Editor's Note: For more on these issues, see  Jason S. Sexton, "The State of the Evangelical Trinitarian Resurgence," Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 54:4 (December 2011).

**********

Evangelicals have a peculiar relationship with the doctrine of the Trinity.

Defined nearly as much by the way they hold their values and beliefs as the beliefs themselves, evangelicals value the Bible as God's distinct self-revelation. They are people of the Book, and therefore, if it's evangelical, it is usually going to be biblical. And yet, the formulation of the creedal doctrine of the Trinity that came down from Nicaea isn't stated in the Bible.

Excellent proposals have recently been provided for understanding how the triune God reveals himself as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit in Scripture, including these:

• Andreas J. Köstenberger and Scott R. Swain, Father, Son and Spirit: The Trinity and John's Gospel (IVP, 2008)
• R. Kendall Soulen, The Divine Name(s) and the Holy Trinity: Distinguishing the Voices (WJK, 2011)

But the manner in which evangelicals arrive at the doctrine has been contested. Such a predicament led some early Pentecostals to break ranks with orthodox Pentecostals over the doctrine of the Trinity and have only recently begun to discuss their theological differences. A revealing 2008 report published in the academic journal Pneuma shows that Oneness scholars almost conceded to an inexplicable threeness in God's being, while the trinitarians allowed that the language of "persons" is not sacred in trinitarian theology. These were significant steps to clarifying positions on the doctrine of the Trinity.

Aside from a few exceptions, however, evangelicals have not often given much thought to their articulation of trinitarian doctrine. In the 20th century, evangelical theologians used the doctrine for almost exclusively apologetic purposes. Today, in independent evangelical churches and institutions of higher learning, the trinitarian articles in their doctrinal statements are often haphazardly constructed, and rarely seem to receive much attention. Yet while the doctrine itself often remained underexplored, evangelical theology was always assumed to be "solidly trinitarian." Only rarely was this affirmation moved to the front and center of evangelical confession, as it was in the case of the 1989 insertion of the explicit affirmation of the doctrine of the Trinity into the Evangelical Theological Society's Doctrinal Basis. Otherwise, the doctrine has more often been assumed rather than defended or explicitly and thoroughly appropriated.

There are exceptions to this, of course, as Fred Sanders has recently shown in his remarkably helpful and highly accessible work The Deep Things of God: How the Trinity Changes Everything (Crossway). This book shows not only that evangelicalism is tacitly trinitarian but also how some notable leaders within the tradition (e.g., Susanna Wesley, Nicky Cruz, and Francis Schaeffer) devoted meaningful attention to the doctrine. Nevertheless, these are rare exceptions that reveal an unfortunate feature of evangelical theology.

Second Rank

Suggested by some as being a legacy of Calvin to locate Scripture at the beginning of doctrinal formulation---as he did in the Institutes---evangelicals have often followed suit, relegating the doctrine of the Trinity to second rank. I suspect this move, along with the doctrine of the Trinity relegated to having primarily apologetic import, has also caused evangelicals to wonder where to locate the doctrine in their own formulation and articulation of the gospel.

Recent evangelical publications have tended to belabor this point about the difficulty or inaccessibility or impracticality of the doctrine, thus denying the church the benefits of sustained reflection on the ineffably sublime triune God on the basis of what he has done in Christ. Recent studies within leading evangelical institutions have even defined major stalwarts of late 20th-century evangelicalism as "sub-trinitarian." After surveying the writings of John Stott, Alister McGrath concluded, "There is no sense, at least in Stott, that the Trinity is the cornerstone of evangelical identity." Evangelical organizations like InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and the Evangelical Free Church of America have recently corrected some of this negligence by reasserting the doctrine of the Trinity's primary significance in Christian confession, locating it as the primary article in their respective statements of faith. Some new collaborative organizations (including The Gospel Coalition) have also located the doctrine of the Trinity front and center, a promising move for evangelical confession.

Assumed Then Lost

The trinitarian underemphasis has generated some of the confusion that presently exists within evangelicalism, especially among those who otherwise share many core and common doctrinal convictions and commitments. And yet, on a much larger scale, this may be a similar feature to the oft-quoted quip from Don Carson, that when the gospel (in this case: the triune nature of the God of the gospel) is assumed, the passion is lost in proclamation, and could likely be lost within a generation.

I shudder to think how long and for how many generations evangelicals have "assumed" the doctrine of the Trinity. While any genuine salvific movement of God in the world always gives birth to trinitarian faith, tacit trinitarianism is not satisfactory for evangelical theology. Instead, the doctrine of the Trinity ought to inform everything---in theology, ministry, ethics, and all of life.

This trinitarian paucity may have resulted from evangelicalism's focus on other emphases, such as world evangelism and biblical scholarship. And yet, recent work from a number of missional and biblical theologians has shown strong efforts to be more trinitarian in emphasis and outlook. A leading example is the work of Christopher J. H. Wright and his recent efforts with The Cape Town Commitment. Additionally, the following publications offer some of the best trinitarian engagement in recent years:

• Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Remythologizing Theology: Divine Action, Passion, and Authorship (CUP, 2010)
• Stephen R. Holmes, The Holy Trinity: Understanding God's Life (UK: Paternoster, 2012; US: IVP, 2012)
• Keith E. Johnson, Rethinking the Trinity and Religious Pluralism: An Augustinian Assessment (IVP, 2011)

The difficulties between evangelicals and the Trinity are simply part of the present state of evangelical identity---an identity inherited from the particular 20th-century emphases within evangelical theology. We should therefore not be surprised by confusion or lack of nuance, even among some of our best teachers and leaders. This is our situation. We can do better, and have begun to in very hopeful ways.

There is still much more to say by way of understanding the nature of the triune God, the divine life, and God's working in the world. Of all people evangelicals shouldn't be afraid of further development in our doctrines of the Trinity, as we hold out hope in the gospel of the triune God who passionately loves the world.

Image is everything in modern culture. Take for instance the shopping mall. More than showcasing merchandise, malls resemble ancient temples or medieval cathedrals---places of worship where the spirit is lifted. Along with designer jeans and exotic coffees, you can fashion for yourself an improved image, one in which people take pride.

Concern for image sometimes reveals itself in ways that are less than subtle. Consider, for instance, the following personal ad from New York magazine:

Strikingly Beautiful: Ivy League graduate. Playful, passionate, perceptive, elegant, bright, articulate, original in mind, unique in spirit. I possess a rare balance of beauty and depth, sophistication and earthiness, seriousness and a love of fun. Professionally successful, perfectly capable of being self-sufficient and independent, but I won't be truly content until we find each other. . . . Please reply with a substantial letter describing your background and who you are. Photo essential.

Over and against such blatant hubris, there is a concern for image that is not only acceptable, it is actually basic to our Christian identity and calling. The apostle Paul says, "Christ is the visible image of the invisible God" (Col 1:15). To properly understand what this means, we must consider God's original creation of Adam and Eve in the Garden---the place where image projection started.

Angled Mirrors

Created in God's image, Adam and Eve were like angled mirrors. Positioned faithfully beneath God, a visage of holiness shone down upon them and reflected outward to the world. Unfortunately, the first couple committed treason against the Creator, and, with fruit juice on their lips, the image of Adam and Eve was shattered. In shame they were expelled from the garden, unable to convey divine holiness and as they had previously. This legacy of disgrace is our birthright.

With such a shameful heritage, the human race desperately seeks to restore its shattered image by grasping the world's possessions. Money, leisure, sex, power, fashion, corporate promotions, and fame all promise wholeness. Like wild elephants, we charge toward these allurements. Many people reach the end of their lives surrounded by these hollow icons to find that the promise of fulfillment was a cruel sham.

Thankfully, God doesn't leave his creation to die in deception, duped by illusory hopes. Jesus, the visible image of God's glory, personally addressed our problem. As God's Son projected divine beauty and holiness, he did something that virtually no one anticipated---he died. As a substitute for humanity, the love of God went to the Cross.

Our Vocation

The work of Christ has direct bearing upon humanity's image problem. In the resurrection, God inaugurated an end-time renewal of the world, providing liberation from the seduction of self and the worship of cultural icons. In Christ, the Church emanates divine grace and truth, which is our vocation.

We would do well to consider the kind of Christian image that we are projecting. Intentionally or not, we reveal something; does our image reflect Christ, or is it a semi-religious version of society? Are we an angled mirror postured beneath the Lord, or a vanity mirror standing at attention before the world? The former is captive to the liberating rule of Christ and mediates divine truth. The latter masquerades as freedom and flaunts the ephemeral whims of self.

We can improve our reflection of Christ by observing a four-fold routinethat entails reading, reflection, prayer, and witness. Reading is the thoughtful study of Scripture that seeks to grasp its truth. Reflection considers how society displays or lacks this truth. Prayer is turning one's volition toward the God of Truth. Witness reflects truth into the world. You might say reading ingests the fruit; reflection chews it; prayer savors it; witness extends its nourishment to neighbors. Further still, reading pursues the sweetness; reflection understands it; prayer asks for it; witness shares it.

Reading

As we read Scripture, it is like placing a freshly picked grape into the mouth. The sweetness of divine revelation opens ours eyes to recognize our identity in Christ. Paul says, "And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another, for this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit" (2 Cor. 3:18). In the background of this text is Moses. When Moses spoke with God in the Tent of Meeting, his face was physically transformed. In time, shining face became a symbol of renewal in the faith of Israel: "The LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace (Num. 6:25-26).

According to Paul, Israel's awaited hope of renewal was properly fulfilled in Jesus. When we encounter Christ in his Word, the idolatry of self and the surrounding culture loses its seductive appeal.

Reflection

Have you ever been surprised by how much juice is contained in a little grape? Even more surprising is the amount of flavor that is generated by slowly savoring its flavor. The longer we hold its juices on the pallet, the more flavor is produced. Conversely, the one who hastily rolls the grape across his tongue and into the throat is unfamiliar with such pleasure. He has eaten the grape but not tasted it. Reflection is concerned with savoring the truth of Scripture for all it is worth.

Opinions differ as to the hallmark of reflection. The Jewish tradition helps us appreciate memorization; others emphasize the practice of repetition and visualization. I would like to suggest that in addition to these, a crucial part of reflection involves relating Scriptural truth to what we observe in society. Borrowing the title of John Stott's book on preaching, it is living "between two worlds," with one eye on the ancient text and the other on the values and practices of our day. Reflection considers how the kingdoms of Christ and this world relate.

Prayer

The human soul humbles itself in prayer, seeing that it is powerless to grasp the sweetness of God in its own strength. Like those who would pass through the Church of the Nativity's so-called Door of Humility, the small rectangular entrance created in Ottoman times, a requisite posture of submission must be assumed. In doing so, God's people are positioned to properly fulfill our calling.

After reading Scripture and considering how it speaks to society, we are compelled to pray. Prayer recognizes that we are incapable of advancing God's kingdom without the animating movement of the Spirit, a movement that is invisible to the naked eye, but perceived in prayer.

Witness

The love and compassion of God would have us savor the sweetness of grace to our soul's delight; however, we are never permitted to hoard it. Having read Scripture, related its truth to society, and bathed it in prayer, we are poised to serve as a witness.

Have you ever wondered why the world doesn't recognize the beauty of Christ? Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4:4, "The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God." This is the reason: blindness. Divine light shines, but the darkness doesn't comprehend it.

On account of sin, the human heart gravitates toward idolatry over God's image. Interestingly, the terms idol and image are cut from the same bolt of lexical fabric; that is, depending on context, the Hebrew word tselem and the Greek eikon can both be rendered either "image" or "idol." It is probably true that this principle also applies to us. Very often, depending on our situation, we will reflect one way or the other: Christ's beauty or selfish pride, toward salvation or damnation.

Still Hope

Even though society is unable to recognize God's glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and our role of reflecting it is flawed, there is still hope, for the light of salvation doesn't emerge from darkness but rather proceeds into it. This is the essence of image reflection. Through the church's proclamation of the gospel, truth about Christ's kingdom radiates into society. In this way, God displays his victory over idols and provides renewal to languishing lives. Shattered men and women are transformed and eternally captivated by the beauty of the Savior.

As a Christian, I would like to submit a personal ad to New York magazine:

Strikingly Beautiful: Encountered in the Bible, desperately needed, energized with supernatural power, died for your sins, rose from the dead and eager to embrace with eternal love all who draw near to him---Jesus the Christ.

This is why Christian image is everything.

Editors' Note: Send your theological, biblical, and practical ministry questions to ask@thegospelcoalition.org along with your full name, city, and state. We'll pass them along to The Gospel Coalition's Council members and other friends for an answer we can share.

Tim R. from Lafayette, Louisiana:

What does Peter mean when he writes that God rescued a righteous Lot, who was greatly distressed by the sensual conduct of the wicked (2 Pet 2:7)? How does this square with what we read in Genesis 19?

We asked for a response from Chris Bruno (PhD, Wheaton College), academic dean for the Antioch School Hawaii and a pastor for Harbor Church in Honolulu.

----------------

I have to confess that 2 Peter 2:7 has always perplexed me. When you read Genesis 19 and the account of God's judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah, there is not a whole lot that would lead you to think that "righteous Lot" was "greatly distressed by the sensual conduct of the wicked," as Peter puts it.

In Genesis 19, Lot is living in Sodom with seemingly little trouble sleeping at night. As many commentators point out, he was sitting at the city gate (Gen 19:1), which indicates that he had some level of influence in the city. While there is certainly nothing wrong with gaining influence in a city full of sinners (in fact, we should aim to do this more today), nothing in the text indicates that Lot was working to reform the city for the kingdom of God.

Also, while he does insist on showing the strangers who had come to visit hospitality, he also offers his virgin daughters in place of his neighbors' lustful demands to sleep with the strangers. Beyond this, Lot's daughters get him drunk so he can father his own grandsons in the last part of the chapter. I don't think we can sweep any of this under the rug very easily.  So, at least in Genesis 19, the evidence certainly leans against seeing Lot as righteous. Then how can Peter call him "Righteous Lot"?

I think the key to this puzzle is found in Genesis 19:29: "So it was that, when God destroyed the cities of the valley, God remembered Abraham and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow when he overthrew the cities in which Lot had lived."

When we connect the dots, we discover that Lot was righteous because of the gospel. In Genesis 15:6, we find that Abraham believed God and this was counted to him as righteousness. That is to say, Abraham was justified by faith and, as we see in Genesis 12-17, the Abrahamic covenant is a testimony to justification by faith. Paul seems to say as much in Romans 4 and Galatians 3.

So then, when Genesis 19:29 says "God remembered Abraham," I think we might have a clue on the way to figuring out how Lot was in fact righteous. I don't think we can say that when God remembered Abraham, Abraham's righteousness through faith was imputed to Lot. Rather, God remembering Abraham refers to at least two things: First, Abraham was indeed righteous through faith, and found favor with God. Because of this, Lot's rescue was in some sense for the benefit of Abraham. It was clearly an answer to Abraham's prayers in Gen 18:22-33.

But that still does not explain 2 Peter 2:7. In fact, Peter goes on to say that Lot was tormented "over their lawless deeds that he saw and heard" (2 Pet 2:8). So, on the basis of 2 Peter, we must conclude that there is more than simply God's favor to Abraham at work in Genesis 19. I think that when God remembered Abraham, he was not just remembering Abraham as an individual. So then, the second way that God remembered Abraham was by remembering the covenant with Abraham and the promise that, as Paul puts it, all those of faith are the sons of Abraham (Galatians 3:9).

So then how was Lot righteous? Lot was righteous in the same way that you and I are righteous---by trusting in the God of Abraham. God remembered Abraham (Gen 19:29), whose faith was counted to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6). The only biblically consistent answer to the question of how Lot was righteous (2 Pet 2:7) is that he, like Abraham, believed God. Lot was righteous not because he acted perfectly in the incident with the two strangers in Genesis 19---far from it. But we know from Peter that he was troubled by the sin he saw around him day after day.

I'd suggest what we need to do is read the Bible canonically in this situation. We can see in Genesis 19:29 that God's faithfulness to the Abrahamic covenant was the deciding factor in Lot's rescue. We know that, according to Genesis 15:6, God justifies, or makes righteous, those who have faith in his promises. So then, we can infer Lot's righteous status from Genesis. As a consequence of this, we can assume that, just as Abraham's obedience in the sacrifice of Isaac in Genesis 22 was a result of his righteous status, Lot's righteousness should also lead to obedience. Genesis leaves us wondering whether and how this might have happened.

But 2 Peter 2 confirms that Lot was indeed righteous and fills out how this righteous status affected him. He was troubled by the sin he saw around him in Sodom. However, this was not the foundation of his righteousness, but rather the result of it. Both his righteousness and ours, as 2 Peter 1:1 reminds us, is finally and fully predicated on the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ.

It seems that the only way to affirm both the account in Genesis 19 and the teaching of 2 Peter 2 is to read both in concert. And when we are reading these texts canonically and Christologically, the pieces fit together in such a way that they can only lead to one conclusion: Lot was simultaneously righteous and sinful.

And more often than I'd like to admit, I act like Lot did. I am indeed troubled by the sin I see around me in the world. But far too often, I end up responding to the sin I see around me the same way that Lot did---by sinning myself. My guess is that many Christians share this experience.

But like Lot, I have also been declared righteous. Not because of what I have done, but because of what Christ has done for me. And at the end of days, I will be proclaimed righteous because I have been united to the true Righteous One. No person is proclaimed righteous apart from Christ, but all who are in him are declared righteous along with him. This is how Lot could be righteous even in the midst of his sin. So then, 2 Peter 2:7 is a testament to audaciousness of the gospel---Peter could call a man with so many obvious flaws Righteous Lot because of the promise to Abraham. And if we are in Christ, then God has rescued us as well because he remembers his promise to Abraham.

You and I are creatures of desire. Everything you ever choose, do, or say is the product of desire. Desire not only directs your choices, it also shapes your dreams. Desire forms your moments of greatest joy and darkest grief. Desire makes you envy one person while being glad you're not another. Desire keeps you awake at night or puts you soundly to sleep. Desire makes you willing to get up in the morning or causes you to be frustrated at the end of the day. Desire makes you expectant and hopeful in one moment, and demanding and complaining in the next. Desire sometimes makes you susceptible to temptation and at other times defends you against it. Desire can lift you up to God or it can make you a willing friend of the Devil. Desire can make you celebrate or drive you to the pit of depression. Desire can make you the best of friends or cause you to drive people away. Desire can cause you to lovingly edit your words or make you let it rip with little regard for the damage your words will do. Desire will make you willing to give or cause you to hoard everything you have. Desire will cause you to submit to the King or set yourself up as king. Desire can cause you to fight for freedom or can be the very thing that causes you to be addicted. Desire can give you power or rob you of the power that could be yours. Desire is your biggest problem and one of God's sweetest graces. There is one thing for sure: your life and your ministry is always shaped by desire.

The great spiritual war being fought for control of our hearts is a war of desire. (See James 4:1-4 and 1 Peter 2:11.) Remember this biblical principle: whatever rules your heart will control your words and behavior. We do not live by instinct. We have been designed by God with the capacity to desire. This means that everything you do or say is done or spoken out of the want for something. You and I are always seeking something. You and I are always living for something. Beneath everything we do is the desire for something. Here the war of right and wrong is fought. Here the direction of our lives will be shaped. In your personal life and in crucial moments of ministry response or decision, you cannot let yourself think that the war for what is right is a war of behavior. If you fight the battle of behavior alone, the battle will not be won. You must be willing to fight the spiritual fight at the place where your behavior is formed: in the desires of the heart.

You must humbly realize that every day, in all the situations and relationships of your life, this war rages. It is about whether you will minister out of fear of man of fear of God. It is about whether you will live to possess some part of the creation or live to please the Creator. It is about whether you will minister to achieve some personal success or live in the way the Creator designed you to live. This war is about what in ministry you treasure the most. This war is about what set of desires will set the agendas for the way you respond in the pastoral situations and relationships where God has placed you.

What Do You Really Want?

I invite you to be humbly honest in this moment. What do you really want? If you were to respond to the following, how would you fill in the blanks? "If only I could have ______________ then my life would be ______________ ." It is so easy for us to say that we are living and working for God, when, in fact, at the street level our lives are often shaped by the anxious pursuit of other things. Perhaps your desire to realize ministry dreams preoccupies too much of your thinking and shapes too many of your choices. Perhaps the desire to be successful has eaten your schedule with frantic workaholism. Perhaps the desire for physical things has left you empty and in debt. Perhaps the desire to avoid ministry failure has made you more demanding and controlling than you thought you would ever be. Perhaps the desire for physical health has reduced you to fearful body self-consciousness. Perhaps the desire for control has turned you into more of a mini-messiah than a servant. Perhaps the desire for comfort and ease has caused you to be self-absorbed. Or maybe the desire to be affirmed and respected causes you to ride the roller-coaster of people's responses. Where does the war of desire rage for you?

Could you say with the psalmist, "There is nothing on earth I desire besides you"? Does this sound ethereal and impractically super-spiritual to you? Does it feel like a moral impossibility? In fact, he is expressing in a phrase exactly where God wants each of us to be. It is the reason each of us was given life and breath. We were made for God. We were created to love him above all else. We were designed to live with his glory as the single motivator of all that we do. It is why we have been called to ministry and what God wants to create in the hearts of others through us. Desire for him was intended to shape all the other desires.

It is not wrong to desire comfort, acceptance, peace, success, order, health. In fact, there would be something wrong if you did not desire these things. But these desires must never rule you, because when they do, they replace God as the ruler of your heart. Even in gospel ministry, the move from desire to idolatry is a shockingly short step.

So we all need to cry out for help once more, we all need to seek God's rescue and his power. We must all humbly admit there is evidence in our daily lives and ministries that the war of desire still rages in our hearts. There are times when Jesus is our priceless treasure, but there are other times when we would rather have other things. This means that we cannot quit seeking his help until the day when we can say with complete singleness of heart, "There is nothing on earth I desire besides you."

Now the LORD God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed (Genesis 2:8).

Ever since the events of Genesis 3, we've hungered to return home. It's the impulse that sent explorers out to the ends of the earth. It's what Ponce de Leon looked for in Florida, what Cortez searched for amongst the Aztecs, and what sent Cheng Ho out from China into the Indian Ocean. It was promised to Israel as a land of milk and honey, and promised again to the church as the city of God.

Paradise.

It's a resonant idea in pop culture. Lost's island was like a character unto itself, haunting the castaway's minds with a sense of mystery and hope. "We have to go back," Jack cried when he realized what he'd lost. We all want to go back. We want paradise.

Paradise is the backdrop for the Oscar-nominated movie The Descendants, a drama starring George Clooney that recently won the Golden Globe for best picture. It's a strangely gentle and beautiful story of tragedy, set amidst the dreamy backdrop of Hawaii.

(Two warnings are in order: First, the movie is rated "R" for realistically rough language, and second, there are what some may consider "spoilers" ahead.)

Clooney plays Matt King, a hard-working lawyer, husband, and father of two. His wife, Elizabeth, suffers a traumatic brain injury after a boating accident. A doctor tells Matt that she'll never revive from the resulting coma, and a living will specifies that they can't keep her on life support indefinitely, leaving Matt to break the news to his children, family, and friends. He takes his youngest daughter, Scotty, to pick up his oldest daughter, Alex (Shailene Woodley), from a boarding school on a neighboring island, wrestling internally with how to break the news.

Alex is a classic "troubled teen" with a history of bitter feuding with her mother and a penchant for wild behavior. As the movie progresses, Matt tells Alex, and asks her to help him tell the others, including Scotty, who is only 9 or 10 years old.

Ordinary People, Terrible Trauma

As he breaks the news to Alex, the plot thickens. Why did they fight so bitterly? What was the rift between them? "Dad, she was cheating on you." Alex had witnessed her with her lover, and when Alex confronted her, the war between them erupted.

Clooney and Woodley are both at the top of their game in the film, with heartbreaking and subtle performances as ordinary people in the midst of a horrible trauma. They find a kind of solace together, even as Alex introduces to the family drama her dumpy boyfriend, a spaced-out surfer kid whose presence only makes sense late in the story, during a midnight talk with Matt. Their humanity shines through---in all of its beautiful brokenness.

In the film's opening sequence, Matt talks about how most people view life in Hawaii, imagining it to be life in paradise. Juxtaposed with images of Hawaii's gorgeous green landscapes and sapphire seas are faces of the homeless, tumbledown shacks, and glimpses of poverty and suffering. "Do they think we're immune to suffering?"

It's that juxtaposition that makes The Descendants a powerful story. The beauty of the islands is otherworldly, something once pure and undefiled, now littered with tourist traps and resorts, broken homes and broken lives.

Hanging Like Ghosts

Parallel to Matt's own crisis is the journey of the King family. They're descendants of an American settler and an indigenous Hawaiian princess, and the family owns land all over the islands, including a massive beachside acreage that is still undeveloped. Matt is one of the only descendants who remains wealthy, having never spent his inheritance, and is the only trustee living who has decision-making authority over the land they co-own. The others want him to sell the undeveloped property, knowing that they'll all stand to become incredibly wealthy in the process.

As Matt's family unravels, his reservations about the sale grow. Photos of his long-dead relatives hang like ghosts around his home, hearkening back to a misty and idyllic past---a paradise lost to the sprawling commerce on the island and the creeping shadow of betrayal, failure, and death. He never loved his wife well. He wasn't present with his children. He isn't what he thought he was. Nothing is what he thought.

The only place he sees hope is the land. He refuses to sell, infuriating his relatives, but settling something in himself. It seems, perhaps, his clawing attempt to stop the plaguing spread of sin and death.

Palpable Emotion

In one of the closing scenes of the film, Matt is in the hospital room with his wife when Julie Speer walks in. She is the wife of Elizabeth's lover. She knows that there had been an affair, and she comes to offer her condolences and forgiveness. It's a painful and awkward scene, brilliantly acted by Judy Greer. The emotion is palpable as she offers forgiveness to the nearly lifeless body, alternatively weeping, wailing, and shouting through gritted teeth.

Confused and convoluted as all that emotion may be, Julie knows that the only thing that can heal the trauma to her family, to Matt's, and perhaps to all of us is grace. It's cathartic for her, and catalytic to Matt, who only afterward can extend grace to Elizabeth, offering loving words to her dying frame while saying a heartfelt and pain-filled goodbye.

The Descendents is a rare movie. Though it fails to see the ultimate hope for paradise lost in Jesus, who prepares a paradise for his people even now, it sees the loss and hints at the solution. It's beautifully acted by Clooney, Woodley, and Greer, opening the door on a troubled family in the midst of crisis. The soundtrack---elegant and understated excerpts of Hawaiian slack-key guitar and traditional music---works with the stunning backdrop of the islands to show that beauty and tragedy are held together in our gorgeous and broken world.

There is no paradise on Earth, no corner where the curse's cruel tentacles haven't spread. But in Christ, there is hope for such a place. In him, we can all go back.

"I love you, but you need to obey."

Every English-speaking parent has said that phrase at some point or another. It's our attempt as parents to express commitment to our children even as we require them to obey: "I love you despite anything you do, but you also need to obey what I tell you." I'd like to take issue, however, with using the conjunction but between these phrases. Using but may be communicating something we don't want to say---namely, that there is some kind of conceptual opposition between "I love you" and "You need to obey."

You may be dismissing me as a sharp-nosed grammarian at this point, but let me explain why this is important. I grow concerned when I see well-meaning parents who, in an attempt to practice gospel-centered parenting, do not readily insist on obedience because they want to display that their love for the child does not depend on obedience. Unfortunately, parents take on an apologetic air when wills begin to collide. They hesitate to subdue disobedience out of fear of transgressing the unconditional part of love. Insisting on obedience from children feels legalistic or repressive. They fear that they'd slowly stiffen into the hawk-eyed disciplinarians of a bygone era with timorous children arranged silently around the dinner table.

God is not an unreasonable parent. But he is not a permissive one, either. He demands obedience from his children not in order to love them but because he loves them. Consider the relationship between the Father and the Son. Jesus' sonship and God's insistence on obedience were not contrary facts. Jesus proved his obedience in suffering (Hebrews 5:1-8) so that "being made perfect he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him" (5:9). Jesus' obedience secures God's love for us, and (notice I didn't say but) enables our obedience. Being called to obey is a sign of our adoption. "It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?" (Hebrews 12:7) Discipline for the purpose of obedience is a privilege of being a son or daughter of God. Obedience and sonship are complementary, not oppositional.

The but has to go. Try so instead. "I love you, so you need to obey."

This conjunction more effectively communicates the logical relationship between the two concepts. It's not a relationship of opposition, but of grounding. The reason you are to obey me is because I already love you. This is how parents can be grace-based while insisting on obedience. We should never communicate even a hint of opposition between parental love and children's obedience.

Thinking Practically

A necessary part of loving a child is discipline.  

You'll often hear the parental advice, "Just make sure your kids know you love them." Okay. The only ones who would disagree with this are ogres, and they don't exist. But this universally held principle can mean extremely different things. It often means merely making clear to the child your affection for him as you watch him determine his own way in life. This falls short of the complex parental love we're called to.

Rather, we show parental affection in hugs and affirming words as well as discipline and words of warning. Proverbial wisdom equates discipline of children with love for them (Prov. 13:24), hope for their future good (Prov. 19:18), and delight in the parent-child relationship (Prov. 29:17).

So we should also avoid saying things like, "I love you, but I need to discipline you." We've all said that a thousand times. It's much clearer theologically to say, "I'm disciplining you because I love you."

Punishing disobedience is not anti-gospel; in fact, it prepares children to understand the gospel.

No one enjoys disciplining a child. Well, no one in his right mind does. Not only does it require us to get up from the recliner, it also makes us sad. We feel like ogres ourselves when we hear the desperate wails of a child undergoing the various sanctions we just placed on them. But think about it this way: Parents are preparing children to know how high-stakes the Day of Judgment will be by giving them low-stakes days of judgment now. You prepare them to understand experientially just how much they should desire mercy from one's judge. It is a part of teaching children that they should obey a Father who judges impartially (1 Peter 1:14-17) but provides a ransom through Christ (1 Peter 1:18-21).

Children should know that disobedience will be confronted quickly and patiently. 

My mother always said to her six children: "To delay is to disobey." And she was right. She knew that God is not an annoyed parent excising obedience from his children with sharp words of disapproval. But he is undaunted in his patient insistence that they submit to his design for human flourishing.

He will not be annoyed, nor will he be ignored. We should be the same. No children should feel the freedom to ignore a parent's direction, nor should they feel like the parent's quickness is motivated by personal annoyance. That may be hard to compute for those raised by angry parents whose rebukes proceeded largely from personal exasperation. But it is possible. Parents must ask for grace to deal patiently with sin, as well as to distinguish the varying degrees of culpability as the child develops. But deal with it they must.

We cannot attain perfect obedience from our children, nor should we want to.

Our children will fail to obey. Our goal is not to produce perfect obedience, but to provide regular demonstration that sin has consequences. The point of discipline is to show need for the gospel of Jesus Christ, not to hone children to the point of not needing it. Not only is that goal of perfection impossible, it also makes for a rigid and performance-based relationship between parent and child. Knowing the frailty of the human heart will allow parents to shepherd patiently with realistic expectations.

Discipline is concerned with behavior as a display of the heart. 

We do not wish merely that our children would obey, but that they would want to obey from within. The desire to obey comes from being redeemed by the love of God (1 John 4:17-5:5). So in every confrontation of disobedience and commendation of obedience, a child should be reminded that behavior merely points to the greater issue of the personal need for God's redemptive love.

I've learned from wise parents who reinforce this in two kinds of situations. When punishing their children, they say, "Even though your disobedience makes me sad, I love you just as much now as when you obey me." And, perhaps more brilliantly, when commending their children for pleasing them, they point out, "Even though your obedience makes me glad, I don't love you more because of it." What a picture of God's unflappable love for his children.

Maybe along the way we'll learn a thing or two ourselves about responding to the unfaltering love of our own Father with, "I know you love me, so I will obey."

Much has been made lately of the video circulated the Web that purportedly shows U.S. Marines urinating on dead men, presumably Taliban fighters killed by the Marines. Defense Secretary Leon Panetta called the act "utterly deplorable." Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said she was dismayed, and Marine Corps Commandant Gen. James Amos said the Marines in that video behaved in a manner that is "wholly inconsistent with the high standards of conduct and warrior ethos that we have demonstrated throughout our history" and vowed to investigate and punish the guilty.

Almost as quickly, some came to the Marines' defense, the gist being that (a) there was no similar outrage when the Taliban committed atrocities, (b) "war is hell," or (c) the Taliban deserved it. Indeed, one female radio host boasted that she'd have "dropped trou" and joined the Marines. Rep. Allen West of Florida, who served in combat in Iraq, acknowledged that the Marines deserved punishment but added that "unless you have been shot at by the Taliban, shut your mouth, war is hell."

I served seven years as a Marine and recently returned after several months in Afghanistan serving as a Department of Defense civilian with special operations forces. I was also shot at by the Taliban, although the incoming volleys of 107mm rockets were more likely addressed "to whom it may concern" than me personally. But for Rep. West's purposes, I think that counts enough for me to express my opinion that he and the other defenders of this action are mistaken.

Strategic Corporal

First, there are practical considerations. One blogger snarked that this act would simply make the Taliban hate us more. But that misses the point. In the 1990s the Commandant of the Marine Corps, Gen. Chuck Krulak, coined the phrase "the strategic corporal." By that he meant that, in the age of CNN, a Marine non-commissioned officer who would normally be assigned to lead the smallest of tactical units, a four-man fire team, could have an impact on the national strategic level through acts that would be shown on TV screens around the world. How much more is this true now in the age of Al Jazeera and YouTube?

In Afghanistan there exists a large population who do not want a return to Taliban theocracy but who are also suspicious of outsiders. Some areas are so remote and untouched by the modern news cycle that they think Americans are Russians---yet they are not so out-of-touch that they would miss this video. The Taliban are already using the incident as propaganda that reinforces the message that Americans want only to despoil their culture and attack Islam. This action by the Marines does tremendous damage to American efforts to get the population to oppose the return of the Taliban.

Love Our Enemies

Aside from the tactical/operational/strategic considerations here, there is a moral dimension to be considered. We must not rationalize or excuse this act of desecration. Scripture tells us to love our enemies, as they are beings created in the sacred image of God. To desecrate is to de-consecrate, to make unsacred. In a way, to desecrate the dead is to attack God in effigy.

To be sure, war is hell, but it is precisely for that reason that we must safeguard against making it more hellish. Yes, al Qaeda murdered 3,000 people on 9/11, and the Taliban and other Islamists are not shy about butchering their enemies. But should we expect anything different? It's like complaining that scorpions sting; it's what they do.

We should be different. We have imposed a fundamental tension on ourselves by maintaining a moral code, even in war. That's why we have rules of engagement that limit what actions may legitimately be done in warfare. It is why we don't indiscriminately destroy villages, despite having the means to do so. It is why we fight the enemy and kill him if necessary in battle, but once he is captured, wounded, or dead, he is no longer a legitimate target and must be treated with respect. That the enemy does not believe this is no excuse for us to abandon our own moral code.

Another Desecration

The desecrated dead know nothing of what's happened to them. But there is another desecration that happens, this time to the perpetrator's soul. In his World War II memoir With the Old Breed, Eugene B. Sledge wrote that Marines would sometimes pry gold teeth from the jaws of dead Japanese. He had refrained, but after one battle on Peleliu he decided to indulge. With knife in hand, he bent to pry the gold from a dead soldier's mouth when the corpsman, Doc Caswell, put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't want to do that sort of thing," he said gently. "What would your folks think if they knew?" Sledge tried to rationalize, but in the end he abstained. After the war he reflected that the wise corpsman, who had managed to retain his humanity in the face of incredible brutality, was trying to keep Sledge from forfeiting his own.

We should wish only the same for our men and women at war.

Whether someone is preaching in view of a call, filling in for a vacationing pastor, or performing a wedding, every pastor will have to deliver a "one time" sermon at some point. Deciding what to preach or how to preach can be a challenge, especially if the pastor is young and doesn't have a handy sermon stashed away in his back pocket for these occasions.

I asked Ed Stetzer, president of LifeWay Research and author and co-author of several books, including Planting Missional Churches and Transformational Church, how would he advise pastors to approach a "one time" sermon.

-----------------------

I remember the first time I preached a sermon, though it's unlikely anyone else does. In fact, I'm actually relieved that no record remains of its existence. I was asked to preach one time and, like many other first-time preachers, I brought everything I knew into that message. It was long, painful, and scattered---but a kind group of older adults not only invited me to preach, they also patiently sat through my message---though they never asked me back.

Preaching a stand-alone message can be tricky. For me, they generally fall in between sermon series (as I much prefer to preach) or when I am invited somewhere as a guest preacher.

Sometimes, as a guest preacher you are part of a series. For example, at one church, I simply continued the series (though I was a little bitter with the passage I was assigned). This isn't too difficult---you listen to a few messages before, tie in to those, and help the pastor along the way.

However, it's harder when you are the guest preacher with a single topic. I think you can go about it in two legitimate ways.

1. Preach a text on a topic.

2. Preach a topic with texts.

Preaching a Text on a Topic

A message is supposed to be grounded in the text, but text-based messages can still become exegetically irresponsible if we force a theme onto a text when it really does not fit. For example, if you are preaching on "motherhood" on Mother's Day, it might be better to connect with multiple texts rather than preach a text that touches on motherhood and you make it all about motherhood.

So when preaching a text on a topic, you need to be careful that you don't let the topic mold the text. Rather, the text, if appropriate, will inform and mold your approach to the topic. However, approaching a message in this way means it may look somewhat different from a standard expositional treatment of the passage. If I am preaching a text on a topic, I do not tell everything I would in a verse-by-verse exposition. Instead, I talk about how this verse undergirds the topic, but also that it addresses more than this topic. I say that, but I do not explain that. The topic will limit, to a certain degree, what I unpack from the passage.

For example, when I filled in at another church, I preached from the text, 1 Peter 4:8-11, on "Engaging all God's People in Mission." When I preach a one-week message, after all the study and preparation I wind up leaving a lot on my desk that I don't take with me into the pulpit. Your text will always say more than what you have to say and that's okay. Just ensure that what you do say is faithful to that text.

Preaching a Topic with Texts

On the other hand, one can also responsibly preach a topic with texts.

I recently returned from a church where my job was to encourage people to "live sent." I preached a topic with a few texts. The topic was how we might live as the sent people of Jesus. The texts (as well as the title) were the "Sendings of Jesus." These commissions included John 20:21, Matthew 28:18-20, Luke 24:46-48, and Acts 1:8.

The principles are actually the same. I wound up leaving a lot on my desk, but I worked hard to be faithful in what I brought with me to preach.

Or, once when I preached, the theme was the "seven last words of Jesus." My assignment was forgiveness. My assigned topic was not just that Jesus forgave, but how it affects what God has called us to do. Thus, I made it clear in the title: "Forgiveness: It's Who God Is, It's Why Jesus Came, and It's What Christians Do."

I believe it's easier to be thorough and responsible with the text when you preach through a series. If you are preaching through a book (as I am right now at my church), it is simply following the arguments, themes, and stories of the author. If you are preaching doctrinally or thematically, you can bring the whole counsel of God to a topic by being faithful to what the scripture teaches in its multiple mentions of the topic.

However, you simply cannot be as thorough in a one-shot message.

So, here is what I try to do:

1. Never use verses in way that would result in the apostle Paul (or Moses, Jesus, etc.) to say, "Whoa, that was not my point."
2. Don't share everything you know---leave some things on your desk and tell people you are doing so.
3. Don't preach a single message like a series---you can't do it well. Single messages have limitations and you have to live with them.
4. Point people to Jesus. Don't simply leave them with commands, lead them to the promises of God in Jesus.

I should end with my bias. I don't like single messages. I prefer a series because I find I can present a clearer picture of scriptural teaching on an issue. But do not despise the single message---nobody ever preaches a series in the Bible, and we don't see it much until John Chrysostom in the fourth/fifth century after Christ.

Be faithful with the small things . . . even the small sermons.

"Truly God is good to Israel . . . " (Psalm 73:1). I don't think we have categories that get at what these words are saying. Pastor, these words can roll off your tongue so easily your mind barely has time to consider their content. The danger is that these words have become so familiar and mundane they barely draw interest out of us, let alone awe. At breakfast you'll say something like, "Wow, this cereal is good!" Or, "We had a good time at the park." Or, "Let me tell you where to get a good cup of coffee." Or, "Sam is really a good intern." So maybe when we read that God is good, the worship transaction that is supposed to happen inside of us doesn't happen anymore.

When you read the words "God is good," your heart should be filled with wonder, gratitude, humility, and love, and this amazement should fuel your ministry. Or to capture what our response should be in one word: AWE. Now, this is where the problem lies: I am convinced that many of us live and do ministry day after day without any awe whatsoever. We live days, maybe even weeks, without wonder and amazement even in gospel ministry. What should stun us doesn't stun us any more. What should leave us in silent, amazed worship has become so familiar it barely gets our attention in clutter of all the other things in ministry that command our attention. We walk through our daily ministries without an overwhelming sense of gratitude. We don't notice the glory displayed all around us that points us to the one glory that is truly glorious: the glory of God. No, we see:

the worship leader who thinks he's the senior pastor,

the mission conference details to be planned,

competitive ministry leaders who are fighting once again,

the intern who has messed up,

the hard elder,

too much traffic,

another long meeting to attend,

the car that needs repair,

the movie we have to see,

the blogs we can't live without,

the cool restaurant we can't wait to visit,

the sabbatical around the corner,

the deacon who is mad once again,

the busy holiday season that quickly approaches,

the garage that is too full to house the car anymore,

the perennial financial problems at church,

the weight we didn't mean to gain,

the ministry dreams that are slipping through our fingers. . .

For sinners, the road between awe and complaining is very short. You and I were created to live our lives in the shadow of awe. Every word we speak, every action we take, every decision we make, and every desire we entertain was meant to be colored by awe. We were meant to live and minister with eyes gazing upward and outward. We were meant to live with hearts that are searching, hungry, seeking satisfaction, and being satisfied. Bad things happen when pastors lose their sense of awe. Bad things happen in ministry when we have no wonder inside of us. Bad things happen in local church leadership when we are no longer amazed. Bad things happen when we look around and nothing impresses us anymore.

Filling the Void

Sins robs that sense of divine wonder meant to shape every person's life and every pastor's ministry. When it does, you look for ways to fill the void. Now think about it: if you are not getting your wonderment vertically---that is, from the Creator---then you will look for it somewhere in the creation. You will be shopping for the buzz of wonder where it simply cannot be found. Your friends and family cannot give you the awe you seek. That new restaurant will blow you away, but it won't introduce you to the heart-satisfying wonder of God. That new car will make you happy for a while, but it doesn't have the capacity to fill your soul with glory. That certain ministry success will not satisfy your heart.

The Psalmist here gets at the dilemma in a single word: good. You're looking for pure, unadulterated, imperishable, unending, and unfailing good, because you're wired that way. Even as a ministry leader, you're looking for the kind of good that can lift you out of your boredom and quiet your longings. And that good can only be found one place: God. God is good in every possible way. He is good in righteousness. He is good in power. He is good in grace. He is good in his faithfulness. He is good in mercy. He is good in holiness. He is good in justice. He is good in his rule. All his words are good and true. All his actions are good and right. When he is angry, he is good. When he preserves life, he is good. When he takes life, he is good. When his words are hard, they are good. When his words are gentle, they are good. His promises are good. His provisions are good. His plan is good. In all of the universe, you can only say this about God: he is good all the time and in every way.

Everything Else Flawed

Nothing in creation is like him. Everything around us is flawed in some way. Even before the Fall, no glory in creation compared to the glory of the Creator. But even in ministry, sin has the power to make blind us to the glory of God. Sadly, awe of God is quickly replaced by awe of you. It is a danger to every one in ministry, that we would live and minister too impressed with us and not nearly in the kind of awe of God that should grip us.

No, it is not too good to be true. There really is a God who is the Creator and Sustainer of all things, who is the sum and definition of all that is good, true, and loving. He is not only good, but he also places his goodness on us! Not because we will ever deserve it in any way, but simply because he is good, gracious, loving, and kind.

Think about it. The One who is the sum and definition of all that is truly good has placed his goodness on people like you and me, people who even in ministry get numbed by busyness and familiarity. Now that's a reason for AWE! Remember, that's good news that is not to good to be true, even when the daily rigors of ministry are distracting and hard.

Ralph Fiennes directs and stars in Shakespeare's Coriolanus.

The Book of James warns darkly about the power of words. "No man can tame the tongue," he writes. "It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison." And in the blood-swaddled figure of Coriolanus, we have a hero whose underestimation of that power proves fatal.

The film is set largely in "a place calling itself Rome," a nod to John Osborne's unproduced adaptation of the play. It's a city caught in the grip of economically driven civil unrest. But Coriolanus is timely for other reasons, too.

In his directorial debut, Ralph Fiennes swaps Hogwarts for modern-day Eastern Europe, snake-nosed Voldemort for hard-nosed warrior Caius Martius. Despising all equivocation, he's the kind of general who threatens to slaughter his own men if courage fails them in battle. He's the ultimate "ultimate fighter," a man regaled with the name "Coriolanus" for his single-handed sortie through the enemy gates of Corioles.

Bullet-headed, with faded white scars trickling across his right cheek like veins on a marble statue, Fiennes is fierce, particularly in the scenes where Coriolanus allows his untameable tongue fully off the leash.

Great Weakness

However, as with all Shakespeare's tragic heroes, Coriolanus's greatest strength soon becomes his greatest weakness. His elemental quality, which makes him unstoppable on the battlefield, leaves him mortally ill-suited for the subtler art of politics. He is a machine programmed to do one thing, and one thing only.

Despite his mother's pushy encouragement to run for consul, and the overwhelming support of the Senate, Coriolanus proves unwilling---perhaps even unable---to play the politician. He will not court the public vote. There is nothing he despises more than "the common people," and he refuses to employ his tongue in feigning love for those he believes are foolish, feckless cowards:

What's the matter, you dissentious rogues
That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion,
Make yourself scabs? [. . .]
He that will give good words to thee will flatter
Beneath abhorring.

It soon becomes apparent that Coriolanus will only "press the flesh" when he's collapsing some poor unfortunate's windpipe during hand-to-hand combat. Unsurprisingly, though unjustly, the people accuse him of being a traitor, and cry for his banishment. To which Coriolanus memorably replies:

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air, -- I banish you!

All this leaves a dramatic problem at the heart of the play, one that explains why no one has adapted it for the screen until now: How is it possible for an audience to root for a boorish upper-class hero who hates the general public?

And yet, strangely enough, we do. At least he's single-minded, courageous, and spurns flattery. By contrast, the public---and especially their manipulative Tribunes---are fickle, power-hungry, mindlessly resentful of the ruling elite, and overeager to point the finger at others. (Watching the film, incidentally, you get the feeling that Fiennes won't be "occupying" Wall Street any time soon.)

Pity a Bull

But there's another reason our sympathies are provoked. For all his pride, his undisguised contempt of the plebs, and his rash tongue, Coriolanus draws our pity in much the same way we might pity a bull who is asked (on pain of death) to tiptoe through a shop without nudging any of the bone china. Even his sworn enemy, Aufidius, says of his nature: "I must excuse / What cannot be amended." He is, to use Augustine's phrase describing all humanity since the Fall, "not able not to sin."

So as Coriolanus talks his way toward the customary end of all tragic heroes, we find ourselves longing for a better one. Someone who fights for us with superhuman power, yet sympathizes with our weakness. Someone who suffers outside the city gate, yet identifies with all those inside it. Someone who remains silent before his unjust accusers, and bears the blame that is rightfully ours. One, in short, whose love for us is unfeigned.

The film also recalls James's dark warning. A single word, like a spark in a forest, sets the whole world uncontrollably aflame. The tongue "corrupts the whole person, sets the whole course of his life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell." What would have been the result had Coriolanus learned to martial his indignant tongue earlier? A less interesting film, certainly; but perhaps a more fruitful life.

For those of us who are tempted to view biblical manliness purely in terms of the outspoken, all-conquering warrior, this is salutary stuff. These caricatures of manhood are all very well if they merely lead to the local tattoo parlor. But what if they imply that choosing words carefully is a sign of weakness?