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Redeemed to Perpetuate the Name

Aug 22, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

Then Boaz said to the elders and all the people, “You are witnesses this day that I have bought from the hand of Naomi all that belonged to Elimelech and all that belonged to Chilion and to Mahlon. Also Ruth the Moabite, the widow of Mahlon, I have bought to be my wife, to perpetuate the name of the dead in his inheritance, that the name of the dead may not be cut off from among his brothers and from the gate of his native place. You are witnesses this day.”
— Ruth 4:9-10

Boaz is that rare man who does things because God is real (Ruth 3:13). So behind and within all of his provision and care for Ruth is the desire to glorify God. We see this even in his expressed motivation upon winning Naomi’s land and Ruth’s hand from the redeemer with first dibs. He says he has purchased them to perpetuate the names of dead relatives. Clearly Boaz is a “worthy man” (Ruth 2:1) and not just in the sense of financial means.

Were it not for Boaz’s larger-than-self vision, we would not have the story of Ruth. Her faithfulness, her commitment, her optimism, her submission are to her praise and God’s, but Boaz’s faithfulness — his full-of-faith-ness — in redeeming her puts her on the map. Against the dark backdrop of the book of Judges’ lawless grotesqueries, in which every man did what was right in his own eyes, Boaz shines with the predawn radiance of God’s glory in Christ.

Do you know the name of the kinsman redeemer first in line?

Exactly.

In Ruth 4:1, Boaz calls him “friend,” and the Hebrew behind that word roughly translates to “so and so.” Whether his reasons for passing on Ruth were good or bad, old so-and-so’s name is not perpetuated. But we know who Elimelech, Mahlon, Naomi, and Ruth are because Boaz honored them by honoring God.

And because Boaz honored them by honoring God, his own name is perpetuated, and his son’s, and his son’s son, and his son’s son’s son, and so on until the lot of them spill into Matthew 1, and what we learn there is that Boaz has redeemed Naomi’s plot of land and Ruth’s widowed hand in order to perpetuate the name of God’s Son, Jesus Christ.

And this is why any of us are redeemed: not just so that we’d be personally forgiven and fulfilled, but so that God’s name and Christ’s lordship would be magnified in every nook and cranny of our lives spreading into every square inch of the world until we spill into the life and world to come. We are redeemed for his namesake and to perpetuate his name (Malachi 1:11).

And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I deal with you for my name’s sake . . .
— Ezekiel 20:44

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The Bridegroom’s Incredible Vow

Aug 22, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

“Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church.
— Ephesians 5:31-32

Among the many riches and depths of Paul’s words on marriage in Ephesians 5 are these two:
1) Marriage is meant to make us holy more than happy (all apologies to Gary Thomas).
and
2) Happiness and romance are byproducts of a healthy marriage, but the ultimate purpose of marriage is the magnification of Christ.

Therefore, if we want a gospeled marriage, we will take to heart what God is saying here about husbands and wives and one-fleshedness and sacrifice and submission and respect and cherishing. Because God knows what he’s talking about. He designed the thing. And it’s not like he didn’t anticipate all the reasons we’d come up with to explain why these admonitions don’t exactly apply to our situations. Like, we all know we’re married to sinners, but couldn’t have God given us a, you know, less sinny sinner to be married to?

But this is exactly what marriage is for. This is what the marriage vows are for. You don’t really even need that “for better” stuff in there, that “in richness” and “in health” stuff. Nobody in their right mind is bailing during the good times. No, the vows are for the other stuff. “For worse.” “In poverty.” “In sickness.” The vows exist because sin is real. Sure, we may not know what sins will become real in our relationships, putting stress on the covenant, but the vows exist because sin does.

The vow of the gospel exists because sin does.

See, the story of Christ and his bride is very messy. Very difficult. It is a sordid history, to be sure. One of the most vivid illustrations we get is that of the prophet Hosea who was commanded by God to take a prostitute for a wife. And she keeps cheating on him and prostituting herself, Hosea stays faithful through all the pain, the heartache, the dishonor, the confusion. He stays faithful. Why? Because God had joined them together. And because God in his astounding wisdom and artistry was showing Hosea – and us – what it is like for Christ to love his church.

When we stand at the altars making our vows, we really don’t think the bad will be that bad. We expect sin but not that kind. But our holy bridegroom Jesus Christ makes his vow knowing full well what he’s forgiving. He knows us inside and out. He knows what we’re guilty of and what we will be guilty of. He knows just how awful it’s going to get.

Every day, you and I reject the holiness of Jesus in a million different ways, only a fraction of which are we conscious of. If Jesus were keeping a list of our wrongs, none of us would stand a chance. At any second of any day, even on our best days, Jesus could have the legal grounds to say, “Enough of this. I can’t do it any more. You’ve violated my love for the last time.” The truth is, you’ve never met a wronged spouse like Jesus. You’ve never met a disrespected spouse like Jesus. You’ve never met a spouse who more than carried their weight like Jesus. He’s carrying the entire relationship on his back. This thing is totally one-sided.

And yet: He loves. And he gives. And he serves. And he approves. And he washes. And he delights. And he romances. And he doesn’t just tolerate us; he lavishes his affection on us. He justifies and sanctifies and glorifies.

I don’t know what you come away from Ephesians 5:22-33 thinking. Maybe you read it and think, “Sacrifice? Submit? No way. I can’t do this.”
Husbands are thinking, “I cannot sacrifice for her.”
Wives are thinking, “I cannot submit to him.”
And we can’t — at least, not the way God wants us to.

God knows this. He knows we are terrible obeyers. He knows we are self-interested sacrificers and stubborn submitters. And he gave up his life for us anyway. He died to forgive all our sins and rose again that we might never have them held against us.

Be still, our beating hearts. Here’s a groom worth swooning over.

I will establish my covenant with you, and you shall know that I am the Lord, that you may remember and be confounded, and never open your mouth again because of your shame, when I atone for you for all that you have done, declares the Lord God.”
— Ezekiel 16:62-63

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Young(ish), Settled, and Reformed

Aug 21, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

… for if this plan or this undertaking is of man, it will fail; but if it is of God . . .
— from Acts 5:38-39

It has been asked in a variety of ways from the outside and the inside since the so-called “young, restless, and Reformed” tribe hit the threshold of unignorable visibility: Can this movement be sustained? Is it just a fad? What are your concerns, fears, and cautions for this subculture? (Aren’t they really just “Together 4 Calvinism?”)

Only God knows.

Whether one sees the tumult of the last few years as growing pains or death throes probably depends on what one is hoping for.
The internal squabbles and the external accusations.
The debating and the excluding and the parting of ways.
The scandals, the sins.
The discipline.
These could all mean the tribe is on its way to the dustbin of history, a “flash in the pan” as they say. Or it could be a great settling, a great sanctifying, a great re-reforming around Jesus.

My prayer as we sort out a lot of our junk is that the great settling I’m seeing throughout the tribe — the growing up, the looking up to the older and wiser and gentler, the increasing self-reflection, the spreading quietness, all of it — will be its strengthening. Yes, Lord, let the settling be a strengthening.

May we lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and may we run with endurance the race that is set before us. May we actually, truly, for the growth of the church and the joy of the world and the glory of Christ be gospel-centered.

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When God Lays Down His Bow

Aug 21, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

RainbowWhen the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.”
— Genesis 9:16-17

The rainbow was thus marked as the sign of God’s promise not to visit wrath on the earth by way of the flood. But it is bigger than that, isn’t it? The rainbow is another sign of God’s promise to remove his wrath from his children.

The Hebrew word for “bow” in this text is the exact same Hebrew word used for the kind of bow one uses in battle, as in the ol’ “bow and arrow.” What God is talking about in this promise is that he is laying his weapons down.

In his commentary, Marcus Dods writes:

They accepted it as a sign that God has no pleasure in destruction, that he does not give way to moods, that he does not always chide, that if weeping may endure for a night joy is sure to follow. If any one is under a cloud, leading a joyless, heartless life, if any one has much apparent reason to suppose that God has given him up to catastrophe, and lets things run as they may, there is some satisfaction in reading this natural emblem and recognizing that without the cloud, nay, without the cloud breaking into heavy sweeping rains there cannot be the bow, and that no cloud of God’s sending is permanent, but will one day give place to an unclouded joy.

We keep seeking peace, peace, where there is no peace, and we only find our true lasting eternal joy-saturated peace when it comes by the Spirit of God straight from Father God in the gospel of the Son of God. It is in Christ Jesus’ work that we see that God “lays down his bow.”

And we can keep seeking peace even in God’s good gifts — work, family, recreation, food, art and culture, the great outdoors — but we can’t find the peace that endures forever until we find it in the gospel. Because cultivation and justice, while ordained by God, are administered by man and therefore can never truly satisfy.

But the covenant of grace is administered by God himself. So when we seek peace there, we truly find it. It’s not tainted by sin because God is holy and his Son is sinless.

And until we find peace in the gospel, in fact, we find only the search for peace and therefore no peace at all: “There is no peace,” says my God, “for the wicked” (Is. 57:21).

But for the Christian? “You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you” (Is. 26:3).

I love this excerpt from John Bunyan’s “Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners”:

One day as I was passing into the field, this sentence fell upon my soul: “Thy righteousness is in heaven.” And with the eyes of my soul I saw Jesus at the Father’s right hand. “There,” I said, “is my righteousness!” So that wherever I was or whatever I was doing, God could not say to me, “Where is your righteousness?” For it is always right before him.

I saw that it is not my good frame of heart that made my righteousness better, nor yet my bad frame that made my righteousness worse, for my righteousness IS Christ. Now my chains fell off indeed. My temptations fled away, and I lived sweetly at peace with God.

Indeed, Ephesians 2:14 says “For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility.”

The rainbow, then, is a sign of God’s promise that he has hung up his bow, and it’s a reminder to himself of his grace toward the earth, and in the same way, the cross is a sign of God’s promise that he has hung his Son up to die and it’s a reminder of his grace toward you that because Christ has taken the wrath, the wrath is taken. It is over, done, finished, removed, satisfied, propitiated.

At the cross of Christ, the wrath of God owed to sinners is absorbed, satisfied, set aside for all eternity. Dead and done with. His anger is gone, his love remains and it endures. The lovingkindness of our Lord is everlasting. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies are new every morning.

Every day you mess up, and maybe you fess up, but you’re even messing up in your fessing up. But God’s love is constant, always forgiving, always covering, always sustaining, always sourcing real peace deep inside.

Maybe you need to hear this today: Christian, God isn’t angry with you. His smile is over you. Zephaniah 3:17 says he “rejoices over you with gladness; he quiets you by his love; he exults over you with loud singing.”

“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus” (Rom. 8:1).
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
(Apply directly to the forehead.)

Because Christ has come to take the condemnation, he takes it away into the wilderness and casts it into the void, and his precious blood is given as a covering for you; it speaks a better word than the blood of Abel, because while Abel’s blood cried out for the justice we keep seeking, Jesus’ blood cries out that justice has been accomplished. Every sin of yours — past present and future — has been accounted for and paid for, and now that the gospel takes dominion in your heart, it bears fruit and multiplies from one degree of glory to another, in mercy after mercy, precisely because we have received Christ himself and John 1:16 says that from his fullness we all received “grace upon grace.” There is a radiant kaleidoscope of blessings in the gospel.

We can breathe. We can wipe our brow. We can unclench our fists. God has laid down his bow.

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There is No Faith So Little That it Is Not Saving

Aug 20, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

And Zechariah said to the angel, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” And the angel answered him, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time.”
— Luke 1:18-20

Gabriel has come to tell the aged Zechariah that his wife Elizabeth will give birth to a son (John the Baptist). You would think that when an angel scares you half to death, you’d believe what he says. But Zechariah doubts.

At this point of doubt, then, you might expect Gabriel to say, “Never mind, then. I’m taking my Baptist and going home.” And he does take something away from Zechariah — his voice. But he still gives Zechariah and Elizabeth the baby anyway.

This is a picture of grace. The “good news” (v.19) “will be fulfilled” (v.20).

I notice the interesting contrast between verse 20 and the declaration of Luke 1:6, that this couple was righteous, blameless keepers of the law. That God would call this doubting old man, who won’t believe when an angel is right before his face “blameless and righteous” is just further proof that there is no faith so little that it can’t be saving, that it’s not the strength of the faith that saves, but the strength of the Savior.

And it’s also proof that blamelessness and righteousness aren’t earned but given. If Zechariah and Elizabeth were given what they deserved and what their circumstances indicated, they’d just keep going through the motions, getting older than old and die. Instead, God blesses them according to his goodness, according to his glory, according to his strength, redeeming their circumstances, redeeming their time. Zechariah’s faith might have been little, and at the moment it mattered most, it was practically nonexistent — “you did not believe my words,” Gabriel says — but God’s saving plan will prevail.

There is no faith so little that it can’t be saving.

When we come to the end of this passage in v.25, Elizabeth is holding her pregnant belly and says, “Thus the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, to take away my reproach among people.”

All hope seemed lost. For this couple and for Israel. But God would not be hindered by weak faith. Jesus says a faith the size of a mustard seed will move mountains. Despite all their weakness, God has taken away their reproach.

The shame, the accusation, the insults, the derision — taken away by God’s grace.

Jesus later calls Zechariah’s son “the greatest man born of woman” (Matt. 11:11). John went on to proclaim the Lord’s favor and prepare the way for the Messiah’s ministry by pointing people to Jesus as the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. But he had his own moment of doubt at a low moment. (Like father, like son?)

John was in prison, awaiting his execution, and he sends word to ask of Jesus, “Are you really the one we’ve been waiting for?”

Do you remember that it’s in this exact same scene where Jesus calls John the greatest man who ever lived? This guy who just exposed his doubtful question in his moment of fearful weakness — the greatest?

There is no faith so little that it can’t be saving. Faith does not have to be strong to be saving, it just has to be real. The smallest faith, if it is real, receives the same strength of Christ in salvation as the strongest faith.

Your little strength is no hindrance for God. In fact, our weakness is God’s primary means of demonstrating his power, power that will be revealed gloriously even when our strength gives out totally and we die. For when we die, we will know only his power, which in the end will raise us up.

John the Baptist must have learned this somewhere along the way, maybe from his old dad Zechariah, because he declares in John 3:30, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”

No matter your weakness, God is God. And no matter your faith — big and strong or tiny and feeble — if it is true faith, saved is saved.

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Do Not Let Your Sense of Failure Blind You to the Glory of Gospel Freedom

Aug 20, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

Memoirs-of-an-Ordinary-Pastor“When I was a young man, I heard D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones comment that he would not go across the street to hear himself preach. Now that I am close to the age he was when I heard him, I am beginning to understand. It is rare for me to finish a sermon without feeling somewhere between slightly discouraged and moderately depressed that I have not preached with more unction, that I have not articulated these glorious truths more powerfully and with greater insight, and so forth. But I cannot allow that to drive me to despair; rather, it must drive me to a greater grasp of the simple and profound truth that we preach and visit and serve under the gospel of grace, and God accepts us because of his Son. I must learn to accept myself not because of my putative successes but because of the merits of God’s Son. The ministry is so open-ended that one never feels that all possible work has been done, or done as well as one might like. There are always more people to visit, more studying to be done, more preparation to do. What Christians must do, what Christian leaders must do, is constantly remember that we serve our God and Maker and Redeemer under the gospel of grace. [My] Dad’s diaries show he understood this truth in theory, and sometimes he exulted in it (as when he was reading Machen’s What Is Faith?), but quite frankly, his sense of failure sometimes blinded him to the glory of gospel freedom.”

– D.A. Carson, Memoirs of an Ordinary Pastor: The Life and Reflections of Tom Carson (Crossway, 2008), 92-93.

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Jesus Never Ends

Aug 19, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

Jesus is patient and kind; he is not envious or boastful; he’s not arrogant or rude. He did not insist on his own way but following his Father’s will, left the glory of heaven to empty himself and serve us and sacrifice himself for us.

Jesus isn’t irritable or resentful. And Jesus keeps no record of wrongs that he might rejoice over us in our sins and failings – for he has forgiven us all our trespasses, throwing our sins into the depths of the sea to remember them no more and has JUSTIFIED us. Jesus rejoices with the truth of his grace that declares us righteous; he delights in us and over us.

Therefore, in Jesus we can bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things.

Jesus never ends.

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Walk in the Light

Aug 19, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.
— 1 John 1:7

We feasted on this verse at our men’s discipleship group meeting last night. There is much to be nourished by here. One connection we do not often make is how “walking in the light” is connected to “having fellowship with one another.” But the connection is this: if we are not willing to step into the truth of confession, repentance, faithfulness, and the humility all that entails, no one can be in a real relationship with the real us. The less we are in the light, the less the true us is known. Whole relationships carry on in the dark sometimes, especially in churches, where everyone is in relationship with everybody’s projected version of themselves, with facades.

Here is Ray Ortlund on this passage from his great little book The Gospel: How the Church Portrays the Beauty of Christ:

A heart aloof from God grows aloof from others. It engages in merciless comparisons and endless faultfinding. Therefore, all restoration begins by going back to God first, prodigals that we are.

The wonderful thing is that, when we lose our way, God is not hard to find again. He has made himself very findable. He is “in the light” — right out there in the place of truth, honesty, openness, confession, and owning up. God himself awaits us there. We sinners can go to him freely through the cross of Christ. There in the light, but only in the light, everything gets better in our relationships with one another too.

The price we pay is to face ourselves. That is humiliating and painful. It’s why we shun the light. There are episodes in our past that we don’t want to think about — harsh words, acts of betrayal, broken promises, and worse. We shove these memories down into the darkness of our excuses and blame-shifting. We refuse to call sin “sin.” We feel too threatened by what we have done even to admit it to ourselves, much less confess it to others. But those places of deepest shame are where the Lord Jesus loves us the most tenderly. Is there any reason not to walk in his light together, where we recover fellowship with one another and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin?

It is so refreshing to come back out into the light of honesty again, where we first met the Lord. It is there that ex-friends can be regained by love. It is there that Jesus is glorified in the eyes of the world.

Gospel doctrine creates a gospel culture.

(p.117)

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Depression and Common Grace

Aug 13, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

A few years ago I had a book published called Gospel Wakefulness. It is a very important book to me, as it came out of the second most important event of my life, second only to my conversion — the moment when the gospel became realer than real. And this happened out of a great personal disaster. I won’t rehash my testimony here; many of my readers are familiar with it. But it was important for me to include in this book a chapter on Depression. That may seem like an odd choice for a book about exulting in the grace of God with joy unspeakable and full of glory, but I wasn’t interested in applying the gospel to the happy-go-lucky. And this book out of all my books, and this chapter out of all my chapters, has prompted the most messages of appreciation. I trust it is helpful.

Below is an excerpt from this chapter, a portion that covers God’s gracious provision of ordinary “helps,” and a gracious encouragement to those hurting who are often further hurt by well-meaning churchfolk who inappropriately spiritualize such afflictions.

The first thing we may say about the bigness of Jesus is that he is big enough to help us in many ordinary means. Many Christians have adopted the unfortunate posture of Job’s friends, adding more discouragement to those discouraged in depression by urging them not to seek help except via spiritual disciplines like prayer and Bible study. These are certainly the most important prescriptions for any of us!

The fuller truth, however, is that while Jesus is enough, his enough-ness may be manifested in our getting help from material means. These too are gifts from God, provided through the common graces of scientific research, academic study, pastoral giftedness, analytic method, and modern medicine.

What I mean is this: talk to a trained counselor and take the meds if they are needed. When it comes to medication, at the very least, don’t not take it out of fear of distrust of Jesus. Antidepressants may or may not help you, but discuss the options with your doctor, preferably after conferring with a clinical psychologist who is also a Christian, and if you decide they are not for you, don’t decide so because you think to take them is to deny Jesus’s ability to heal.

Yes, Jesus is enough, but it must really be Jesus, not some invoking of the idea of Jesus, some platitude involving Jesus’s name, some hollow encouragement via cheap cliché. One question I’d ask those who’d suggest that those on medication for depression or anxiety should ditch the pills and just “trust Jesus” is if they’ve ever been to the doctor for anything, taken medicine for anything. Do they wear glasses or contact lenses? Why? Isn’t Jesus enough? (Do you drive a car? Why doesn’t Jesus beam you to work?)

I’m being silly, but I really am not trying to be reductive. The problem with “Jesus should be enough” in response to the question, “should Christians take anti-depressants?” is that the Jesus in view in the assertion is disembodied. He is an idea, a concept. I don’t think Christians can say with any integrity, “Jesus is enough,” without attempting to do what Jesus did to “be Jesus” for people, which frequently included meeting their physical and emotional needs. The gospel truth of “Jesus is enough” doesn’t have some vague, ethereal, unincarnated spiritual meaning.

That we have medicine to help us heal physically and psychologically is a gift from Jesus, just as salvation from sins is a gift from Jesus. Of course, if I had to take one over the other, I would take pain now and heaven later, but that’s theoretical, and thankfully I don’t often have to choose one or the other.

And it certainly isn’t the gospel of Jesus to heap guilt on people who need medical help to be healthy people. Jesus may heal any of us without ordinary means—and I do believe he heals today by purely Spiritual means, what most of us would call a miracle—but this kind of healing is not normative. And that’s all right. Medicine is not a mandate for the depressed person. But neither is it off limits. It can be, properly prescribed and taken, a gift of common grace. Likewise, seeking help from a pastoral counselor or Christian psychologist is nothing to be ashamed of.

– from Gospel Wakefulness (Crossway, 2011)

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Building and Destroying, Transforming and Terrifying — All with a Word

Aug 06, 2014 | Jared C. Wilson

It shouldn’t work. It makes no sense. It is not lofty wisdom and it is not a miraculous sign, as far as signs expected go. It’s really just a message, an announcement. When you break it down — you know, information-wise — it’s really simply an historical anecdote.

But it’s really all we’ve got.

See, while some seek to persuade by barbarism or bribery, by marauding or manipulation, we’ve got a message. (shrug)

Some religious missions will put a knife to your throat. In this one, the only throat threatened may be our own. Some crack the metaphorical whip, the leverage of the law. Us? Anything we might hand out says not “to do” but “was done.” What the heck are we thinking?

As Rabshakeh asked Hezekiah, “Do you think that mere words are strategy and power for war?” (2 Kings 18:20).

The answer is yes. Yes, we do.

Because this news of a thing done two thousand years ago is power today straight from another world. It crushes strongholds, destroys spiritual kingdoms. It resurrects the dead, revives the weary. It captures and frees, builds and destroys, transforms and terrifies. The infernal prince of the power of the air? One little word shall fell him.

Some seek wisdom and others seek signs. But we preach Christ crucified. Foolishness. Scandalizing. Where the magnificent gears of religious machinations turn, while the scrolls of philosophy endlessly unfurl, while the cult of spiritual thuggery keeps up its march of bloodshed and tyranny, we sing “Jesus loves me, this is I know. For the Bible tells me so.” It’s for children, for God’s sake.

And yet in a world of perverse wickedness, of rampant injustice, of deep brokenness, of desperation and of despair — this one little message is our only hope.

And it is the only power. You cannot stop it. One day every knee and tongue will be compelled to respond to this laughable notion, be it with regret or reverence.

Dress for action like a man, world. The gospel is coming.

[T]he word of the truth, the gospel, [has come] to you, as indeed in the whole world it is bearing fruit and increasing.
— Colossians 1:5-6

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