Genuine love in Romans 12

The diagram below is the product of many years' pondering the differences between what we typically hear about love in popular culture and what the Bible commands. I recently created it to use with my teens during our weekly Bible study, where we've been studying what it means to give one's life as a "living sacrifice," as per Romans 12.1-2. Here's the diagram, and I'll unpack it below.

As I've visualized it here, this definition of love generates from the realization that most misrepresentations we hear are not truly wrong, but rather reduced -- not completely off the mark, but improperly emphasized. For example, one common perspective on love is that it is a feeling of attraction between two people, involving commitment, warmth, and kind intent. This isn't wrong. It's just missing something. However, the typical Christian reaction against this definition of love is binary, over-emphasizing elements of choice and insisting that love is not what you feel but is rather a committed act of the will. Again, not wrong, but reductionistic -- missing something.

What I've tried to demonstrate with the above diagram is that there are multiple, vital facets to love that are interdependent. Love is not a simple see-saw between action and feeling. It is a more complex and nuanced thing. What I propose is that truly genuine, truly biblical love cannot be reduced from three distinct but closely related things: Heart, Action, and Will.

Will and Heart are challenging to differentiate from one another, and I'm reminded that only the Word of God is able to decipher such infinitesimal differences between soul and spirit (Heb 4.12). The Bible often uses the word "heart" to refer to the core, inmost being, and I'm not attempting to cut against that clear synecdoche or create confusion. However, what I'm seeking to distinguish here is the difference between our felt wants ("Heart") and understood values ("Will"). In this definition, Heart is visceral, psychological, and physiological; Will is what is felt and known at the level of beliefs that define our identity.

For example, I value my health and my body, and I know I should exercise to stay in shape, but I don't particularly feel like it. Such a breakdown results from a conflict between what I feel ("Heart") and what I value ("Will"), and ultimately results in a lack of Action, the third component of Genuine Love. Action is the distinct, external evidence of what is felt and understood within. It is the obedience of body, heart, and mind to the unity of felt wants/needs and internal values. In the exercising example I've used, the object of love is the self: if I truly value my own health and well-being, and know that maintaining them is important, I will take action despite the disconnect of my heart, and in so doing seek to bring my feelings properly in line with my values. In so doing, I express genuine love for myself by taking care of my body -- in some ways, despite what I feel.

All three of these components -- Heart, Will, and Action -- together make love genuine, full of integrity and wholeheartedness. Because Romans 12.9 teaches that our love must be “genuine,” that is the operative word that I'm using. Genuine love means Christians can't camp in any of the off-center cross-sections of Sentimentalism, Obligation, or Idealism. We must gravitate toward the middle of the diagram, where all three elements of love are represented.

Let me unpack these ideas a little more, addressing each cross-section one at a time.

Genuine love, the central element, cannot be reduced to what I've termed Sentimentalism. That's what happens when our love only involves Heart and Action, without the commitment, sacrifice, and value of our Will. In other words, because dating, romance, and friendship all inspire strong emotions, there is a natural tendency to act according to those emotions, with or without the assent of our deeper values. Furthermore, those emotions are what we truly feel, so they have a ring of legitimacy, and the actions that flow from them feel natural. Loving others because we feel strongly isn’t wrong, but the Bible communicates that the true test of love is how we treat those for whom we don't have strong feelings, or those whose actions toward us cause strong feelings opposite of affection. And what about when the person for whom we have strong affections doesn't reciprocate? What happens when the emotions that I feel are strong irritation or even hatred? Genuine love responds differently in these scenarios than mere Sentimentalism does, because the third element of Will serves to keep our Hearts and our Actions from simply following the path of least resistance. This is because love is not less than feeling something, but is so much more than merely feeling something. Therefore, truly genuine love requires dedication beyond simply what we feel ("Heart") and what we do ("Action") as a result of those feelings.

Genuine love also cannot be reduced to mere duty or Obligation.  I'm stealing this analogy from John Piper, but if I come home from work on a given night with flowers for my wife Tara, she would really appreciate that small act of thoughtful kindness. However, if I give them to her begrudgingly, and make it clear that I'm only doing it because my husbandly duty means I HAVE to show her affection, is she still likely to appreciate the gesture? This is the problem with the D.C. Talk theology of love: if love is truly just "a verb," it lacks the key component of "Heart," the emotional component that makes the Action of love truly genuine. The problem most Christians encounter, reacting to the Sentimentalism of the world, is that their duty-based love is not truly genuine either. Action alone is not proof of genuine love. Genuine love requires input from the necessary component of Heart.

Lastly, genuine love cannot be reduced to Idealism, a love that incorporates Heart and Will, but lacks Action. The greatest example of this is the "thoughts and prayers" epidemic on social media, often lambasted as a heartless, meaningless, and -- in some ways -- harmful. To many, it's an expression of false care in the face of tragedy. To be fair, expressing heartfelt sorrow to another who is hurting is an external act, and it is done in obedience to Romans 12.15, which commands us to weep alongside those who weep. But truly genuine love also incorporates 1 John 3.18, which means that our love for others goes beyond just verbal expression to include real, immediate Action. Good intentions alone do not verify Idealism as genuine love. Why? Because a necessary component of genuine love necessarily is Action.

I can anticipate some objections to this model of love. To some degree, it is impossible to hit the "bulls-eye" of genuine love, because we are sinners and we live in a fallen world. Certainly knowing the grace and love of God empowers us to rise above these limitations, but we know the challenges. To properly apply this model, we must understand that the three components of genuine love are not equally represented in each scenario -- in other words, in order to genuinely love a given individual, it might not mean 33.3% Action invested alongside 33.3% Will and 33.3% Heart. For certain family members, more exertion of Will might be necessary than for others. For people I don't really know, a greater emphasis on Action or Heart might be pertinent. Different people and different scenarios require different responses, but all three elements must be present and involved, compensating for deficiencies in any area.

Further, there is a centripetal force exerted by these three elements in that they serve to police one another. Genuine love is best expressed when all three components of Heart, Will, and Action are in perfect harmony, but there are times when I am still genuinely loving someone when I do what I know to be right even if I don't feel like it. Provided that I'm not content with the condition of my heart in that instance, but am seeking to bring my feelings in line with my actions and my values, I can still honor the Lord and serve others with that effort. Typically, the problem is that I am far too self-motivated and need to surrender one felt need/want in order to replace it with the genuine need/want on behalf of another.

In some scenarios -- say, a teenager striving to love his parents by obeying them -- the tendency might be inclined toward Duty and Obligation. However, the conscious application of Will and Action serves to incorporate the Heart even if it does not come naturally. Often, doing what we know to be the right thing even when we don't want to ultimately produces a sense of satisfaction after the fact, which goes a long way toward replicating that response in the future. A rocky marriage often becomes a pendulum of Sentimentalism, oscillating between strong feelings of affection and strong feelings of fury, because the marriage has no backbone of Will to anchor it. Striving to incorporate what each spouse knows to be right, and valuing the needs of one another over self-interest will begin to incorporate the grounding element of Will to move that marriage toward more genuine expressions of love and out of feelings-based action. Sentimentalism, Idealism, and Duty are only problematic if they become our templates for love instead of our starting points toward the real thing. They must transition if we are to love genuinely.

But what about the nature of relationships? Am I obligated to love everyone in this manner, incorporating Heart, Will, and Action in every relationship? How far should I go for the sake of people I don't know? It's important to consider our circles of influence when we think about investing -- who is within my circle of influence, and who is outside my circle of influence? Some people we have greater responsibility to love because they are in close proximity to us. However, in any given interaction, Christians should be able to evaluate the output of Action against the input of Will and the driving fuel of Heart. I should be able to slow down and ask of myself, "Am I truly loving this individual? What do my actions say? What do I feel toward him/her? How am I engaging what I know to be right and true?" Even in minute interactions with strangers, there is great potential for us to exude a genuinely loving spirit by preferring others. The crucial component, however, is theological. If I'm striving to love Jesus every day, every minute, and every hour, I am actively seeking to align my Heart, Will, and Action into serving Him. Properly understood and applied, this puts me in the proper frame of mind and spirit to invest in others at the appropriate level.

What about the extremes? What about the cases of abuse? The instances of betrayal? Romans 12 anticipates this, because it includes in its conversation about genuine love those who persecute us (Rom 12.13), and those whose actions against us might give us cause to seek vengeance (Rom 12.19). While the specific expressions of Action and types of feelings in our Hearts may vary, the values of our Will remain the same, because they are grounded in the Scripture. Certainly there is room for caution, protection, and discretion in these types of scenarios. Sometimes loving an individual who has harmed us means showing mercy, if not grace; sometimes it means using the full expression of law to assist an individual in understanding the damage he or she has caused, and preventing him or her from harming others. Either way, my Heart, Actions, and Will toward that person factor in the reality of harm done as well as the sacrificial, exemplary, and effective actions of our Savior on our behalf. In loving these individuals, we surrender the consequences to the Lord, our Vindicator and Defender, and do what we know to be right.

This is hard. How do I make change in my heart happen? Can I truly change what I feel? This by itself is the subject for an entire book. However, it is an important consideration for this topic. We'd all acknowledge that our feelings change, but we'd perhaps differ on what actually affects the change. Is it circumstances? Relationships? Godly influence? Is it simply time? While our Heart is arguably the single hardest area of love to truly impact, I'd argue that Romans 12 gives us the necessary steps. Counter-intuitively, we change not by addressing the level of feeling, but rather the level of value -- we must choose to love and uphold what is good, but hate and ostracize what (not who!) is evil (Rom 12.9). A failure to love manifests in different ways, but is ultimately related to poor values.  If we seek godly values -- begun by studying the Word (see Psalm 119.9) and removing sinful influences, replacing them with good influences (Rom 13.12) -- this gradually changes what I feel and begins the process of aligning those feelings with what I know to be biblically right and true.

The expression of genuine love is a learned experience. For the Christian, it is not a voyage of self-discovery in relation to other human beings, but rather being in receipt of Christ's genuine love for us. Remember, Paul is making this appeal to love others "by the mercies of God" (Rom 12.1). In other words, he beseeches the believers in Rome, "Because you have personally experienced and understand the incredible mercies of God toward you, you must therefore respond in love for others." As Christians who know God's grace, we are living out toward others the very things we learned from God’s mercies toward us. If we believe in the love of God, we must be wholeheartedly loving toward others. Truly genuine, truly biblical love is the proper alignment of the feelings of my Heart with the values of my Will, expressed appropriately in Action. Each of these three elements is necessary, not optional. No other lesser expression of love quite adheres to the appeal in Roman 12.

Four reasons prayer sometimes "doesn't work"

I recently spent a few weeks reading 1 Peter in the mornings.  It had been some time since I'd last studied this epistle, and I found myself engrossed in the text's vividness and its careful attention to specific themes.  There are a ton of thoughts still percolating in my brain, but I decided to take a few minutes and record one thing that convicts me in particular.

Prayer, as I use the word and understand its purpose, is a fellowship-based communication with the Almighty through the person of Jesus Christ.  In other words, it is an expression of my relationship with God, not a "long distance phone call" to heaven.  As a Christian, I don't pray to get stuff, I pray to entrust my hardships to Him; to demonstrate my humble submission to, dependence upon, and adoration of my God; and to be shaped by my interaction with Him.  So when I say that, in my reading of 1 Peter, I've found four reasons prayer "doesn't work" for Christians in the modern context, I'm talking about obstacles of our own fashioning that tend to obstruct our fellowship with our God.

Reason #1 prayer "doesn't work": lack of compassionate care for others

1 Peter 3.7: Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered.

In this verse, Peter draws a direct connection between prayers being hindered and a husband neglecting to care for his helpmeet in a compassionate, respecting, and honoring manner.  The phrase "weaker vessel," as applied to a wife, is clearly not using "weakness" as a fault, but rather to illustrate the type of vulnerability inherent to precious things.  Why else would Peter urge husbands to "show honor" (aponemontes timen) to their wives -- literally "assign value" to them?  It's because Christian wives are joint-heirs with Christian husbands, both of whom have inherited the same grace from God.  Therefore, living "in an understanding way" (kata gnosin -- literally "according to knowledge") is not compensating for feminine emotional instability, as English readers commonly assume, but rather based on the knowledge of God's lavish grace upon all His children, a grace uniquely shared in a marital relationship.  Here's my paraphrase of the veres, tracking back a little further in the passage for some context: Because you are travelers and not residents on the earth (2.11)... husbands must show compassion and respect to their wives as supremely valuable, because they share an eternal destiny (3.7).  Failure to live according to this understanding, according to Peter, hinders a husband's ability to pray and spiritually lead his wife the way he was intended.

While this reason for prayer "not working" is primarily about the correlation between husbands failing in their marital duties and failing in their spiritual devotion, I think we can also tease out a parallel application that isn't just for husbands.  A resounding theme across the New Testament is that those who have received mercy from God will show mercy to others.  We are to love our neighbor as Christ loved us (John 13.34).  A failure to forgive others their sinful actions against us is a reflection of our lack of forgiveness from the Father (Matt 6.14-15).  Judgment is without mercy upon those who have shown no mercy to others (Jas 2.13).  In other words, only a heart that acknowledges the depth of its own need and receives grace from God is also capable of showing a God-pleasing level of compassion for others.  How can Christians withhold forgiveness from others yet expect forgiveness from God for their own transgressions?  If such is the case, there is a fatal error in that individual's understanding of grace.

My point is this: any Christian who fails to truly love and value other human relationships -- choosing instead to degrade or use other people in self-serving ways -- will find him- or herself in a position where prayers "won't work" -- not because God can't bless or operate in that scenario, but because that individual has hardened his or her heart toward God, a hardness reflected in his or her lack of love toward others.  If you are experiencing the symptom of "prayer not working," your first check should be evaluating the level of compassion you show toward your wife, your kids, your coworkers, etc, and then to check your level of adoration for God as well.  Somewhere in the chain, there is a disconnect.

Peter's focus is certainly on husbands.  As a husband, it is my solemn and joyful duty to one day present my wife to Christ "without spot or wrinkle," "holy and without blemish," in the same way He will present the Church to the Father (Eph 5.27).  I can't fulfill that duty if I fail to show my wife compassion and understanding.  To be in such a deplorable state both results from and also contributes to a disconnect in my fellowship with God.  Husbands: Peter charges us to love our wives well, and so grow in our relationships with Jesus Christ.  Because you and your wife are one flesh, and together one flesh with Christ, you can't neglect one without neglecting the other.

Reason #2: Lack of moral integrity

I'm fascinated by New Testament writers' usage of Old Testament passages.  1 Peter 3.12 is one of them.  Here, Peter uses Psalm 34 to illustrate the blessing of righteous living, which is its own reward even in the midst of persecution.  This is such an effective citation, because 1 Peter 3 and Psalm 34 both describe the life of righteous integrity that God's children pursue even in the midst of affliction.

What man is there who desires life and loves many days, that he may see good? Keep your tongue from evil and your lips from speaking deceit. Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it. The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears toward their cry. The face of the Lord is against those who do evil, to cut off the memory of them from the earth. When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their troubles. (Psa 34.12-17)

In the ESV Bible, the topic heading for Psalm 34 is the phrase from verse 8: "taste and see that the Lord is good."  A life based on the pursuit of moral integrity could sound like a laborious drag if the reason behind doing so wasn't so good.  The Christian pursues moral integrity because he or she has received the incredible gift of grace from a righteous and merciful God, who does not deal with us as our sin deserves.  For this reason, we live the type of life that God commands because it means closeness to Him.

Any Christian who fails to exemplify moral virtue, according to the standards of God's holiness as described in the pages of Scripture, will unsurprisingly experience a disconnect in prayer.  It is impossible for me to live however I see fit, with some type of "all things are lawful for me" mindset (1 Cor 6.12), and still attempt to maintain close fellowship with a holy God.  My prayers will not "work" if I am my own moral authority in the place of God's own commands -- either because I live a life of hypocrisy (demonstrating good conduct in public, but living a secret life in private) or because I insist on my right to living however I want in the "freedom of grace."  Paul said "may it never be," and Peter too draws the conclusion that personal integrity before God is a necessity -- not to earn something from Him, but because He has given us righteousness as a free gift, and His ear is inclined toward those who walk in His prescribed way.  In order to be in proper fellowship with Him, we therefore should live accordingly.

Reason #3: Lack of proper thinking

The end of all things is at hand; therefore be self-controlled and sober-minded for the sake of your prayers. (1 Peter 4.7)

A lack of self-control connects back to our previous point, but sober-mindedness is something additional.  Sober-mindedness means alertness, a head free from any kind of intoxicating influence, able to think free of any distraction.  Riveted attention to God's redemptive program is what Peter admonishes the believer to possess -- that is, His saving work through Jesus Christ, effective in the Kingdom of Priests today, to be fully realized in the retrun of Christ.  Living with this mental context brings sobriety and sharpening clarity, and directly impacts my manner of praying, because my fellowship with God takes on a new dimension: though I cannot yet see Him, one day soon I will, and all the things of this earth with its pursuits and pitfalls will be judged with fire, and renewed to the state in which God initially created them to be.  So instead of praying merely for that promotion and the health of my neighbor, my sober-minded prayers focus far more on my own sanctification and that of others, the salvation of my neighbor, my opportunities to be a gospel witness despite persecution, and God's will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

James takes up a similar refrain, because he addresses in his epistle the impossibility of being duplicitous -- that is, divided in our loyalties -- and states that a prayer of doubt (literally, lack of faith) is an obstacle to properly seeking wisdom from the Lord (Jas 1.5-8).  As Christians, we face the constant tension between living in this world, which is not to have our loyalty, and living for eternity with Christ.  It is very easy for us to become distracted by "alternative priorities" -- the things that seem so meaningful right now, and sometimes cause us to doubt because they seem so tangible in contrast to the promises of God that often linger just out of sight.  However, when we relegate earthly things to their proper context, eternity is properly magnified, and doubt is eclipsed by the incredible bedrock of faith.

If we maintain a spirit of sober-mindedness, we are keeping a proper perspective on the things that matter, and we are putting away the doubt that comes from magnifying our current existence.  Practicing sober-minded faith will radically impact the effectiveness of my prayer discipline, because I will begin praying according to God's will.  As a result, my own will begins to change to match His.

Reason #4: Lack of humility

Likewise, you who are younger, be subject to the elders. Clothe yourselves, all of you, with humility toward one another, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” (1 Peter 5.5)

In this final example, Peter doesn't make a direct correlation to prayer.  However, given the rest of the epistle, and taking into consideration that James seems to also be alluding to the same passage (either Prov 3.34 or Psa 31.23 are both possible citations; both treat the Lord's staunch opposition to pride), it follows that a lack of humility is an enormous obstacle to effective prayer.  It should be obvious, but the unfortunate reality of pride is that it is one of the most blinding sins at work in the heart.

Often, the biggest reason I fail to maintain an effective discipline of prayer is because I feel, on some level, like I don't need prayer -- or, as 1 Peter 5.5. implies, like I need to submit to my authorities, or be dependent upon other Christians.  "I've got this!" I think, sometimes in actual words and sometimes just in my gut.  It seems better to be a problem-solver, a crisis-manager, a diehard plan-ahead-er, and live in the power of my own abilities, rather than entrust my very steps to the Lord.  This, however, is sinful, because it puts me in the driver's seat and relegates the Holy Spirit to a backseat driver, whose advice is only sometimes wanted and -- more often than not -- ignored.

A lack of humility will hamper any prayer, because not only does the attitude of our prayer shift away from reverence, dependence, adoration, and submissiveness, but the object of our prayer shifts as well.  That's why James told those in the dispersion that, contrary to the promise of Christ, they "ask and do not receive," not because Jesus had lied to them, but rather because they "ask wrongly," intended to "spend" what they received on their "passions" (Jas 4.2-3).  This, James says, is the epitome of worldliness, and pridefulness is the root of it.  In fact, pridefulness, if not addressed, will render any prayer ineffective -- even if I earnestly and endlessly repeat it.  Suddenly (it seems), a tremendous chasm will have sprung up between me and the One to whom I am praying.  Pridefulness will then -- if still not addressed -- find some way to blindly uphold my own sense of self-righteousness and seek to blame God for the chasm rather than acknowledge the sinful, pride-based desires of my own heart.  Humility, on the other hand, is quick to acknowledge wrongdoing, and facilitates the fellowship of prayer, because it helps me properly see myself before God, and in submissive unity with other believers.

_ _ _ _ _

To conclude, these are just four observations.  There are certainly more to be made.  It would behoove each of us to re-evaluate what exactly it is that we consider prayer to be, and what exactly we expect prayer to do, because if the premises are wrong, then so is the conclusion.

If you're a Christian reading this and you're in a position where prayer doesn't seem to be "working," the good news is that, as a Christian, your relationship with God remains unbroken, even if there is a disruption in your fellowship with Him.  Repentance begins with the humble recognition of wrongdoing, the realization of the depth of my sinfulness, and the appropriate renouncing of my own self-righteousness.  In fact, a healthy discipline of prayer is restored by the discipline of prayer: repent and turn to the Father, who has not been deaf to your erroneous prayers (or total lack thereof), but has rather chosen in mercy to allow you to acutely feel the disconnect, in order to address your own hardness of heart and be restored to right fellowship with Him.

May God give to each of us the ability to call upon Him, the need to call upon Him often, and may we relish such an available opportunity to fellowship with Him.

Remembering David Powlison (1949-2019)

Since my introduction to him in 2011, one of the most impactful teachers in my life has been Dr. David Powlison, the Executive Director of Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation (CCEF).  Back in October, David received the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer and began keeping a log of his health journey. The posts and updates may still be viewed here, and while they bring tears to my eyes, they are a treasure trove of insight, tender care, and unshakeable faith in the God who provides.  Through the ups and downs of good news, bad news, deceptively positive test results, and the debilitating side-effects of chemo, David maintained an incredible testimony of trust in the Lord, compassionate care for his wife and family, and devotion to his ministry. On Friday, June 7th, David went home to be with the Lord.  Appropriately, the announcement from CCEF came with a citation of 2 Timothy 4.7: "He fought the good fight, he finished the race, he kept the faith."

Briefly, here are just a few of the more significant treasures of wisdom I've gleaned sitting under Dr. Powlison's teaching, whether it be at conferences, listening to podcasts, or simply reading any of his numerous published resources.  I've added emphases, but the words are all Dr. Powlison's.

On the true nature of God's unconditional love (taken from the book Seeing With New Eyes, a 2003 publication):

If you receive blanket acceptance, you need no repentance. You just accept it. It fills you without humbling you. It relaxes you without upsetting you about yourself -- or thrilling you about Christ. It lets you relax without reckoning with the anguish of Jesus on the cross. It is easy and undemanding. It does not insist on, or work at, changing you. It deceives you about both God and yourself. We can do better. God does not accept me just as I am; he loves me despite how I am. He loves me just as Jesus is; he loves me enough to devote my life to renewing me in the image of Jesus.

Addressing the way Christians may practically meet the needs of fallen people (from the 2011 conference on Psychiatric Disorders):

• We can always bring steady human kindness
• We can always say something that is relevant; therefore, we must speak with clarity about hardships and realities
• We can always speak to and about that Someone who is merciful and powerful -- prayer is sanity

On learning to acknowledge our deep spiritual need (from the 2012 conference on Guilt & Shame):

If you know your guilt, then you can be forgiven.  If you know your weakness, then you can be strengthened.  If you know your brokenness, you can be made whole. If you don't know these things, then they cannot be corrected.  Knowing is the first step to overcoming.  The humility of knowing our need and asking for help is the necessary principle toward restoration.

On being rightly angry but loving well (from his 2016 book, Good & Angry)

Charity does what the recipient doesn't deserve... you can fiercely disagree with a person and actively dislike what he or she is doing -- all the stuff of anger -- and yet you can still do genuine kindness. Anger grips tightly a wrong, points it out, prosecutes it, punishes it. Mercy acts generously toward a wrongdoer, rather than claiming your pound of flesh. Anger things this way: "I've been wronged, so I will deal out fair and just punishment to the malefactor." But generosity, like patience and forgiveness is "unfair." You treat with purposeful kindness someone who treated you or others badly.

On biblical sexuality (from his 2017 book, Making All Things New)

Our culture asserts that any consenting object of desire is fair game for copulation. Individual will and personal choice are the supreme values. But Christ thinks differently, and he will get last say. That's important. "Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes upon the sons of disobedience" (Eph 5.6). Each of the distortions makes sex too important (and makes the Maker, evaluator, and Redeemer of sex irrelevant). Sex becomes your identity, your right, your fulfillment, your need. This is moral madness.

On a very personal note, learning to face your own mortality (from his Feburary 1, 2019 blog update)

The more precarious life is, the more pertinent all that Christ is, does, and says. One particular significant encouragement came from Psalm 138:3: “On the day I called you answered me, and you made me bold in my soul with strength.” That clarity, focus, purposefulness, and inner strength has been a sweet gift of God, and a reality for which I am very grateful. Before sleep one night, Nan and I read 2 Corinthians 4–5 slowly and aloud. We are looking death in the eye, while wanting to live, and live well. This passage is utterly candid about the most profound matters of life and death, of living a purposeful life, of how to face suffering honestly and hopefully. 

My lasting impressions of David are of a man who deeply loved the Lord and who treasured the opportunity to help others love Jesus in the same way.  I know from his testimony that David was rescued by faith from a cynical, secular worldview into a new perspective. He came to see men and women as people broken by sin but supremely loved by God, in need of rescue, in need of truth, and made biblical counseling his life's work.  He was a faithful servant from the moment of his conversion, and remained a devoted husband and an exemplary follower of Jesus Christ to his homegoing.

It is my prayer that I may be to my wife and son, and to all those under my care, the type of committed, forthright, and spiritually wise man that David Powlison exemplified for me.

Threads & Grace

I currently own just two pairs of jeans.  Maybe that's absurd, I'm not sure.  It also says something about just how long I tend to wear pants without washing them.  Just this week, I managed to successfully rip new holes in both knees of one of those two precious pairs of denim.  Which means a trip to a thrift store is in order.

Ralphie and Randy will know better in just a few years.

Going out to buy clothes is one of my least favorite chores.  Consequently, it's one of Tara's favorites, which means the Lord is clearly working on our marriage.  To be fair, my in-laws have been keeping my wardrobe stocked since 2012, which proves my theory that being an adult can be boiled down to one thing: actually being excited to receive clothing for your birthday or Christmas, primarily because it means you don't have to spend that money yourself (or go out shopping yourself).

The imagery of being "clothed in" something is biblical terminology.  The passive voice in this often-repeated phrase is critical.  The first man and woman, for example, were clothed by God with the skins of a slain animal to cover their shame in nakedness (Gen 3.21).  The prodigal son in Luke 15 is clothed in a new robe by his father's servants.  Moses is commanded to clothe Aaron in the robes of a High Priest (Lev 8.7), and the believers are similarly called to a priestly role in God's kingdom, having received mercy and special anointing from Christ (1 Pet 2.9).  The book of Revelation repeats the imagery in multiple locations: the Bride of Christ is granted the right to dress in white (19.8); the martyrs are likewise given white robes as their consolation (6.11), and those who "conquer" are promised similar vestments (3.5).  Job speaks of God clothing him with skin and flesh (Job 10.11).  Jesus reminded the crowds that the Heavenly Father clothes the grass of the field, and likewise provides clothing and other necessities for His children (Matt 6.30).  Furthermore, in the Great Commission, Christ promised the disciples that they would be clothed with power that came from the Holy Spirit (Luke 24.49).  Isaiah, however, makes my favorite statement of them all: "My soul shall exult in my God, for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation; he has covered me with the robe of righteousness" (Isa 61.10).  This messianic statement is a direct contrast to the clothing of the self-righteous elsewhere in the book of Isaiah, which the prophet decries as "filthy rags" or "polluted garments" (64.6).

Each of these instances communicates the reality of man's absolute dependence upon the Lord's provision: we can't clothe ourselves -- literally OR figuratively -- so God must do it for us.  He is the great provider for all of our physical AND spiritual needs.  That means we aren't truly in control of providing for ourselves -- regardless of the fact that I'm the one physically buying the pants from Goodwill.  Likewise, I'm not the one securing my eternal destiny by my moralistic living.  In fact, living like it's my inherent goodness that gains me heaven is what Isaiah explicitly calls revolting to a Holy God.  It's not flippantly that Jesus reminds the Pharisees that "there is only one who is good," and that "one" is God alone (Matt 16.17).

I've heard the sardonic expression, "I'm not impatient.  I just don't like to wait."  I sometimes make a similar quip: "I don't struggle with anxiety.  I just don't like not being in control."  The convicting reality is that ripped knees in my jeans are never a point of anxiety for me -- well, that is, until I check the bank account and see that there's no wiggle room in the budget for a new (or slightly used) pair.  There's never any anxiety in my heart... that is, not until the car is breaking down and I know I'll have to swipe the credit card to cover the repairs until the next pay period.  I don't struggle with worry until suddenly I have to pick and choose which bills get paid in full for the month.

I'm sick of the trite "God never gives you anything you can't handle" philosophy that Christians regurgitate to one another, giving themselves a paltry substitute for real reassurance.  God gives us more than we can handle all the time, and the point is that He calls us to trust HIM, not in our wallets or our abilities.  I must learn to trust Him and Him alone, or I make an idol out of one misplaced sense of security or another.  That's the lesson on anxiety that Jesus gives in the Sermon on the Mount: our Heavenly Father not only cares for the realm of nature, He also cares for the specific needs of the saints.  It's therefore our responsibility to surrender our illusions of control, and trust instead in His goodness.

God clothes me when it comes to matters of immediate necessity.  But more importantly, He has clothed me in eternal security.  The Christian is "clothed" in the very righteousness of the Messiah, by the Messiah, which makes us eternally acceptable before God the Father.  So when our cups seem empty in this life, we still have the ability to see God's incredible blessing -- a gracious and incomparable provision that surpasses any immediate trial -- and see that our cups are actually full when viewed in an eternal context.

I might have holes in my jeans, but there are no holes in my righteousness.  I might need to buy a new pair of threads every now and again, but I never need to replace the holy vestments given to me by my Savior.

I think it's appropriate to conclude this post with the words of the classic Christian doxology, because He alone DOES provide, and He alone is worthy of my worship.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow

Praise Him, all creatures here below

Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

Amen

Psalm 37, Values, and G. I. Joes

In Psalm 37, David gives the reader five imperatives in order to endure the schemes, attacks, and triumphs of the wicked.

One, trust in Him, because He will not forsake His saints (37.28), because He is a stronghold of salvation to the righteous (37.5), and because He will act (37.5).

Two, delight in Him, for it is from Him that all worthy desires are fully realized (37.4). He is a generous giver (37.25-26), and His salvation is more precious than any earthly thing (37.18).

Three, commit your way to Him, because the Lord establishes the righteous doings of His saints in dazzling display (37.6), and secures their footholds even in treacherous places (37.23-24, 31).  Note that security in the way is found by keping the law of God in the heart (37.31).

Four, be still before Him, because the self-serving malice of evildoers is not worth anxiety or fear (37.8), and it will be by GOD's actiions (not ours) that divine justice will be realized (37.34).

Five, refrain from anger/forsake wrath, because His prescription of justice is far superior to ours (37.13, 28), and because the Lord will provide a peaceful future for a man who practices peace (37.11, 37).

Similarly, the psalm uses five descriptors to characterize the people committed to living according to these standards: meek (37.11), blessed (37.22), righteous (37.26), patient (37.9, 34), and blameless (37.37).  These are qualities of men and women who place their absolute trust and confidence in the Lord.  In contrast to the arrogance of the wicked, who will be humiliated (37.17, 35-36), the humility of the righteous will be exalted, upheld, and lifted up forever (37.17, 19, 24, 29, 34).

What is the ultimate reward for living in this manner?  Written to the Israelite nation, Psalm 37 proclaims "the land" -- the promised inheritance for the descendants of Abraham -- as the prize for faithfulness.  In Matthew 5, Jesus expands this very same promise, citing and modulating David's own words, stating that the meek and blessed shall inherit not "the land," but "the earth" (Matt 5.5).  Different scholars come away with various conclusions as to the purpose of this transition, but either outcome results in the dominion of God's people.  Whether that is over a specific geographical location or over all the Kingdom when He ushers in a new heavens and a new earth, God will establish His faithful ones to co-reign with Jesus in glory (2 Tim 2.12), as heirs adoped into God's family (Gal 4.7).

As I meditate on these things, I can't help but think that the challenge to embracing a Psalm 37 lifestyle is a question of our values.  We must be convinced that what we are committing to is worth it, and then be wholeheartedly devoted to pursuing it.

I can remember a few times as a kid that I really fixated on something.  One time in particular was when my brother and I decided we would save up quarters to buy GI Joe action figures.  These, in particular, were special edition Civil War Joes, and we'd been immersed in Civil War history by our father, who was something of a scholar in that era of American history.  Each Joe was $100, but we wanted them.  So, for something like 12 months, we both saved up change in our sock drawers -- aided significantly by our grandmother, who lived upstairs and would find change when she'd walk her dog.  Back then, she had eyes like a hawk and would frequently bring down the old coffee can full of spare change, enough each time for all three of us grandkids to net something like $25-30 apiece.  When we finally had the money saved up, we had to submit the order form and do some more waiting, because 2-day shipping wasn't a thing back in 1997.  But when those Joes arrived, it was like Christmas Day -- all the waiting and the saving completely paid off.  And because we'd invested so heavily into those toys, we played with them regularly, for years.  But we also took meticulous care of them, so that all the little accessories and pieces are still intact and saved to this day.

In good condition, these babies are going for $160 apiece on e-bay!

I find it so helpful to look back on childhood examples, because everything is so simple for a kid.  As adults, our priorities become so skewed and divided.  My brother and I saw these toys in a magazine, determined to ourselves that they were worth the singular pursuit, and we sacrificed time and energy to obtain them.  We couldn't have afforded those toys AND anything else at the same time, although we were always into Legos and video games too, so these special toys came at the expense of other things we might have wanted.

Why can't I have that kind of unwavering focus for spiritual things?

It's a matter of values, of payoff.  The immediacy of material things makes them attractive.  But its the permanency of the rewards God offers that makes them truly valuable.

In order for us to take the imperatives in Psalm 37 to heart, we each must first determine that placing our trust, commitment, and security in God is worth it.  And then we must remember, as we are committing our way to Him and seeking to be still before Him, that He is still worth it even when our circumstances are screaming the opposite to be true.  And when our anger surges because the wicked prosper and prey upon us, we must seek to see people the way God sees them, and entrust justice to Him, because He is worth it.

God is our just, compassionate, promise-keeping Father.  Those who find their singular treasure in Him will adopt the imperatives David leaves us in Psalm 37, and will ultimately know true, lasting reward.

The insight of skinned knees

At the time I started writing this post, my seven-month-old son was crying on the floor.  He is so very, very close to being able to roll over by himself.  If he's on his back, he can -- with some coaxing -- successfully get to his belly.  Going the other way is another matter.  He just can't yet manage that final push.  To be fair, we live in an old house with lots of uneven flooring, so some of his attempts at rolling over are literally uphill.  Which is completely unfair.  As is, I suppose, using your son's disadvantages as the impetus for a blog post.  But he's the son of a pastor/writer, so that's just part of the contract.

Through this new lens of fatherhood, I am gaining unique insights into God's love for me that I naively thought I understood all along.  For instance, in the midst of my undergrad, I wrote the following lyric for one of my band's songs:

Failures are the lasting lessons
I’ve got so much left to learn
I’ll crawl so I can walk, skin my knees and my pride
But never forget to smile
Chewing on the trials

The imagery I was after (nearly 10 years ago now) was exactly the phase of life my son is currently entering: the emerging independence of a human personality that is at once so confident and so determined, and yet so very incapable.  Zeke, like all human beings, must learn by bumping his head, by taking those intrepid first steps and falling down.  We learn by struggling.  The progression from a diet of milk to one of solid food is necessarily gradual.

Watching it literally happen in front of me, I now have a much better context for understanding the care and perseverance of our Heavenly Father.  God labors to teach us the way I labor to teach my son: He could very well step in and fix everything for us, yet He lovingly allows us the opportunity to struggle, to learn, and to worship Him all the more for it.  Sometimes, Zeke needs me to step in and give him a push.  Other times, it's better for me to wait, so he can push himself just a little harder.  He doesn't always appreciate it when I opt for the latter.

But then again, neither do I when God does the same thing to me.

In the midst of each spiritual battle and God-ordained challenge, Christians face a choice: either embrace the opportunity the adversity represents in order to trust God more and grow in our faith, or instead adopt a shortsighted, embittered preoccupation with trying to eliminate as much difficulty in our lives as possible, complaining all the while.  The sad thing is that, when we take the latter course of action, we miss the opportunity for true joy.

In our Wikipedia/YouTube culture -- where answers and solutions should never be more than one click away -- endurance is a concept that needs revisiting.  Even for Christians, it's easy to become discouraged when facing the same sin struggle day after day, or having to forgive someone for the 489th time.  We might be tempted to want the same type of immediate gratification our world craves.  It is an immaturity -- not unlike my son whining with one arm tucked helplessly under his side -- that demands immediate solutions.  On the other hand, it is absolutely NOT immaturity for us to cry out to the Father for help, provided we begin learning to ask the right things from the right heart attitude.

The Apostle Paul penned some pretty famous words in his epistle to the Philippians, words that are often stripped of their rich meaning.  Speaking of his own challenges with regard to sharing the gospel, he wrote, "I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound.  In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need.  I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Phil 4.12-13)  And that, Paul says, is connected to the ability to know true joy -- to endure hardship and be closer to God for the struggle.  The ability to "do all things" is not some promise of superpowers.  The power that Paul speaks of is the power that God abundantly supplies in the gospel of Jesus Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit.  It is a power that, ironically, requires us to be dependent upon God.  It is a power that is only accessible via weakness.

The "secret" of facing plenty, hunger, abundance, and need is through HIM.

That's why our skinned knees are so valuable.  They shouldn't just teach us practical lessons about how to do it better next time.  They should teach us to lean into a source of power that is beyond our limited abilities -- one that is best expressed in our weakness.  If we are willing to focus on the One who never fails, who never changes, and who never requires us to do anything He won't lead us through, suddenly our spiritual growth is not an insurmountable mountain or a life of isolation and drudgery.  It is a walk with God.

I love to walk with Zeke -- for the time being, with him in my arms, or in the stroller, or strapped to my chest.  Sometimes with him upside-down over my shoulder.  The type of delight I feel when he smiles or learns something new is a taste of the type of delight our Heavenly Father takes in my daily dependence on Him.  And the reality is that, once Zeke masters this whole rolling over thing, there will be another challenge for him to face.  And another one.  Likewise, our spiritual growth isn't about one day or even one year.  It is a lifelong process.  My hope for Zeke is that, as he matures, he learns not to whine or complain, but to ask for help, and to trust in the wisdom and care his Mama and I can provide.  An even greater thing is true of each Christian's walk with God, because God is not only worthy of our trust, He is worthy of our worship.  The adoration we must give Him is not because He craves it or is incomplete without us: we give it because no other is worthy of receiving it.

We would therefore do well to stop relying on ourselves, cease our complaining spirits, and instead cry out to God daily for help with every challenge we face.   Spiritual maturity is not (contrary to popular opinion) independence and theological intellect, but rather learning to more fully depend on the transforming grace that God abundantly supplies.