Jesus as the one, great and final high priest takes place not in an earthly tent or on an earthly mountain (Jerusalem, Mt Zion). His life is taken on the earthly hill of Calvary, but it is in heaven, in the heavenly tabernacle of God, that he appears and offers himself once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin (9:25-26).On the basis of that eternal, heavenly redemption, the new covenant people of God arrive at their destination—the heavenly Jerusalem, the heavenly mountain of chapter

Hi everyoneBefore getting onto this week’s topic, another ‘uncommonly good’ prayer to share with you from The Book of Common Prayer. James wrote in to mention two of his favourites:I do quite like the collect for peace, and especially the phrase ‘whose service is perfect freedom’. It’s a refreshing reminder of how God’s call to freedom and our world’s modern conception of freedom aren’t the same thing. Another favourite is the Collect for the Twelfth Sunday after Trinity, and especially the line: ‘… God, who art always more ready to hear than we to pray’. What a wonderful reminder, and rebuke, about our heavenly Father’s willingness to hear from his children! Here’s the full prayer of which that line is part: Almighty and everlasting God, who art always more ready to hear than we are to pray, and art wont to give more than either we desire or deserve: Pour down upon us the abundance of thy mercy; forgiving us those things whereof our conscience is afraid, and giving us those good things which we are not worthy to ask, but through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ, thy Son, our Lord. AmenWonderful stuff. Gospel clarityThere are many possible reasons for a lack of vitality in a church, which of course gives plenty of scope for experts to provide solutions. It could be your structures or programs or staffing mix or welcoming or preaching or lack of discipline or prayerlessness or who knows what combination of these things and many others. Plus there’s the small matter of God’s sovereign hand.But being a so-called expert myself—on the basis of having helped Col Marshall write a little book about trellises and vines a few years ago—I’ve got another factor to throw into the mix.It may sound ridiculous, but one simple reason that churches and ministries languish is that they don’t teach the gospel with clarity.‘Well of course,’ I hear you say, ‘those liberal and heretical and other sub-orthodox kind of places don’t teach the gospel. That’s why most of them are declining and dying.’True enough, but I’m talking about good solid Bible-teaching evangelical churches. Quite possibly your church.‘Really?’ you respond. ‘That’s hard to believe. Every second sermon at our church mentions that Jesus died for our sins, that justification is by faith alone, and that salvation comes from God’s free grace not our works. We sing about it; we remember it in the Lord’s Supper. Surely if there’s one thing we all know back to front, it’s that!’Like I said, a lack of gospel clarity.It’s certainly true and of prime importance that Jesus died a substitutionary death for our sins, and that forgiveness and salvation and justification flow directly from that fount of every blessing. But to know these truths is not yet to know the gospel with clarity. Not the New Testament gospel anyway.The big newsflash announcement (or ‘gospel’) of the New Testament is not that Jesus died on the cross for your sins. It’s that the Jesus who died on the cross for sins rose again as the Lord and Christ of the world, and now offers forgiveness and salvation and eternal life to all those who repent and submit to his rule in faith.That’s what the apostles went around proclaiming. (Have a read of Acts and see for yourself.)Their big announcement was that the crucified Jesus had been raised by God and thus proven and declared to be the ‘Christ’—God’s promised worldwide ruler and judge in the line of David, whom death could not defeat and who would reign forever over God’s kingdom. When we see the title ‘Christ’ given to Jesus, this is what is being claimed about him.The gospel, then, is not ‘Jesus crucified’, but ‘Jesus Christ and him crucified’ (1 Cor 2:2). The One who was crucified has now risen as God’s worldwide-king-and-judge (‘Christ’). He now calls on everyone in the world to turn back to him in repentance and to receive forgiveness of sins on the basis of his atoning death.Would you say that the members of your church have this understanding of the gospel clearly in their heads? That they could explain to you without hesitation how the death of Jesus for sins and the resurrection of Jesus as the Lord Christ fit together, and how this ‘gospel’ calls not just for faith but for repentance leading to obedience?In my fairly long and wide experience of church life and ministry in evangelical churches in Australia and the US, I would say that disturbingly few everyday Christians grasp these truths with clarity. Whenever I run Two Ways to Live training or workshops, and ask people at the beginning to trot out their existing nutshell gospel, it hardly ever mentions the resurrection—and if it does, it’s with very little understanding of its significance in establishing Jesus as the living Lord and Christ of the world.We need to teach our people this gospel, and clearly. We need to teach it and remind them of it because, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:1-5, this Scripture-fulfilling message about the atoning death and resurrection of the Christ is the word o

I suppose I should have expected it, but quite a few of you got in touch after my recent brief comments about singing and music, and some foolishly asked for more on this subject. There’s certainly plenty to discuss, but I’ve been pondering what I could say in this brief space that would be encouraging, constructive, non-ranty and generally sensitive to the fact that if there’s a subject that otherwise united people tend to disagree about it is this one.Here are three thoughts that I hope meet these requirements.1. A reason to singMuch of our discussion about church-singing in recent decades has revolved around the subjects of ‘praise’ and ‘worship’. It’s almost a cliché now to insist that worship and praise are much bigger categories than ‘singing’ (as all-of-life responses to God), and that ‘singing’ is much more than ‘praise’ and ‘worship’ (it’s a form of mutual encouragement as well).These debates have been helpful in some ways and frustrating in others. Let’s not rehash them here.It occurs to me, however, that there’s a prominent theological category for talking about singing that we rarely discuss, and which might help us think more clearly about it.It’s very striking how often the Bible links singing with joy. The famous opening of Psalm 95 is one good example among many. Here it is in the Book of Common Prayer version I’ve been using recently:O come let us sing unto the Lord: let us heartily rejoice in the rock of our salvation;Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving: and show ourselves glad in him with psalms.In the Hebrew poetry of these verses, singing is paralleled with rejoicing. Singing is how we demonstrate and express our gladness, our thanksgiving, our joy in the Lord who is the rock of our salvation (also see Ps 5:1; 9:2; 27:6; 47:1; 63:7; 65:13; 67:4; 71:23; 81:1; 84:2; 92:4; 100:2; and many others.)One of the very few references to singing in the New Testament also makes this connection:Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing. (Jas 5:13). Now, it’s not as if joy is the only mode of singing that exists, in the world or in the Bible. There are love songs and laments and ballads that tell a story.But if we want to rejoice—and we are commanded to rejoice again and again, in all circumstances—one of the most significant ways to do it is to sing. When we sing, we ‘show ourselves glad’. We employ our whole body and soul not just to declare our gladness and joy, but to demonstrate and enact and celebrate it.Joy is an affection—a sense of delight and gladness and happiness in what is good—but rejoicing is an action that springs from, expresses and stirs that affection.Sometimes we feel very much like rejoicing, such as when the Swans come from behind to defeat the Magpies with a last-minute goal. (For me, the best part of winning is joining 30,000 other fans in the stadium belting out, “Cheer, cheer, the red and the white!”) Sometimes we only start to feel the joy as we rejoice—perhaps as we stand together and sing a stirring song with our brothers and sisters. And at other times, we rejoice and show ourselves glad in the Lord even though our hearts are heavy with the troubles and hardships—because we know that we can and should give thanks and rejoice in him in all circumstances.If we are looking for a biblical category to describe the ‘affective’ nature of singing in church, ‘rejoicing’ is an excellent biblical candidate. It’s our heartfelt response to what the ‘rock of our salvation’ has done for us. It’s something we actively do (by singing heartily together) that expresses our glad response to God’s grace.And if we are looking for ways to diagnose what is lacking in church when the whole vibe of our meeting is stiff or listless or flat, the simplest biblical conclusion might be that we are not rejoicing as we could and should. This is a diagnosis I could get behind.In other words, the thing that is sometimes missing is not an experience of God’s presence, or an exalted state of consciousness that brings me closer to him, or any of the other quasi-mystical foundations for the ‘praise-and-worship experience’ that the charismatic movement has pioneered and exported to so many of our churches.Perhaps the ‘affect’ we’re missing is all-in, foot-stamping, fist-pumping joy.2. Rejoicing is a spiritual responseLike all fruits of the Spirit, joy is both a divine and a human action. It can only come as the Spirit brings life. And yet we are called to keep in step with the Spirit, and commanded to rejoice. It’s something we do, as God works in us by his Spirit through his word.We can’t artificially create or manufacture real joy—say, with a driving bass line or a key change. But we can grow in joy, and grow in our obedience to the command to rejoice. We do this in the usual way—that is, in the way that all spiritual growth happens:* By preaching and teaching the gospel of God’s grace; by holding up Jesus before people’s eyes, and praying that the wonders of

I’ve been using the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) recently to structure my personal prayer and Bible times. I fudge my way around a bit—alternating between the Morning and Evening prayer services, the ‘word’ section of the Communion service, the Litany, and so on. It’s been enriching and edifying in a number of ways, not least because of the power, precision and depth of so many of the prayers. Here for the example is the special prayer set down for this week, the ‘collect’ for Whitsunday (Pentecost), and the days following: God, who at this time taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit, grant us by this same Spirit to have a right judgement in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through the merits of Christ Jesus our Saviour, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the same Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen. Like so many of the BCP collects, there’s a simple request in the middle of the prayer—that by the Spirit we might have a right judgement in all things, and rejoice in the Spirit’s ministry to us—but this short request is surrounded and supported by a rich theological frame. In fact, there’s almost complete biblical theology in there: Jesus’ promise to send the Comforter to enlighten his people, the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost to do just that in the hearts of those who have faith, and the living reign of Jesus, the King and Saviour, who in the unity of the Spirit is the God of the eternal world to come.What the prayer asks for is also echoed in the New Testament’s teaching about the Spirit. It connects the illumining, enlightening work of the Spirit promised by Jesus to Paul’s teaching that the gift of the Spirit enables us to know the truth of Christ and ‘make judgements about all things’ (1 Cor 2:6-16); and it asks for the joy that is so frequently seen as a fruit of the Spirit’s presence (Gal 5:22; Rom 14:17; 1 Thes 1:6 etc.). All of it in one 70-word sentence. It almost seems a shame that this extraordinary prayer would be prayed only once a year—or at least every day during the week following Whitsunday each year.We don’t much use the traditional church calendar these days, and I’m not especially advocating that we do. However, it’s interesting and encouraging to see how the prayers for the different times of the year are shaped by the biblical events and theology that are being remembered and read about in the set readings.On Ash Wednesday, for example, at the beginning of the 40-day period leading up to Easter Day, there’s this prayer: Almighty and everlasting God, who hates nothing you have made, and forgives the sins of all those who are penitent: create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, we may receive from you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.I can’t help thinking that there is a corrective going on here for the works-based asceticism that was associated with Lent in traditional Catholicism. The things we must give up during Lent are not the good created things of the world (none of which God hates) but our sins; and in repenting of these with a new and contrite heart that God himself has created in us, we receive complete and utter forgiveness from the God of all mercy. (It is also a beautiful prayer for the person who feels worthless and hateful, and who can’t quite believe that God would show love and mercy even to them.)Not all the BCP prayers are occasional like this. Many of them get repeated often, sometimes daily—like the famous collect for peace:O God, who is the author of peace and lover of concord, in knowledge of whom stands our eternal life, whose service is perfect freedom: defend us your humble servants in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defence, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.The prayer is structured around a theological understanding of God’s character, what he has done through Jesus (the mighty and powerful risen Christ), and what our eschatological situation is in the world (given eternal life, liberated to serve God, but surrounded each day by enemies and adversaries). It’s a prayer that understands my situation, and explains it to me, even as I pray it. (I also smile to myself as I pray this prayer because, like me, God is a ‘lover of concord’—although perhaps it’s not Concord Golf Club that the prayer is referring to.)The two other collects I come back to repeatedly are given at the conclusion of the Communion service, as prayers that may be used pretty much in any service or on any occasion. Here’s the first one:Grant, we beseech you, Almighty God, that the words we have heard this day with our outward ears may through your grace be so grafted inwardly in our hearts, that they may bring forth in us the fruit of good living, to the honour and praise of your nam

In last week’s follow-up post about community (‘Can we just hang out?’), I mentioned the advantages of doing the obvious—that is, actually teaching our people about the nature of membership and community. But how well do we do this kind of thing? I said this:I am often struck by how meagrely and haphazardly we teach about such subjects in our churches. We do the essential work of expounding the Scriptures week by week, and we also study Bible passages in our small groups (often the same ones). But the integrative work of applied theology—that is, the task of drawing the Bible’s teaching on a subject together, and showing what it means for our lives … this is something we do much less often, and less effectively.I promised some further thoughts, and here they are.Has it ever occurred to you (as it occurred to me recently) that when we preach an expository sermon on, say, 1 Corinthians 1:18-31, we are doing something different from what the passage itself is doing?What I mean is that our process starts with the biblical text—with understanding it, expounding it, and then applying its truths to our lives. The content of our preaching is initiated by the authoritative Scriptural text and flows from there to the minds, hearts and lives of our listeners.This is exactly how it should be, you say, and I entirely agree.But it is interesting that this is not how 1 Corinthians 1 itself proceeds. Its point of departure is not a text being expounded but a subject being addressed. In whatever way we describe the issue or problem Paul is tackling at Corinth—factionalism, divisiveness, arrogance, worldly wisdom—Paul crafts this chapter as a response to this. He draws on a theology of the cross in order to teach the Corinthians that their arrogance and factionalism is ridiculously wrong and out of place.I guess you could say that Paul is practising applied systematic theology. When we preach the passage, though, we are practising applied biblical theology—that is, we take the text as it is given to us in Scripture, expound and explain it in its own terms and according to its literary and biblical context, and apply its message to our hearers. The same is true for the small Bible study group that opens this passage, seeks to understand it together and apply it to one another’s lives. We start with the Bible, and let its message shape our discussion and mutual encouragement.Again (in case you’re worried) let me re-assert that this is just as it should be. In fact, as I look back on nearly four decades of Christian thinking and ministry, one of the features of the evangelical movement for which I am most thankful has been the consistent and vigorous effort to restore expository preaching and Bible study to the centre of our churches and ministries. God’s word is the lamp to our feet. We should humbly and contritely tremble before his speech in Scripture, and listen. This is what the ‘expository movement’ (if I can call it that) has sought to recover. And praise God that in many places it has succeeded.This is especially so when we consider the alternative that we’ve been working to overcome—the kind of topical preaching that starts with a biblical text and then springboards off into the topic that the preacher wants to speak about; or the therapeutic preaching that starts with the felt need in our lives and tries to solve it; or the moralistic or political preaching that is always taking its subject from the latest social issue or moral outrage; or even the systematic theology kind of preaching that preaches an important (or favourite) doctrine but never actually pauses to listen to and expound the text.Topicality is certainly dangerous. It not only runs the risk of replacing God’s agenda with ours, but frequently leads us to lift Bible verses and passages out of their context and apply them in ways that the authors (and Author) never intended.But topicality is also unavoidable and necessary. This is because the worthy Christian walk takes place in human time and space. To state the obvious, daily discipleship constantly confronts us with circumstances and situations in which we are called to be godly and faithful. But as soon as we ask, “What does the Bible say about how I should be godly in this situation?” we are asking the topical question. We’re starting with an issue and going back to the Bible, to draw together, integrate and apply what it says.So you might say that there are two ways in which God shapes and directs our thinking and our lives through the Scriptures. We start with the Bible, humbly reading and preaching and meditating upon it as it is given to us, having our minds and hearts transformed by the Spirit as we do so. And we also turn to it, and seek its truth and wisdom regarding the particular issue or challenge that we are facing today.Both are important, and they are complementary. The more we start with the Bible and have our minds shaped by it, the better we will understand our circumstances and situati

“I think you are a purist”, a friend said to me after I’d just given a presentation on ‘community and belonging’ at last week’s Reach Australia conference.“Who me?” I lamely chuckled, but then immediately wished I’d said something more witty, like: “What would you prefer? An impurist?”My talk at Reach was an expanded version of last week’s post, and majored on the same point—that Christian ‘community’ and ‘membership’ and ‘belonging’ is created and built by one thing only: the presence of Jesus Christ in our midst through his word.It was a fun seminar, filled out very ably by Tim Clemens’s practical wisdom on what those theological themes mean for how churches can welcome and integrate new members, and disciple them to be part of a rich Christ-centred community.When my friend expanded on his ‘purist’ comment, it was really to explore a question that had been raised in the seminar, as follows: granted that Jesus is the centre of our community, and the head of the body of which we’re members; granted also that this makes the word of Christ ‘dwelling richly amongst us’ the vital factor—how then do we think about the place of our actions in building Christian community? What about just going out to dinner with people, or playing board games, or painting the front room together? Don’t these sorts of things do anything for our ‘sense of community’? Would it be okay with the purist if we just hung out?The first thing the purist would say is that human friendship, togetherness and relationship are good things in themselves. They don’t need any further justification or purpose. There’s no need to question our consciences about whether ‘hanging out’ is really okay if there are no Bible verses present.This is especially so because many people today, sadly, are starved of the joys of human friendship and togetherness, particularly in the dislocated, isolating life of the modern city. To provide those simple pleasures (by hosting that dinner party or games night) is an act of real kindness—on the same level as helping an elderly neighbour with their lawns. In itself, it doesn’t create Christian community as such or build the body of Christ (as we’ve defined it), but it’s still an act of goodness and love.However secondly, hanging out together in smaller informal settings creates a context in which Christian community can flourish. Tim Clemens fleshed this out very helpfully during our seminar. He pointed us to research that showed how people relate differently (and gain different things) in groupings of different size:* In ‘public’ contexts (100+) we normally gather to engage together with something outside ourselves, like at a sports game or a concert or a church meeting;* In ‘social’ contexts (20-70), we interact with an affinity group of some kind, sharing snapshots of ourselves—like at a party or at morning tea after church;* In ‘personal’ contexts (4-12), we reveal more of ourselves, and likewise get to know others at a deeper level—as at a dinner party or a small Bible study group;* In ‘transparent’ contexts (2-4), we can be open and vulnerable, and share our innermost thoughts and experiences—usually with our marriage partner or a close friend.We can build the community of Jesus Christ in different ways in each of these contexts or social spaces, because we can share his word in various ways with different benefits at each level—from the sermon that challenges us all, to the series of conversations afterwards which teases it out, to the more personal conversations where we grapple with our own personal weaknesses.So it’s not that hanging out with ten people automatically creates Christian community, and we shouldn’t confuse the joys of just being with other people with the unique thing that is Christian community. But unless we hang out with ten people, and create the trusting social space in which we can talk to each other, how can we have the opportunity to fellowship around the word of Jesus Christ at that more personal level? How can we have all the different kinds of conversations we need to have about understanding and believing the word, and living it out?As I mentioned in last week’s post, we can facilitate community-in-Christ by creating “the optimum number and variety of contexts where people can be together as those who share Jesus Christ”.Including just hanging out.This leads to a second insightful question that was asked at the seminar about our actions in community: What are the benefits of people actually serving each other for building Christian community? Surely loving service and action for the sake of others is a genuine expression of our ‘community’ and ‘membership’, and increases our personal experience of it?Hard to argue with that. In fact, on this basis, many churches work hard at getting as many people as possible involved in serving each other. The more people start to exercise the muscles of practical service, and take an active part in community life, the more they tend to experience a

Do you want your church to be a place where people feel like they belong? Where there is a close sense of mutual dependence and love, and where there is a genuine experience of Christian community?Who doesn’t?(Well, there are times when I don’t, and wish that everyone on the planet would just leave me alone, but let’s not get into my problems.)How could we pursue or promote this kind of community?The small contribution I want to make in this week’s post is to pause and ponder what we mean by ‘belonging’, ‘membership’ and ‘community’.Like me, you probably have a range of different memberships. There are overlapping families I belong to (immediate and extended, on my side and Ali’s side). I belong to the Christian communities at St Paul’s Carlingford and at Campus Bible Study. But I’d also say that some part of my heart will always belong to Matthias Media, and the team that still pursues that vision. I’m a member of Concord Golf Club and of the Qantas Frequent Flyer program—one of them of far more importance than the other. I guess I’d also say that I’m part of the little community in my street here in West Ryde, and of the broader communities of Sydney, New South Wales and Australia.So far I’ve been using the words ‘belong’ and ‘member’ and ‘community’ pretty much interchangeably, and in everyday speech we often do.But these three words are also subtly different. They describe the same kind of thing from different angles, with different metaphors. It’s worth teasing out their nuances, even if we have room to do so only briefly.MemberTo be a ‘member’ of something is to be a part of a body; to be an arm or a nose or a spleen that derives its identity and function from the interconnected organism of which it is a part. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 12, being baptized into Christ means becoming one of his body parts, which should put an end to all arrogance, divisions, jealousy, partiality and selfishness in general. You make no sense and you’re of no use as a member of this body unless you realise that you’re part of an interconnected whole, with Christ as the head. Being a ‘member’ is about seeking the well-being and benefit of the whole body, according to the direction and rule of its head. The body strengthens and builds itself as all the individual parts speak the truth of Christ to one another in love (Eph 4:14-16).I guess being a member of the body of Christ looks kind of like this … CommunityTo be in a ‘community’ is a different metaphor. A community is a group of people who love or participate in a common object or person. A community is not one organic whole, like a body. It’s a group of people who share something, who are united by their ‘fellowship’ or ‘partnership’ in something. As Oliver O’Donovan puts it, a community has a “common object of love”. (He gets this from Augustine, who distinguished the City of God from the Earthly City by their different objects of love.)Now for Christians, that centre or common object of love is Jesus Christ. Our fellowship or communion is with God through Jesus Christ (1 John 1:1-4). Because we know him and love him and have him in common, we are a community or fellowship of Christ. This means that whatever else we might share—common demographics, language, interests, or even just a common desire for friendship and mutuality—Christian community is not about any of these. It is fellowship in Jesus Christ. He is what we have in common, and through him we love one another. To build our community, therefore, we need to encounter each other more often and more deeply through him (that is, through his word, which is how he is present with us).We might picture it like this …BelongingWhat about ‘belonging’? To belong to something means that we fit there, most often because some person or organization has a claim on us. My iPhone belongs in my pocket because I own it and it is mine—although I often absent-mindedly leave it on the kitchen counter on silent (so good luck trying to get through to me).In saying I belong to a family, I mean that I have responsibilities and ties of blood and affection that bind me to that group of people. It’s not just that they are mine; I am theirs. I can’t ever stop belonging to them.I belong to something because I am of it—in the sense of it being my source or origin or master or place. My belonging is defined not by me but by that Other person or group who identifies me and claims me as theirs.We see this in our English Bibles where they speak of us belonging to God or to Jesus Christ. There isn’t actually a word ‘belong’ in the Greek text. Instead, there’s a kind of relation set up in the grammar that is ‘of’ or ‘from’ or ‘unto’ God or Christ. For example, here are two verses that are often translated with ‘belong’, rendered very literally:And those who are of Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. Galatians 5:24)For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or

Well, I’m back in the land of vegemite, budgie-smugglers and drop-bears, after two busy but invigorating weeks in the US.I never quite managed that second ‘Postcard from America’, reality having collided viciously with my optimism. This week’s post is the next best thing: a postcard from a weary but happy returned traveller, with some brief reflections on his sojourn in a strange land.I don’t say ‘strange land’ in any pejorative sense. It’s just that America is different in so many ways, and sometimes disorienting for an Australian evangelical Christian. At one level, there’s so much that seems familiar and immediately recognizable—perhaps because of our shared British heritage or simply because we consume so much American culture (in its popular and Christian forms).And yet the differences also keep slapping you in the face.Some of them are negatives. They put sweet jam on chicken-and-salad sandwiches. The coffee is mostly terrible. They never put the handbrake on when they park the car. But let’s try to be American about this, which is to say grateful and positive.That’s the first thing that strikes me, every time I visit the US (which I’ve done perhaps 15 times over the past two decades). The positivity. American evangelical Christians have an easy thankfulness about them that I don’t tire of experiencing. There’s no embarrassment in thanking you for the good or helpful things you’ve done, nor any awkwardness about receiving such praise or affirmation with humility.In fact, my US colleague Marty Sweeney is sure that I keep coming back to the States each year just so as I can get my annual dose of positive affirmation, to keep me going for the next 12 months. He’s probably right. I think I get nearly as much warm and genuine thanks, encouragement and general affirmation during my two-week American trips than in the other 11½ Australian months.Now, any kind of thankful positivity (including the American variety) can become cloying or fake or unrealistic or even manipulative. But I think my Australian instinct is therefore to dial it down just in case.Insofar as walking and growing in the truth of Christ Jesus the Lord means ‘abounding in thanksgiving’ (Col 2:6-7), I’m always rebuked and encouraged by my American brothers to abound a bit more.The flipside of thankfulness is generosity. I’m grateful to have received; I’m glad to be able to give. Perhaps Americans and American churches are wealthier or better resourced than their Australian counterparts. I’m sure that’s true in some cases. But I’m always bowled over by the graciousness of their hosting, the thoughtful way they provide for guests, and the generosity of the honoraria that they give to visiting speakers. We’re not talking chocolates and $50 Coles vouchers. It has been common for me to have been given a thank you note with US$1000 enclosed, just for preaching one Sunday at a church, or for delivering a single talk at a conference. (And in case you think that’s the reason I keep going back to the US each year, the money all goes to defraying the costs of the trip!)It’s interesting to think why cultures are different; how they get to be the way they are — whether we’re thinking of churches, families, communities, or even nations. Culture is ‘the whole way we do things around here’, and it’s formed over time by a thousand words, habits, decisions, actions, structures, traditions, and so on. How did American Christian culture get to be (in general) more thankful and generous than our culture? Why for that matter did the culture of Sydney-based evangelicalism develop in the way that it did, such that a book that fairly plainly described its ministry culture (The Trellis and the Vine) should become such a fresh and powerful statement for American evangelicalism about some of its shortcomings? Who can say?But I’m sure that the gospel and the work of God’s Spirit over time in a particular place has a great deal to do with it. And so when I notice the strengths of other Christian cultures (as well as their weaknesses), it challenges me all over again to keep shifting our culture in a godly direction, through trusting and applying that same Word by that same Spirit.I guess that’s why God gives us each other.One final observation from this recent trip. One of the conference gatherings I attended met in a hotel. There was no overhead projection in the room; no piano or musical instruments; just a very plain, large, hotel conference room. On the basis of this, I assumed that there wouldn’t be any singing during our meetings.How wrong I was. What ensued was in fact the most edifying and heart-warming Christian singing I’ve experienced in a very long time.We pulled out some printed sheets containing music and words, and turned to a particular song. Someone at the front sang a note for us to start on and then off we went. Just voices, about 180 of us, raised together, singing to each other, singing with thankfulness and rejoicing to God.We sang some classic old

Well, as promised, here is a little something from your roving correspondent. I’ve been here in Ohio for the last several days, working with Marty Sweeney (director of Matthias Media USA) and running a workshop for pastors on ‘Gospel Clarity and Growing the Vine’. The workshop was hugely worthwhile—certainly for me, and I think for those who attended (if their positivity and thoughtful contributions weren’t just all American politeness). The conversation you can listen to above has Marty and I reprising some of the main topics of the day. I hope you find it stimulating. Looking ahead at the program of the next week or so (another conference in New Mexico) I think it might be a case of my over-active optimism to think that I will have time to send another episode before I return home. But I’ll see what I can do … TP This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Last week’s post on the nature of small group leading prompted some excellent responses and questions that are worth addressing. The first question was asked by a couple of different people. In summary: What are the implications of this ‘tour guide’ approach for complementarian leadership in small groups? How does ‘tour guide’ leading work in mixed groups with male and female leaders? Some big issues here! I’ll outline the assumptions I’m operating with, and then offer some wisdom in application.I’m assuming a complementarian approach to teaching—one which affirms both the partnership of men and women together in church and ministry life, and the differences in their roles and responsibilities. In other words: * There are many contexts and relationships in which men and women teach and edify and encourage each other without much distinction (e.g. the instruction for the whole congregation to teach and admonish one another in Col 3:16; or the time when both Priscilla and Aquila took Apollos aside and explained the word of God more accurately to him in Acts 18:26). * There are some contexts and relationships in which men have a particular role and responsibility to teach in a way that women don’t (e.g. 1 Tim 2:11-12). * This authoritative teaching is related to responsibility. Because a group of suitably qualified men are given the responsibility to guard and oversee and pastor a congregation, then they are the ones given the responsibility of teaching—that is, of guarding, explaining and expounding the whole framework of gospel doctrine in that congregation. Their particular teaching role is a key part of how they exercise pastoral responsibility. Where do small groups fit into this? The nature and occasion of the small group matters in answering that question. I could imagine coming up with different answers for:* all-female groups and all-male groups (obviously enough)* temporary breakout groups from a larger group or gathering* a mixed youth group Bible study led by 16 year olds* a group of uni students at a conference* a regular mixed adult small group at a church. I guess it’s really this last one that the question is being asked about. Is the tour guide of a mixed adult small group a sort of ‘teacher’ and a sort of ‘pastor’? Well yes, but of a small-t and small-p variety. (I think that was the point of my article). The tour guide aims to lead his group to the main points of a passage but it’s a more circuitous and less predictable journey. We arrive there (God willing) and discover those truths together, but the leader is not authoritatively teaching or hammering them home as an elder or pastor would when addressing the whole congregation. This means that mixed adult small groups should express complementarian principles in a small-c kind of way. The male leader of the group should still take final responsibility for what’s happening in the group, and for the faithfulness with which the group strives to get to the destination. But he doesn’t have a responsibility for the life and doctrine of the people in the group in the same way that congregational elders and overseers do. He is the tour guide of a discussion, not someone delivering an authoritative lesson. As we noted last time, this still means that he needs to have a good idea of where he’s going—what the ‘destination’ is in the passage. However, it also means that he can (and should) encourage all members of the group, men and women, to contribute to the journey—to ask questions, make suggestions, offer insights and in effect ‘lead the discussion’ in various directions at various points along the way. What does this mean for mixed leadership in practical terms? I’m loathe to get too detailed, but it could look something like this: * Let’s start by saying that the male leader can and should involve other group members in leading aspects of the small group time—whether that’s the prayer time, the discussion of applications, a background discussion into the OT context, an exercise in nutting out the difficult logic of a dense paragraph, the drawing together of the main points, and so on. Remember: the small group is an opportunity for mutual learning and growth—it’s the scene for one-another edification through the word in a Colossians 3:16 sort of way. Having different group members (men and women) taking the lead at various points in the discussion is healthy for small groups.* If this means that, on different occasions, a female co-leader does some more detailed preparation, and leads the group for much of their exegetical tour of the passage, that doesn’t mean she has taken over final responsibility for the group and its exploration of the word. The male leader remains responsible, and this can be made clear in the way things are framed and done. He’s the one who leads the discussion most often, and models what we’re doing together as a group. Even when he’s making room for others to lead, he’s the one who introduces the discussion, keeps an eye

Before we get started, some news to share: you can now read The Payneful Truth in the new Substack app for iPhone.With the app, you’ll have a dedicated Inbox for my newsletter and any others you subscribe to. New posts will never get lost in your email filters, or stuck in spam. Longer posts will never be cut-off by your email app. Comments and rich media will all work seamlessly. Overall, it’s an upgrade to the reading experience I think. The Substack app is currently available for iOS. If you don’t have an Apple device, you can join the Android waitlist here.Anyway, on to this week’s subject.Facilitators or teachers?Is a small group leader a facilitator? Or more of a teacher?It’s funny how the answer to that question seems to go in cycles.In the 1980s, most people in my part of the world would have leaned towards ‘facilitator’. The job of the small group leader was not to deliver a mini-sermon or be a ‘teacher’, but to stimulate some discussion around a Bible passage. Get things moving, try to keep it vaguely on track, but don’t feel it’s your responsibility to impose a conclusion or ‘lesson’ on the group.In the 90s, there was a pendulum swing away from this thinking, as captured in Col Marshall’s classic book Growth Groups. Col argued explicitly against the concept of ‘facilitator’, and trained a generation of small group leaders to think of themselves more as teachers and leaders—as small-p ‘pastors’ who took a measure of responsibility for the spiritual health of the group members. The leader’s job was to help the group learn what the Bible was teaching, not just share opinions with each other. And this required the leader to do sufficient preparation to understand the passage, and to be able to lead a Bible discussion that revealed and applied the passage’s main points.In the heyday of Growth Groups, it was assumed that most leaders would prepare and write their own Bible studies most of the time.Was this a high bar for many leaders and churches? No doubt. And perhaps this is why the pendulum has swung back towards ‘facilitation’ in recent years.The increasingly common pattern today is for small groups either to do some version of the Swedish method together, or to use pre-written studies, often prepared by the church staff in line with the current sermon series. Leaders see themselves more as a chairperson than a teacher. And if there is a conclusion or landing point to get to, it’s the one that’s been given to them by the pre-written study. Small group leaders writing their own Bible studies from scratch now seems to be a rarity.I am tempted at this point to do a not-in-my-day rant about falling standards.But perhaps there is something more helpful to say. Let’s think afresh about the pros and cons of each swing of this pendulum.On the ‘teacher-leader’ side, the main weakness is simply the high expectations it places on the average group leader. This not only makes it harder to find suitable leaders willing and able to embrace the responsibility, but also means that their training takes longer, and that they are more likely to burn out after a few years. Many churches have found that trying to train all their leaders to this level is unrealistic, and places a cap on how many groups can actually be run. How many churches can find space in their program to run the full 10-week Growth Groups training course for their would-be leaders? Not very many.Then again, the strength of the ‘teacher-leader’ model is its realism about the ineffectiveness of loosey-goosey, facilitator-type discussions run by inadequately trained leaders. If sermonettes produce Christianettes (as the old saying goes) then meandering group discussions without a landing point produce meandering Christians without a landing point.The strength of the ‘teacher-leader’ approach is that it recognizes the weakness and potential danger of poorly led opinion sharing, and does something about it. The goal (after all) is not to have a discussion, but to ‘let the word dwell among us richly’ (as Col 3:16 says); to teach and encourage and edify one another in, with and by the Word. This is the goal of all Christian fellowship, of which the small group is one particular type. It’s hard to see why leadership and purposefulness wouldn’t be needed in this context as much as in any other. To think that it will all just happen without well-trained, good quality leadership is a touch naive.Then again, a well-intended swing towards ‘teaching’ can prompt a teacher-leader to exert too much control over the group, and to squelch or crowd out another theologically vital facet of small group life—the opportunity for members to speak the word to each other for mutual instruction and encouragement. This is the key strength of a ‘facilitated’ group. The facilitator’s whole aim is to stimulate one-another speech, to let the conversation flow freely and go where it will. There is maximum opportunity for mutual encouragement, even if there is also maximum opportunit

It’s funny how the big puzzle in a Bible passage can often distract you from seeing the smaller enigma.For example, in 1 Cor 14, the question I immediately want answered is about prophecy. It’s the gift I should pursue, says Paul, because it is the best way to edify others in love. But what prophecy it exactly?This is a big question. (And for those who are interested, I came up with a big, long answer to it during my PhD research a few years ago. Just drop me a line if you’d like a copy to send you off to sleep at night.)But the big question of prophecy might lead us to miss the smaller but no less intriguing question in verse 26:What then, brothers? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.People turn up at church with various things to contribute to others for their edification. ‘Hymns’ and ‘lessons’ I can understand. ‘Tongues’ is another can of worms. But pretty casually and in passing Paul says that you also might bring a revelation with you.This makes me kind of nervous.I can see that strange guy with the intense eyes turning up to church with a new book of the Bible under his arm that God has told him to write. Or I see that overly confident woman with the matronly manner rolling up to me and telling me with divine authority that God knows exactly what I’m up to and that I should knock it off.What are these ‘revelations’ that the Corinthians are having and bringing to church with them? It sounds a bit alarming.Like all words, it’s possible to confuse what ‘revelation’ means as a word with how it is used or what it refers to. The word literally means to make something fully known or clear; to uncover or disclose some person or truth or knowledge.In the NT, it can be the ‘making known’ of Jesus Christ when he comes again in glory (e.g. 1 Cor 1:7). He’ll be ‘revealed’ for all to see. Or it can be some special knowledge that is made to someone directly by God, such as when Paul says that he was not taught the gospel by any man but received it ‘through a revelation of Jesus Christ’ (referring probably to the Damascus road experience where Jesus confronted him personally as his Lord in Gal 1:12).So what is it that is becoming known or clear to someone here in 1 Cor 14, such that they can bring that ‘revelation’ with them to church to edify others? It doesn’t necessarily mean that they have had their own Damascus road vision, and it certainly doesn’t mean that they have received a whole new gospel because an angel has appeared and given it to them. (In fact, if that happens, we can be pretty sure it was certainly no angel of God! See Gal 1:8.)Earlier in 1 Cor 14, the possibility of having a ‘revelation’ to share is also mentioned, and again it’s one of a list of similarly edifying words:Now, brothers, if I come to you speaking in tongues, how will I benefit you unless I bring you some revelation or knowledge or prophecy or teaching? (1 Cor 14:6)How is a ‘revelation’ different from ‘teaching’ or ‘knowledge’ or ‘prophecy’?There’s some overlap no doubt, but it’s not hard to see differences between them. A ‘teaching’ might be a specific nugget of truth that has been passed on to us, and that we bring with us in order to teach others. ‘Knowledge’ is a broader category of understanding that we’ve acquired over time, and that we can also share with others. ‘Prophecy’ is a particular application of the gospel to a particular context (to give you the shorthand answer to that big question).But that again leaves ‘revelation’.I think the way it’s being used in both instances in 1 Cor 14 is rather like the way the same word is used in Phil 3:15:Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you.When things are unclear or partially known or misunderstood completely, the problem often lies not in receiving a new teaching or new piece of knowledge, but in what is already partially or poorly known becoming fully known, by the work of God in our minds.This is a common Christian experience. For me, it often occurs over a number of days and conversations.I find myself reading something interesting one evening, which then connects with a conversation I have the next day, which then reminds me of a sermon I heard two weeks ago, which then prompts me to chat to Ali about it over dinner, which then casts a whole new light on the conversation I had earlier, and which then incredibly lines up with the Bible reading I happen to look at the next morning. It all percolates in my slow-witted brain for a few days, and then seemingly from nowhere comes the Aha! moment. The clouds part, the pieces lock into place, and all of a sudden some fresh aspect of the truth of Christ becomes clear to me.It might be something I once was taught but had forgotten, or never quite understood. It might be something I now understand in a new or clearer or fuller way.Whatever it is, even thoug

I was speaking at a church camp this last weekend on the familiar topic (for me at least) of why the one-another speech of the Christian community is so vital to our spiritual health, as individuals and as churches.I was warming to my theme, and explaining that as we speak the word to each other in love in a whole range of ways—encouraging, exhorting, teaching, admonishing, comforting, reminding, and so on—we “let the word of Christ dwell among us richly” to our immense benefit.And then in a delightful instance of one-another speech, someone asked an insightful question: How does speaking the truth in love to each other relate to all the other ways we can love and serve one another? Is speaking the only or even the prime way we love one another? Can we love one another without speaking the truth to each other?As I started to waffle out an answer, I realised that I had been dealing with this question in various forms for years.Is word ministry the only ministry or the best ministry? What about the place of compassion and good deeds? Is ‘trellis’ work less valuable or important than ‘vine’ work? Surely some of us are good at speaking and ‘ministry’ stuff, and some of us are good at getting in and loving others practically. Why don’t we just let people play to their strengths?Christian love and Christian words—how do they fit together?Perhaps the most obvious answer to the question is the one that I started to give on the weekend.The joyful obligation to love one another is surely bigger and broader than just speaking biblical words to each other. Love is expressed in a multitude of kind and beneficial actions. The many ‘one-another’ commands in the New Testament give numerous examples, such as serving, forgiving, accepting, bearing with, and generally ‘doing good’ to one another.In fact, it’s very possible to be so focused on words as to fail to love others.By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth. (1 Jn 3:16-18)This is an important lesson. Words are sometimes easier than action (#IStandWithUkraine). Are kind words that don’t lead to loving action really love at all? No, says John.So perhaps ‘speaking the truth’ in love is a subset of loving action. There are lots of ways to love one another, and sharing a biblical word with someone is just one of them. To be sure, it’s an important one, and one we should all strive to practise—because it is a command for us to obey just like all the others. But it’s no more or less important than all the other ways to love.Is that the way to think about it?I don’t think so. And in the process of rambling around in my answer to the question I’d been asked, I managed to remember and express why.Christian love is love in the truth. Let us not love in words but in deed and in truth, says John. Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth, says Paul (1 Cor 13:6). And it is this truth that we are to speak to one another in love in Ephesians 4:15.Love is a kind of knowledge. Love is not a sentiment or a feeling, although it is often felt. Love is not just action, although it is often expressed in action. Love is a certain kind of knowledge of what is true and good—a knowledge that longs for and seeks that truth and goodness, not only for ourselves but for others. (If that sounds a familiar idea to some readers, it’s because I wrote about these ideas a few months ago in this article …) The question is: If love is a kind of knowledge, where does this knowledge come from? How do we get to know it? Some of it comes to us quite easily in everyday life. I know that you need food and warmth to survive—it’s a knowledge is that is acquired pretty quickly and instinctively by all of us. To wish you well but not give you those good things when you need them is a failure to love you in the truth. It may be a warm sentiment expressed with kind words, but it is not love, because it ignores the truth of your need.This may be an everyday, common knowledge, but it is still a God-given knowledge. We know this about each other, not only because God created us to have these needs as humans, but because he gave us the capacity to perceive and know this about his world and each other. All love comes from God, because all truth and goodness come from him.However, the ultimate truth that reveals the whole nature of the world and ourselves and where we’re going is found in only one place—in Jesus Christ, God’s final and complete revelation of himself and his purposes.All Christian love and service, therefore—in all its forms and in all its expressions—is based on the truth that is revealed to us in Christ. In him, we no longer think about anything as we did before (2 Cor 5:16-17). Faith in him and his gospel is the

As promised, here is the next instalment in the gospel book you’re helping me write. I felt a bit excited and daunted at the same time working on this draft. There’s nothing more bracing than writing about the death of Jesus, but I also couldn’t escape the feeling of not wanting to muck this up. We’re getting to the heart of things; this has to be good!I’m not sure whether it is yet, but I’m sure you’ll help me figure that out.Just a quick recap: this chapter is based on Point 4 of the Two Ways to Live outline:Because of his love, God sent his Son into the world: the man Jesus Christ.Jesus always lived under God’s rule.But Jesus took our punishment by dying in our place.The first instalment dealt with the opening two statements, under headings of ‘His arrival’ and ‘His life’. This second part of the chapter is about ‘his death’.You can read the text below, or listen via the audio player above, or you can also download a PDF of the chapter, which is easier for printing and for referring to specific lines and paragraphs.His deathIf you’ve never really read one of the Gospels, you might assume that they are mainly about Jesus’ teaching and parables and miracles. That it’s all good Samaritans and prodigal sons and walking on water.There is certainly quite a bit of that.But as biographies the four Gospels are strangely lopsided. They say very little about Jesus’ birth and early life (Mark and John don’t mention these subjects at all). They ignore his adolescence and young adulthood entirely. They recount in snapshot fashion the key events of his public ministry that took place over an approximately three year period—his teachings and parables, his healings and mighty works, his clashes with the religious authorities.But then the narrative slows right down. Each of the Gospels spends chapter after chapter recounting in depth the final days of Jesus’ life, and in particular the details of his betrayal, trial and humiliating death. It’s as if the events of Jesus’ arrival and extraordinary life are an extended introduction. The real action of the story is the death of the hero.If this seems strange to you, then join the party. It was also very confusing for Jesus’ disciples.Throughout the Gospels, they become increasingly convinced that Jesus is the One—the Messiah-king or ‘Christ’ whom God had sent to save his people and rule the world. About half way through Mark’s Gospel, Jesus comes straight out and asks his disciples who they think he is.Peter answers with a directness that is typical of him, “You are the Christ” (Mark 8:29).You would think this might be the climax of the story. After seven chapters of following him around and watching everything, and not always covering themselves in glory, the disciples have finally done something right. They have realised who Jesus is, and said so. Bells pealing. Fireworks going off.But no.Jesus responds in an unexpected way. He starts by strictly commanding them not to tell anyone else what they’ve come to know about him—which seems odd. Doesn’t he want people to know that God has sent his Christ into the world?And then he explains to them that he must “suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again” (Mark 8:31).This is even stranger. Jesus not only wants to be an anonymous, under-the-radar sort of Christ, but he insists that the Christ is going to rejected and killed by the key religious leaders of the Jewish people—the very people you would expect to welcome the Christ with fanfare and festivals.Peter is incredulous and takes Jesus aside and starts telling him off. To which Jesus gives the famous reply, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man” (Mark 8:33).I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for Peter. He has, after all, just gotten something right for pretty much the first time in the Gospel story so far. He has recognized that Jesus is the long-promised Saviour-King. And understandably, he thinks that everything is on the up and up. All that remains is for Jesus to be anointed King, to defeat all Israel’s enemies (like the occupying Romans), to establish a new, glorious kingdom, and for everything generally to be hotsy-totsy.This is what any of us would have expected a glorious Christ-Saviour-King to do. What’s the point of waiting centuries for the Messiah to turn up, only for him to say, “Oh and by the way, they’re all going to hate me and kill me”? It seems crazy.And from a human point of view it is. This was Jesus’ rebuke to Peter: you’re thinking along human lines, not along God-type lines. God has a completely different plan for what his Christ will do, and how he will establish his kingdom.That plan unfolds over the following eight chapters of Mark’s Gospel. As Jesus heads towards Jerusalem and towards the final week of his life, two things increase in intensity—the angry opposition of the religious authorities, and Je

As small groups get started for another year (in my part of the world) I thought it might be useful to write something on ‘How to be a small group member’. But then I thought better of it.I remembered something from a management book that I once read in a moment of weakness. It was called Start With Why, and I can save you the trouble of wading through its 250 padded-out pages of case studies, personal stories and general fluff by summarizing its one, short, helpful point. It’s wisest to start by asking why you’re doing something, before moving on to ask how you’re going to do it, and then in turn think about what you’re going to do next.An obvious but useful thought.So rather than asking how to be a better small group member, let’s start with why.Why belong to a small group at church?Three common answers spring to mind.* Because that’s what committed Christians do. Christians go to small groups like tradies go to the pub. It’s what we’ve always done—except that for most of the last two millennia of Christian history, we haven’t. Small groups (as we know them) weren’t really a thing before about 50 years ago.* Because that’s the expectation set by your church. In many churches, to be a true-blue member you’re supposed to come regularly on Sunday, give money and go to a small group. This is actually not a bad rule of thumb by which to recognize committed church involvement, but is it really an adequate reason for going to small groups? Because I kind of have to in order to belong to the club?* Because it’s a great way to get to know people and feel part of the church community. This feels better, and at least has a bit of relational zip to it. It is indeed hard in a church of even moderate size to really get to know people over a quick cuppa on Sunday morning. Small groups usually help with that.Even so, I’m not sure any of these reasons are going to motivate us consistently to drag ourselves out the door every week at 7:30pm at the end of a long day to engage in chit-chat with a bunch of other tired people. Not to mention the fact we still haven’t said anything related to … you know, God.Does God have a why for us to join a small group?He does as it turns out.The reason God gathers us together in Christian communities is not just so we get to know people or feel the warmth of being part of a group of like-minded people—it’s for a specific purpose.Of the many places we find this purpose in the Bible, one of the clearest is in Colossians 3. This extraordinary chapter starts by summarizing the foundation and essence of the Christian life: “For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory” (vv. 3-4).Our new life is summed up in one word: ‘Christ’. We’re united with him in his death and resurrection. His life is our life.The rest of the chapter is about living in light of that stunning truth—that is, killing off every vestige of our old fleshly life (anger, lies, malice, that sort of thing) and clothing ourselves instead in the new Christ-like life that we’ve been given, “which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator” (v. 10). The punchline is in verse 17. Since our life = Christ, then everything we do—every word and every deed—should be done in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.What does this have to do with why God gathers us into Christian communities, including the little communities we call small groups?Everything, and it is spelled out in verses 12-16. This new life in Christ is essentially and unavoidably a team life. It’s something we do together as God’s chosen and beloved people:Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.Three things stand out in this paragraph:* Our team life is complicated by the ongoing sinful vestiges of our old selves. There’s a constant need for humility and kindness and forbearance. We all have growing to do.* The over-arching characteristic of our community life is love—which isn’t so surprising, given that it is a life lived in the name of Christ, who loved us and gave himself for us.* Our task—in love, and with much patience and kindness—is to increase the rich presence of the word of Christ amongst each other by speaking it to each other. The word of Christ is what grows and changes us to be like Christ. The more it permeates our liv

Here’s the next chapter of the evangelistic book you’re helping me write. It’s a bit longer than the earlier chapters—more like 3000 words than 2000—so I’m sending it out in two chunks (starting with the first half this week).The chapter is based on Point 4 of Two ways to live, which in the latest revised version says:Because of his love, God sent his Son into the world: the man Jesus Christ.Jesus always lived under God’s rule.But Jesus took our punishment by dying in our place.Massive ideas, all of them. You’ll see that this week’s instalment basically discusses the first two of the statements. As I’m always I’m keen to hear from you, with critiques, suggestions and ideas. Don’t hold back! In particular, because there is just SO much to say about who Jesus is, about his coming into the world, his life, his atoning death—I’m especially keen to hear about anything vital you think I’ve missed out so far, and whether anything I have included could be sacrificed if necessary. You can read the text below, or listen via the audio player above, or you can also download a PDF of the chapter, which is easier for printing and for referring to specific lines and paragraphs. TPChapter 4: The life and death of JesusThe backdrop is in place. The supporting actors are in position. The lights go up, and now the main act begins. The central character of the Christian message steps onto the stage of history.Jesus himself.The background we’ve traced so far—of God as creator and ruler of all, of human rebellion against God, and God’s justice against us—all of this prepares us for Jesus’ arrival.This is how the Bible itself is structured. The first half (the Old Testament) sets up the great problem of God and us and the world; the second half (the New Testament) tells us what God himself does to redeem the situation through Jesus.However, it would be wrong to think that the Old Testament is only about the doom and gloom of the human problem. Also running through the Old Testament like a scarlet thread is the patience and kindness and love of God for flawed, rebellious humans like us. God chooses a particular nation—Israel, the descendants of Abraham—to be his own special people. Time and again in the Old Testament, God kindly and lovingly rescues his people from the consequences of their own actions. He delivers them from their enemies, and provides for them in multiple ways, even though they continue to be stubborn and rebellious towards him.In fact, God repeatedly promises in the Old Testament that because of his love, he will one day step in personally to fix all the mess that has erupted and spread because of human rebellion against him. Sometimes God promises that he himself will come and bring mercy and salvation (for example in Isaiah 40). At other points, he promises that he will send his anointed king, or ‘Messiah’, to set people free and defeat evil and reign victorious over all.(A little footnote here that will be important later on. In the Old Testament, the way someone was made king was by anointing them with oil. So the Hebrew word for ‘anointed one’ came to mean essentially ‘the king God had appointed’. That word was ‘Messiah’. The word ‘Christ’ in the New Testament is the Greek language version of that same word. So a ‘Messiah’ or ‘Christ’ is a ‘king appointed by God’.)Here’s what the prophet Isaiah predicted would happen when God sent his anointed Messiah to bring relief to his people:The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,because the LORD has anointed me (i.e. made me a ‘Messiah-king’)to bring good news to the poor;he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,to proclaim liberty to the captives,and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor,and the day of vengeance of our God. (Isaiah 61:1-2)At the time that Jesus was born, some 700 years after Isaiah’s prophecy, the Jewish people were still expecting this liberating Messiah-King to arrive.But when Jesus did come, he didn’t fit their expectations at all. He still doesn’t meet our expectations today.If God was going to send a ‘Messiah’ to fix everything up, to right all the wrongs, to bring restoration and liberty and salvation and all the rest, how would you write the script? What sort of person would he be? And what would he do to save the day and set everything straight?You probably wouldn’t have him being born to a young unmarried girl in an out of the way place in the humblest of circumstances, with his first cradle being a ‘manger’ (which was either a stable for sheltering animals, or perhaps an animal food trough).You probably wouldn’t have him live in obscurity as a tradesman until his 30th birthday, have a short three-year career as a teacher and wonder-worker, give him a support crew of nobodies and lowlifes, have the entire intellectual, religious and political establishment against him, and then cap it all off by having him executed in the most humiliating way possible.In so many ways, Jesus wasn’t and is

For our first Q&A interview for 2022, I figured it was time to sit down with Phillip Jensen and have a chin wag. As is usually the case when we get together, the conversation bounced here and there, covering everything from why the resurrection is the climax of the gospel, to why our preaching should be more like an exposé than an apology. The audio version of the conversation goes for about 40 minutes. The edited text version below doesn’t cover the whole thing—but I figured that 3000 words of transcript was enough!Enjoy.TPTony: So there are all kinds of things I was going to talk you about today. But you just were mentioning before that you’ve started work on another book—on evangelism. Why do we need a book on evangelism?Phillip: Well, the book that's been a great help to people was Chapman's Know and Tell The Gospel. But a generation has risen up that has never heard of Chappo, and people read books that are current rather than what is really best. So I think we just need another book that is currently teaching people about evangelism, encouraging them to do it.TP: What’s the outline of it?PJ: Part 1 is on the who, why, what, when kind of thing—who evangelises, why do you evangelise? Part 2 then works through the gospel itself (I'm going to use Two ways to live as the summary) showing the kategorics of it rather than the apologetics of it. Because I think in our evangelism, we are too defensive and not... What's the alternate word for defensive that's nice?TP: Positive?PJ: Well … we're not telling the world that the world is wrong. But if the end point is that want to ask people to repent, you’ve got to point out what's wrong with your life that you need to repent from. And so, it's showing the implications of creation and rebellion and judgment in terms of how the world is operating in blindness and ignorance. So it's the accusing of the world by the gospel. And then, Part 3 of the book is about the spiritual nature of evangelism. Because it's about prayer. It's about the work of the Holy Spirit in changing people's lives. It's about our need to beg God for the mercy that is really required. We need to be more encouraged, I think, that this is not an impossible task because we have God doing the task. The Holy Spirit in the end is the evangelist.TP: In talking about ‘kategorics’ in Part 2, are you saying—if repentance is a turning from and a turning to, what are you turning from? Like turning from idols to the true and living God?PJ: Yes that’s right. Think how the Bible treats idolatry. It really says that it's foolishness; it's an absurdity. To worship things that are less than yourself as if they are God, is just an absurdity. And likewise, the fool says in his heart, there is no God. But we say, “All of the most educated, wise, sensible people in all the universe are saying there is no God. And so we've got to answer their accusations.” Now, the fool of Psalm 14 and Psalm 53 is a moral fool—but then that's the point.TP: So ‘positive’ is not the right word. We’re not trying to be positive about the world, but expose the folly of the world through shining the light of the gospel on it. But I was going to ask you: how do we do that in a way that doesn't come across as the Nasty Party or as a negative, unattractive kind of presentation?PJ: Well, personally, it’s simple. Because personally, it's so easy to love people. And in the context of your genuine care and concern and love for them, the negative things that you say are part of that expression of love. But media-wise and in a book, it's much harder to do.What I am trying to emphasize is that the thing that connects us with people in the world is not culture studies, and so on. The thing that connects us is creation. We're humans, we have babies, we're in love, we live in a magnificent creation. And so, try and say the positive things that are part of the way in which God has made us and which work and which we enjoy.But having said all that, no matter how hard you try, in a hyper-sensitive age, as soon as you say, "Yeah, but we're all liars" … It’s offensive.TP: Are you saying that if we get too apologetic or defensive about the gospel, we don't expose people to truth about themselves?PJ: Yes, absolutely. And in fact, I looked at apologia in the New Testament. It's never used of intellectual defence. It's always used of what you say when you're dragged in front of the court.TP: Like when Paul making his defence before...PJ: Festus or Agrippa or people like that. That's when you use the word. There is the reference in 1 Peter 3 about giving the defence for the hope that lies within you. But that's in the context of being accused of being immoral and then being dragged off and persecuted. So it always seems to be in the persecution context.And kategoria (to accuse, to convict) is used almost twice as often as apologia. But hardly anybody talks about that—about ‘kategorics’.The other good word, which we don't know how to translate, is the one in John

Well, we finished off last year with a merry little Christmas post about sin, and we start the New Year full of zip and optimism with 2000 words about judgement!Here’s the next chapter in the ‘Two ways to live’ evangelistic book. It’s based on box 3 of the outline, and tries to do that difficult thing of speaking plainly, persuasively and winsomely about the most awful subject—that we’re all facing death and judgement because of our rebellion against God.Three things I’ve been particularly aware of as I’ve been drafting:* I don’t want to write in a mealy-mouth, backpedalling fashion about the subject, as if I’m embarrassed about it;* And yet I’m aware it will be a topic that many readers will be unfamiliar with and potentially offended by—so no need to put them off unnecessarily by how I approach it;* But most significantly, unless the reader understands why death (and eternal destruction/death) is the punishment for our rebellion, it’s impossible to understand why the death of Christ takes our punishment for us.Looking forward to your feedback about it. (Send me an email at [email protected])A bit of housekeeping: some of you have been having difficulty downloading the PDF of the chapter. I’ve been back and forth with the substack platform about it, and we haven’t got a complete solution yet. In the meantime:* If you log in to the substack website itself, you’ll be able to download the pdf from the website. That seems to be working for everyone.* As a fall back, I’ve also pasted the text of the chapter below (something I maybe should have done from the outset).The justice of GodOne of the many strange decisions I have made in my life is to be an Arsenal supporter. I live on the other side of the world from England, and so could have really chosen any football team to go for. But Arsenal it is, and will remain.It’s a burden, of course, Arsenal’s form in recent years being what it is.But the worst of it is that Arsenal suffers the most blatant refereeing injustice in the entire Premier League. It’s unbelievable. I can’t remember ever seeing an Arsenal match in which the referee was not against us. When a referee arrives at Arsenal, a switch flips in what passes for his brain. Not only will he call every 50/50 decision against us, but he will perpetrate the most blatant howlers and inconsistencies. We are always getting robbed, and I am constantly left shouting at the TV about the injustice of it all.Strange thing, though. My brother, the Liverpool supporter, says exactly the same thing about how the refs treat his team. And so does my Spurs mate, and the poor sap I know who goes for Watford.Every football fan is a one-eyed judge. When a decision goes our way, it was absolutely reasonable and just. When a decision goes against us, it is an obvious injustice by a criminally biased referee.It’s not just in sport, of course. When some idiot roars past me driving dangerously fast, and then I come across him a few minutes later, parked on the side of the road getting a speeding ticket, I give a little satisfied grunt. Serves him right.When I am the idiot driving too fast in a hurry to get somewhere, and a police car looms up behind me and flashes its lights, I also make a noise, but not a satisfied grunt.We are like this as humans. We have a profound sense that there is such a thing as ‘justice’—that certain things should be the case, and that when they are not, it’s just not right or fair, and there should be some kind of reckoning. And yet we are self-centred and inconsistent about it. Sometimes we rush to judgement in our anger and get it wrong. Very often, we want justice to apply to thee, but not to me.It’s interesting, though, that we are so passionate about justice, and so outraged when something is ‘not fair’, especially when it is not fair to us. In a god-less, accidental world, with no created standards of right and wrong, where did we get the idea that there is some kind of universal court of rightness or justice that applies to everybody, and to which we can appeal when things don’t go our way? It is hard to see how this kind of ‘justice’ has any rational basis in a purely material, accidental universe. In fact, if evolutionary development entirely explains how things have come to be the way they are, then when Person A screws over Person B, what’s to complain about? Surely that’s just the survival of the fittest.The kind of ‘justice’ we take for granted in Western society is (once again) a very biblical idea. It has its roots in the justice of God.God is the perfectly just and good judge. The goodness with which he created the world is also the goodness with which he assesses and judges what he has made, including us. Unlike human judges, God is never corrupt or arbitrary or incompetent. He always administers justice rightly, patiently and impartially.We see this in God’s reaction to Adam and Eve’s rebellion against him. After the fateful events of the serpent and the eating of the fruit, the next par

I like Christmas, in a bittersweet kind of way. It’s beautiful and fun and full of hope, but also complex and difficult and sometimes sad. My mother died a few months ago, and I’m sure I’ll really miss her on Christmas morning. Christmas is a time of joy that reminds us that joy is elusive and surrounded by trouble.Like a baby laid in a manger, you might say.My favourite secular Christmas song captures this: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas”, originally sung by Judy Garland in Meet me in St Louis, and included on just about everyone’s Christmas album ever since.It captures the bittersweet nature of Christmas so wistfully and longingly. It speaks of Christmas as a time of gathering and friends and even hope. And yet our lives never live up to that dream. In fact, we can only hope that maybe next year “our troubles will be far away”. Maybe next year, we will actually be able to gather with all our old friends as we once did. “Until then, we’ll just have to muddle through somehow.”Here’s the James Taylor version:Of course, the best Christmas carols reflect this even better—that is, the joy of God becoming man because man is in such a desperate state. Hark, the Herald is famous for speaking of “Peace on earth and mercy mild; God and sinners reconciled”. Joy to the world has an often-omitted third verse that speaks of Jesus coming to lift the curse.But my favourite Christmas hymn, which is hardly ever sung these days, does it beautifully:Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,All for love’s sake becamest poor;Thrones for a manger didst surrender,Sapphire paved courts for stable floor.Thou who wast rich beyond all splendour,All for love’s sake becamest poor.Thou who art God beyond all praising,All for love’s sake becamest man;Stooping so low, but sinners raising,Heavenward by Thine eternal plan.Thou who art God beyond all praising,All for love’s sake becamest man.(Here’s the King’s College Cambridge version:)The news of Jesus’ incarnation is good news, because of the lost and sinful world into which he was born, and which he came to save. He became poor to make the poor rich. I’ve spent the last few days of this last pre-Christmas week finishing a draft of chapter 2 of the Two ways to live evangelistic book (that a number of you are helping me write). It’s the chapter all about our rejection of God, and all the damage we do to ourselves and each other and the world. I’ve pasted the final section of the chapter below (this is the part that those of you who are partner/subscribers have been waiting on).It’s certainly not the happiest, tinsel-covered subject for an end of year meditation.But then again, maybe it’s the perfect pre-Christmas reading; a picture of the black night of Christmas eve into which the light of the world was born.The 2wtl Book: Chapter 2The Human ProblemThe first two thirds of the chapter sets out the nature of rebellion against God. This final part thinks about the consequences for our lives.…When we reject God, we attack the foundations of everything that is true and good and beautiful in the world. We embrace the first lie. And then all the other lies and follies and consequences start to compound.We see this played out in so many ways, in our own lives and in our broader culture.In our personal lives, perhaps the most significant consequence of our declaration of independence from God is how hard we find it to be interdependent with each other. Once I’ve decided that I’m the centre of my world (not God), that puts me in an odd position with respect to You. We’re no longer on the same level—both creatures of God, both in his image, both taking our cue from him as to how we are to treat each other as fellow creatures.Now I’m the little god in charge of my own self and my own world, and when I encounter You, I find another little god who also thinks they are the most important person in their world. And then I find that there isn’t room in our relationship for two little gods. One of us has to prevail.The self-interest that comes so naturally to us makes all relationships difficult. We’re alienated from each other.We’re also alienated from the world itself. Because Western society is no longer confident that the world is a created place, with a good and beautiful shape given to it by its Creator, we don’t know what to do with the world. There are multiple examples. We don’t seem able to manage and develop the world’s resources without exploiting and destroying them. We aren’t able to find political leaders who don’t end up disillusioning us with their lies or folly or corruption. We even don’t seem able to figure out something as basic as what it means to be a man or a woman—in fact, a growing number of Westerners are now nervous to say that there even are such things as ‘men’ and ‘women’ (which is a rebellion against reality if ever there was one).For me personally, one of the most interesting and striking consequences is simply how ugly the modern Western world is. We seem to have l

Well, as promised, I’ve written the first draft of an introduction to the Two Ways to Live evangelistic book I’m hoping we can write together. (There’s a link below to read it.)Three quick things before we dive in.First off, does the book have a title? It’s way too early to worry about that. Let’s see what floats to the surface as we go along. For the time being, I’m just going to call it The 2WTL book.Secondly, who are we writing for? We could simply say ‘the non-Christian reader’, but we have to be more specific. The gospel conversation we have will always be shaped by the person we are talking to—by how much they already know, by their hang-ups or questions, by the language they use, by the assumptions they bring to the table.Books are the same. Every book has to have a clear idea of its readership. Who do we envisage holding this book in their hands and (God willing) being interested to read the whole thing?As you’ll see from the introduction, my instinct is to aim this book at the largest category of non-Christian people we are likely come across among our friends and family: the person who has been raised in our culture (that is, Western culture) but who has little or no current interest or contact with Christianity. They may have varying degrees of hostility or apathy or interest or total ignorance towards the gospel, but what unites them is that they inhabit our post-Christian, Western society.Is this the right target? It will make the book less effective for people who are still enmeshed in non-Western cultures (like Buddhism or Islam), even though they live in our street. And it will make the book a bit less sharp for ‘nominal Christians’ who go to church but aren’t converted.But it does target the vast majority of people we come across day-to-day. I’m interested in what you think about this. For the kind of people you’d like to give a gospel book to, is this an introduction that motivates them to keep reading, with the right expectations as they do so?Thirdly, what sort of feedback do I want from you? I don’t need comments on typos, grammar or spelling mistakes at this point. That’s for later. For the introduction, and for every chapter, what I’d love to hear from you is any of the following:* Can you imagine your non-Christian friends and family reading this? Is there anything that would bore them, put them off or needlessly offend them?* Is there something you think I could add—an idea or illustration or argument that would strengthen the chapter?* Is there anything that could be cut, without making any real difference? Is the whole thing too long?* Is any sentence or phrase or word unclear or obscure?To make it easier for you to give this feedback, and for me to collate and integrate it, I’m going to send each chapter out as a PDF with line numbers. This will mean there’s a standard way for us all to refer to particular sentences or parts of the chapter, and it also makes it easy for those of you who’d prefer to print out the chapter for reading.If you follow this link, it will take you to the post where you can download the PDF or listen to the chapter read out. After this first intro chapter, the remaining chapters will get emailed out to subscribers as part of the normal weekly edition. This means that if you want to keep getting the chapters as they come out, you’ll have to subscribe to the The Payneful Truth. And you can do that via the 90-day free-trial I’m running at the moment: When you’ve read the chapter, just send an email with your general comments and specific feedback to [email protected]. (Use those line numbers to refer to particular paragraphs or sentences.)I hope all that makes sense. Thanks again for being willing to help out.Looking at my schedule over the next few days, and where I’m up to with the next chapter (Chapter 1), I’m pretty sure it’s going to be later next week (or even early the week after) before I send that one out. Anyway, let’s get started. Here again is the link for the intro chapter:TP This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

Here’s the first draft of the introductory chapter to the new evangelistic book I’m writing, based on Two Ways to Live. (See the PDF below.) The book will be coming out each week (or so) over the next few months here at The Payneful Truth. For more info about this project, and why I’d like your help, see here and then here.To receive each draft chapter as I write it, and to comment and give feedback, you’ll need to be a regular subscriber. To help you do that, here’s a free 90-day trial. Each chapter (including this intro) will be in PDF form, with line numbers (see below). This is to make it easy for everyone to comment, and to be able to refer to particular sections or paragraphs or sentences. Send your comments and feedback to [email protected].(I’ll also record each chapter as a podcast, for those who prefer to listen.)Happy reading.TP This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

More of an invitation than an article this week. (And if you’ve already read this invitation on the Matthias Media enews earlier this week, and signed up to The Payneful Truth, you don’t need to read this again!)I often catch myself when I come across a book with my name on the cover. I pick it up and read a paragraph and think, “Did I write this? Surely it was someone else. Me, write books? Ridiculous.”On the other hand, I also find myself regretting the books I never got around to writing.For example, somehow, in over three decades of producing Christian resources for Matthias Media, I didn’t ever think to write an evangelistic book based on Two Ways to Live. Don’t ask me why. Like most things I regret in life, I think I got distracted. For 35 years.It’s a book we undoubtedly need. We always need fresh evangelistic books, and one based on Two Ways to Live seems a blindingly obvious option. Perhaps that’s why I never thought to do it.Well I think it’s time.Over the next couple of months, I’m going to try to write a shortish, eight-part evangelistic book based around Two Ways to Live—an introduction, a conclusion, and a chapter for each of the six boxes.And if you’re willing, I’d like you to help me write it—in three ways.I’m going to send out each chapter as I write it here at The Payneful Truth, starting with the introduction later this week. That first one will go to everyone on the whole list, but after that I’ll keep sending out chapters most weeks as part of the regular weekly newsletter that partners/subscribers get. So your first job (if you’d like to help) is to become a partner and be part of the readership that forces me to write something every week and press ‘send’. You’ve no idea how valuable that is! (See below for how to sign up on a free trial.)Secondly, and most significantly, your task would be to give me honest feedback and ideas on each of the chapters. These will be first drafts, and the whole purpose of a first draft is to generate the much-better second draft. So I won’t be at all bothered when you tear my first draft to shreds—quite pleased in fact—and I’ll be delighted by the fresh ideas you generate that help make this book as good as it can be. It would be wonderful if, in our collective wisdom, we could come up with a resource that we’d be confident to give to our non-Christian friends and family.Thirdly, if in God’s kindness a good quality gospel book does emerge from this process, I’d love you to actually give it to all your non-Christian friends and family! (As I plan to do with mine.)To join in on this project, you’ll need to become a weekly subscriber. That usually costs $7 a month (or $70 a year). But since you’ll be doing me a favour and helping write this book, there’s a 90-day free trial available. You can hang around for the duration of this project, and drop back onto the free list after that if you’d like to. (Or stay on!)What do you think?Shall we write a book? This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.twoways.news/subscribe

I woke very early this morning, as I’ve been doing more often recently, but couldn’t muster the energy or wakefulness to get up and do something productive. It’s been a long year.So I lay there and listened to a chunk of the most recent episode of The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, a podcast series from Christianity Today. It tells the story of the meteoric growth and tragic implosion of the ministry of Mark Driscoll at Mars Hill Church in Seattle.As a friend said to me, listening to this podcast series is like watching a slow-motion train wreck, and feeling a little guilty for wanting to see what happens next. And this penultimate episode, which runs for over two hours (!), is certainly like that. It lays out in well-documented detail the final awful unravelling between 2012 and 2014, featuring extended interviews with those involved, including heart-wrenching stories of people who had invested their lives in Mars Hill and were left strewn on the side of the road as collateral damage.The podcast series itself is by no means perfect. It’s overly long and digressive at points, and has an agenda that peeps through more than once. But it does succeed in telling the story of an outrageously gifted preacher and leader with major character flaws, and the dysfunctional and doomed leadership culture that resulted.Two things jumped out at me as I listened, along with a nagging question that still bothers me.The first is perhaps the most obvious. The stakes are high in Christian ministry, and for Christian leaders. It’s a ‘noble work’, as Paul describes it in 1 Timothy 3. It requires a certain kind of person—someone who not only has the ability to teach and lead, but who has the character and personal maturity to exemplify in his life (as far as we sinful humans can) the reality of the truth he teaches.It’s not as if this is obscure in the New Testament. The characteristics and qualifications for congregational leaders are laid out in multiple places (1 Timothy 3, Titus 1, 1 Peter 5).It’s worth noting, though, that not every Christian virtue is listed in these passages. There’s no mention of joy, for example, or hope, or prayerfulness, or patience, or even love.The ones that are mentioned seem to correlate to the demands and pressures that godly leaders have to face—their public demeanour and reputation, their family life, their ability to deal constructively and helpfully with others in the church (humble rather than domineering), their approach to conflict (not quarrelsome or arrogant but gentle), the lure of money, and the danger of getting into all of it too young and falling into the condemnation of the devil (of becoming puffed up and conceited).The tragedy of Mars Hill is that, from quite early on, it was apparent to numerous people that Mark Driscoll had deficiencies in several of these areas—particularly (it seems) in relation to quick temper, belligerence, arrogance and domineering behaviour. And he was young. He started Mars Hill on his own, at the age of 25, without formal theological education and without oversight.It took 15 years for it all to come unstuck, in a way that almost seemed inevitable, looking back.The podcast is an exploration of how and why this happened. In particular, how was Mark affirmed and supported in Christian ministry for so long—by his own congregation, by elders and fellow pastors, by other leaders he was in fellowship with—when according to the Bible he seemed patently unsuited to be a pastoral leader?The podcast suggests many of the reasons we might first think of. Success has a way of blinding us, and leading us to compromise for the ‘sake of growth’. As the movement and institution grows, the pressure to cut corners and overlook bad behaviour intensifies. We become caught up in the culture of celebrity, and in the charisma of a powerful and compelling leader. Allowances are made. No-one wants to speak up, and those who do are quickly side-lined or removed. And so on.However, it occurred to me, as I lay in bed this morning with a growing sense of sadness, that there was also a theological disaster burbling away underneath it all.It was a catastrophic failure to believe and act upon the word of God. We implicitly believe that great leaders ought to possess rhetorical power, personal dynamism, and the ability to cast a vision. And many do. But without the godly character required by an elder or overseer, a leader with these gifts is not just unsuitable, but dangerous.God’s word says this quite clearly. But as with many areas of church life and ministry, we don’t really believe it—or we don’t act upon it, which amounts to the same thing.In the case of Mars Hill, this failure was compounded by an alternative theological vision of how God speaks. Mark often told the story of how God personally spoke to him as a young man, and told him to do four things: to preach the Bible, train men, plant a church and marry Grace (his then girlfriend).This God-given calling was one of the theologic

In this month’s Q&A chat, I spoke with Phil Colgan, the Senior Minister at St George North Anglican Church in Sydney, and one of Sydney’s most gifted preachers. Here’s an edited transcript of our conversation. I kicked things off by asking Phil what he was preaching on at the moment.Phil: As we're coming out of lockdown we thought we'd do something that's just really encouraging for people and it's proven that way. We’ve been preaching on the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5. And I've found it an incredible joy, because I've been moved to think how I’ve seen the fruit of the Spirit growing in people over the 18 years I’ve been at St George North—seeing the way people have grown in love, have grown in gentleness, have grown in showing kindness to one another.It’s been an incredible encouragement to reflect on the work of God's Spirit through the teaching of his word over the time of our ministry here. It's a challenge as well because Galatians 5 also has that verse 25 about walking in step with the Spirit or following the Spirit.Tony: Is there a fruit of the Spirit that you felt challenged about as you were doing your prep? I always find when I'm prepping to teach or preach something, God sometimes slips a dagger into my own heart and convicts me from the passage I'm reading. Have you found that?Phil: Well, it's funny. It has been the same couple of fruit of the Spirit that have challenged me every time I've read Galatians 5 since I've been a Christian, which is patience and gentleness. They are the two. And for some reason, whenever I think of patience, I can immediately have something I need to repent of within the last 24 hours.Tony: Oh Lord, give me patience and do it quickly! Phil, you are a solid and well known part of the fellowship of Sydney Anglican evangelicals here. In fact, I'd probably regard you as my friend who is probably the best connected amongst Sydney Anglicans. We're all part of this fellowship but you just seem to be one of those people who knows people. You’re part of the central diocesan structures a bit, you get involved in the committee work, but you're also out and about and you know lots of ministers and seem to have your finger on the pulse.And so I thought it would be a helpful question to ask for the sake not only of people who are listening here in Sydney and are interested, but many of our friends all around the world who know about Sydney and its Anglican evangelicalism—if you were going to do a little mini SWOT analysis of Sydney Anglicanism at the moment, what would you are our strengths and weaknesses and opportunities and threats?Phil: Well, when you look for those opportunities and threats and that sort of thing, that's a helpful thing to do—though with something as wide and complex as a diocese I sometimes wonder if it is that helpful. Sometimes I think every church should be thinking about that in their local area, which is actually a distinctive of Sydney Anglicanism, isn't it (our congregational nature)?But I think our opportunities, our threats—they tend to be the same at every point; they just vary by degrees. And for me at the moment, the opportunity in Sydney for ministry is the opportunity of evangelism. We have the most wonderful news in the world and millions of people that need saving. We have this incredible situation of an Anglican diocese with a couple of hundred churches that faithfully preach Jesus, thousands of lay people ready to serve.I think that is a peculiar thing about Sydney in the Anglican world and that is our opportunity. But although some say, "Oh, the fields are dry and the fields are hard”, I actually think we are at a point where people are more open to the gospel than at any point in my Christian lifetime. Some are more antagonistic, but I think they're a small number who are represented in the media and so forth. In my part of Sydney, which is incredibly multicultural, I think people are just open to talking about Christian things. We're seeing loads of people connecting with us at the moment through our evangelistic efforts. And I think it's a great time.Most Westerners now don't have the cultural baggage of cultural Anglicanism or cultural Roman Catholicism. They're not immune to the gospel. They haven't been vaccinated. And for me, that's a wonderful situation. I think we're entering a great time. So that's the opportunity and that's the challenge in Sydney I think—it’s not to lose sight of the main game. And to take that opportunity in the diocese of Sydney, the challenge is to mobilize our resources I think—to mobilize our lay people, be focused on training and equipping lay people, and challenge our lay people and our gospel workers to have the right view of this city: that it's a harvest field, and we are all missionaries and evangelists in the diocese in Sydney.The other issue is property. Can we better use our property to reach the city? Can we have churches to plant out in these massive growth areas of Sydney?But in the end,

In the wake of my post a few weeks ago about the ‘blunder in our Bible reading’, some of you asked some thoughtful questions about the value of word studies and word searches. The questions were so helpful, in fact, that I thought a few more sentences about words were in order …I was suggesting, you may remember, that we have a habit of overusing and misusing word studies. Given that meaning is made in sentences (and only in sentences), we need to prioritise reading the sentences in front of us, and not chase words all over the Bible to see what connections we can make to our passage.Hang on, said some thoughtful correspondents, is that the crying of a baby I hear that has been thrown out with the bathwater? Surely word studies are of some use! Are you trying to make us feel guilty every time we chase up a cross reference, or look at how a word is used in other places, or do a word search on all the uses of that word in the Bible?In the comment thread, Callan asked whether it was reasonable (for example) to think that Paul’s use of the word ‘minister’ (diakonos) to describe himself in Eph 3:17 had some relation to the saints being equipped for the work of ‘ministry’ (diakonia) in Eph 4:12. Is it OK for us to see that connection and make something of it?Given it’s part of the same discourse, very likely yes. As I pointed out in the original post, the closer two repeated words are to one another in a discourse the more we are likely to notice the repetition as readers and ponder whether the author is referring to the same thing, or ‘saying’ something through the repetition. That’s the key point—whether or not there is a connection is determined by what the author is doing in the sentences and in the discourse that is made up of those sentences, not through the cleverness of our Bible software. In this case, Callan is right I think—the activity the saints are being equipped for in 4:12 is part of the same mission that Paul has been appointed to in 3:17, and the repetition of the root diakon– helps us to notice that, along with the unfolding logic of the whole discourse of which 3:17 and 4:12 are part.All the same, the mere fact of repetition doesn’t necessarily have any significance. I used the word ‘point’ twice in that last paragraph (‘pointed out’ and ‘key point’), without meaning anything by it.What about when words and connections are a little further apart? As a case study, Callan points out that the words ‘Lord’, ‘visitation’, ‘compassion’ and ‘death’ are used in Zechariah’s song in Luke 1. When we come to Luke 7, we find Jesus described as the ‘Lord’ acting from ‘compassion’ to rescue a boy from ‘death’, and the people declaring in response that ‘God is visiting his people’. Is Luke wanting us to remember the song of Zechariah as we come to Luke 7? And does the repetition of these words alert us to this?Again, it is pretty plausible to think that Luke is weaving this theme through his narrative, not only because we’ve noticed this striking repetition of words, but because that’s how narrative discourses work. Narratives usually make meaning not by presenting a logical argument but by stitching a story together in various ways—for example, by placing incidents in relation to each other, or by characters carrying forward a plot and developing or changing in the course of the narrative. One of the common devices of narrative is to raise themes and ideas in the opening incidents of the story, and then return to them repeatedly as the story unfolds (e.g. think of the way that the overture to John’s Gospel wheels out so many of the themes and ideas that John returns to as he unfolds his story).Is this happening in Luke 1 and 7? Very likely. And can word searches and word studies help us spot this? Of course. But so can thoughtful, alert reading. In fact, this is my litmus test as to whether I’m overusing word searches to draw connections between passages. Is this connection something that the author might expect a thoughtful, alert reader (without Bible software) to spot and appreciate? If not, then I’m almost certainly drawing too long a bow.Another good question came from my good mate (and boss) Carl, who asked me whether it’s useful to chase up how words are being used in other places in order to get a feel for what they might mean in this sentence.My answer to this is Yes, so long as we remember the difference between usage, modifiers and referents. (Oh of course, I hear you say. I’d never get those mixed up!) Here’s what I mean.The various ways a word is used in different sentences (it’s ‘usage’) shows us the range of its meaning or semantic field. This is what a dictionary does for us—it looks at all the ways in which a particular word is used in the language (at the time the dictionary is written), and summarizes the various meanings that the word can have. If you look up the word ‘love’ in the dictionary you’ll find a range of meanings like ‘deep affection, romantic attachment, a great interest or pl

I can’t remember who first taught me this axiom of Bible reading, but I have been forever grateful. When you come across a knotty passage in Scripture, don’t glide past it—untie it.A confusing or confounding passage is an opportunity to learn. Sometimes knotty verses reveal our ignorance, or that we haven’t understood the passage—such as when we’re reading Hebrews 6 and the obscure figure of Melchizedek suddenly looms out of the mist and we wonder what’s he got to do with the price of fish.But sometimes we come across Bible verses that are knotty and confounding not because they are obscure but because we find them objectionable. They tie us in knots. They cut across our assumptions or expectations about what God is like or we are like or the world is like. They expose our deepest, baseline attitudes and beliefs, and where they have gone astray.We had one like this in church last Sunday. In Romans 9, after talking about how God will have mercy on some people and harden other people, and that it’s entirely up to him, Paul then asks the obvious rhetorical question:You will say to me then, “Why does he still find fault? For who can resist his will?” (v 18)Fair enough question, you might think. If God calls all the shots, then why are we to blame for finding ourselves on his bad side? And then comes this:But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is moulded say to its moulder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honourable use and another for dishonourable use? (vv 19-20)Perhaps there are more objectionable verses in the Bible than these ones, but surely not by much.Something deep within my Western soul rages against these ideas. Me, a lump of clay?! An object in the hands of a Supreme Being to do with what he wants? How utterly dehumanising and oppressive! Whatever happened to human dignity? Surely this is the poisonous spirit of primitive religion at its worst. “As flies to wanton boys are we to th' gods, They kill us for their sport” (King Lear, 4.1.36-37).As the preacher on Sunday pointed out, these verses in Romans 9 are difficult for us because we are profoundly convinced that we are at the centre of the universe, not God. We can’t cope with the idea that we might be bit players in someone else’s drama, rather than the star of our own story.This is old as Adam and Eve. But it’s a particularly virulent problem for modern, Western people like us. It’s part of what we used to call our ‘worldview’, and which some clever people these days call our ‘social imaginary’, and which (in the words of that philosophical treatise, The Castle) you could think of simply as ‘the Vibe’. It’s the complex, often unstated web of beliefs and assumptions about ourselves and the world, which our culture constantly reinforces and transmits to us, which we absorb and come to accept, and upon which we operate day by day.For nearly three centuries, our Western culture has been steadily constructing a Vibe in which God is excluded, and man is the centre and measure of all things. We don’t even notice or articulate this any more. We just live as if it’s the case. The debates we have with each other on any issue (political, social, ethical) proceed on this basis. The stories we tell each other—in movies and TV shows and books—assume it and reinforce it constantly. It’s hard to imagine any Hollywood movie in which God is the potter and we are the clay, unless of course we are the plucky heroic figures of clay, who come to life, follow our hearts, destroy the evil oppressive potter, and go on to realise all our dreams.It occurred to me again on Sunday how important the rejection of God as creator has been to our Vibe. The sovereignty of God over us is the sovereignty of a potter over his clay. To assert ourselves as the centre of all things, and to exclude him as sovereign, we must reject his claim over us as our Potter.And of course, this is what we have done. It started in the 17th century with the semi-polite rejection called Deism, in which we decided that God had made us, once upon a time, but had since lost interest, and no longer really cared very much what we do. He was there (most likely) but he was not a factor, and certainly not knowable in any reliable sense. If we were going to figure out how to be and how to live, we would have to do so on our own terms, starting from scratch. This was essentially the program of the Enlightenment—to construct a worldview-vibe from the ground up, in which we could understand morality, the world and ourselves, without reference to an external divine authority or source of knowledge. It was a program that in most respects assumed that the Christian morality and worldview of the time was correct, but that we should be able to demonstrate and explore and explain it without reference to God.And the sidelining of God as Creator was a critical aspect of this. This sidelining of course moved into overdrive