Editors' Note: This is the second in a series of brief articles from students and graduates answering the question, "What do I wish someone had told me before seminary?" Previously:

• Dear Seminarian

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When I started seminary in 2009, I didn't know anybody who had done it before and was too thick-skulled to ask for advice. So while I think the following advice is worthwhile for anyone considering or already in seminary, I was slower to learn most of it than I care to admit.

1. Serve in a local church.

Bruce Ware, one of my professors, says theology is meant to go from your head to your heart to your hands. In other words, in addition to increasing your love for the Lord (or, because it increases your love for the Lord), your theological education should benefit others. It's wise, then, to find a local church where you can give of yourself and ensure your hands are keeping up with your mind. Don't just find a church where you have a chance to teach; look for opportunities to visit the elderly and sweep the floors, too.

2. Read the Bible.

The Bible will sustain, convict, humble, nourish, and strengthen you even when nothing else can. God's Word will compose the content of your ministry, so make it a priority to regularly read, memorize, pray, and meditate on the Scriptures.

3. Prioritize your marriage.

If you're married, the last thing you want is to leave seminary with a degree and a shaky marriage as souvenirs. Faithful home leadership is a qualification for church leadership (1 Tim. 3; Titus 1), so, brothers, love your wives and remember that a husband goes home not to be served, but to serve.

4. Exercise and sleep.

Students spend a lot of time sitting on their tail, so it's important to get up and burn some calories. I was more energetic and engaged in the classroom when I exercised regularly. It may seem like a poor use of time, but it's not. The same goes for the occasional 15- to 20-minute nap.

5. Beware of cynicism and arrogance.

In other words, get over yourself (Rom. 12:3). Flee any temptation to look down your nose at church members who don't spend their free time reading theology or whose prayers are too profoundly simple for you to appreciate. In Dangerous Calling, Paul Tripp wisely observes that Christian maturity is about what you are, not what you know.

6. Find out which professors to take.

Get to know someone a little further down the seminary road and find out from them which professors to take for each class. It's also wise to find one professor worth emulating and then take a bunch of his classes.

7. Learn the languages.

You can grow in your ability to preach, counsel, and understand theology after you finish seminary. The chances are slim, however, that you will improve your language ability after you graduate. So dive into Hebrew and Greek during this most optimal time of your life.

8. Study hard and take the hard classes.

Your future flock deserves better than a pastor who did as little as possible to graduate from seminary. To quote my high school track coach: "Nobody said it would be easy; nobody said it would be fun. Now get after it."

We were reading the following:

A city in the northern part of our country needs a church planter. It's just east of Saudi Arabia and just south of Iran. A Muslim sheikh on the Arabian Peninsula is giving land for an evangelical Christian church for the first time this century. . . .

I studied my husband's face, trying to read his reaction. "Are you interested?"

He had just graduated from seminary, and we were praying about finding a church for him to pastor. It had never crossed my mind to consider anywhere east of Saudi Arabia and south of Iran.

It wasn't just that I'd never considered living in the Middle East; I'd never seriously considered going overseas for ministry at all. In my mind, the people who went overseas had a special calling and unique desire. They knew who they were. And I knew I wasn't one of them. I'd never even been on a short-term missions trip. I didn't participate in my church's international ministry. I didn't even have any close friends from other countries. I certainly wasn't being called to ministry in the Middle East.

Or was I?

I knew the Great Commission in one sense calls all of us to tell the Good News to those who haven't heard. For the next few months, I asked dozens of Christians whom I respected how to discern a "calling" to overseas ministry. I got as many different answers as people I asked, ranging from the more subjective "You'll know when God calls you" to Augustine's "Love God and do what you want." There were months of angst trying not only to determine our specific calling, but also to decide how to determine a calling. We came up with the following list of biblical principles—a list that helped guide us in making the decision to move overseas and plant a church in a part of the world largely void of the gospel.

Perhaps the most important step in a decision-making process like this one is to cover it in prayer. Pray specifically and pray broadly. Pray over each of these steps and ask others to pray alongside you. Pray, asking the Holy Spirit to lead you in straight paths.

1. Opportunity (Acts 16:6-10; 20:22)

When considering whether there's an opportunity for ministry in another country, look for open and closed doors. If there's no opportunity to go, trust the Lord has closed the doors for now. When Paul, Timothy, and Silas headed for Asia, they were forbidden by the Holy Spirit from entering. I don't know exactly how he conveyed his alternative plans to this first-century missions team, but they knew not to proceed. So even though Jesus had left them with the directive to go into the world and preach the gospel, the Spirit closed the door for these specific people to go to this specific place at this specific time.

Sometimes, however, an opportunity presents itself—even if you aren't looking for it, as in our case. Be careful not to turn your back too quickly on a seemingly open door because it wasn't exactly what you'd envisioned. God has a heart for the nations, and Christ has issued a call to his disciples to spread this glorious news.

2. Need (Matt. 9:37)

Is there a need for workers in the place you're considering? Pondering this need can help clarify your calling, especially when choosing between multiple potential ministry locations. If we want to examine our short lives in light of eternity, we must learn to place emphases on gospel priorities and places—even above our own preferences.

3. Desire (Ps. 40:8)

This may be the trickiest part of this decision-making process. Desire is ultimately an emotion, and as such can be a useful barometer of the heart. Our desires can give us insight into what we value and what we fear. This information is helpful to us as we seek wisdom and discern calling. On the other hand, however, our emotions can be fickle, and they shouldn't be used as the sole or even the final arbiter of a decision. Desire has to be a factor, but it should never be the only factor. It's especially important to pray for desire if it's lacking. Through prayer God gave me a desire to move to a place I could never have previously envisioned living.

4. Godly Counsel (Prov. 15:22)

The Book of Proverbs is full of imperatives to seek counsel among the godly. When considering whether to undergo the stress of leaving your home country to take up residence as an alien in another, this decision should be made alongside others. Your church's leaders and other godly believers who know you well should be brought into a decision like this at an early stage. Their counsel should be humbly and earnestly sought. They may have insight into your strengths and weaknesses that could be invaluable to your decision.

5. Willingness (Acts 20:24, Ps. 37:4)

When anyone decides to follow Christ, she must first count the costs. We must not only be willing to follow Christ into Jerusalem, but also to Calvary. Moving abroad often means forsaking familiar culture, language, food, dress, medical practices, and customs. It means intentionally distancing yourself from family and friends. It may mean experiencing loneliness and rejection at a new level. We must be willing to walk away from the comforts of this world because of deliberate hope in the next.

When all of these factors are laid on the table and carefully considered, a "calling" emerges. It's not always a pain-free process, to be sure, but God is faithful to lead us even through confusion.

A year ago I never envisioned myself living outside the States. Now I couldn't imagine wanting to live anywhere but the Middle East. I'm grateful for my "calling" to overseas work, and I pray the Lord who reigns over all would use me—the most unlikely of candidates—to make him known and enjoyed.

Editors' note: This article originally appeared at Gospel Grace.

Rarely seen, never heard is how many churches prefer to treat teenagers, confined to separate ministries. But I also know of a traditional church where teenagers sat front and center each week. It's no coincidence the senior pastor had been a youth minister and often addressed those teens specifically.

If we're serious about passing the gospel to the next generation, what do we need to learn from youth about how we preach? Here are six suggestions youth would offer to their pastors.

1. We don't know what sanctification means, but we know about the process of growing in grace.

I'm a word person. I majored in Latin and English and enjoyed SAT prep vocabulary flashcards. (Yes, I was a really cool kid.) I like big words, especially in the realm of theology. A mentor listened to a talk I gave to students and had a list of about seven theological terms the kids probably did not know. Kids mentally check out when they hear abundant, arcane jargon and the presumption that everyone knows what it means. Students need to learn how to define terms like justification, sanctification, imputation, and substitutionary atonement. Preachers should not shy away from using Christian terminology, but they should make sure to explain the terms in a way that is not condescending toward those who do not know it.

2. If you are personally vulnerable, we will listen to what you have to say.

In homiletics, many debate the level of vulnerability pastors should exercise. If you share too much, you risk sounding self-absorbed. If you never share any personal stories, you may appear aloof. Regardless, I can say with confidence that teenagers of this generation embrace people with a willingness to share their story, particularly those parts that reveal the preacher is an imperfect person with whom students can identify.

3. We can't hear you when you're yelling.

One week in Sunday school we discussed how we relate and minister to those of other religions. I showed video from a cable news network debate about whether Christians should participate in a certain exercise. The program featured a conservative pastor, with a penchant for yelling, and a somewhat liberal pastor with a mellow demeanor. Before showing the video I asked students about their view on the topic. For the most part, they sided with the the conservative preacher. However, after showing the video, most said they agreed with the liberal preacher. Upon further cross-examination, the students admitted that they generally would reject what the yelling preacher had to say because of his tone and volume. Meanwhile, they would be inclined to agree with and embrace a person with a calm, gentle, controlled tone.

Keep in mind that we get yelled at more as teenagers than any other season in life. Whether it is their parents, their football coach, or the store-owner at the mall, teenagers receive much static from adults (and sometimes provoke it). They naturally reject a strident voice without even considering the validity of the statements, while they give a "nice" tone the benefit of the doubt.

4. Sometimes you talk as if we are not in the room.

Kids often say they feel as if the sermon exclusively addresses the adults in sanctuary. But the truth of God's Word and the gospel have universal relevance and applications, regardless of the age or context of the audience. Rarely, though, when listening to sermons online or in person do I hear a preacher make life-application examples that appeal to adolescents. Usually, pastors evoke examples related to adult matters, such as financial insecurity, marital conflict, job loss, anxiety over children, and so on. A pastor can win serious rapport with his teenage audience by using a life-application example that relates to teenage experience, such as the stress of exams, conflict with parents, or fear about seating arrangements on the first day of school.

5. We are all postmodern, unlike many of our pastors.

The greatest disconnect I see between older pastors and the teens in their pews relates to the massive difference in cultural worldview under which they have been socialized. Many pastors (including me) were raised with a modernist mindset. We moderns think in terms of evidence, logic, and proofs. The evidences of the resurrection along with some Josh McDowell sold me on Christianity.

The teenagers to whom I minister do not think like most of my preacher friends. While volumes can (and have) been written about the difference between postmodern teens and their modernist neighbors, I would say simply that pastors must engage the postmodern kid in heart and mind. Biblical exegesis and doctrine alone edify and feed me. For postmodern teens, they need stories and questions that appeal to experience and emotions and that illustrate the biblical truth being proclaimed.

6. Tell me how this affects me right now.

Instant gratification may be the worst trend in this generation of teenagers. They evaluate everything on how it immediately affects them. By contrast, most pastors grew up in a world where we had to wait for mom and dad to take us to the movies (or the movie store) to watch a flick. We had to wait our turn to use the phone. Not these kids. They can watch a movie . . . on their phone. They can dial up whatever they want on demand. While this trend has deleterious effects on teens, we cannot ignore their context. Insane it may sound, but offering teenagers salvation and eternal life when they die does not hardly resonate with them. To connect to their teenage constituency, pastors also must explain the realized benefits we enjoy in this life from following Jesus in addition to the deferred ones we enjoy upon death.

Discouragement. Letdown. Fatigue. Burnout. It's all, the apostle Paul might say, common to man and, with heightened acuteness, common to ministry. How should God's forgiven people deal with the inevitable burdens of life in an unforgiving world?

"Weakness is where God wants us," Darrin Patrick says, "and that's the last place we usually want to be." For ministry leaders in particular, his wife, Amie, points out, it takes considerable humility to receive help. The difficulty, Darrin explains, is that you're "always the grace-dispenser—always the one with the insight, the Bible verse, the word from God." Moreover, Amie spotlights the danger—for everyone, not just ministers—of "learning to just push through and ignore warning signs" that you are physically, emotionally, and spiritually depleted. Learning to build "appropriate self-care" into the rhythm of one's life, then, is imperative.

In this wide-ranging discussion hosted by Mark Mellinger, the Patricks talk sabbaticals, boring jobs, robust community, wayward children, and more. Be encouraged as you watch.

Dealing with Discouragement (Darrin and Amie Patrick) from The Gospel Coalition on Vimeo.

We weren't sure when Grandpa woke up, but we knew it was long before the sun did. My earliest memories of him revolve around a small kitchen table where he sat each morning drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. The walls of his basement were decorated with World War II honors and pictures of his hunting victories. Locked gun cases held treasures we were only allowed to behold when Grandpa opened them for us.

I learned my first curse words from my grandfather, who was sure to drop some colorful language in at least every other sentence. He could be an intimidating man, but his smile and belly laugh calmed our trepidation. His love for my grandmother was marked by service and tenderness I've rarely seen rivaled. He stood when she came into the room and attended to her every need.

Granddad was an occasional churchman. His faith would have best been described as private. As our family's patriarch he always prayed before meals, when  he'd take the opportunity to thank God for our country and blast whomever might be president at the time. I never saw him open a Bible and never heard him speak of Jesus, except when interjecting his name as an expletive.

Weighty Awareness

In 2011, my wife and I planned a trip to Wilmington, North Carolina, as part of our family's summer vacation. We chose this spot because we love the beach, but mostly because my grandparents lived there, and we wanted them to meet our newborn son. Our family was buzzing as the days drew closer, but along with the anticipation, a weighty awareness rested on my heart. The Lord was calling me to share the gospel with Granddad.

Though burdened for his salvation for years, I hadn't enjoyed many in-person opportunities for that kind of conversation. Granddad was now in his 80s and, though not in bad health, I sensed the Lord had set apart this time for me to initiate an eternally important conversation with him.

I guess I'm like anybody else when it comes to sharing the gospel. I believe the good news with all my heart, but whether it be fear of man or feelings of inadequacy, I still get anxious whenever I proclaim Christ's name. The pending conversation with Granddad took my fear to another level, for several reasons.

First, it was Grandpa. He was a man of steel, and I was scared to death to speak truth to someone who'd lived nearly four times as long as I had. He'd forgotten more than I'll ever learn, and the thought of calling him to repent and believe in King Jesus made me so anxious I was nearly nauseous over it.

Second, he claimed to be a Christian. He'd gone to church a billion times and heard as many sermons. He was a longstanding member of a Presbyterian church that appeared to be, to put it charitably, light on the gospel. Though Grandpa was a man of impeccable integrity and faithfulness, he didn't display fruit that would be characterized as Christlike (Matt. 7:16; Gal. 5:22-23).

Third, he was family. It's always tough to share the gospel with family since they know all about you—the good, bad, and the real bad. Grandpa knew me when I was a womanizing cokehead who mocked religion and disgraced my family. Though Jesus has done a wonderful work in my life, I was still aware that Grandpa knew my past. And on this particular occasion, it haunted me.

Before the trip, I prayed and asked others to do the same with the hope God would soften his heart and give me courage to speak truth. The Lord answered those prayers as on the last day of the trip I had a clear 30-minute gospel conversation with him. At first it was a little tough, but I believe the Lord blessed our time together.

Though Grandpa raised numerous questions and shared some of his doubts, he expressed willingness to consider the news I'd relayed to him. Once I returned I sent him a letter addressing his questions, some selected Scriptures to consider, and a copy of my friend Mike McKinley's excellent book Am I Really a Christian?. We had one follow-up conversation, during which he remarked, "I've never understood this 'born-again' thing, but I think I'm starting to get it."

Granddad died on December 17, 2012, with his wife of 55 years by his side. He'd requested to be cremated, and my grandmother fulfilled his request. I had the honor of leading a memorial service in his birthplace of Currituck, North Carolina.

Seed Sown

In the days since Grandpa's death, I've often wondered whether the seed sown upon his soul took root. I have hope that God brought about repentance and faith in my grandfather before he died, but I cannot be certain. What I can be certain of, however, is that the words of Scripture are true: "The fear of man is a snare" (Prov. 29:25).

No matter what man we fear (even if it's Grandpa), fear is a snare. Fear is a snare for us, and it's a snare for those who need to hear the message that can save their souls. The gospel is the power of God for salvation (Rom. 1:16), and it is good news. Yet as Carl F. H. Henry observed, it is "only good news if it gets there in time."

I haven't always obeyed the Lord's call for me to share the gospel. To this day several scenes haunt my memory. I know, however, that although I've withheld the gospel from some, God's mercy extends to me. His grace abounds to undeserving rebels like me.

The conversation with my grandfather was one of the toughest I've ever had, but I've been sobered in the hindsight of his death. My fear appears quite shortsighted today, for at this moment he's in eternity. He sees what we have only heard. Christ is more real to him now than when we sat at the kitchen table and read the Scriptures that pointed to the Lord of glory.

I trust that on that last day when we all stand before that great judgment throne, the fear of man will be exposed for utter foolishness. The weightiness of eternity presses us into deeper dependence on Christ to do what he's called us to do—while we still can. To be paralyzed by fear of human opinion, rather than stirred to declare the truth that can deliver from destruction, is a most saddening tradeoff.

God has placed each of us in our families, neighborhoods, classrooms, and workplaces to be ambassadors of Christ (2 Cor. 5:20). We aren't there by chance, and there is no time to waste. Pray for God to open doors for the gospel. Ask him to give you courage to speak his name.

I'm convinced that one day, when standing before his Son, those tough conversations will be among those we'll be eternally glad we had.

Finding the courage to voice your story of sexual abuse can feel impossible: too exposing, too embarrassing, too painful, too taboo. Tragically, sometimes the hardest place to share such stories is within the church. "Why is this so," asks Scotty Smith, "and how can the church do a better job of giving men and women the voice to tell their stories of shame?"

In this eight-minute video, Smith is joined by Justin Holcomb and Trillia Newbell to discuss how congregations can practically recognize, love, and care for victims of sexual abuse. For example, "The power of the pulpit shouldn't be overlooked," Holcomb observes. When preaching, he simply lists sexual abuse among the many sins Calvary addresses. "Just naming it can go a long way."

"When you are violated, you feel alone," explains Newbell, who shared her own story last year in a piece titled "Remember the Victims—Like Me." "It took me until [2012] to tell more than five people." One of the problems, Smith suggests, is that we often do a far better job of understanding guilt than shame. But the gospel is not just about clearing a record of guilt; it's about disarming the power of shame. Our divine older Brother and Friend identifies with us in our pain and embraces us in our dirt. As Holcomb remarks: "'Without spot, wrinkle, or blemish'—Christians are called what Jesus was."

It's imperative in our churches not only to openly recognize the prevalence of sexual abuse, but also to "connect the dots" to the person and work of Jesus. "We are all victims and agents of sin," Smith observes, "and the gospel alone gives us the means of finding freedom in view of the day when Jesus returns to finish making all things new."

Caring for Victims of Sexual Abuse from The Gospel Coalition on Vimeo.

Holcomb is the author of Rid of My Disgrace: Hope and Healing for Victims of Sexual Assault (Crossway, 2011). In the video he recommends Edward Welch's Shame Interrupted: How God Lifts the Pain of Worthlessness and Rejection (New Growth, 2012).

On My Shelf is a new feature designed to help you get to know various ministry leaders through providing a behind-the-scences glimpse into their lives as readers.

I corresponded with Jared Wilson, pastor of Middletown Springs Community Church in Vermont, about what's currently on his nightstand, books he re-reads, his favorite fiction, and more.

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What are you learning about life and following Jesus?

I have been learning something that I'd been resting in for almost a year but couldn't quite define until I came across this bit of truth in Mike Cosper's book Rhythms of Grace: "In Christ, we are never misunderstood." That little phrase really ministered to me and gave definition to what I've been learning over an occasionally very difficult last 12 months. I can trust Jesus with my reputation. I can take my lumps, even unjustly, and I don't have to be anxious about trying to explain myself—even with good intentions it can be an exercise in self-justification, in people pleasing. I've been learning more and more what it means to be so secure in Jesus that I have nothing left to hide and nothing left to prove.

What are some books you regularly re-read and why?

The one book I keep coming back to is Dietrich Bonhoeffer's Life Together. It was profoundly helpful in my thinking through the meaning and purpose of the church during the gospel renaissance in my life about nine years ago, and I return to it constantly and refer to it at my church a lot.

I actually don't re-read a lot of books, but I'm always noodling around in the same C. S. Lewis books I've always loved—usually in the same actual copies I've had since childhood.

What are your favorite fiction books?

Perelandra (Lewis), The Lord of the Rings (Tolkien), The End of the Affair (Greene), The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald), The Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Twain), and John Updike's Rabbit novels and In the Beauty of the Lilies.

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Also in this series: Kathy Keller, Tullian Tchividjian

Ever since the ancient revolt, suffering has been woven, with perplexity and pain, into the fabric of human experience. We all live and move and have our being amid Eden's wreckage. Affliction and evil—universal as they are real—haunt us, stalk us, plague us.

In a recent lecture delivered at Houston's Lanier Theological Library titled "Going Beyond Clichés: Christian Reflection on Suffering and Evil" [video below], Don Carson proposes six pillars to support a Christian worldview for stability through suffering. "A Christian worldview rests on huge, biblically established, theological frameworks—all of which have to be accepted all of the time," the research professor of New Testament at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School and author of How Long, O Lord?: Reflections on Suffering and Evil explains. "And this massive structure is stable and comprehensive enough to give you a great deal of stablility when you go through your darkest hours." His proposed pillars aren't cute musings, in other words, but crucial bulwarks.

After differentiating "natural" evil (e.g., tornados), "malicious" evil (e.g., sexual assault), and "accidental" evil (e.g., a bridge collapse)—and observing that this isn't a uniquely Christian challenge ("No matter your worldview, you must face the reality of suffering and evil")—Carson proceeds to reveal the six pillars.

1. Insights from the beginning of the Bible's storyline.

The scriptural narrative opens with God crafting a world of breathtaking beauty and unfathomable goodness. Paradise pulsates with order, harmony, wholeness, and life. But this garden scene is short-lived. Indeed, in contrast to other worldviews such as Hinduism and dualism, the Bible insists we are now dwelling in a Genesis 3 world marked by sin, suffering, death, and decay. Concerning Jesus' reflection on suffering in Luke 13, Carson observes: "What Jesus seems to presuppose is that all the sufferings of the world—whether caused by malice [as in Luke 13:1-3] or by accident [as in Luke 13:4-5]—are not peculiar examples of judgment falling on the distinctively evil, but rather examples of the bare, stark fact that we are all under sentence of death."

2. Insights from the end of the Bible's storyline.

The believer's ultimate hope is that the created order—now so disordered by the effects of sin—will one day be set right (Rom. 8:18-25). In Christ the King, everything sad will become gloriously untrue. Properly understanding and anticipating the story's end, then, helps us to eschew a naïve (and ultimately crushing) utopianism now. As Carson reminds us, "We have just come through the bloodiest century in human history. This is a damned world. Human life has never been, is not, and will never be 'perfectable-so-long-as-we-get-our-politics-right.'"

3. Insights from the place of innocent suffering.

"Job 42 is to the rest of Job what Revelation 21-22 is to the rest of Revelation," Carson observes. "Not only is justice done, it's also seen to be done."

Until the curtain drops, however, we live in "all kinds of ambiguities where we do not know the mind of God—and we dare not act as if God owes us detailed explanations." There are times when the godliest thing we can do is say with Job, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust him" (Job 13:15). Indeed, Carson suggests, "God wants our trust [even] more than he wants our understanding."

4. Insights from the mystery of providence.

Here Carson sketches a brief defense of compatibilism in which he demonstrates two scriptural tensions: (1) God is absolutely sovereign, but his sovereignty never functions to mitigate human responsibility, and (2) men and women are morally responsible creatures, but their moral responsibility never makes God absolutely contingent.

5. Insights from the centrality of the incarnation and the cross.

God was not blindsided by Calvary (Acts 2:23; 4:27-28). In fact, because of his supreme sovereignty, Christians can proclaim that the cross was a throne. With mystery and glory, the bleeding Nazarene reigned from where he hung. Christianity is uniquely comforting because only the Christian God plunged into the suffering we experience. As Edward Shillito once wrote in a poem titled "Jesus of the Scars": "But to our wounds only God's wounds can speak / And not a god has wounds, but Thou alone."

6. Insights from taking up our cross (learning from the persecuted global church).

Though we often think of suffering primarily in terms of "cancer or old age or poverty or war," Carson notes, the New Testament texts that most commonly speak of suffering have to do with Christian suffering—"and they are remarkable" (see, for example, Acts 5:40-42; Rom. 8:17; Phil. 1:29; 3:10; 1 Pet. 2:20-23). As he observes, "There have been more Christian conversions since 1800 than in the previous 1,800 years combined, and there have been more Christain martyrs since 1800 than in the previous 1,800 years combined. And to this you have been called [1 Pet. 2:21]."

A robust theology of suffering is necessary but not sufficient, Carson insists, for at least two additional attitudes characterize mature Christians: (1) they admit their guilt before God and cry to him for renewal and revival (see, for example, Neh. 8-9), and (2) they are quick to talk about the sheer goodness of God.

To be sure, Carson's framework is not necessarily the most helpful thing to offer someone first entering the throes of terrible suffering. "You've just been diagnosed with Stage 4 Melanoma; do you want this lecture?" he asks. Of course not—and you shouldn't. The importance of relational sensitivity and tangible compassion in the midst of crisis cannot be overestimated. Moreover, when the immediate needs are concrete (e.g., water, security, shelter), God's people should be quick to respond in love.

Every believer, Carson concludes, would do well to ponder these six pillars prophylactically—before the evil days come. Only then will we be best positioned to face the complexities of suffering with stability, humility, compassion, and joy.

Before long another natural or man-made disaster will dominate cable news. After the latest Moore we forget the last Joplin, after the latest Newtown we forget the last Aurora. Though we'll soon forget about those still suffering, we'll probably long remember the eruption of anger over attempts to reckon with disaster according to God's Word. But as the online debate continues, Christians in the Oklahoma City area will need both patient endurance to serve the homeless and also steadfast hope to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ amid the destruction.

In the latest edition of Going Deeper with TGC, Sam Storms talks with Mark Mellinger and me about the ongoing Moore recovery, ways Christians can still help, and his hope that out of the rubble will come spiritual revival. Storms, lead pastor for preaching and vision at Bridgeway Church in Oklahoma City, discusses the twin truths we struggle to reconcile: alongside unimaginable grief and sorrow, we have unshakable confidence in God's goodness and sovereignty.

As Storms testifies through the story of an Acts 29 pastor who lost his home in the Moore tornado, such tragedies reveal where our faith is fixed. Only in the arms of our heavenly Father are we truly safe. Romans 8 is not just words. Storms asks that we join him in praying for his neighbors that they would say, "I have to have something more solid and stable to hang on to. I need the truth of who God is, and that no matter what comes sweeping down the plains, nothing is going to separate me from the love of God in Christ."

As the podcast continues, The Gospel Project managing editor Trevin Wax talks with Afshin Ziafat, lead pastor of Providence Church in Frisco, Texas, about being a faithful shepherd who leads by example. But as Ziafat explains, such faithful shepherding requires hard decisions, such as telling an elder he is not qualified to serve and telling a man he cannot remarry after divorcing his wife. As the podcast concludes, Mark and I talk about the dozens of interviews he recorded at TGC13 and the archive of conference talks recently released.

You can stream the full podcast below, download the mp3, or subscribe to Going Deeper with TGC on iTunes or through your other mobile devices.

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On a cold February day in Scotland, I read these words on a simple plaque: "George Wishart, 1513-1546 . . . The lettering G W on the roadway marks the spot where he died." Falling snow obscured the "GW" from my sight and veiled the distant outline of St. Andrews castle. On the roadway, Wishart was burned at the stake for preaching the gospel. Within the walls of the castle reformer John Knox preached the same gospel before being enslaved for 18 months on a French galley. Shivering slightly, I wondered: What would these men have to say to me and to my generation of ministers?

A moment of self-disclosure: I'm a young pastor, 29 years old, with only six years of ministry experience and a lot to learn. I see my ministry as a part of a larger work of God taking place across multiple generations, a work represented in part by The Gospel Coalition, Together for the Gospel, and the churches and church planting networks involved in the "gospel resurgence." It is an exciting time to serve God's church and watch God at work. But the experience of standing on that snowy road, drinking in the history of St. Andrews, was a healthy reminder that we are not pioneers in gospel ministry. The unquenchable light of the gospel, though it may ebb and flicker, never goes out, nor has it ever lacked preachers to tend it.

Wishart and Knox present a challenge to our generation of ministers: learn from this rich heritage of gospel ministry. The good deposit we have received has been passed along for centuries, and we do well to gaze often down the chain of runners. While we long to participate in God's work in our generation, we must not model ourselves only after men of our own times. Doing so will give us a diminished vision for faithful ministry.

This is not merely a plea to read theology from previous eras. Yes, we may love Luther, Edwards, and Warfield's theological insights, but whom do we seek to imitate in our ministry? Who are our pastoral heroes? If the men we follow come from the same generation and pastor similar churches, we have a problem. Faithful gospel ministry cannot be confined within one generation and one subset of evangelical culture. Pioneers, by definition, are people with no past to learn from—they're the first ones here. But we are not pioneers.

Let me suggest two ways my generation of pastors and preachers would do well to learn from our heritage.

Study Older Preachers

In our day of podcasts and internet streaming, each of us is only a few clicks away from hearing outstanding sermons from multiple preachers. In many ways this is a tremendous blessing, but there's also a danger. If we all listen to the same voices—even gifted, gospel-loving voices—we'll all repeat the same mistakes. No one hears his own accent. It takes an outside ear to tell us we're pronouncing "tomato" funny. Our generation of preachers, even as we strive to be faithful to the text, will inevitably have an "accent"—emphases and phrases and values unconsciously adopted. It is impossible for us to entirely escape this tendency. But it is dangerous to be unaware of it. If we blithely assume that every previous generation has seen the gospel exactly as we do, our children and grandchildren will inherit a truncated version of the gospel.

So let us listen to the sermons of the men God is raising up in our generation. But let us also listen to gospel heralds from other times and places. Take advantage of the tremendous resource of the Martyn Lloyd-Jones sermon library. Read sermons from other centuries and remember that these words were once preached by real men to real congregations of struggling saints and sinners. Sit down for coffee with a preacher who has labored in the pulpit for decades and learn from him. It's one thing to preach a good sermon at a conference; it's another to preach many sermons, good and bad, over many years to the same congregation. Let us learn from those men what it takes to remain in the pulpit for a lifetime and value that feat more than the number of downloads a single sermon receives.

Study Older Pastors

The previous point was specifically about sermons and preachers. Here I'm referring simply more broadly to the lives of pastors. Some jobs are new arrivals; you won't find 200-year-old books on network administration. But pastoring is not a 21st-century development, and our generation is not the only one to write books on church life, the call to ministry, counseling, or any other form of pastoral "shop talk." There's something bracing about reading Horatius Bonar exhorting his fellow Scottish pastors in Words to Winners of Souls or Charles Bridges diagnosing the causes of "ministerial inefficiency" in The Christian Ministry. They assume things we forget. They take for granted aspects of pastoral character from which we excuse ourselves. We would do well to listen to their assumptions.

So let us devour every form of pastoral literature we can find. Read the Puritans on preaching and soul care. Read letters of spiritual counsel from men like John Newton. Read the biographies of our pastoral forefathers, and especially read the biographies they wrote about each other. Wisdom is learning to assess challenges in the context of centuries, not moments; pastoral wisdom is learning to see the challenges our churches face in light of the generations who have served Christ's church before us instead of our own limited experience. Reading about their lives will give us this kind of wisdom.

We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. If we will listen to their voices, they will challenge us, exhort us to faithfulness, encourage us to stay the course, and remind us that they experienced the same kind of trials we experience. May our generation of pastors be deeply marked by the lessons the centuries will teach us. Because brothers, we are not pioneers.