The Gospel Coalition

What is the shape of blasphemy? Jude gives us a vivid yet dark picture of those who pervert grace into sensuality:

These are hidden reefs at your love feasts, as they feast with you without fear, shepherds feeding themselves; waterless clouds, swept along by winds; fruitless trees in late autumn, twice dead, uprooted; wild waves of the sea, casting up the foam of their own shame; wandering stars, for whom the gloom of utter darkness has been reserved forever. (Jude 12-13)

What depths of emptiness here. Jude piles on the metaphors, not too afraid to mix them in order to make it abundantly clear that false teaching smuggles death into a church. In his commentary on the book (TNTC), Michael Green summarizes, “They are as dangerous as sunken rocks, as selfish as perverted shepherds, as useless as rainless clouds, as dead as barren trees, as dirty as the foaming sea, and as certain of doom as the fallen angels.”

John Piper has given the illustration of the inverted mirror to help us see the ramifications of the fall. Made in God’s image to reflect his glory, we were created as mirrors at 45-degree angles, meant to receive the unhindered radiance of God’s glory and reflect it back up and out. In disobedience, we turn around to face the ground, however, and when you turn a mirror upside down, it does not reflect a light but casts a shadow on the ground. So in all idolatry we are worshiping the shadow cast by God’s glory rather than God himself.

Jude 12-13 shows us the blackest of shadows. But even this shadow tells us something about the light. As in the parable of the prodigal son, the antithesis is conspicuous by its absence! In our back-turning to God’s radiance, we have put our noses to the ground, chasing like sniffing dogs after scents and wisps of promise that don’t deliver (Jude 10). If in repentance we would turn our mirrors back to the source of the great light, what would we see?

In stark contrast to this darkness at each of its points stands Christ, the radiance of God’s glory (Hebrews 1:3) in the brightness of his eternal excellence:
We see the visible rock of refuge, the rock higher than ourselves, the stone carved from the mountain that smashes kingdoms (Daniel 2), the strong tower and safe refuge, the rock upon which if we are shipwrecked it is for our good and security.
We see the Good Shepherd who cares for the sheep at all times, who feeds the sheep of his own flesh!
We see the glory of God not in some thin vaporous mist, but in the pillar of cloud leading the sons of God through the wilderness, the cloud full and brimming with living water.
We see the commander of the winds, the sender and the stopper of them.
We see the true vine in whom there is life abundant, who was once dead, now up-risen in glory and vindication.
We see who walks upon the waves and calms the storms.
We see the bright morning star, the blazing sun of righteousness for whom the brightness of brightest glory has been reserved forever.

How great the light that casts the shadow!

“I find not salvation put upon the strength of faith, but the truth of faith; not upon the brightest degree, but upon any degree of faith. It is not said, If you have such a degree of faith you shall be justified and saved; but simply believing is required. The lowest degree of true faith wilt do it . . .”

– William Greenhill, An Exposition on the Prophet Ezekiel

“A weak faith is true. The bruised reed is but weak, yet it is such as Christ will not break. Though thy faith be but weak, yet be not discouraged. A weak faith may receive a strong Christ: a weak hand can tie the knot in marriage as well as a strong; a weak eye might have seen the brazen serpent. The promise is not made to strong faith, but to true. The promise doth not say, Whosoever hath a giant faith that can remove mountains, that can stop the mouth of lions, shall be saved; but whosoever believes, be his faith never so small.”

– Thomas Watson, A Body of Divinity

“Weak faith will as surely land the Christian in heaven as strong faith, for it is impossible the least dram of true grace should perish…”

– William Gurnall, The Christian in Complete Armour

And the one shot more powerful than these three:

“For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you.”

– Matthew 17:20

“There never was anything so perilous or so exciting as orthodoxy.”
– G.K. Chesterton

If I were to know everything but love, my knowledge would be worthless. A demon can be a well-ordered systematic theologian; this I get. But let’s not fall off the horse on the other side.

We can’t be perfunctory about doctrine. When I read what the Bible has to say about bad doctrine — that it produces sin, that it endangers souls — and what it says about good doctrine — that it ought to be held firm and instructed, guarded, and contended for — I don’t get the impression that right theology is just something on a questionnaire to be glossed over or nodded at. The Scriptures give us no warrant to treat doctrinal orthodoxy like a mere formality.

Dear Pete,

You and I both know we have some significant differences of opinion — significant differences of conviction — about church and how it’s to be done, on everything from video venue stuff to the point of sermons, and all sorts of secondary theological issues, I’m sure. But this isn’t about any of that. Because even though we run in different tribes (so to speak), I love you and appreciate you and am glad for your heart for people and them knowing Jesus.

Pete, I remember when I was less of a nobody than I am now and you wanted to meet. I remembered you fondly from your pastoral teaching at the church we once shared, even though you didn’t know me then, and I’ve always been grateful for your instruction during that time. So I was glad to meet you as a friend and as a learner and to talk about life and ministry. You’re the real deal. And you acted as a friend to me when you had nothing to gain from it and no real reason to do it at all. I didn’t have a book out, I didn’t have blog traffic, I pastored a brand new church plant of about 20 people. All that to say: you showed me friendship and mentoring when most other people in your position had already written me off. I’ll never forget that.

Pete, when you more recently contacted me privately to discuss a concern you had, I was both impressed and humbled that you trusted me enough to receive it well and respond appropriately. I appreciate that you also weren’t demanding anything either; you could have thrown your weight around, but you didn’t. So even though you’re 4 feet tall, you stand head and shoulders above so many other men. (insert winky face here)

So again: I love you and will never forget the kindness and respect you showed me once and continue to show me. You were a picture of grace to me in a difficult time, and I wish you nothing but the best in life and ministry.

And since these open letter thingies are supposed to be full of blistering criticism, here’s one more for the road: It’s time for a grown-up haircut, bro.

Love,
Jared

Previously:
An Open Letter to Ray Ortlund

“As Jonathan conceived of grace given by God, however, it was, like its source, awesome. Where some might have pictured it as a sweet and gentle stream from which to drink as one saw fit, Jonathan saw God’s grace as a tide of goodness that overwhelmed the sinner. God, if He were truly divine, could not be small; grace, if it were truly grace, could not be weak.”

– Owen Strachan and Doug Sweeney, Jonathan Edwards: Lover of God (Chicago: Moody, 2010), 62.

I read D.A. Carson’s excellent little book Exegetical Fallacies about ten years ago and have revisited it a few times since then, always coming away with a resolve to read the Bible better. I am currently working through it again with a couple of fellows in our church’s pastor training and the ensuing discussions have been helpful. Here is one of my favorite passages:

Almost twenty years ago I rode in a car with a fellow believer who relayed to me what the Lord had “told” him that morning in his quiet time. He had been reading the KJV of Matthew; and I perceived that not only had he misunderstood the archaic English, but also that the KJV at that place had unwittingly misrepresented the Greek text. I gently suggested there might be another way to understand the passage and summarized what I thought the passage was saying.

The brother dismissed my view as impossible on the grounds that the Holy Spirit, who does not lie, had told him the truth on this matter. Being young and bold, I pressed on with my explanation of grammar, context, and translation, but was brushed off by a reference to 1 Corinthians 2:10b-15: spiritual things must be spiritually discerned — which left little doubt about my status.

Genuinely intrigued, I asked this brother what he would say if I put forward my interpretation, not on the basis of grammar and text, but on the basis that the Lord himself had given me the interpretation I was advancing. He was silent a long time, and then concluded, “I guess that would mean the Spirit says the Bible means different things to different people.”

This week it was said to me about the biblical doctrine of hell, “It just doesn’t work for me” (sans any kind of biblical reasoning), and I was reminded for the umpteenth time in a day how important it is to read, re-read, and re-read the biblical text as one submitting to it, wherever it goes, rather than in interpretative-tail-wagging-the-exegetical-dog mode.

He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

– Luke 18:9-14

In religious terms, what did the Pharisee have that the tax collector didn’t? Lots.

What did the tax collector have that the Pharisee didn’t? Nothing except money, which he at this point considers nothing.

The Pharisee brought all his religious currency to the market and found that his money was no good there. Instead the tax collector walked away justified because he “owned” his spiritual poverty (Matthew 5:3), copped to the bottomlessness of his need. He brought nothing to the table and therefore was “rich toward God” (Luke 12:21).

Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.
– Isaiah 55:1

“Nothing in my hand I bring / Simply to the cross I cling.”

Opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. You know it. (If you don’t, you above all people are to be pitied.) Indiana Jones has journeyed deep into a cavern deep in the South American jungle. He reaches the place where a shiny idol sits, perched on a weight-sensitive pedestal.

Indy sizes it up. He runs the guesstimated calculations in his head. He pulls out a pouch of sand, feels its weight in his hand, hoping it is equally heavy to the idol grinning back at him. He pours a bit out. He knows the only way to safely dispossess the pedestal of its old affection is the equal weight of a new one (pdf). He steels himself. He stretches his arms. Quick as lightning he snatches the idol from its stony cradle while simultaneously putting the sandbag in its place.

There is a pause. Nothing happens. He smiles, turns. And then all heck breaks loose. Actually, the cave breaks loose. A gigantic stone bowling ball comes tumbling down. Poison darts start shooting out of the walls. Pits open up. Walls slam down. And before you know it, Alfred Molina has a wall of spikes through his brainbone.

This is exactly what happens when we try replacing an idol with religious behavior. We think it’ll work. But it’s just a bag of sand.

“If I have rejected the cause of my manservant or my maidservant,

when they brought a complaint against me,

what then shall I do when God rises up?

   When he makes inquiry, what shall I answer him?

Did not he who made me in the womb make him?

   And did not one fashion us in the womb?”

– Job 31:13-15

This passage tells us at least three things about abortion:

1. The foundation of civil equality is traced to the womb.

Really, it is traced to God’s having made mankind in his image, but the well-to-do Job is asserting an equality of personhood with his servants based on their equal status as unborn children. Therefore, the unborn are persons with civil rights. This makes abortion a dehumanizing injustice.

2. The development of the unborn is a work of God.

Job says he and his servants were made in the womb, fashioned in the womb. Coupled with Psalm 139′s words on God’s creative work in the womb, we learn that abortion is therefore a tearing apart what God has joined together.

3. The treatment of persons as non-persons is something for which we will give an account.

“What shall I do when God rises up?” Job asks about unjust treatment of his servants. And what will we say? Injustice of this kind will be reckoned with. We will have to give an account to our holy God for the murder of millions of unborn persons he is forming in his image.

No law can be just if its justice for one is predicated on injustice to another.

If you put overturning Roe v. Wade to a popular vote, I’m in line early ready to vote in favor of protecting the approximately one million unborn babies killed each year, and if you’re a politician, the best way to lose my vote is to align with the pro-choice agenda.

Nevertheless, I don’t believe laws — or the protests and petitions and politicking that seek to achieve them — are the primary way we are going to eradicate abortion. Overturning Roe v. Wade is a win — and it’s a win we should work for, hard — but in my way of thinking, it is not the win.

The emancipation of the slaves and ensuing civil rights legislation was necessary. But none of it ended racism.

I am not proposing an either/or. What I’m proposing is that evangelicals take the harder route, adopt the harder cause, that we pray for and aim for Spiritual change of hearts more than we aim for legal stay of hands.

Here are some thoughts on how we may do this:

1. Gospel-centered preaching. Here’s the thing: Pastors who preach culture war receive Amens from the already convinced and almost nothing from everybody else. At its worst a steady dose of this creates an unhealthy “us vs. them” mentality that has us thinking of our enemies in ways the Sermon on the Mount strictly forbids. But pastors who proclaim the freedom from sin and abundant life in Christ lay groundwork for zeal for life, not just for winning political battles. A gospel-driven pro-life agenda means hating abortion because we love women and we love the unborn. That sounds like a no-brainer but so many of our evangelical countrymen just sound like they hate abortion. And preaching isn’t just for pastors. In general, more evangelicals need to talk Jesus more than they talk politics, or else we unintentionally communicate that our greatest treasure is “getting our country back” and that our chief message is political. We are great with the good news of the kingdom of the founding fathers. Let’s return to the good news of the kingdom of God.

2. Reframing the abortion discussion. Lots of others have said this better than I can, but I think we’ve dropped the ball on how we frame the abortion issue. It is a matter of human rights, of civil rights, which is a perspective I first heard from my deeply pro-life friend who voted for Barack Obama. (I know, figure that one out.) But this is how we will best win in the political arena, I think. In many cases, this involves merely shifting from arguing against selfish moms (or whatever) and arguing for an appropriate definition of when life begins and becoming advocates for the voiceless unborn, exploited and commoditized. We can steer the discussion into the same rhetoric of the abolitionist and civil rights movements and end up stirring more hearts, I think.

3. Creating cultures of adoption and rescue. Human trafficking is the emerging danger. It’s been going for a long time, but the Church is recently (and awesomely) stepping up efforts to combat it, even here in America. My friend Justin Holcomb and his wife lead efforts of Mars Hill Church in Seattle to rescue sex workers, sex abuse victims, and runaways in their city. Others are working hard to rescue young girls from the sex trade. On the other front, the Church is exponentially embracing the beauty of adoption. It has become a bona fide movement, thank God. The reactive culture of rhetoric and protests must give way to these proactive missionary movements. We will begin changing hearts and minds on these matters of life and death as we create cultures of adoption and rescue. But only communities can create cultures, so churches have to buy in corporately. More families adopting, more families serving and taking in pregnant teens, more churches helping families do those things, more churches loving families and kids, more churches finding ways to minister to the exploited and marginalized and to support missions and organizations and crisis pregnancy centers that already are . . . these are the pro-active, missional steps to creating truly pro-life cultures.

4. Prophets, not pundits. I don’t know how else to put this. We need an MLK for the pro-life movement, a unifying and prophetic voice. We need intellectually strong but charming, powerful, winsome statesmen. We need people who aren’t just jockeying for time on FoxNews. I don’t even know if this is possible today, given the nature of media exposure and the divide between political parties — whites and blacks, Democrats and Republicans marched with King; I wonder if we haven’t so aligned the pro-life cause with conservative Republicanism that that kind of unity would be impossible for our cause — but we need a peacemaker with a powerful voice. We need prophets willing to speak truth and rebuke to power while able to speak peace and comfort to the powerless and broken.

5. Technology, technology, technology. The increasing advances in technology, particularly ultrasound technology, is catching up with the abortion industry. Women are seeing their babies. Technology is catching up with abortion. Smart churches will support their local crisis pregnancy centers, which are often frontlines on the struggle for the unborn, and help them get ultrasound equipment. No, they’re not cheap. But life isn’t either.

6. Love. I’m coming full circle, here, but if we were to outlaw abortion tomorrow, we’d still have 500,000 women a year who didn’t want their babies. You have probably already had unwed teenage girls get pregnant in your church, and if you haven’t you probably will at some point, and besides all that, there are plenty in your community and city. Before and in addition to removing abortion as a legal option for them, we have to love them, welcome them, teach them, serve them. Only the love of God in the gospel of Jesus Christ can change hearts. Let that be the ammunition of our war.

This is a slightly edited version of a post I ran last year at this time.