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Bend the Ear of God: Three Wonders of Christian Prayer 20.11.2024 04:00

God not only speaks to us — he bends his ear to hear us talk. Through the work of Christ and the help of the Spirit, we have the ear of God.

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Preach the Whole Truth: Counting the Cost with Charles Spurgeon 20.11.2024 04:00

On the morning of Sunday, June 5, 1864, Charles Spurgeon ascended the pulpit to deliver a sermon that he expected would cost him dearly. Friends might turn away; his influence might take a severe blow; his sermons might no longer be printed. Should he preach it? Should he publish it?

Spurgeon later recounted,

It was delivered with the full expectation that the sale of the sermons would receive very serious injury; in fact, I mentioned to one of the publishers that I was about to destroy it at a single blow, but that the blow must be struck, cost what it might, for the burden of the Lord lay heavy upon me, and I must deliver my soul. I deliberately counted the cost, and reckoned upon the loss of many an ardent friend and helper, and I expected the assaults of clever and angry foes.¹

The text of the sermon was Mark 16:15–16: “And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.”² The topic of this sermon was baptismal regeneration.

Spurgeon’s Challenge

That morning, Spurgeon challenged the Church of England’s teaching of baptismal regeneration, a teaching that yokes the act of baptism with spiritual regeneration. His protest was not against paedobaptism as such. Spurgeon entertained warm and affectionate respect for many paedobaptists, including men such as the Congregationalist George Rogers, whom he appointed the first principal of the Pastor’s College. Anglican evangelicals confused him, but he loved them in Christ.

Spurgeon is unmistakably clear about his views of baptism, including his opposition to infant sprinkling. Countless sermons provide explicit and incidental arguments for the baptism of believers only.³ The point in this sermon on baptismal regeneration is less about the ordinance of baptism and more about baptismal regeneration and doctrinal and practical integrity. Spurgeon’s challenge was against baptismal regeneration, formalism, and sacramentalism in the Church of England, part of which was drifting back toward Roman Catholicism through the Tractarian movement.⁴ Spurgeon was a true Nonconformist (or Dissenter), an Independent churchman, and a Baptist. He shared the British Dissenter’s horror of and opposition to Roman Catholicism. By conviction as well as situation, he existed outside the pale of the Anglican communion and was ready to challenge their formalism and national churchmanship.

Spurgeon preached the sermon that morning feeling that “I have been loath enough to undertake the work, but I am forced to it by an awful and overwhelming sense of solemn duty.”⁵ He contended that the Anglican rubric for infant baptism offered an explicit declaration that baptism saves, especially by promising that through baptism “this Child is regenerate and grafted into the body of Christ’s Church,” and — addressing God — that “it hath pleased thee to regenerate this infant with thy Holy Spirit, to receive him for thine own child by adoption, and to incorporate him into thy holy Church.”

This belief, he asserted, was not something that any true evangelical could or did maintain. “Why then,” he asked, “do they belong to a Church which teaches that doctrine in the plainest terms?”⁶ He could honor the integrity of a bold heretic, but he was troubled by the dishonesty of good men attaching themselves to known falsehood. For men “to swear or say that they give their solemn assent and consent to what they do not believe is one of the grossest pieces of immorality perpetrated,” breeding an atmosphere of lies.⁷

Against Damning Error

The religion of Scripture is a religion of faith: “I cannot see any connection which can exist between sprinkling, or immersion, and regeneration, so that the one shall necessarily be tied to the other in the absence of faith.”⁸ Baptismal regeneration encourages hypocrisy of the worst sort and leads to damnation by assuring that all who get religiously damp are saved, though they should live godlessly. It was the side door by which popery strolled back into the Anglican communion. Spurgeon was equally merciless in his condemnation of Dissenting superstition — venerating places, people, or rituals. Christ and Christ alone must be the object of our faith:

Lay hold on Jesus Christ. This is the foundation: build on it. This is the rock of refuge: fly to it. I pray you fly to it now. Life is short: time speeds with eagle’s-wing. Swift as the dove pursued by the hawk, fly, fly poor sinner, to God’s dear Son; now touch the hem of his garment; now look into that dear face, once marred with sorrows for you; look into those eyes, once shedding tears for you. Trust him, and if you find him false, then you must perish; but false you never will find him while this word standeth true, “He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.” God give us this vital, essential faith, without which there is no salvation. Baptized, re-baptized, circumcised, confirmed, fed upon sacraments, and buried in consecrated ground — ye shall all perish except ye believe in him.⁹

For Spurgeon, baptism — the baptism of his Scripture text — must follow after faith in the Jesus of the Bible:

Baptism is the avowal of faith; the man was Christ’s soldier, but now in baptism he puts on his regimentals. The man believed in Christ, but his faith remained between God and his own soul. In baptism he says to the baptizer, “I believe in Jesus Christ;” he says to the Church, “I unite with you as a believer in the common truths of Christianity;” he saith to the onlooker, “Whatever you may do, as for me, I will serve the Lord.” It is the avowal of his faith.¹⁰

The falsehood of baptismal regeneration introduces a fatal frailty into any church: “Out of any system which teaches salvation by baptism must spring infidelity, an infidelity which the false Church already seems willing to nourish and foster beneath her wing.”¹¹ The sermon is not bitter in tone, but it potently manifests the spirit of a man who is deeply persuaded of the danger of the lie he exposes, and desperate that sinners should realize that only faith alone in Christ alone can save. He wants the people of God to know what they believe and to speak and live accordingly.

Gospel Issues

For all its preening pomposity, our age often lacks the kind of straightforwardness that Spurgeon championed and displayed. Sniping from cover is more the order of the day. Corresponding to that posture is a vindictiveness toward those with whom we disagree or who disagree with us. It is hard for us today (and was not easy in Spurgeon’s day) to reconcile strong opposition with affection and respect for some who hold to what we oppose. I can, and do, appreciate and respect men whom I am persuaded are wrong, sometimes badly wrong, on certain issues. I am grateful for what I perceive to be the happy inconsistencies that keep my brothers from wandering too far from the right road. I suspect that they entertain the same thoughts of me; if not, they need to sharpen up!

For Spurgeon, every scriptural truth was important. If God has spoken, men should listen and obey. Spurgeon was not suggesting that salvation hinges upon the embrace of every truth that God has revealed. He entertained warm and affectionate relationships with men who did not see eye to eye with him on every matter. Nevertheless, he was concerned that men should take God at his word and not pretend that anything God has spoken is insignificant. Spurgeon was not prepared to treat any point of revelation as if it were unimportant.

Alongside of that, Spurgeon recognized that not all issues were gospel issues — hinges upon which spiritual life and death hung. A matter like baptismal regeneration, however, was (and still is) a gospel issue. It offered what it could not deliver in the sphere of salvation, and — for the glory of God and the good of men — it must be withstood and exposed. It was not enough to disagree with it; it must be addressed: “I might be silent here, but, loving England, I cannot and dare not; and having soon to render an account before my God, whose servant I hope I am, I must free myself from this evil as well as from every other, or else on my head may be the doom of souls.”¹² Where errors have the capacity to be dangerously wrong, damningly wrong, we must speak.

Cost of Conviction

Do we, with Spurgeon, believe what we say and say what we believe, appropriately and clearly and humbly, following the word of God where it takes us? We need not attack everyone and everything with which we disagree, and we can entertain genuine affection for some with whom we have genuine difference of conviction. However, we must be clear where the glory of God in the salvation of souls is at stake, and we cannot condone — either by speech or silence — those errors that rob us of the gospel. Do we have the discernment, honesty, and integrity to love those with whom we might disagree in some things, but to come away from those who maintain and declare damning error?

Such conviction requires sacrifice. As we saw earlier, Spurgeon expected this address, when published, to cost him financially and reputationally. But, he asserted,

No truth is more sure than this, that the path of duty is to be followed thoroughly if peace of mind is to be enjoyed. Results are not to be looked at, we are to keep our conscience clear, come what may, and all considerations of influence and public estimation are to be light as feathers in the scale. In minor matters as well as more important concerns I have spoken my mind fearlessly, and brought down objurgations and anathemas innumerable, but I in nowise regret it, and shall not swerve from the use of outspoken speech in the future any more than in the past. I would scorn to retain a single adherent by such silence as would leave him under misapprehension. After all, men love plain speech.¹³

You do not know what the Lord will do with your honesty. Both this sermon and its controversial successors were runaway bestsellers, even as they called forth real vitriol from opponents. Far from destroying Spurgeon’s reputation, though, they enhanced it among those who valued “plain speech,” even when they disagreed with its content. Remember that Spurgeon did not know what the results would be when he first wrote and spoke, but he wrote and spoke nonetheless.

The man of conviction is going to be criticized. The man who speaks his mind, even with humility and love, is likely to be assaulted. However, we must be concerned first to honor God by faithfulness to all his revealed truth, in its proper place, perspective, and proportion, and to serve men by speaking that truth in love — a love more concerned for their souls than for our reputations. We need not suggest that Spurgeon gets everything right here or all the time. Nevertheless, we find in this an example of conviction and courage that we would do well to follow.

Secure in God’s Hands 20.11.2024 04:00

What drove George Whitefield’s tireless preaching? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper explores the transformation that ignited Whitefield’s passion for the gospel.

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God Calls the Weak to War: The Christian Strength of Disability 19.11.2024 04:00

The young man was fully engaged in worship: hands raised, eyes closed, mouth wide open in song, completely lost in the moment. This man with Down syndrome was entirely free as he worshiped with all his might. In the moment, I wanted to be free like that! But I have since wondered if, because of my assumptions about his intellectual disabilities, I missed what was really happening.

God had called him to war.

No, that is not hyperbole. I see it in Scripture and in the intensity of hatred around the world toward those with intellectual disabilities. God invites us to trust him when he tells us how his strength manifests mightily in so-called “weaker members.” And few are considered weaker and more vulnerable than those with intellectual disabilities.

Christians appreciate, both biblically and practically, that we are finite and incapable of doing all that God can do. From that standpoint, we embrace God as strong and recognize that we need his persistent, daily help. But we also routinely see fellow humans with intellectual disabilities as being entirely “other” — vulnerable and in need of our protection and care. Yes, they have gifts valuable to the church. But we often limit their realm of influence to the simple things we can see.

So, I plead with you, especially if you are in leadership in the church, to consider what is happening beyond what you observe. Your perception of reality may not be reality. God equips these outwardly weaker members to fight for you, and you need a category for that.

Perception Is Not Reality

In 2 Kings 6, the Syrian army surrounds Elisha to capture and kill him. His servant sees their desperate situation and responds in fear: “Alas, my master! What shall we do?” (6:15).

He cannot see reality until God grants him sight. Elisha tells him,

“Do not be afraid, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” Then Elisha prayed and said, “O Lord, please open his eyes that he may see.” So the Lord opened the eyes of the young man, and he saw, and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha. (6:16–17)

We can be confident that when that servant saw God’s army, he was no longer afraid of the Syrian army.

So, when Paul writes about dangerous forces beyond our ability to perceive with our senses, we should heed him:

We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. (Ephesians 6:12)

It also means we should believe God when he talks about his strength in our weakness.

Strong in the Seeming Weak

In 1 Corinthians 1:18–31, Paul hammers home what God thinks of worldly wisdom, making sharp distinctions between the wise of this world and God’s infinite ability to save sinners:

The word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” (1 Corinthians 1:18–19)

A few verses later, Paul makes an incredible statement:

God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong. (1 Corinthians 1:27)

The “weak in the world” are not mere bystanders or examples for us. They are chosen by God to actively shame and bring down the strong. But Paul doesn’t end there. In 1 Corinthians 12:12–31, as Paul explains how God makes one body out of many different members, he makes a bold declaration about apparently weaker members:

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor. (1 Corinthians 12:21–23)

Indispensable means not able to be dispensed with, absolutely necessary, essential. These members must be part of the body, or the body will not work as designed.

And note Paul’s phrase “seem to be weaker.” He knows we are tempted to neglect the supernatural work of God and believe only what our eyes see. If our eyes see an adult with intellectual disabilities who struggles to communicate, who is entirely vulnerable to abuse and manipulation by evil people, who needs others to assist him and protect his interests, we are inclined to discount him as an agent of God’s power. But we must not rely on what “seems to be.”

God Calls the Weak to War

Psalm 8 begins with some of the most recognized words in the Bible: “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens” (8:1). And then the psalm seems to take a strange turn:

Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger. (8:2)

Psalm 8:1 shows God very strong and majestic, clothed in sovereign power, authority, and dignity. And his sovereign power is so strong that he can strengthen the weakest, most vulnerable humans who do not have the ability even to make intelligible sentences. Pastor John helpfully unpacks Psalm 8:2 this way:

The peculiar mark of God’s majesty is not just that he stoops to listen to or take thought of or care for infants, but that he makes them the means of his triumphs. God conquers his foes through the weaknesses of the weak — the speech of babies. When you think of God as a warrior, remember: he wins with weakness.

The psalmist’s reference to babies and infants emphasizes inability more than age, so we can justly include adults with severe intellectual disabilities here. And God equips these “that seem to be weaker” not just to fight but to win!

My mother lived with severe dementia for several years and lost much of her ability to communicate. One day, while I was visiting my parents, her eyes snapped open out of sleep, and she looked me squarely in the eye and said, “I love Jesus. You should love Jesus too!” What a joy to hear that though she had forgotten who I was, God would not let her forget who her Savior is, and she desired that I know that Savior too. “He wins with weakness,” indeed.

Her powerful words were encouraging — and protective. Had my father or I laid down our spiritual defenses out of grief, discouragement, or exhaustion and allowed sin to take root in our souls? Were we entertaining thoughts whispered by our subtle and wicked spiritual enemy? If so, my mother’s simple words had now fixed our thoughts on Jesus! Given how God delights to use weakness, as revealed in Psalm 8:2, perhaps the Holy Spirit roused my mother from her sleep: “To battle, saint! Deliver these words and rescue your husband and son!”

Satan’s Murderous Rage

Satan is on a global campaign to kill those who have intellectual disabilities. More than two-thirds of unborn children identified with Down syndrome in the United States will be aborted. In Denmark, the number soars to 98 percent. New technologies make the womb an increasingly perilous place for a child with any disability, especially an intellectual disability.

On the other end of life, a study of those who wanted to end their lives under “right to die” laws said they did so mainly “because of loss of autonomy (87.4 percent); impaired quality of life (86.1 percent), and loss of dignity (68.6 percent).” In other words, many people are legally killing themselves not because of pain and suffering but because of their fears about the quality of a life with disabilities, especially an intellectual disability.

Given this worldwide campaign to kill, marginalize, and stigmatize those with intellectual disabilities, one has to wonder, Why is Satan so determined to eliminate them? If they are so weak and useless, why not let them live to distract time, energy, and resources away from the things of God?

The reason is not hard to guess. Imagine being the “god of this world,” with the ability to blind minds (2 Corinthians 4:4), and yet defeated — worse, humiliated — by the so-called weak and foolish ones of the world. Of course he wants them dead. An army commander will seek to reduce the fighting ability of his enemy. Satan knows the Bible better than we do and perfectly understands that their weakness magnifies the power of God in ways that spell his doom.

Now, I’m not suggesting my son’s every utterance is Spirit-filled. But I’ve seen an unexpected word or song from his lips penetrate a hard or broken heart with supernatural power in ways that make no rational, observable sense. And I remember Psalm 8:2.

Do not let the father of lies distract you from these truths. Have you unknowingly embraced a secular, utilitarian view of giftedness that is uncomfortable with supernatural power? Has Satan subtly encouraged you to overlook all that God has said in his word about his strength magnified in weakness?

Be Supernatural Christians

Dear reader, and especially pastors, we need to reclaim a biblical, supernatural vision of reality! Adam and Eve, in the perfection of the garden and with unfallen mental and physical capacities, succumbed to the snake’s seductive speech. Their intellectual capacities did not protect them from sin and ruinous error, and neither can ours.

Trust and worship our God — a kind God who equips the weak among us to defeat his foes for his glory and our good. Some of those who live with intellectual disabilities will require what feels like a discouraging amount of your time, energy, and effort. May God give you discerning, spiritual eyes to appreciate that God is equipping your church for war. And may you, with joy, welcome, build up, and deploy these uniquely gifted people in the happy work of making much of Jesus.

What Kind of Desire Leads to Godly Leadership? 1 Timothy 3:1–7, Part 2 19.11.2024 04:00

What kind of desire sends men into ministry and keeps them there? Durable desire, servant-hearted desire, holy desire, informed desire, mature desire.

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What’s True and False in Job? 18.11.2024 04:00

How do we discern what’s true and what’s false in Job? Pastor John provides a grid for the entire book to help us interpret it accurately.

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Make the Most of Sunday Mornings: Two Simple Changes 18.11.2024 04:00

Ah, Sunday. That majestic morning when my children awake to the aroma of eggs and bacon and fresh-squeezed orange juice. When they bound down the stairs, Bibles in hand and a song in their hearts. When I lead them in family worship over breakfast, and my wife plays the piano as we prepare our hearts for meeting with the people of God.

The only downside when we finish is that we still have time to kill. Oh well. At least we’ll be super early to church — again!

Reality Check

If you’re smirking, it’s because you know this is not reality. Many of us struggle just to get ourselves in one piece to church, much less an elderly parent or a gaggle of little ones. So often, we shovel in some breakfast and figure out what to wear and look for our keys and clamber into the car and lose our patience on the way until we arrive, distracted and disheveled — again. Though we walk smilingly through the doors, our minds and hearts remain miles away.

This scenario may be a little extreme, but it is less hypothetical than some of us — even some of the shiniest saints — may wish to admit. It’s one thing to be present at church, but it’s another to be prepared for church.

Before considering practical remedies for this rut, an important caveat is in order.

If you struggle with depression or are riddled with doubts or have been mistreated by church leaders or are raising kids by yourself, it’s understandable if attending church feels like an arduous ministry. For some Christians, simply getting out of bed requires courage and faith — how much more getting all the way to church. As Rosaria Butterfield has said, “We may never know the treacherous journey people have taken to land in the pew next to us.” So, if gathering with a healthy church is hard and you’re doing so anyway, God bless you.

That said, I am not writing mainly to those for whom church is painful but to those for whom church has become routine — the kind of believers who, when Sunday rolls around, are more likely to yawn than wince. Thankfully, there are many simple changes we can all make to maximize our Sundays. Consider just two.

1. Come Hungry, Leave Full

If your car has been sitting in freezing rain for days, it may take a while for the engine to warm up and run well. For so many years of my Christian life, I basically came to the sermon cold. Maybe I knew the passage to be preached, but I hadn’t read it beforehand.

Why not make it a practice to read the sermon passage before coming to church? It’s not difficult, and you have a whole week to do it. This habit will enrich your sermon-listening experience since you’ll be familiar with the passage. You will therefore lean in, curious to see how the pastor handles this doctrine or that verse. It’s also a habit you can easily practice with others — your family or roommate or friend. It will warm the engine of your mind (and hopefully your heart) so that you are locked in when the message begins, eager to learn and grow.

How often do you pray for your pastor as he’s preparing sermons for you? It’s good if you hold him to a high standard (1 Timothy 3:1–7; Titus 1:5–9), but do you hold yourself to a high standard of prayer for him? Sermon prep is hard. It’s lonely. It’s war. But you can join the fight by asking God to give your pastor insight, to guard him from distraction, to guide him in faithfully unleashing and applying God’s truth.

Don’t stop there, however. Come hungry, yes, but also resolve to leave full.

Sometimes, I tell my congregation that what they get out of my sermons is not just up to me. It’s also up to them. What’s your posture when the message begins? Is it essentially relax and wait to be entertained, or is it lean in, Bible open, ready to hear from the living God? Admittedly, this expectancy comes easier with some passages. I recently preached about an Israelite assassin stabbing a Moabite king, whose fat swallowed the blade as he soiled himself (Judges 3:12–30). The story is, let’s just say, captivating. But what about passages that are deeply familiar or almost elementary in their simplicity? If pride thinks, I’ve heard this before, humility thinks, Who here hasn’t? And if pride thinks, I know this already, humility thinks, I need this again.

Resolving to “leave full” presupposes, of course, that you’re hearing the Bible faithfully proclaimed in your church. (If not, find a different one.) To be sure, you may not be sitting under the greatest preaching in the world. But that’s okay, for as Harold Best once remarked, “A mature Christian is easily edified.” That quote challenges me so much. Let’s say the production quality of the music or the delivery skill of the preacher leaves much to be desired. Are the words true? If so, we should be easily edified. We should be able to leave full.

2. Come Early, Stay Late

The practice of coming early and lingering after is not always easy to pull off, but it can make all the difference. The needed resolve just can’t come on Sunday morning. That’s too late! As my friend Dean Inserra likes to say, Sunday-morning church is a Saturday-night decision. The only way you will ever find yourself there early is if you have forced yourself to be there early.

But arriving early — which of course means waking up early and adjusting your morning routine — yields all kinds of benefits. For starters, it prevents distraction. You’re not careening into the parking lot 43 seconds before the service begins. You’re not rushing through the doors, unable to really engage with anyone because, well, you have to get in there and find a seat (perhaps after dropping off a kid or three). When you do finally sit down — or not, because everyone’s already singing — your mind is racing. Announcements sail over your head. You absorb little from the prayers. Bottom line: you’re engaging from a deficit, trying to catch up, trying to focus, trying to worship. But because you didn’t come earlier, you don’t begin worshiping until halfway through the service.

Arriving early is only half the battle, though. It also helps to linger after the service.

If you’re a Christian, there is no day in your week more important than Sunday. Because it’s the day King Jesus got up from the dead, it’s the day on which his redeemed people have assembled to celebrate him. Sunday worship is the launching pad of your week — a God-designed opportunity to be replenished, receive instruction and encouragement, and catch your breath before stepping back into the duties and distractions of life in a chaotic world. Why rush to leave?

When you linger afterward, you open yourself to connect with others unhurriedly — which nowadays is a countercultural gift. You can ask deliberate questions and listen well. After all, as one person observed, “Being listened to is so close to being loved that most people cannot tell the difference.” If someone is visiting, you can greet him or her warmly, answering questions and exhibiting genuine interest in the exchange. If they’re a fellow member, you can draw him or her out (Proverbs 20:5) and perhaps speak a simple word of encouragement or of challenge — or, best of all, words of prayer, lifting up burdens on the spot to the God who hears.

Sticking around after church also gives you the chance to ask another member how the Lord just ministered to them. Posing such a question shouldn’t be perceived as super-spiritual — it should be normal. How tragic that we can stand in the lobby and feel comfortable discussing fantasy football or the latest show (which is fine) but awkward discussing the very thing we’ve come together to do. Church is not just an event we show up to; it’s a family we belong to. And since the family gathers to be changed, not merely entertained, why not seize the opportunity to debrief while the songs and sermon are still fresh, still ringing in our ears, still begging to be applied?

A mature Christian arrives with eyes for others, plotting to encourage and serve. On Sundays, we meet with Jesus Christ and these blood-bought people he’s placed in our lives — so it’s a privilege to come early and stay late.

Positioned for Success

In an age of customized DIY spirituality that values convenience and comfort more than any previous era in history, committing to a local church amounts to a revolutionary act — and a beautiful one.

By resolving to come hungry and leave full, we position ourselves to grow. And by resolving to come early and stay late, we position ourselves to serve.

Christianity is not a spectator sport. So, let’s get in the game — and stay there, side by side, Sunday after Sunday — until Jesus our King brings us safely home.

Anointed by God 18.11.2024 04:00

Why did God use George Whitefield so powerfully? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper examines Whitefield’s life, highlighting the sovereign work of God through his preaching of the gospel.

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Strangely Hospitable: What Sets Apart a Christian Home 17.11.2024 04:00

In 2003, when my husband and I exchanged rings and vows, Martha Stewart was the gold standard in hospitality. While her focus on the home may have inspired a renaissance of the domestic arts, it set an impossible standard for most women. Many of us could barely pronounce the ingredients in her recipes, much less locate them at the grocery store.

When millennials came of age, however, hospitality trends began to change. Authenticity was key. In Christian circles, a willingness to invite people into your space, such as it was — dirty bathroom and all — was a mark of spirituality, and serving PB&J was more “real” than serving Martha’s “Perfect Roast Chicken.”

Though trends fluctuate, the heart behind truly Christian hospitality never changes. It is God’s love for the stranger that drives our hospitable efforts.

Stranger-Love from the First

The Greek word for hospitality, philoxenia, literally means “love of strangers.” While the Old Testament doesn’t have an exact Hebrew parallel for this word, its stories are flush with illustrations of stranger-love. Traveling was a risky pastime in the days of the patriarchs and prophets. Roads were dangerous, as were public inns (for people who could even afford them). Those who took to the road often had to rely on the hospitality of strangers for provision and protection.

Consider Lot, unwittingly taking in angels at the gates of Sodom to protect them from the perverted plans of the townsmen (Genesis 19:1–3). Think of Rahab, shielding the Israelite spies from discovery (Joshua 2:1–7). Consider the old man of Gibeah, offering food and shelter to the sojourning Levite (Judges 19:16–21). Remember Job’s defense of his blameless life, declaring to his friends that he had been hospitable to the poor, the widow, the orphan, and the needy (Job 31:16–23). Each of these showed love to strangers.

Love for strangers was also codified into Israel’s law, which expanded the category of “stranger” to include society’s most vulnerable: sojourners, foreigners, widows, orphans, and the poor (see Deuteronomy 10:18–19 or Leviticus 19:33–34, for example).

These laws commanded the Israelites to make provision for the needy. They were to leave forgotten sheaves in the fields for the foreigner. They were to beat their olive trees just once, leaving what was left for the poor. They were to make one pass through their vineyards and not to “strip” the vines, so that the sojourner could share their bounty (Deuteronomy 24:19–21). Boaz embodied the spirit of Israel’s hospitality laws when he instructed his harvesters to intentionally leave grain behind so that Ruth, a foreigner at the time, could gather and share it with her widowed mother-in-law (Ruth 2:15–16).

Hospitable God

God expects this kind of hospitality from his people, from those who have been the recipients of his divine hospitality. Once, Israel had been foreigners in Egypt, where they suffered brutal inhospitality until God heard their cries and delivered them from their misery. And once we were “separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world” (Ephesians 2:12). But through divine hospitality, we “are no longer strangers and aliens,” but “fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God” (Ephesians 2:19).

The words separated, alienated, strangers, no hope, and aliens graphically depict our position before God outside of Jesus. If God had anything other than a heart of love toward the stranger, then surely we would have perished.

But the hospitable God looked on our plight with mercy — not with the kind of mercy that throws spare change into a plastic cup, but with a mercy that completely reverses fortunes, overwrites histories, transforms identities, and honors immigrants, even rebellious beggars, turning them into his cherished sons and daughters. God’s redemptive intervention in Jesus is the greatest display of hospitality the world has ever seen.

Like Father, Like Son

But not only does Jesus display God’s hospitality. He embodies it. Despite not having a home to open to strangers, Jesus practiced hospitality. We see it in his care for the sick and dying. He drew near to the fevered and to the leper. We see it in his care for the poor, offering bread for their bodies and “the bread of life” for their souls (John 6:35). When Jesus surveyed the multitudes following him, he didn’t wrinkle his nose at their filth or roll his eyes at their ignorance. Filled with compassion, he gathered them to himself.

Often exhausted and hungry, he nonetheless continued to love these strangers — healing them, feeding them, teaching them, touching them, engaging them, and forgiving them. No one was below his notice — not the little children who flocked to his side, not society’s outcast at the well in Samaria, not the Canaanite woman with the demon-possessed daughter, and not the sinners and tax collectors with whom he broke bread. Jesus welcomed those with questionable reputations, even permitting a prostitute to touch him by washing away the dirt from his feet (Luke 7:36–38).

Mere hours before his arrest, Jesus washed his disciples’ feet. He fervently prayed for them and warmly expressed his love for them. And then, in his final breaths, he welcomed a thief into paradise and pleaded with his Father to forgive his murderers. Hospitable unto death, Jesus embodied the stranger-loving heart of God.

Historically Hospitable

Like Abraham before him, Jesus left his Father and home to dwell among us as a stranger. Though rich, he became poor and lowly. And in that lowliness, he not only offered hospitality but received it. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Susanna, and other women supported his itinerant mission from their own resources (Luke 8:1–3). Mary, Martha, and Lazarus received Jesus into their home.

Once Jesus returned to heaven, his apostles continued the tradition of relying on the hospitality of strangers, as they set up their gospel-preaching operations in the homes of new converts. This is how we meet Lydia. Priscilla and Aquila played a similarly hospitable role in Paul’s ministry when they partnered with him in Corinth and again in Ephesus.

Later, as the church grew, Christians extended hospitality to one another by sharing their resources. Some went so far as to sell their property, donating the proceeds to the apostles to distribute as needs arose. When persecution spiked in one quadrant of the empire, making believers the new societal outcasts, collections were taken in all the churches to provide relief for the suffering. Often, believers imprisoned for their faith relied on gifts from God’s people to supply their basic needs.

Today, healthy churches continue to depend on the hospitality of their members. Peter understood this and so urged the Asian churches “to love one another earnestly and to show hospitality without grumbling” (1 Peter 4:9). As it was for Jesus, hospitality is both a giving and a receiving for believers.

Made for More Than Homemaking

Despite this rich biblical tradition, today’s hospitality is often reduced to a dinner invitation where the entrée, the skill of the host, or even authenticity is the main feature. But true hospitality is so much more than a meal; true hospitality displays something much more worthy than the abilities of the homemaker.

Christian hospitality begins with a warm and welcoming disposition toward your neighbor — and not just the nice-looking, clean-smelling, not-very-needy friend-from-church kind of neighbor, but also the one who isn’t all that pleasant, the one who may sneer at your cheerful greeting or the one who may post uncomfortable political comments online.

Christian hospitality is a heart of mercy toward the outsider, eager to fold them into the family of God. It is a heart of sacrificial love toward fellow believers and a generous heart that uses its resources to meet the needs of missionaries. Ultimately, it is the overflow of a heart that has been utterly transformed by divine hospitality.

That overflow might very well be an invitation to dinner in your home. But it could also be a phone call to check in on someone you haven’t seen in a while, a warm greeting to a newcomer at church, an encouraging word, or a moment’s pause to listen and truly understand. Hospitality may require biting your tongue or faithfully wounding a friend. A bag of groceries, a ride to the doctor, an after-school pickup, childcare, a hospital visit, a check to cover an unexpected expense, housecleaning, a cup of coffee, a gift of flowers, a hug — each of these reflects the hospitable heart of God.

And astoundingly, Jesus eagerly receives your hospitality as an expression of your love for him:

Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me. . . . Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me. (Matthew 25:34–40)

So, do not grow weary in showing hospitality — your King sees and welcomes all your efforts. And one day, he will welcome you into his heavenly home as the recipient of a divine hospitality beyond your earthly imagination.

Good Night, My Son: A Father’s Tribute Through Tragic Loss 16.11.2024 04:00

Thursday, November 16, 2023 — one year ago today — will be etched in my memory as the night that started the journey of my worst fears: losing a family member to the cold hand of death. Around midnight, I got the call that Mwansa, our beloved 32-year-old son, had collapsed and was being rushed to hospital. My wife, Felistas, and I prayed and rushed there, but Mwansa was already unconscious. He was to never open his eyes or speak to us again.

While unconscious, Mwansa underwent surgery on Friday morning that showed he had cerebral arteriovenous malformation, which explained the symptoms he used to exhibit growing up and the recent headaches that medical people had failed to diagnose. From Friday to Sunday, believers all over the world were praying for Mwansa’s recovery. Then, on Sunday, November 19, he was pronounced dead. I posted his photo on social media with the words, “Good night, Son. See you in the morning!” Thus began a journey of grief whose depth we had never known before as a family.

His Faith and Marriage

Mwansa was our second son, born in 1991. In 2005, after a few months of wrestling with the question, “How can I know that God has pardoned my sin?” he came to rest in Christ for salvation and was immediately characterized by an unusual zeal for the Lord Jesus. He wanted to know as much as possible about the Christian faith. His intelligence level was above average, and so he dug deep for spiritual gold. I will never forget the day he walked up to me with one of the volumes of The Works of John Owen and said, “Dad, why do people say that John Owen is hard to understand? I am enjoying reading him. He is not difficult.”

Mwansa went on to study architecture in Cyprus but did not practice this profession for long. He realized that his passion lay in discipling younger believers, so he quit his job and started working for the African Christian University in the student labor program, which gave him a lot of time to shape the lives of students.

Three years before Mwansa died, he married Sonile. He had fallen in love with her some ten years earlier and was elated when she finally accepted his proposal of marriage in 2018. Their home became a venue for many youth activities. Using Sonile’s guitar prowess, they had many sing-alongs at their home in their few years together.

His Ministry and Glory

Mwansa also started monthly meetings with young men in the church, which they called “In Understanding Be Men” (after Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 14:20). During these meetings, he challenged his fellow youths to think hard after God. Unknown to us, Mwansa also maintained personal correspondence with many young adults across the city, the nation, and the continent. These came out of the woodwork when they heard of his death and expressed how his personal attention made them feel as if they were the closest of friends to him.

He had a blog and a podcast (The Anti-Modern Blog and Podcast) where he regularly posted challenging messages to fellow young adults so that they could think more biblically about the issues of the day. His last post, “Beware of the Second Sin,” was written on the very day he collapsed.

A few months before Mwansa died, he presented himself before the elders of the church asking that they set him apart (with a friend of his who was also a church member) to the work of church planting. The elders were processing this request when God was pleased to take our son to glory. As you can imagine, we are still asking the question, “Lord, why should you take such a gifted young man who was on the eve of pastoral ministry?” I guess we may never know until we join our son in glory.

Applying God’s Balm

It is now a year since Mwansa left us. Our family has been on a journey of grief during this period. Whereas many people choose to withdraw from public spaces when they suffer such devastating loss, I opted to put into practice what our son Mwansa called “digital hospitality.” By that he meant that Christians should consider having enough of a social-media presence to show the world how their faith governs their response to life’s situations. Anyone reading my posts during that time could tell that I was heartbroken and that my emotions were seesawing between dark grief and shining hope.

After a month of wrestling with God in this way, it dawned on me that I had a grieving family I needed to shepherd. So I started a monthlong series of daily devotions on grief that I sent to each family member, seeking to address the questions on our minds as we wrestled with the loss of a dear son, brother, and husband.

The first devotion answered the question, “Why has this happened to us?” My answer came from Job 1:9–11, where God displays his absolute yet loving sovereignty in bringing a calamity into the life of a choice servant. The last devotion answered the question, “How do we proceed after this tragic loss?” The answer was based on Joshua 1:1, 5–6, where God acknowledges the death of Moses but encourages Joshua and the rest of Israel to press on and accomplish his divine agenda. This was God’s message to us as a family. According to the testimony of my family members, the Lord used this devotional series to apply “the balm of Gilead” to their emotional and spiritual wounds.

Our church’s elders have also taken note of the youths who were devastated by the loss of Mwansa, their mentor, and have been counseling them during this season of grief. The elders have kept me abreast of the impact that Mwansa’s life and death have had on these youths. My prayer is that this awakening will reap much fruit for God’s glory.

A Loss to Steward

Since the homegoing of Mwansa, my wife and I have benefitted greatly from Tim Challies’s book Seasons of Sorrow. Tim and his wife, Aileen, lost their twenty-year-old son, Nick, the year he went to college. Like our son, he died suddenly. Felistas and I had already read the book before Mwansa died. But now we read it again, and this time together, initially one chapter a day and then one chapter every few days, allowing the cordial to soothe our aching souls. What a gift this book has been! A lightbulb moment for both Felistas and me came when Tim wrote about stewarding Nick’s death. He writes in chapter 17,

We’ve been called to a new task now, a new stewardship, and it falls to us to prove faithful in his death. We labored to raise him in a way that brings glory to God; we now labor to release him in a way that brings glory to God. (71)

We have since been talking about that eye-opening concept. One way we have sought to steward Mwansa’s death has been by practically loving his widow, Sonile. We trust that the watching world is seeing what a difference the grace of God brings in a family that honors him. We have also been blowing into the sails of his blog posts by publishing them in book form and making the book available to the age group he passionately ministered to while he lived. May God bless these efforts to the spiritual good of many souls.

‘See You in the Morning’

We still have our dark days and are grateful for the moments when light shines through the gloom. One thought that has proved therapeutic is that what happened to Mwansa was precisely what we were preparing him for. When he was a child in our home, we often pleaded with him to yield his life to Christ in order to prepare to meet his Maker. Well, he was prepared, and he went ahead of us to meet his Savior and his God.

We do not mourn as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Unless Jesus returns first, death will come to all of us. What matters is that we use this temporal existence to prepare for what is permanent. My parting words should not be “Goodbye, Son,” as if we will never meet again. They should be exactly what my parting words were on the day Mwansa died: “Good night, Son. See you in the morning!”