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The Descriptions Jesus Uses for Hell Jesus spoke of hell more than anyone else in the Bible. He referred to it as a place of “outer darkness” where “there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matt. 8:12). In other words, all the joys that we associate with light will be withdrawn, and all the fears that we associate with darkness will be multiplied. And the result will be an intensity of misery that makes a person grind his teeth in order to bear it. Jesus also refers to hell as a “fiery furnace” where law-breakers will be thrown at the end of the age when he returns. “The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all law-breakers, and throw them into the fiery furnace. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matt. 13:41–42). He calls it “the hell of fire” (Matt. 5:22), “eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matt. 25:41), “unquenchable fire” (Mark 9:43), “eternal punishment” (Matt. 25:46). This last description—“eternal punishment”—is especially heartrending and fearful because it is contrasted with “eternal life.” “These will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” In this contrast we hear the tragedy of loss as well as suffering and endlessness. Just as “eternal life” will be a never-ending experience of pleasure in God’s presence, so “eternal punishment” will be a neverending experience of misery under God’s wrath (John 3:36; 5:24). Hell Is Not a Mere Natural Consequence of Bad Choices The word wrath is important for understanding what Jesus meant by hell. Hell is not simply the natural consequence of rejecting God. Some people say this in order to reject the thought that God sends people there. They say that people send themselves there. That is true. People make choices that lead to hell. But it is not the whole truth. Jesus says these choices are really deserving of hell. “Whoever says, ‘You fool!’ will be liable to [that is, guilty of, or deserving of] the hell of fire” (Matt. 5:22). That is why he calls hell “punishment” (Matt. 25:46). It is not a mere self-imposed natural consequence (like cigarette smoking leading to lung cancer); it is the penalty of God’s wrath (like a judge sentencing a criminal to hard labor). The images Jesus uses of how people come to be in hell do not suggest natural consequence but the exercise of just wrath. For example, he pictures the servant of a master who has gone on a journey. The servant says, “My master is delayed,” and he “begins to beat his fellow servants and eats and drinks with drunkards.” Then Jesus says (referring to his own sudden second coming), “The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he does not know and will cut him in pieces and put him with the hypocrites. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matt. 24:48–51). This picture represents legitimate and holy rage followed by punishment. Jesus will “put” (θήσει) him with the hypocrites. Jesus told another story to illustrate his departure from the earth and his return in judgment. He said, “A nobleman went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom and then return. . . . But his citizens hated him and sent a delegation after him, saying, ‘We do not want this man to reign over us’” (Luke 19:12, 14). When the nobleman returned in his kingly power to reward those who had trusted and honored him with their lives, he punished those who rejected his kingship: “As for these enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slaughter them before me” (Luke 19:27). Again the picture is not one of hell as a disease resulting from bad habits but of a king expressing holy wrath against those who rebuff his gracious rule. Fear Him Who Can Destroy Both Soul and Body in Hell This is why Jesus said, “Fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28). The fear he commands is not fear of hell as a natural consequence of bad habits, but of God as a holy judge who sentences guilty sinners to hell. This command to fear God as a holy judge seems discouraging at first. It seems as though following Jesus means leading a life of anxiety that God is angry with us and is ready to punish us at the slightest misstep. But that is not what Jesus calls us to experience as we follow him. It seems amazing to us, perhaps, that immediately following his warning to “fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell,” Jesus says something designed to give us deep peace and full confidence under God’s fatherly care. The very next sentence goes like this: “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows” (Matt. 10:29–31). In the same breath Jesus says, “Fear God who casts into hell” and “Do not fear because God is your Father who values you more than the sparrows and knows your smallest need.” In fact, the all-providing fatherly care of God is one of Jesus’s sweetest and most pervasive teachings: Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? . . . Therefore do not be anxious, saying, “What shall we eat?” or “What shall we drink?” or “What shall we wear?” For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. (Matt. 6:26, 31–32) God Is to Be Feared, and God Is to Be Trusted How does Jesus mean for us to experience these two truths about God—he is to be feared, and he is to be trusted? It won’t do to simply say that “fear of God” means “reverence for God” rather than “being afraid of him.” That does not fit with the words, “Fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him!” (Luke 12:5). Of course, it is true that we should reverence God, that is, stand in awe of his holiness and power and wisdom. But there is also a real fear of him that can coexist with sweet peace and trust in him. The key is that God himself is the one who removes his wrath from us. Our peace does not come from our removing the God of wrath from our thinking, but from his removing his wrath from us. He has done that by sending Jesus to die in our place so that, for everyone who believes in Jesus, God’s wrath is taken away. “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,” Jesus said, “so must the Son of Man be lifted up [on the cross to die], that whoever believes in him may have eternal life [not wrath]. . . . Whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him” (John 3:14–15, 36). When Jesus cried out on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34), he was experiencing the wrath of God’s abandonment in our place—for he had never done anything to deserve being forsaken by God. And when he said finally from the cross, “It is finished” (John 19:30), he meant that the price of our salvation—our deliverance from God’s wrath and into all God’s blessings—had been paid in full. Jesus had said that he came “to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matt. 20:28), and now the full ransom was paid, and the work of absorbing and removing the wrath of God was finished. Now, he says, everyone who believes has everlasting fellowship with God and is fully assured that the wrath of the Judge is gone. “He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life” (John 5:24). Fearing Unbelief What then is left to fear? The answer is unbelief. For those who follow Jesus, fearing God means fearing the terrible prospect of not trusting the one who paid such a price for our peace. In other words, one of the means that God uses to keep us peacefully trusting in Jesus is the fear of what God would do to us if we did not believe. The reason we do not live in the discomfort of constant fear is because we believe. That is, we rest in the all-sufficient work of Jesus and in our Father’s sovereign care. But at those moments when unbelief tempts us, a holy fear rises and warns us what a foolish thing it would be to distrust the one who loved us and gave his Son to die for our anxiety-free joy. Hugging God’s Neck Takes Away Fear One illustration has helped me see how this experience works. When my oldest son Karsten was about eight years old, we went to visit a man who owned a huge dog. When we opened the door, the dog looked at my son almost eye to eye. That’s a fearful prospect for a little boy. But we were assured the dog was harmless and that he really liked children. After a while we sent Karsten to the car to get something we forgot. As he ran across the yard, the dog gave a deep growl and loped up behind him. The owner leaned out of the door and called to Karsten, “You better just walk; he doesn’t like it when people run away from him.” A huge dog that loves children but does not like people to run away from him is what God is like. If we will trust him and enjoy him and throw our arms around his strong neck, he will be everything we ever hoped for in a friend. But if we decide that there are other things we want more than him and turn to run away, he will get very angry. Jesus said this as clearly as we could wish in Luke 19:27, “But as for these enemies of mine, who did not want me to reign over them, bring them here and slaughter them before me.” Fearing God means fearing the terrible prospect of running away from the merciful, all-providing, all-satisfying reign of King Jesus. Hell Means That Sin Is Unfathomably Serious Jesus’s command that we fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in hell teaches us to see sin as more serious than we ever dreamed. The reason so many people feel that eternal hell is an unjust punishment for our sin is that they do not see sin as it really is. This is because they do not see God as he really is. When Jesus tells us what he will say to those who are going to hell he says, “Then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness’” (Matt. 7:23). They are workers of “lawlessness.” That is, they break God’s law. Sin is against God first, then man. Therefore, the seriousness of sin arises from what it says about God. God is infinitely worthy and honorable. But sin says the opposite. Sin says that other things are more desirable and more worthy. How serious is this? The seriousness of a crime is determined, in part, by the dignity of the person and the office being dishonored. If the person is infinitely worthy and infinitely honorable and infinitely desirable and holds an office of infinite dignity and authority, then rebuffing him is an infinitely outrageous crime. Therefore, it deserves an infinite punishment. The intensity of Jesus’s words about hell is not an overreaction to small offenses. It is a witness to the infinite worth of God and to the outrageous dishonor of human sin. The Precious Gift of Fear Therefore, give heed to Jesus’s clear command to fear the one who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Hear it as a great mercy. What a wonderful thing it is that Jesus warns us. He does not leave us ignorant of the wrath to come. He not only warns. He rescues. This is the best effect of fear: it wakens us to our need for help and points us to the all-sufficient Redeemer, Jesus. Let it have this effect on you. Let it lead you to Jesus who says to everyone who believes in him, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom” (Luke 12:32). The reason we do not live in the discomfort of constant fear is because we believe. This article is adapted from All That Jesus Commanded: The Christian Life According to the Gospels by John Piper.

An Impossible Standard? If we approach the Sermon on the Mount only or mainly as a means by which we see our sinfulness, we’ve not taken the sermon on its own terms. Martyn Lloyd-Jones saw the situation clearly: Is it not true to say of many of us that in actual practice our view of the doctrine of grace is such that we scarcely ever take the plain teaching of the Lord Jesus Christ seriously? We have so emphasized the teaching that all is of grace and that we ought not to try to imitate His example in order to make ourselves Christians, that we are virtually in the position of ignoring His teaching altogether and of saying that it has nothing to do with us because we are under grace. Now I wonder how seriously we take the gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. The best way of concentrating on the question is, I think, to face the Sermon on the Mount. Lloyd-Jones is exactly right. We’ve turned the Sermon on the Mount into a giant spanking spoon—good for making you squeal in pain, but not a welcome instrument or a way of life. The Great Commission, then, becomes a summons to teach the nations everything Jesus has said—which, of course, they cannot do, and he doesn’t expect them to observe. But isn’t the Sermon on the Mount an impossible standard? Who among us never worries, never lusts, never gets angry, never lies, is never a hypocrite, and always loves his enemies, always follows the Golden Rule, and always serves God alone? Here it’s good to recall the distinction between true obedience and perfect obedience. There is a way to insist on genuine obedience as a way of life without doubling down on never sinning and always doing what is right. Besides that helpful theological category, however, notice four things in the text pointing us away from thinking Jesus means to give us an impossible discipleship plan. First, Jesus presents us with bracing either/or options at several points in his sermon. We can take the narrow gate or the wide gate, the easy path or the hard path, the way of life or the way of death (Matt. 7:13–14). We can be healthy trees bearing good fruit or diseased trees bearing bad fruit (Matt. 7:17–20). We can build our house on the rock and be secure or build our house on the sand and be destroyed (Matt. 7:24–27). The stakes could not be higher. If we are no more righteous than the scribes and Pharisees, we will never enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 5:20). If we murder in our hearts, we are liable to the hell of fire (Matt. 5:22). If we give ourselves over to lust, we will end up in hell (Matt. 5:29). If we don’t do the will of our Father, we will not enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 7:21). We must not give up hope of obeying Jesus’s commands, lest we give up the hope of heaven. Too many Christians instinctively set aside the commands of Scripture as utterly impossible to obey on any level. The danger with this mindset is not only that we might be disheartened when we shouldn’t be, but that we might not be warned when we should be. Once we convince ourselves that failure is the norm—“No one really obeys Jesus. No one really builds his house on the rock. No one really is pure of heart. No one really enters the narrow gate. No one really bears good fruit.”—we won’t take seriously the many warnings given to us in Scripture that people unchanged by the gospel prove themselves to never really have been saved by the gospel (1 Cor. 6:9–10; Heb. 12:14; Rev. 21:8). When genuine (though imperfect) discipleship becomes impossible, hell often becomes impossible as well. By contrast, Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount urges us to choose the right way to live and stick with it. Second, Jesus understands that there is an already-and-not-yet dimension to our Christian walk. On the one hand, Jesus announces that the kingdom of heaven is at hand (Matt. 4:17). On the other hand, he also tells us to pray for the kingdom to come (Matt. 6:10). The fact that we have to pray for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven implies that we are not always angelic in our obedience. Heaven has broken in but is not yet fully and finally come to earth (Rev. 11:15). Third, woven into the fabric of Christ’s kingdom living is the expectation that we will need grace and forgiveness. This is a key observation, and one we often miss. When Jesus exhorts us to “[hear] these words of mine and [do] them” (Matt. 7:24), he’s thinking of all the words he’s just been preaching. And think about what we find among those words. “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matt. 5:3). “Blessed are those who mourn” (Matt. 5:4). “Forgive us our debts” (Matt. 6:12). And in Luke’s account: “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36). The Sermon on the Mount contains within its many commands an awareness that these commands will not be kept flawlessly. That means part of entering by the narrow gate is being so poor in spirit that you know you need God’s help. It means lamenting your sins and looking to God for mercy. It means asking your heavenly Father to forgive the debts you accrue daily. Jesus’s sermon is not a mount of self-defeating misery, because part of observing all that Jesus commanded is knowing where to find relief when we are miserable offenders. This may be a good spot to say something about the importance of the conscience. The normal state of the Christian should not be one of low- to medium-level guilt. Remember, Paul said the conscience accuses and excuses us (Rom. 2:15). The conscience is supposed to be a prosecuting attorney when we sin and a defense attorney when we don’t sin. And yet many Christians operate with the assumption that if they are truly spiritual, they will feel bad all the time. That wasn’t Paul’s approach. He boasted in the testimony of his conscience (2 Cor. 1:12) and even went so far as to say he wasn’t aware of anything against himself (1 Cor. 4:4). That didn’t mean he was sinless. In fact, he quickly acknowledged that the Lord was the ultimate judge and he might be judging himself incorrectly. But his goal as a Christian was to serve the Lord with a clean conscience, and he frequently boasted of doing so in his ministry (Acts 23:1; Rom. 9:1; 1 Tim. 1:5; 2 Tim. 1:3). In other words, when Paul sinned, he felt convicted, which prompted him to repent, which allowed him to know the grace of God and have a clean conscience. And when he didn’t sin, he didn’t manufacture a guilty conscience. He wasn’t going to make himself feel bad in order to make his opponents happy. If we are to follow Paul’s example, we too should always take pains to have a clear conscience toward both God and man (Acts 24:16). Don’t train yourself to have a guilty conscience. If you are guilty, deal with it and know the joy of forgiveness in Christ. If you aren’t guilty, don’t wallow in feelings of failure as if that makes you a better Christian. Fourth, the Sermon on the Mount is not an impossible standard because pleasing Jesus is not impossible. With most sermons, the messenger should decrease so that message can increase. But when you are the Messiah, the Son of the living God, the point of the preaching is going to be the preacher himself. The Sermon on the Mount compels us to ask: Who is this that thinks we will be persecuted for his sake (Matt. 5:11), that religious tradition bows before him (Matt. 5:21–22, 27–28, 31–32, 33–34, 38–39, 43–44), that building a life on his words makes one wise (Matt. 7:24), that the final judgment will be given with reference to him and given by him (Matt. 7:23)? Of course, the first and lasting impression of the sermon was Jesus’s authority (Matt. 7:28–29). No one had preached like Jesus before because there never was a God-man like Jesus before. Walking in the way of the Sermon on the Mount means walking close to Jesus. The relentless subplot to this entire sermon comes in the form of this question: Are you with me? Are you really with me? Are you with me no matter what? Submitting to this sermon means finally and fully submitting to Jesus. The law in the Sermon on the Mount reflects the heart of the lawgiver. The commands of Jesus are not meant to crush us any more than Jesus means to crush us. Jesus came to save us (Matt. 1:21), to enlist us (Matt. 16:24), and to be with us until the end of the age (Matt. 28:20). To the unbelieving and unrepentant Jesus will be a terror (Matt. 11:20–24), but to all who know the Son, to those who look for rest in the Son, to those who are eager to walk with the Son and learn from the Son, the yoke he gives you is easy, and the burden he asks you to carry is light (Matt. 11:30). Walking in the way of the Sermon on the Mount means walking close to Jesus. This article is adapted from Impossible Christianity by Kevin DeYoung

Unopened Doors “If any of you lacks wisdom,” James 1:5 says, “let him ask God, who gives generously without reproach, and it will be given him.” According to 1 John 5:14–15, “If we know that [God] hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have the requests that we have asked of him.” And our Lord Jesus asserts, “Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you” (Matt. 7:7). “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you” (John 15:7). “Whatever you ask of the Father in my name, he will give it to you” (John 16:23). The testimony of Holy Scripture about prayer is clear, consistent, and bold. In theory, this should be encouraging and emboldening for prayer. But in practice, things are not always so uncomplicated and comforting. The problem of “unanswered prayers” is one we all must reckon with. What we hear in Scripture often seems to contradict what we see in everyday experience. Frequently you do not receive from the Father “whatever you ask.” You knock and knock, and the door seems never to be opened. What help might the wider biblical testimony and Christian wisdom offer in that painful circumstance? Iniquity An initial important, but also insufficient, consideration is that sin obstructs answers to prayer. When Jesus makes promises about the Father granting “whatever you ask,” he adds clear conditions. His promise in John 16:23 only concerns prayers asked “in my name”—that is, in accord with Jesus’s character and purposes, for his honor, because of his priestly mediation and representation. John 15:7 says that if we abide in Jesus, which is immediately linked to his words abiding in us, then we can confidently petition the Father. But to the degree that we hold abiding in Christ in abeyance for abiding in some sin, to the degree that we reject Jesus’s words and assert our own iniquitous will, to that degree we can hardly expect to have a smooth experience in supplication to the Father (see also 1 Pet. 3:7). Of course, those knowingly hardened in sin are likely not wrestling with existential anxiety over unanswered prayers. But we can sometimes be, in a sense, unaware of the sin that hinders our supplications. Strangely, it’s possible to pray with zeal that God might effectively subsidize our idolatrous trysts with money or nation or success or family or health (see James 4:3–5). In such cases, to be sure, we rationalize our sin and idolatry, perhaps because everyone’s doing it and it’s “normal.” Or maybe we evade responsibility since we “aren’t directly hurting anyone.” Maybe we’re simply oblivious to our self-seeking violence and lovelessness, blind to how our pursuits functionally contribute to grinding the faces of the poor (Isa. 58:3b–4, 6–7, 10). With such rationalization, evasion, or oblivion, we may sincerely seek God daily and delight to know his ways, but wind up shocked when he takes no notice of our prayers (Isa. 58:2–3). So it is wise practice in the life of prayer to give regular space for confession and repentance, both corporately and individually. It is just as important, by regular seasons of silence before the Word, to humbly lay ourselves open to the Spirit who exposes otherwise unnoticed areas of sin and idolatry (John 16:7–11). Ignorance But Scripture and experience tell us that we can oftentimes pray not obviously hardened in some sin or ignoring the Spirit’s convicting ministry, and God still does not answer. We can oftentimes pray in Jesus’s name for clearly good things—the conversion of unbelieving family, the health of our local church, victory over addiction or societal injustice—and still have the experience of R. S. Thomas’s man in a country church: To one kneeling down no word came, Only the wind’s song, saddening the lips Of the grave saints, rigid in glass; Or the dry whisper of unseen wings, Bats not angels, in the high roof. Was he balked by silence? We can give basically the same answer given above: our prayers might not be in Jesus’s name, in accord with his character and purposes, for his honor. But here the problem is not our iniquity but our ignorance. Our ignorance in such instances is less culpable (as with the people in Isa. 58 and James 4) and more due to our finitude and infirmity. Perhaps we have an underdeveloped sense of God’s character and the things he is committed to, thus needing to mature in our understanding and, correspondingly, to mature in what we pray for and how. Every Christian is on the way of faith seeking understanding. Every Christian needs to learn how to pray aright (see Luke 11:1; cf. Rom 8:26). Perhaps, while we know the general substance of God’s purposes and ways, we are ignorant about their specifics in our time and place. Abraham knew and believed in God’s promise to bless all nations through his offspring, and he prayed fervently that his firstborn son Ishmael might be the one through whom such blessing would come (Gen. 17:18). But he received an immediate “no” from God (Gen. 17:19). Eventually, God gave Abraham not the specific thing he prayed for but the general substance of what he longed for and most truly needed: the son (Isaac) through whom he, all his children, and all families of earth would be blessed. Perhaps we’re ignorant of the timing of God’s answers to our prayers. We pray frequently and fervently, “Your kingdom come! Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven!” Opening our eyes after praying and looking around, we do not yet see much of an answer (cf. Heb. 2:8). We anguish not just at the apparent absence of the kingdom but also at the silent treatment our prayers seem to meet. But the anguish will not endure forever. According to Revelation 8:3–5, God is storing up in a bowl all “the prayers of the saints,” which on the last day he’ll pour out on earth to bring in the full kingdom justice and peace for which we long. Ignorance is often, in these ways and more, a source of our sorrow in the life of prayer. But on the path of faith seeking understanding, we must not give up earnestly asking God for the desires of our hearts. Rather, we must be well practiced in the man’s plea from Mark 9:24: “I believe; help my unbelief!” And with humble, open hands, we must pray, as our Lord Jesus himself prayed, “Not my will but yours be done.” Intimacy It may be true that our frustration in prayer is often tied to our ignorance, but it’s probably not terribly comforting. And while we must acknowledge that iniquity can hinder our prayers, we are also too prone to try to “fix” the problem of unanswered prayers by attempting better, longer, more supposedly comprehensive confessions of our sins. Our self-reliant, self-justifying bent can rear its head even in a penitential mode. We need a third avenue of help. Along these lines, it’s crucial to receive Scripture’s testimony that God hears our anguished pleas, all of them, even the ones he doesn’t seem to grant. “I have heard you,” God says to Abraham in his “no” to Abraham’s supplication (Gen. 17:20). God didn’t need to explicitly say such a thing, except that the express reassurance is necessary to comfort our troubled souls. When God’s response to our supplications is “no,” it is never for inattentiveness or deafness to our prayers in Christ’s name. It’s crucial also to know that God expects us to have seasons in the life of prayer when we’re tempted to lose heart. If this were not so, our Lord wouldn’t have told parables to fortify us for times when to our perceptions God is an unjust, unwilling judge (see Luke 18:1–8). Seasons of “dryness” in prayer, when God seems absent though our supplicatory thirst for him is great (Ps. 69:3; cf. Ps. 63:1), are not aberrations in the Christian life. They are no evidence of God’s distance from us. And it’s crucial, finally, to hear again the good news. Specifically, we must realize its divinely inspired dramatic shape, which can easily escape our notice. At the center of the three-day gospel drama, between the Good Friday crucifixion of Christ for our forgiveness and his Easter Sunday resurrection for our life, came a holy Saturday when disciples experienced the silence of God. God’s silence, with all the confusion, uncertainty, and anguish it stirs up, is written into the heart of the story. But the silence the disciples suffered was not absolute, though they deserved it for their sin. Christ Jesus suffered the absolute silence of God, though he deserved it not. He cried out to God from the cross but received no answer. He prayed that, if possible, the cup of wrath would pass from him, only to have his prayer emphatically and absolutely denied. Christ suffered the fullness of unanswered prayer and ultimately died so that we sinners might be reconciled to the holy God. And Christ rose from the dead so that all who trust in him may receive on the final day not another “no” but the greatest “yes”—namely, resurrection with Christ unto indestructible life. For those in Christ, God’s absolute silence and rejection is done away with, forever. We may pray long and receive back silence, but in Christ, we can know that it is not God balking at us for our sin. He kneeled long, And saw love in a dark crown Of thorns blazing, and a winter tree Golden with fruit of a man’s body. We may pray long without receiving any apparent answers, but it need not drive us away from the Father in doubt but always boldly further into his breast with our confused lamentations and anguished pleas and continued supplications raised in Christ’s name. And we may find that this deepened and intensified engagement with God, this deepened intimacy with him, proves more needful and sweeter than anything else we might seek from him in prayer. For thirty-plus chapters, Job cried out to God and, in the end, God gave Job answers to none of his questions. Rather, as Christina Bieber Lake comments, “God answers Job’s queries not with explanations but with himself.” If wrestling with the problem of unanswered prayer leads for you to a similar discovery, then the “problem” may prove a severe, strange, and sweet mercy. Every Christian is on the way of faith seeking understanding. Every Christian needs to learn how to pray aright. Daniel J. Brendsel is the author of Answering Speech: The Life of Prayer as Response to God.

“Atonement” is one of those religious words that rarely leaves the halls of seminaries and makes its way out into the wider world. For example, if I said to one of my friends with whom I had recently had a disagreement: “I’d like to invite you over to watch the game together this weekend as a step toward atonement,” he would probably respond with, “a step toward what?” My friend’s unfamiliarity with the term would not be surprising. A Google Ngram search reveals that the word has been steadily declining in popular usage since its peak in 1811. Even regular Bible readers might be unfamiliar with the term because 93 of its 107 occurrences in the NIV appear in the books of Exodus (17), Leviticus (56), Numbers (18), and Deuteronomy (2)—not the first books Christians turn to for their daily devotions. Clearly “atonement” needs to get out more. It needs to be more widely known because it lies at the very heart of the Christian faith. So let’s take a closer look at this critically important word. What is Atonement? The Oxford English Dictionary defines atonement as: 1. The condition of being at one with others; unity of feeling, harmony, concord, agreement. 2. The action of setting at one, or condition of being set at one, after discord or strife: a. Restoration of friendly relations between persons who have been at variance; reconciliation. b. The settling of differences, staunching of strife; appeasement. 3. spec. in Theol. Reconciliation or restoration of friendly relations between God and sinners. The note to Exodus 25:17 in the NIV Study Bible adds a crucial detail in its definition of atonement as “the divine act of grace whereby God draws to himself those who were once alienated from him through a blood sacrifice” (italics added). Why Is Atonement Necessary? What the definitions for atonement presume, therefore, is the existence of some preceding rupture in the relationship between the parties involved. It is that disharmony, discord, strife, or alienation that atonement is meant to resolve. In the case of human beings’ relationship with God, the rupture is old and deep. It is caused by our sin. Our estrangement from God began with Adam and Eve’s willful sin against him in choosing to listen to the serpent rather than God. They ate a malignant poison that found its way into every area of our beings. Now sin is part of our human nature. It was not originally so, but is now a continual and pervasive presence that corrupts that nature. As a result, every human being has sinned and continues to sin. No one hammers this point home more effectively than the apostle Paul. Quoting many Old Testament passages, he lays down a blistering indictment of human sinfulness: There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one. (Romans 3:10–12) The words “no one” (4x), “not even one” (2x), “all,” and “together” leave the universality of the problem in no doubt. The sin of every single person has alienated them from God. This “pre-existing condition”is what makes atonement necessary if there is to be any restored relationship with God. Where Can Atonement Come From? We sin-infected human beings, however, cannot bring about atonement ourselves. We understand from our everyday lives that the guilty party is usually responsible for atoning for their offense. For example, if I damage my relationship with my wife by forgetting our anniversary (which I have never done btw!), perhaps flowers and a nice dinner out could atone for my forgetfulness. Things are not so easily dealt with in our broken relationship with God, however. Our relationship with God is broken because of our rebellion against him (aka sin). So how can we, who continue to rebel against God in our very nature, atone for our rebellion? We cannot atone for an offense that we continue to commit. We seem to be locked in a fatal feedback loop. Clearly, we need someone else to intervene and do what we cannot. If God wants a restored relationship with us (and what right do we have to expect that he would?), he himself will have to provide a way for it to happen. Atonement in the Old Testament In the Old Testament, God provided the sacrificial system as a way for sinful human beings to restore relationship with him. Because “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness” (Hebrews 9:22), for atonement to be realized, something would have to die. Shedding the blood of the sacrifices effectively served as a substitute for shedding human blood and was the divinely prescribed way for Israel’s sin to be atoned for. This need to cleanse Israel from its sin was preeminently addressed by the annual Day of Atonement (Leviticus 16)—the one day of the year in which the high priest entered the most sacred room of the temple to sprinkle sacrificial blood on and in front of the atonement cover of the ark. The ark represented the invisible presence of God himself and was the focal point of this annual atonement rite. But the fact that the high priest had to repeat this atonement rite year after year indicated its imperfect and forward-looking nature. Moreover, the blood of animals does not equate to the blood of human beings. The author of Hebrews describes the inadequacy and provisional character of the Old Testament sacrificial system for achieving real and lasting atonement: It [i.e., the Old Testament provision for atonement] can never, by the same sacrifices repeated endlessly year after year, make perfect those who draw near to worship. Otherwise, would they not have stopped being offered? For the worshipers would have been cleansed once for all, and would no longer have felt guilty for their sins. But those sacrifices are an annual reminder of sins. It is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats [i.e., the animals sacrificed on the Day of Atonement] to take away sins. (Hebrews 10:1–4) For atonement—the restoration of our relationship with God—to be achieved finally and completely, it would take a perfect priest offering a perfect sacrifice. Atonement in the New Testament In amazing and incomprehensible grace, God provided both the perfect human being and the perfect sacrifice for imperfect human beings by sending his son, Jesus Christ. Because Jesus was sinless, unlike the previous high priests, he did not need to make atonement for himself. Moreover, the sacrifice he offered was not in any way provisional or inadequate. It was as perfect as he is, because the sacrifice was him. The author of Hebrews explains: Christ did not enter a sanctuary made with human hands that was only a copy of the true one; he entered heaven itself…. Nor did he enter heaven to offer himself again and again, the way the high priest enters the Most Holy Place every year with blood that is not his own…. But he has appeared once for all at the culmination of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of himself. (Hebrews 9:24–26) Atonement and the Gospel The gospel, or “good news,” is that Jesus’ sacrifice of himself on our behalf achieves atonement with God for all who by faith claim Jesus as their representative. It is an atonement that was (and only could be) achieved by the shedding of human blood, the blood of a perfect human being, Jesus Christ. Only through Jesus is the impossible made possible. Believers’ union with Christ by faith is their claim that he is their high priest and that his perfect sacrifice is made on their behalf. The good news is that just as Adam’s sin brought death to humankind, Jesus’ atoning sacrifice brings life. In the words of the apostle Paul: The gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! (Romans 5:15) The fatal feedback loop is now broken. We are no longer helpless in our sinfulness. Through faith in Jesus Christ, our relationship with God is restored. We have atonement. Not only that, but God’s own Holy Spirit is at work within believers to conform them to the likeness of Christ (Romans 8:29) so that we experience more and more the riches of that restored relationship with the author of life. The author of Hebrews helps us make the connection between our atonement with God and our new lives in Christ: Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place [i.e., the very presence of God] by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, his body, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings, having our hearts sprinkled to cleanse us from a guilty conscience and having our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold unswervingly to the faith we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds…. (Hebrews 10:19–24) It is impossible to fully grasp the depth and multidimensional character of the atonement. No dictionary article, sermon, theological reflection, or blogpost can ever hope to explain it in all its richness. Perhaps it is best to conclude, as Leon Morris does, that “however it is viewed, Christ has taken our place, doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. Our part is simply to respond in repentance, faith, and selfless living.” Written By: Michael Williams (PhD, University of Pennsylvania) an emeritus senior professor of Old Testament at Calvin Theological Seminary

Life is full of insults and assaults. There are times it seems that hardly a day goes by when someone doesn’t try to undermine or hurt us in some way. The sources of harm are countless. We might find ourselves the victim of a crime, betrayed by a spouse or deceived by a friend. The injury may be small or large, but after the initial shock, our natural reaction may be to seek revenge. If someone cuts us off on the way out of a crowded parking lot after a concert or sporting event, we blast our horn while our blood boils. When someone delivers a cutting remark in our direction, our mind spins into appropriately nasty retort mode. If a business associate undercuts us, we fantasize about embarrassing them publicly or destroying their career. Now think of the harm Joseph’s brothers caused him. They threw him into a hole in the ground to die, then thought better of this approach when the opportunity arose to sell him as a slave. Nice, huh? Later, his boss’s wife falsely accused him of rape. When in jail, he interpreted the dreams of two important fellow prisoners. When they were sprung, the one who survived promptly forgot all about Joseph, leaving him there to rot. If anyone had a right to be angry about the way life was treating him, it was Joseph. This background helps us understand why Joseph’s brothers worried about their fate when their father died. They presumed that Joseph was, underneath, like everyone else — that their father’s death would pave the way for payback. When Joseph’s brothers saw that their father was dead, they said, “What if Joseph holds a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrongs we did to him?” So they sent word to Joseph, saying, “Your father left these instructions before he died: ‘This is what you are to say to Joseph: I ask you to forgive your brothers the sins and the wrongs they committed in treating you so badly.’ Now please forgive the sins of the servants of the God of your father.” When their message came to him, Joseph wept. (Genesis 50:15-17) Joseph wasn’t blind to the injury his brothers had brought on him: “You meant it for evil,” he reminded them simply. Then, amazingly, Joseph added the clincher: “but God meant it for good” (see Genesis 50:20). He looked back over his life and recognized that even the horrible things that had happened had a purpose. God used every one of them to bring him to a position through which he could provide the people of God with food during a devastating famine. Without this series of events in Joseph’s life, Jacob’s family might have died. This is what Paul, in Romans 12:14-21 says about revenge: Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position Do not be conceited. Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. It’s unlikely that Joseph always had a clear view of God’s plan for his life. Neither do we. It comes down to a matter of trust. We may even go to the grave, not knowing why bad things have happened to us. But God worked through the negative events in Joseph’s life to pave the way for Moses. And David. And, through the family line, eventually, the Messiah. God knew what he was doing in Joseph’s life. Can you imagine what he might have in mind for yours? Takeaway 1. How do you react when someone hurts you? 2. The next time you pause to pray, look back on your life and try to discern the path on which God has been leading you. Pray for wisdom and insight to know which way to go at the next fork in the road. Drawn from the NIV Men’s Devotional Bible.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds. —James 1:2 Joy in Trials The second word in the Greek text of verse 2, charan (“joy”), corresponds closely in sound to the last word of verse 1, chairein. Epistolary sections of James are often stitched together by similar-sounding words, pointing to the author’s skill in the Greek language. Some modern skeptics have protested that a Jewish man raised in Nazareth could never have attained such skill in Greek, but archaeological evidence (e.g., ossuary inscriptions) confirms the widespread use of Greek in first-century Palestine. We should also remember that James may well have employed an amanuensis (secretary), as Paul did (Rom. 16:22). James would have approved the final draft of a letter sent in his name, but it is possible that a secretary fluent in Greek may have helped in the translation or editing of this sermonic letter. Continuing in humble fashion, James does not apply a heavy apostolic hand upon these scattered Christians. As a servant of the Lord (James 1:1), he addresses them as “my brothers.” An ESV footnote here rightly observes that the Greek word translated brothers (adelphoi) should be understood as referring to both men and women in the Christian community, as “brothers” is similarly understood in the church today. James contains the highest frequency of imperatives of any book in the NT, with the first command appearing in James 1:2: “Count it all joy . . .” James calls on Christians to reckon any situation, however difficult, as an occasion of intense joy. The Greek word for “all” here serves as an intensifier of “joy.” In other words, not every element of suffering is joy. But, however severe one’s suffering, every trial is a time for intense joy. This complete joy does not reside in the trials themselves but is concomitant with them—“when you meet trials of various kinds.” The occasion of the trial is a matter of rejoicing, because even in the darkest hour, God is still in control and his divine purposes will prevail. What others mean for evil, God will work for good (Gen. 50:20). All things will work together for the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose (Rom. 8:28). Three Greek words, all beginning with “p” sounds, underlie the phrase translated “you meet trials of various kinds” ( peirasmois peripesēte poikilois; James 1:2), an alliterative pattern that again demonstrates the compositional skill of the author. Because James goes on to discuss all sorts of trials—from economic injustice (James 5:4) to physical sickness (James 5:14)—it is important to see the “trials of various kinds” here as referring to any difficulties Christians face in this fallen world. The Greek word for “trial” (peirasmos) can also mean “temptation,” and only the context indicates which nuance is intended. Some scholars have seen an intentional ambiguity throughout the letter—with James implying that trials (which God brings; James 2:20–23) confront the Christian at a moment of temptation (which can never be attributed to God, since he tempts no one to evil; James 1:13). Most English translators see the context of James 1:2 as sufficiently narrowing the semantic range of peirasmos to “trial” and translate accordingly. Trials can cause great anxiety in the hearts of believers, but this understandable restlessness can be calmed by the reassuring knowledge (“you know”; James 1:3) that God is using such trials to refine the Christian’s faith and produce “steadfastness”—endurance or stick-to-it-ness. In verse 4, we find the letter’s second imperative: “Let steadfastness have its full effect.” In other words, growth in Christian character (and, specifically here, growth in “steadfastness” or endurance) is a process in which the believer is called to submit to the Master’s sanctifying plan. The purpose of divinely orchestrated character formation, James tells his readers, is that “you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:4). This exalted description seems eschatological in nature. That is, only in the ultimate glorified state could any Christian decisively be described as “perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” And yet, throughout the letter, James clearly intends his readers to heed his instructions and, as a result, see visible evidence of obedience in this earthly life (James 1:22, 27). Perhaps it is best to say that we experience a partial fulfillment of James’s purpose statement in this imperfect age. God does indeed mature us and make us “whole.” Yet the believer awaits the glorified state to enjoy complete and absolute perfection. Though changed and changing, Christians will continue to fight against sin. It is instructive that the prayer Jesus taught his disciples includes a request for divine forgiveness (Matt. 6:12). The justification of believers is secure before God’s throne on the basis of Jesus’ perfect life and atoning death (Rom. 8:30–39), but we continue to need God’s fatherly/relational forgiveness every day (1 John 1:9). The normal and healthy Christian life is one of regular repentance and faith (cf. thesis number 1 of Luther’s “Ninety-Five Theses”). However severe one’s suffering, every trial is a time for intense joy. This article is by Robert L. Plummer and is adapted from the ESV Expository Commentary: Hebrews–Revelation (Volume 12)edited by Iain M. Duguid, James M. Hamilton Jr., and Jay Sklar.

We see in the Bible that God is always with us. When we become followers of Jesus, his presence comes to dwell inside us through the power of the Holy Spirit. Because God is always near, as Christians, it should be normal for us to carry on a conversation with God, not just in the morning and evening, but throughout the day. In 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18, we are commanded to ‘‘rejoice always, pray continually’’ and to ‘‘give thanks in all circumstances.’’ But what does it look like to live this out? We can develop this kind of lifestyle through simple practices that help our hearts hear from the Lord, both in the quiet, still moments and the loud hectic ones throughout our day. This can be called ‘‘practicing the presence.’’ And as we learn to pray continually, talking to God becomes a natural part of our relationship with him. How do we integrate prayer into our lives? First, understand that prayer doesn’t have to be long. One practical way we can begin practicing an awareness of God throughout our day is through breath prayers. This can be done by praying a short Bible verse or a simple prayer that can be said in the space of a breath. There’s nothing magical about repeating these prayers as you inhale and exhale, but it’s a simple and powerful way to stay connected with God throughout your day. As you read through the Bible, write down any short prayers that stand out to you. Or you can write out your own in the margins of your Bible in response to Scripture. Here are some examples to get you started: 1 John 4—Help me love like you today. Psalm 139 and Exodus 33—Be with me. Psalm 23—Keep me safe. Matthew 6—Forgive me, and help me to forgive others. Types of prayers in the Bible Prayers of adoration, examen and meditation are all additional ways for us to pray, each giving us different ways to communicate with and cultivate a life-giving relationship with our Creator. Prayers of adoration give God glory simply for who he is. One easy way to do this is by praying the Psalms. You might even try to write a psalm in your own words, expressing your thanks and praise to God. Prayers of examen help us to reflect. As you think back on your day, ask God to reveal the ways he has been present with you and reflect on whether your thoughts, feelings and actions have been pleasing to him. This is a way for us to allow God to help us see ourselves more clearly and be transformed by him. Try praying this way by reflecting on your day before going to sleep at night. Prayers of meditation allow God to address our will, calling us into repentance, obedience and transformation. One way to do this is by reflecting on the truth found in the Bible and asking God to show us how it relates to our lives. Drawn from The NIV Telos Bible.

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” – Revelation 7:9-10 The story of the Bible closes with a vision of God’s kingdom on earth. At the end of time, history’s completion is illustrated as a gathering filled with people of every ethnicity, language and nation, singing together in a beautiful chorus of praise to God. What a beautiful picture! God’s heart is that we, with our unique histories and cultures, languages and perspectives, would live in unity with one another, working to reflect the perfect love of God. He created us differently, and we each image his character in a unique way. When we come together and love one another well, we are reflecting God and his perfect relationship with himself as the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. There is beauty in our differences, and it’s meant to be that way. Our differences make loving others well a reflection of the character of God. God’s heart is for unity, not uniformity This idea is nice, but it doesn’t often translate into reality. We live in a world that counts differences as opportunities for division. We’re hardwired in our sinful nature to have an us versus them mentality, and we often devalue people who look, sound and act differently than we do. Instead of a beautiful song of praise filled with the voices of a diverse choir, we hear clamor as every individual and group sing their own tune. Sometimes, this noise seems inescapable, but Jesus has shown us another way—the way of God’s kingdom, the truth of God’s reconciling redemption and the life of God’s multiethnic family. Revelation’s vision of people from every nation and ethnicity coming together to worship God isn’t something we just wait for Jesus to accomplish. As his followers, we are called to align our lives with the radical vision of God’s kingdom coming to earth. An aspiring vision The great multitude wearing white robes and holding palm branches are the souls saved through the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. The multitude is made up of every nation, tribe, people and language, but their differences don’t divide them. Instead, they are united in worship and service to God, each enjoying a close relationship with him. Churches today can reflect this diverse yet unified vision of heaven by showing their unity across national, ethnic, economic and generational boundaries. When we pray, worship, read Scripture or march against injustice together, we are reflecting this incredible unity that comes from God. As Christians, we believe that every person is made in God’s image and therefore has infinite value. But that isn’t enough. We should try to live out what we believe. What does this look like in your life? Drawn from The NIV Telos Bible.

Comfort for the Grieving The doctor said, “The child has severe hemophilia.” In the crib looking up at me with charming brown eyes lay a beautiful baby boy. A “severe” hemophiliac. My son. Emotions swirled. “Are you sure?” I asked, feeling helpless. “Yes,” he responded. Much of life happens before you are ready. Our hearts race and our minds search for meaning, but some circumstances resist explanation. So it was for me on that day, surrounded by the beeping ambience of the neonatal unit. Powerless, I simply stood and watched. However, despair is not the end of the story. It is simply the occasion when our spiritual senses are awakened to behold new, life-giving dimensions of God’s presence. In Jesus’s words, “Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.” The shocking, even scandalous, ring to this statement hits you in the face. Blessed? How can Jesus possibly say that those who mourn are blessed? In her book On Death and Dying, psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross identified five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Nowhere in her list are blessed and comfort. But perhaps they should be. Life in the kingdom, after all, is not about striving for happiness or avoiding the ills of human existence that bring us face to face with mourning. It’s about receiving and finding, even amid the pain and suffering of life (Eph. 1:3; James 1:17). “Blessed” is therefore not an achievement, an attitude, or an emotion. It is the tangible gift of God’s loving embrace, an identity in Christ that experiences life as it ought to be—even when we mourn. In the months leading up to Angela’s delivery, I was a seminarian teaching Matthew’s Gospel in Sunday school. My wife, great with child, sat in the front listening attentively. One morning, I introduced my students to a concept called the “upsilon vector.” A Counterintutive Pattern Upsilon is a Greek letter that looks like the English capital U (or like a Y when it’s capitalized). Its contours trace the trajectory of Jesus’s experience in terms of his descent into apparent defeat (suffering and dying on the cross) before ascending three days later in consummate victory (in the resurrection). It is the counterintuitive pattern of Christian life that my seminary professor, Royce Gruenler, outlined when he stated, “We can expect to follow the same path of defeat and death, victory and resurrection.” We observe the upsilon’s ironic pattern in nature, from the changing of the seasons to the kernel of wheat that falls to the ground and dies before it produces fruit. It’s also found in the great stories of antiquity, as when Persephone must first descend into the underworld and marry Hades before spring can be reborn. In Scripture, we see Jacob’s hip dislocated before he undergoes his transformation into Israel (Gen. 32:22–32). And we have the supreme example: our crucified Prince of Peace who rises from death to begin the new creation. My Sunday school lesson expounded this redemptive idea with pathos and conviction. However, seeing my pregnant wife’s robust belly in my peripheral vision, I was confronted by some persistent questions: “What if this child introduces suffering into my life? Will I be able to exhibit the peace that I’m now fervently proclaiming?” I swallowed hard and kept on teaching. Two months later, our son was born. After a routine medical procedure, he continued to hemorrhage. Shortly thereafter we learned of his bleeding disorder. The upsilon vector immediately sprang to mind. Now was my opportunity to apply it. But it immediately became apparent that one descends into brokenness not with confidence, strength, and peace, but with many tears, sleepless nights, and mourning. In Jesus’s words, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Matt. 26:38). How should we respond to such pain and despair? Some assert that God doesn’t want his children to experience illness or disease. We must claim healing, they say, which is God’s desire for the church. How I wished it were so, especially in those early years when we struggled to stick an intravenous needle into my son’s tiny veins. Health-and-wealth religion is misguided because it fails to understand the means of comfort in our mourning, namely the cross of Jesus. Martin Luther says it well: “He who is not a crucianus, so to speak, is not a Christianus: He who does not bear his cross is no Christian, for he is not like his Master, Christ.” Cry to the Father Life is fragile and all too brief. According to the Psalmist, our lifetimes are a “mere breath.” We may perhaps live into our seventies or eighties “by reason of strength,” but our experience is generally full of “toil and trouble” (Ps. 39:5; Ps. 90:10). Sometimes life leaves you weeping in the dark. In such moments of misery, we cry out to a Father who cares about our pain, who invites us into his presence to express our concerns (Matt. 7:7–11; 1 Pet. 5:7). In view of this reality, theologian Kelly M. Kapic has offered a helpful framework for understanding and expressing biblical lament. “These cries,” writes Kapic in his book Embodied Hope: A Theological Meditation on Pain and Suffering, “do not form a subversive antireligious voice but operate at the heart of the biblical canon among the prayers and songs of the people of God. They are part of their liturgy and worship.” To ignore the need for such lament is to live in denial, overlooking the simple facts that life is messy, we are weak, and God is merciful. It also fails to recognize lament’s redemptive value. This lesson came into focus for me when I taught my son how to ride his bicycle. One thing everyone knows about the process of learning to ride a bike: it is full of falling. However, falling isn’t a viable option when your blood doesn’t clot. So, I ran behind my son’s bike with arms outstretched for an hour, up and down the sidewalk, ready to throw my body onto the pavement as a cushion to break his fall. Walking home that afternoon, I looked at my boy. Yes, he had fallen, and my lunges were too late, but the damage was minimal. As I looked down on my son holding my hand, my thoughts naturally went upward to the Father in heaven. I wondered, What is God’s posture? What are his thoughts toward us? Then I imagined God saying: Keep pedaling, son, despite your fears. I know all the bumps in the road, and, although you falter and even wipe out, my grace encircles you to the end. So it has been for us. Despite the powerlessness and pain of life, God’s grace-filled provision has surrounded us through every turn of the journey. Truly, as Christ said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Health-and-wealth religion is misguided because it fails to understand the means of comfort in our mourning, namely the cross of Jesus. Chris Castaldo is the author of The Upside Kingdom: Wisdom for Life from the Beatitudes.

I used to believe in “biblical manhood and womanhood”—that God ordained male headship in the home and in the church, that wives must submit to their husbands, but that husbands do not have to submit to their wives. I no longer believe in “biblical manhood and womanhood” because it is not biblical. Like many Christians, I took for granted that the Bible supports gender hierarchy in the church and the home. I grew up in a happy home where my father was the head of the house. Women never preached in our church. Men made church decisions. I learned to read, love, and believe the Bible as the inerrant Word of God from my father, J. Barton Payne, who devoted his life to studying and teaching Scripture. Nevertheless, I had no assurance that I would have eternal life until at a Christian camp as a junior high student I realized that God, who cannot lie, promised eternal life to all who believe in Jesus Christ (John 3:16; Titus 1:2). I fell on my knees and asked forgiveness for not believing God’s promise in Scripture. I was overjoyed with assurance of faith, an assurance that has never left me because it is based on God’s written Word. During my junior year as a pre-med student, I had the joy of seeing a blind boy named Joel transformed by faith in Jesus Christ beyond anything medicine could do. So, with honors in literature and a growing love of the Bible, instead of going to medical school, I served for fourteen months as a “helping hand” missionary in Japan with The Evangelical Alliance Mission. My pastor in Nagoya told me that the greatest need of the evangelical church in Japan was someone with a PhD in New Testament, preferably from Cambridge University. So, after finishing my MA in New Testament and MDiv at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, I entered the New Testament PhD program at Cambridge. About a month after arriving in Cambridge, a lecturer stated, “No passage in the New Testament, understood in its original context, limits the ministry of women.” I almost stood up and shouted, “That’s not true.” I thought 1 Timothy 2:12’s prohibition of women teaching men was the perfect refutation. So that evening I read 1 Timothy in Greek and continued to do so repeatedly for over a month. I was struck by the letter’s pervasive concern with false teaching. Since women are the only people 1 Timothy identifies as deceived by the false teaching, this explains why Paul prohibited women in Ephesus from seizing authority to teach a man. Realizing that 1 Timothy 2:12 does not disprove the lecturer’s statement, I began to examine every other passage about women in the Bible. Forty-nine years of research later, I still have not found any original passage of the Bible that prohibits women from engaging in any church ministry. The Bible’s teaching matters on this issue because the Bible is the Word of God, authoritative for all Christians. And if God teaches it, that settles it. The Bible, not contemporary culture, should guide what we believe and how we live. While I still believe that the Bible is inerrant, I no longer believe in “biblical manhood and womanhood.” My view did not change because I rejected the authority of Scripture. My view changed because I examined the very Bible passages that I thought established gender hierarchy. It is precisely those passages, including 1 Corinthians 11:2–16, 1 Corinthians 14:34–35, Ephesians 5, 1 Timothy 2–3, Titus 1–2, and 1 Peter 3 that caused me to reject the exclusion of women from leadership in the church and the home. Of course, given its cultural setting, the Bible has many examples of men in leadership, and far fewer of women in leadership. It describes the creation of the first human as male and Israel’s official priests as male. Most of the identified authors of Scripture are male. Jesus is male and chose twelve male apostles. God is addressed as Father. Some consider this sufficient evidence that God desires a hierarchy of males in authority over women. However, when we look more closely, we find that the Bible emphasizes: • the Holy Spirit gifts all believers for ministry • the oneness of the body of Christ (the church) and the priesthood of all believers • the humility, service, and mutual submission required of all believers These principles are where the biblical emphasis lies, and Scripture never teaches that men and women have separate “roles.” We should not infer from the Bible’s descriptions of patriarchal societies that it endorses patriarchy any more than its descriptions of polygamy endorse polygamy. The Greek texts of Ephesians 5 and 1 Peter 3 that supposedly teach male headship and female subordination actually teach mutual voluntary yielding in love. Passages that stress the equality of men and women, including Romans 16, 1 Corinthians 7, 1 Corinthians 11:11–12, and Galatians 3:28, are not exceptions to the rule of male headship. They express the Bible’s consistent, harmonious message of gender equality. No word meaning headship ever occurs in the Greek or Hebrew texts of Scripture. Read more in my book, The Bible vs. Biblical Womanhood, where I explain how the text of Scripture itself affirms gender equality. Its emphasis is Christ-like service. Scripture, and Paul in particular, fights tenaciously for groups who are being excluded from full fellowship or denied equal rights. Written by: Philip Barton Payne (Ph.D., Cambridge)

Among all the creatures of the earth, only human beings are made in God’s own image and likeness. In the opening chapter of the Bible, the Creator declared a unique relationship with humans, the triune God declared, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness” (Genesis 1:26a). In short, the Bible teaches that to be human is to image God and to image God is to be human. In this unique relationship with humanity, God is giving to humans a special moral status and vesting them with dignity and respect. Interpretations of the Imago Dei Historically, there are several prominent interpretations of the image of God – The relational view highlights God’s closeness to human beings in personal relationship. The structural view of the image of God points to certain qualities or abilities that distinguish humans from animals – rational capacity, volition, moral awareness, and consciousness, for instance. The functional view focuses on the functions humans are called to serve in God’s created order, namely, to be dominion stewards, over the earth (Genesis 1:28). The important point is that human beings, and only human beings, are imagers of God. Every human being has special status in God’s eyes (see Psalm 8) and every person should be treated with dignity and respect. The Distinctiveness of Human Life This doctrine also plays an important role in the history of salvation. The author of Genesis teaches that Adam’s son, Seth, was an imager of God just as his father was (Genesis 5:1–3). Moreover, in the covenant God made with Noah and his children after the flood, the image of God is provided as the reason human life is distinct from animal life (Genesis 9:6). Furthermore, the apostle James says that because all people are imagers of God, we should not curse other humans (James 3:9). Human beings are, by nature, religious. We may even know that a powerful Deity exists (see Romans 1:19–20 and Acts 17:22–28). Yet, as Augustine famously said, “[O]ur heart is restless until it rests in you [God].” God loves human beings. He sent His own Son in human flesh to die for human beings. And He is concerned for the ways humans treat one another. Article written from study content in the NIV Storyline Bible.

Who Is Christ? Our growth is not independent personal improvement. It is growth in Christ. Who then is he? The temptation for many of us at this point is to assume we pretty much know what Jesus is like. We’ve been saved by him. We’ve spent time in the Bible over the years. We’ve read some books about him. We’ve told a few others about him. And yet, if we are honest, we still find our lives riddled with failure and worry and dysfunction and emptiness. One common reason we fail to leave sin behind is that we have a domesticated view of Jesus. Not a heterodox view; we are fully orthodox in our Christology. We understand that he came from heaven as the Son of God to live the life we cannot live and die the death we deserve to die. We affirm his glorious resurrection. We confess with the ancient creeds that he is truly God and truly man. We don’t have a heterodox view. We have a domesticated view that, for all its doctrinal precision, has downsized the glory of Christ in our hearts. So we need to begin by getting clear on who this person is in whom we grow. And we start just there—he is a person. Not just a historical figure, but an actual person, alive and well today. He is to be related to. Trusted, spoken to, listened to. Jesus is not a concept. Not an ideal. Not a force. Growing in Christ is a relational, not a formulaic, experience. Who then is this person? Unsearchable Ephesians speaks of “the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Eph. 3:8). The Greek word underlying “unsearchable” occurs just one other time in the New Testament, in Romans 11:33: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” Romans 11 calls God’s wisdom and knowledge unsearchable. That makes sense. God is infinite and omniscient; of course his wisdom and knowledge are unsearchable. But Ephesians 3 calls Christ’s riches unsearchable. How so? What does it mean that there are riches in Christ and that these riches are unsearchable? That we can dig and dig but never hit bottom on them? Let me propose an idea. Let me suggest that you consider the possibility that your current mental idea of Jesus is the tip of the iceberg. That there are wondrous depths to him, realities about him, still awaiting your discovery. I’m not disregarding the real discipleship already at play in your life and the true discoveries of the depths of Jesus Christ you have already made. But let me ask you to open yourself up to the possibility that one reason you see modest growth and ongoing sin in your life—if that is indeed the case—is that the Jesus you are following is a junior varsity Jesus, an unwittingly reduced Jesus, an unsurprising and predictable Jesus. I’m not assuming that’s the case. I’m just asking you to test yourself, with honesty. When Christopher Columbus reached the Caribbean in 1492, he named the natives “Indians,” thinking he had reached what Europeans of the time referred to as “the Indies” (China, Japan, and India). In fact he was nowhere close to South or East Asia. In his path were vast regions of land, unexplored and uncharted, of which Columbus knew nothing. He assumed the world was smaller than it was. Have we made a similar mistake with regard to Jesus Christ? Are there vast tracts of who he is, according to biblical revelation, that are unexplored? Have we unintentionally reduced him to manageable, predictable proportions? Have we been looking at a junior varsity, decaffeinated, one-dimensional Jesus of our own making, thinking we’re looking at the real Jesus? Have we snorkeled in the shallows, thinking we’ve now hit bottom on the Pacific? I’d like to mention seven facets of Christ, seven “regions” of Christ that may be under-explored in our generation. Dozens more could be considered. But we’ll restrict ourselves to these seven: ruling, saving, befriending, persevering, interceding, returning, and tenderness. The point of this exercise is to bring the living Christ himself into sharper, starker contrast, to see him loom larger and more radiant and more glorious than ever before—to trade in our snorkel and face mask for scuba gear that takes us down into depths we’ve never peered into before—and to seek Christian growth out of an accurate and ever-deepening vision of the Christ to whom we have been united. The Real Christ Make your growth journey a journey into Christ himself. Explore uncharted regions of who he is. Resist the tendency we all have to whittle him down to our preconceived expectation of what he must be like. Let him surprise you. Let his fullness arrest you and buoy you along. Let him be a big Christ. C. S. Lewis remarked in a 1959 letter: “Gentle Jesus,” my elbow! The most striking thing about Our Lord is the union of great ferocity with extreme tenderness. (Remember Pascal? “I do not admire the extreme of one virtue unless you show me at the same time the extreme of the opposite virtue. One shows one’s greatness not by being at an extremity but by being simultaneously at two extremities and filling all the space between.”) Add to this that He is also a supreme ironist, dialectician, and (occasionally) humourist. So go on! You are on the right track now: getting to the real Man behind all the plaster dolls that have been substituted for Him. This is the appearance in Human form of the God who made the Tiger and the Lamb, the avalanche and the rose. He’ll frighten and puzzle you: but the real Christ can be loved and admired as the doll can’t. Determine today, before God, through the Bible and good books explaining it, that you will spend the rest of your life wading into the unsearchable riches of the real Christ. Let him, in all his endless fullness, love you into growth. Have we been looking at a junior varsity, decaffeinated, one-dimensional Jesus of our own making, thinking we’re looking at the real Jesus? This article is adapted from Deeper: Real Change for Real Sinners by Dane C. Ortlund.