How to tackle your inbox:
3.25.2010
Pushing Kids to Do What We Do Not
3.23.2010
Read the Introduction to "Assurance of Salvation"
To give you a taste of my new book, Assurance of Salvation: Implications of a New Testament Theology of Hope, here are the first three paragraphs from the introduction:
For millennia, thinking people have wrangled with the problem of human existence. The primary areas of discussion concern humanity's origin (summarized in the question, "Where did we come from?"), purpose ("Why are we here?"), and destiny ("What happens after death?"). Philosophers of every culture, language, and era have applied their minds to solve these fundamental riddles of life. This unending search for satisfying answers should not surprise Christians, since God has told them that "he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end" (Ec 3:11, ESV). So the greatest human thinkers continue to apply their finite minds to the task of understanding the eternal that God has set in their hearts.Fortunately for the Christian, God has answered these and many other questions through His revelation of Himself in Scripture. From the first pages of the Bible, the believer learns that the origin of humanity is God Himself: "God said, 'Let us make man in our image, after our likeness'" (Ge 1:26, ESV). Scripture also teaches the believer what the purpose of his existence is: "Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God" (1 Co 10:31, ESV; cf. Co 1:16; Re 4:11). Scripture asserts, however, that humanity cannot fulfill its purpose because of its sin (Ro 3:23). What one does with the problem of sin, the Bible teaches, determines his destiny. If one goes on in his sin, he will face death, but if he turns from his sin, he will enjoy eternal life (Ro 6:23). John the Apostle summarizes the two possible destinies for all people: "Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him" (Jo 3:36, ESV).Since Christians have God's Word on these matters, one might conclude that there would follow a strong sense of confidence concerning humanity's origin, purpose, and destiny. Unfortunately, this is not always the case, especially in the matter of human destiny. That is not to say all believers are in full agreement on the other two issues. Concerning human origin, professing believers hold a variety of views. Nevertheless all agree in principle that life begins with God. Concerning the purpose of humanity, few Christians would disagree with the truth that the purpose of life is to glorify God. Scores of Christians, however, lack assurance regarding the third issue, the matter of their own destiny. They might agree with the biblical truths concerning Christ's efficacious atonement for the sins of His people and His justifying work for those who believe. But on the heels of these truths follows a nagging sense of doubt. "These things are true, but are they true for me? Am I completely sure that my destiny is an eternity with God?" In other words, the difficulty for these people lies not in the area of objective truth, but in the area of subjective assurance of the objective truth. This lack of assurance gives birth to years of doubt and spiritual affliction for many believers.
You can continue reading the introduction online. The following pdfs are available:
3.22.2010
PCRT Returns to Greenville
The Philadelphia Conference on Reformed Theology returns to Greenville next month. Last year's gathering was a tremendous blessing, and this year should prove to be another wonderful time of instruction, fellowship, and worship.This year's slate of speakers includes:
- Joel Beeke, President of Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary in Grand Rapids, MI. He has authored many books and recently spoke at commencement for Geneva Reformed Seminary in Greenville.
- Michael Horton, J. Gresham Machen Professor of Systematic Theology and Apologetics at Westminster Theological Seminary in Escondido, CA. He is editor-in-chief of Modern Reformation, a bi-monthly magazine.
- Cornel Venema, President and Professor of Doctrinal Studies at Mid-America Reformed Seminary in Dyer, IN.
- J. Ligon Duncan, Senior Minister of First Presbyterian Church in Jackson, MS, and a native of Greenville.
- Rick Phillips, Senior Minister of the host church, Second Presbyterian Church in downtown Greenville.
How do we biblically understand our time as the final age of world history and what does it mean to our faith? This is the question that will be taken up by our 39th meeting of the Philadelphia Conference on Reformed Theology. Reformed Christians have often shunned the field of eschatology, surrendering end times doctrine to more popular (but less biblical) schemes. But eschatology is important! Paul describes the fulfillment of history as "our blessed hope" (Titus 2:13), a hope made real to us now through our faith. It was their Christian doctrine of history that thrilled the first Christian disciples: they realized that with the coming of the "last days" they had entered into the reign of the eschatological kingdom that dawned with the coming of Christ. Our faith will likewise be strengthened by a biblical view of eschatology and a right understanding of what it means to live in "this present evil age" (Gal. 1:4) by means of the "powers of the age to come" (Heb. 6:5).The conference begins Friday, April 16 at 6:00 p.m. and runs through the day Saturday. It concludes with the Sunday worship services at Second Presbyterian Church. The cost is $125; registering with a group of 5 or more lowers the price to $95.
You can register online here.
More Book Signing Info
A few things I've learned about Wednesday's book signing:
- As you know, the signing itself will be over lunch, from 11:30 a.m. until 1:00 p.m.
- The book will be available at a 30% discount. That brings the price to $16.07 plus tax.
- That price is good all day Wednesday at the BJU Campus Store. It opens at 8:30 a.m. and after the 7:00 p.m. service on campus.
3.21.2010
Book Signing on Wednesday
I'll be signing copies of my new book, Assurance of Salvation: Implications of a New Testament Theology of Hope, at the BJU Campus Store (map | #10 on campus map). I'll be there this Wednesday from 11:30 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. I think there will be a discount on the day of the signing. Hope you can stop by and say Hello.Can't make it to the signing? You can order a copy online (BJU Press | Amazon).
The Campus Store has created a FaceBook event. You can RSVP here.
3.19.2010
Considerations for Suffering People
Ed Welch, author, counselor, and CCEF faculty member, posted a very helpful article entitled, "More Things Not to Say to Those Who are Suffering." If you are interested in knowing how to serve suffering friends and church members with your deeds and words, I recommend that you give attention to his comments. (Frankly I would commend any of Welch's writings to you.)I would like to draw attention to one point of disagreement. My quibble is not with Welch, per se, as you will see. I simply want to encourage sufferers to consider how they endure hardship.
Welch describes how, over the years, he has heard from many sufferers. Through those conversations he developed a list of helpful and unhelpful things that sufferers had heard from would-be comforters. Then he writes:
Here is something that I have heard a number of times on the “Not Helpful” list. I have heard it often enough that it deserves to become part of our body of pastoral wisdom.“If you need anything, please call me—anytime.”
Suffers are usually gracious and give us a lot of slack for thoughtless remarks, so I was surprised when this became a theme. Those who mentioned it didn’t say that the comment was meaningless to them, though it was. They said that it was actually unhelpful. Why? I usually don’t ask that question, but I can piece together some of the answers.
- If “comforters” knew anything about real hardship, they would know that sufferers usually don’t know what they want or need.
- If comforters knew anything about the sufferer, they would know what the sufferer wants or needs.
- If comforters really knew the sufferer, they would know that he or she would never make the call. Never.
The comment is the equivalent of “ta ta, see you later,” “luv ya, call me sometime,” or some other mindless goodbye. The speaker is not giving any real thought to the comforter’s needs and circumstances, and the suffering person knows it.
So don’t say “If you need anything, please call me—anytime.” to anyone. Let’s put it to rest and never let it appear on another “Not Helpful” list.
I mildly disagree with the frequent objection to the comment, "If you need me, call me--anytime." When I was going through chemotherapy and radiation, I heard it countless times. And sure it may seem the equivalent of "a mindless goodbye." But it seems at least a step better than that. The comforter could simply end what to him/her is already an awkward conversation by actually verbalizing, "Well, bye," and then walking out. Thankfully that never happened to me. But if it did, I wouldn't put that on the same level as "If you need me, call." The latter is at least an attempt to serve or care; the former is not.
Furthermore I think the sufferer needs to be careful about thinking things like, "if they knew hardship they wouldn't ask" or "if they knew me, they wouldn't ask."
- Re: hardship, the sufferer must recognize that God is just as sovereign over the other person's relative non-suffering as God is over his/her own suffering. Is it really that person's fault for not knowing hardship like the sufferer does? Does the sufferer even know whether the comforter has experienced hardship? And that perhaps, when the comforter was suffering, he/she had a list of ways that people could help? In short, the sufferer needs to be careful not to assume the position of judge.
- Re: relationship, the sufferer must recognize that friendship is a two-way street. Saying "if the comforter knew anything about me" presumes that the other person is the only one responsible for a relationship. That raises a couple of different thoughts. (a) Assuming a larger church like mine, is it really reasonable for the sufferer to expect that everyone would know him/her? The sufferer recognizes that he/she cannot know everyone else, so why should he/she suppose that others know him/her very well? (b) Assuming a smaller church in which everyone is recognizable, the sufferer must consider whether he/she has invested at all in the comforter's life. Again, relationships are a two-way street. They may not know me, but do I really know them? And would--or should--my limited knowledge of them keep me from caring for them?
HT: Andy Naselli
3.17.2010
Announcing My First Book: Assurance of Salvation
I am pleased to announce my first published work, Assurance of Salvation: Implications of a New Testament Theology of Hope.From the back cover:
How may believers be sure of their salvation?Over the next few days, I'll post some excerpts from the book, where to purchase it, and (for you who live in Upstate SC) book signing information.
For centuries, this question has troubled Christians in both the pew and the pulpit. Some believers live for years under a cloud of doubts. Others minister to professing Christians who have complete assurance of salvation but show little fruit of it.
Among theologians, debates rage especially over two general questions: what may Christians be sure of regarding their salvation, and what should make them sure of it? May they be sure of final salvation now, or is assurance possible only about their present state? Should they look only to the promises of God to gain their assurance, or should they also examine their own lives?
To sort through the debate, Matthew Hoskinson begins by exploring historical views of assurance and the major schools of thought among orthodox Protestants today. Then he details what each part of the New Testament teaches about hope, measuring today's positions accordingly. Along the way, he discusses topics such as Lordship Salvation, Reformed and Wesleyan theology, the Second Coming of Christ, and whether assurance is a necessary part of saving faith. The result will clarify how to have--and how to teach how to have--what Hebrews 6:11 calls "the full assurance of hope unto the end."
3.14.2010
3.13.2010
Cancer Journal (10.03.13): Why I Should Have Died . . . Again
Reflection
Last night we celebrated our middle daughter's turning five years old. Actually her birthday was at the end of February, over two weeks ago. We had originally planned her party for the Friday following her birthday, but we had to cancel. The night of the party, I was in ICU.
Trouble began the second week of February. I began feeling miserable: fever, chills, headaches. Thinking it was just the cold or a flu, I went to my oncologist the day after Valentine's. He prescribed an antibiotic, but it did little to help.
Heritage's Church Planting Conference was the next week. I felt well enough to attend most of the sessions, but it was obvious that I was still quite sick. I went back to see my oncologist the last day of the conference, the 24th, our daughter's birthday. He was puzzled that I was still not well. So he ordered a CT scan of my chest as a precaution, to verify that my cancer hadn't returned. I thought this was a bit unnecessary, since my symptoms were not the same as those that accompanied my cancer. But my doctor hasn't been wrong yet, and I wasn't about to question him.
The next day I went for my CT scan. I felt so miserable that merely sitting in the waiting area was nearly unbearable. I had brought A. W. Pink's The Attributes of God, but had difficulty concentrating. I just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep.
That night Kimberly and I planned to take our girls out for dinner. The last night of the Church Planting Conference had preempted our family's birthday celebration. We were just about to leave when my phone rang. It was my doctor's office. I quickly deduced that my lab results had come back, but I did not expect to hear my doctor's voice on the other end. (That's not normally a good sign.) He explained that I had fluid on my heart, an unexpected development to be sure. At first he thought I might need to go to the hospital immediately, but after talking with the cardiologist, he determined that I could wait for the morning. But if I had any issues, I was to go to the emergency room right away.
Kimberly and I hugged and cried for some time. A new flood of concern swept over us. Was this related to the cancer? Was this a relapse? Or did I have some kind of heart disease? None of the answers were particularly satisfying.
In God's gracious providence, we have a friend from church, Jeff, who is a physician's assistant for a thoracic surgeon. I gave him a call to ask his opinion. He patiently explained the various methods of draining fluid from the pericardium and graciously offered any help he could.
After a relatively good night's sleep (all things considered), we awoke Friday the 26th, took the kids to school and babysitters, and headed to the cardiologist. My appointment was scheduled for 11:00 a.m. After a brief EKG, the doctor advised an echocardiogram--an ultrasound of the heart. It was after noon by the time the technician completed the echo. When the cardiologist returned, he advised, "The fluid needs to come out, and I think it needs to come out right away." Surprised that I hadn't been fainting, he expressed concern that waiting for Monday or Tuesday would increase the risk that I would begin to pass out.
The cardiologist then explained the two ways of removing the fluid, essentially needle or surgery. The former method he could perform right there in his office. But it would be only a temporary solution; I would have to do it again if the fluid collected again. Surgery was more radical, but it offered a long-term solution. (Jeff had already reviewed these options with us, so we were prepared.) Given my medical history, the doctor advised surgery and we quickly agreed. He asked if I had a preferred surgeon, and I said, "Whoever Jeff works for." The cardiologist knew Jeff and his surgeon, so the wheels were set in motion.
What happened over the next hour is largely fuzzy to me. This much I know: surgeries typically occur in the wee hours of the morning and surgical teams are finished by the early afternoon. Now it was already after one o'clock on a Friday afternoon. How quickly could a surgical team be ready? As someone told me that day, it could be midnight before surgery began.
As Providence would have it, I was under general anesthesia by 3:00 p.m.--and it would have been sooner if there hadn't been a breakdown in communication with the receptionist at the hospital. Like I said, exactly how this happened is a mystery to me. I have a hunch, though, that Jeff pulled a few strings and called in a few favors to get me in.
I awoke some time that evening in ICU. I remember seeing Kimberly and the cardiologist. The latter informed us that the surgeon drained a liter of fluid from my heart. "That much fluid," he said, "was life-threatening." I was in and out for the next few hours, but I distinctly remember Kimberly's next ICU visit. With her were Danny and Kristen Brooks (my pastor and his wife) with Jeff. I don't remember much of what we talked about, but I remember that Danny laid his hands on me and prayed. As I recall, it was the only time I cried that weekend. But cry I did. I think what had happened--especially the proximity of death and the mercy of God--became reality somewhere deep within.
Thankfully I was moved from ICU by noon the next day. That meant Kimberly could stay with me, unhindered by the ICU's visitation guidelines: twenty minutes every two hours. Other friends stopped by to see me. Danny came again with his oldest son Luke. A friend of Kimberly's brought her lunch and chatted for a few minutes. One gentleman, a newcomer to Heritage who lives close to Spartanburg Regional, took it upon himself to rescue us from hospital food. He would pop in, take our order, and come back an hour later with dinner for everyone. We received phone calls, text messages. tweets, and Facebook messages (from many of you!) who shared your love, your concern, your prayers. And it meant the world to us.
While I was recovering in the hospital, our concern focused on the cause of the fluid build-up. The surgeon not only removed the liter of fluid, but also took a piece of the pericardium itself. While he was in there, he snagged a lymph node as well, again a precaution to ensure that the cancer hadn't returned. We waited for the pathology report to come back. It wasn't until Tuesday, the day I was discharged, that we heard the good news: no sign of cancer. And we rejoiced.
Whence then the fluid? Monday afternoon my radiation oncologist, who had been informed of my situation only earlier that day, stopped in to see me. She was almost apologetic. Not at all that she had committed malpractice. But she reminded me that this is one of the risks of radiating the upper register: fluid on the heart. It occurs in less than one percent of such patients--my oncologist hadn't seen it before--but it can happen. And apparently I am one of the less than one percent. Furthermore she explained that what the surgeon did was precisely the right solution, even though there hadn't been time for the surgeon to consult with her. What the surgeon did, she went on, will keep this problem from ever recurring. God be praised!
I am now in the midst of a six-week recovery period. I have a two-inch vertical cut at the base of my sternum that is healing and a less-than-half-inch "stab wound" about an inch southeast of the cut. The possibility of herniating that area means I cannot lift anything more than ten pounds during this period. I'm also finishing up a two-week stretch of not driving. (Good thing I live three doors down from the church!) Most importantly I am supposed to get rest. I can't say I've done a great job of that the last ten days, but I'm learning that my body will stop me if it must.
This whole episode has prompted me to ask Why. Not Why in the sense of "why do I have to suffer?" But Why in the sense of "why aren't I already dead?" Cancer would have killed me before the calendar struck 2009. And in 2010 as the fluid swelled around my heart, every time I breathed in it forced my right ventricle to close almost completely. Had the fluid not been discovered, I would have run in my first 5K just eight days after the surgery. What then? Could my heart have survived that?
The answer to that question is, as one infamously put it, "above my pay-grade." Who knows the myriad purposes God fulfills in a single action? But I do know this: God has allowed me to live. No, God has commanded me to live. I am alive because he is willing it to be so right now. And that means I have the joy and opportunity of glorifying him as long as he gives me breath. May his command to live be accompanied by his grace to follow.
Rejoicing
Because, though sufferings may fill our lives, we're confident we're heirs with Christ--and so we cry, "Abba, Father." How wonderful the Father's love for us!
Because the Church Planting Conference prepared us for surgery--and so much more.
Because God positioned my friend Jeff to serve me and my family--literally to save my life.
Because God gave Jeff, a Buckeye, the grace not to inscribe "OSU" on my chest.
Because the surgeon did what the radiation oncologist would have advised.
Because my friend Brad, as soon as he heard I was going into surgery, immediately drove out to Spartanburg to sit with Kimberly while I was under the knife. Even though he had spent much of the previous day in a hospital in Atlanta to care for a member of his church.
Because my oncologist had been wondering why I haven't bounced back from chemo. He expected me to be back to my usual self (strength, stamina, energy) by now. But the fluid on the heart clarified the matter for him. His hope: that I will feel like myself again after this period of recovering.
Because our middle daughter patiently waited for two weeks to celebrate her fifth birthday. And God graciously satisfied her with a great party, great friends, and great gifts.
Request
That I would finish well. I have as clear a sense as ever that God has left me here--commanded me to be here--on purpose. How I finish is more important than how I start.
That my doctors would see the glory of Christ. I had an incredible opportunity to share the gospel with my oncologist in December. Oh God, open his heart to believe your word!
Last night we celebrated our middle daughter's turning five years old. Actually her birthday was at the end of February, over two weeks ago. We had originally planned her party for the Friday following her birthday, but we had to cancel. The night of the party, I was in ICU.
Trouble began the second week of February. I began feeling miserable: fever, chills, headaches. Thinking it was just the cold or a flu, I went to my oncologist the day after Valentine's. He prescribed an antibiotic, but it did little to help.
Heritage's Church Planting Conference was the next week. I felt well enough to attend most of the sessions, but it was obvious that I was still quite sick. I went back to see my oncologist the last day of the conference, the 24th, our daughter's birthday. He was puzzled that I was still not well. So he ordered a CT scan of my chest as a precaution, to verify that my cancer hadn't returned. I thought this was a bit unnecessary, since my symptoms were not the same as those that accompanied my cancer. But my doctor hasn't been wrong yet, and I wasn't about to question him.
The next day I went for my CT scan. I felt so miserable that merely sitting in the waiting area was nearly unbearable. I had brought A. W. Pink's The Attributes of God, but had difficulty concentrating. I just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep.
That night Kimberly and I planned to take our girls out for dinner. The last night of the Church Planting Conference had preempted our family's birthday celebration. We were just about to leave when my phone rang. It was my doctor's office. I quickly deduced that my lab results had come back, but I did not expect to hear my doctor's voice on the other end. (That's not normally a good sign.) He explained that I had fluid on my heart, an unexpected development to be sure. At first he thought I might need to go to the hospital immediately, but after talking with the cardiologist, he determined that I could wait for the morning. But if I had any issues, I was to go to the emergency room right away.
Kimberly and I hugged and cried for some time. A new flood of concern swept over us. Was this related to the cancer? Was this a relapse? Or did I have some kind of heart disease? None of the answers were particularly satisfying.
In God's gracious providence, we have a friend from church, Jeff, who is a physician's assistant for a thoracic surgeon. I gave him a call to ask his opinion. He patiently explained the various methods of draining fluid from the pericardium and graciously offered any help he could.
After a relatively good night's sleep (all things considered), we awoke Friday the 26th, took the kids to school and babysitters, and headed to the cardiologist. My appointment was scheduled for 11:00 a.m. After a brief EKG, the doctor advised an echocardiogram--an ultrasound of the heart. It was after noon by the time the technician completed the echo. When the cardiologist returned, he advised, "The fluid needs to come out, and I think it needs to come out right away." Surprised that I hadn't been fainting, he expressed concern that waiting for Monday or Tuesday would increase the risk that I would begin to pass out.
The cardiologist then explained the two ways of removing the fluid, essentially needle or surgery. The former method he could perform right there in his office. But it would be only a temporary solution; I would have to do it again if the fluid collected again. Surgery was more radical, but it offered a long-term solution. (Jeff had already reviewed these options with us, so we were prepared.) Given my medical history, the doctor advised surgery and we quickly agreed. He asked if I had a preferred surgeon, and I said, "Whoever Jeff works for." The cardiologist knew Jeff and his surgeon, so the wheels were set in motion.
What happened over the next hour is largely fuzzy to me. This much I know: surgeries typically occur in the wee hours of the morning and surgical teams are finished by the early afternoon. Now it was already after one o'clock on a Friday afternoon. How quickly could a surgical team be ready? As someone told me that day, it could be midnight before surgery began.
As Providence would have it, I was under general anesthesia by 3:00 p.m.--and it would have been sooner if there hadn't been a breakdown in communication with the receptionist at the hospital. Like I said, exactly how this happened is a mystery to me. I have a hunch, though, that Jeff pulled a few strings and called in a few favors to get me in.
I awoke some time that evening in ICU. I remember seeing Kimberly and the cardiologist. The latter informed us that the surgeon drained a liter of fluid from my heart. "That much fluid," he said, "was life-threatening." I was in and out for the next few hours, but I distinctly remember Kimberly's next ICU visit. With her were Danny and Kristen Brooks (my pastor and his wife) with Jeff. I don't remember much of what we talked about, but I remember that Danny laid his hands on me and prayed. As I recall, it was the only time I cried that weekend. But cry I did. I think what had happened--especially the proximity of death and the mercy of God--became reality somewhere deep within.
Thankfully I was moved from ICU by noon the next day. That meant Kimberly could stay with me, unhindered by the ICU's visitation guidelines: twenty minutes every two hours. Other friends stopped by to see me. Danny came again with his oldest son Luke. A friend of Kimberly's brought her lunch and chatted for a few minutes. One gentleman, a newcomer to Heritage who lives close to Spartanburg Regional, took it upon himself to rescue us from hospital food. He would pop in, take our order, and come back an hour later with dinner for everyone. We received phone calls, text messages. tweets, and Facebook messages (from many of you!) who shared your love, your concern, your prayers. And it meant the world to us.
While I was recovering in the hospital, our concern focused on the cause of the fluid build-up. The surgeon not only removed the liter of fluid, but also took a piece of the pericardium itself. While he was in there, he snagged a lymph node as well, again a precaution to ensure that the cancer hadn't returned. We waited for the pathology report to come back. It wasn't until Tuesday, the day I was discharged, that we heard the good news: no sign of cancer. And we rejoiced.
Whence then the fluid? Monday afternoon my radiation oncologist, who had been informed of my situation only earlier that day, stopped in to see me. She was almost apologetic. Not at all that she had committed malpractice. But she reminded me that this is one of the risks of radiating the upper register: fluid on the heart. It occurs in less than one percent of such patients--my oncologist hadn't seen it before--but it can happen. And apparently I am one of the less than one percent. Furthermore she explained that what the surgeon did was precisely the right solution, even though there hadn't been time for the surgeon to consult with her. What the surgeon did, she went on, will keep this problem from ever recurring. God be praised!
I am now in the midst of a six-week recovery period. I have a two-inch vertical cut at the base of my sternum that is healing and a less-than-half-inch "stab wound" about an inch southeast of the cut. The possibility of herniating that area means I cannot lift anything more than ten pounds during this period. I'm also finishing up a two-week stretch of not driving. (Good thing I live three doors down from the church!) Most importantly I am supposed to get rest. I can't say I've done a great job of that the last ten days, but I'm learning that my body will stop me if it must.
This whole episode has prompted me to ask Why. Not Why in the sense of "why do I have to suffer?" But Why in the sense of "why aren't I already dead?" Cancer would have killed me before the calendar struck 2009. And in 2010 as the fluid swelled around my heart, every time I breathed in it forced my right ventricle to close almost completely. Had the fluid not been discovered, I would have run in my first 5K just eight days after the surgery. What then? Could my heart have survived that?
The answer to that question is, as one infamously put it, "above my pay-grade." Who knows the myriad purposes God fulfills in a single action? But I do know this: God has allowed me to live. No, God has commanded me to live. I am alive because he is willing it to be so right now. And that means I have the joy and opportunity of glorifying him as long as he gives me breath. May his command to live be accompanied by his grace to follow.
Rejoicing
Because, though sufferings may fill our lives, we're confident we're heirs with Christ--and so we cry, "Abba, Father." How wonderful the Father's love for us!
Because the Church Planting Conference prepared us for surgery--and so much more.
Because God positioned my friend Jeff to serve me and my family--literally to save my life.
Because God gave Jeff, a Buckeye, the grace not to inscribe "OSU" on my chest.
Because the surgeon did what the radiation oncologist would have advised.
Because my friend Brad, as soon as he heard I was going into surgery, immediately drove out to Spartanburg to sit with Kimberly while I was under the knife. Even though he had spent much of the previous day in a hospital in Atlanta to care for a member of his church.
Because my oncologist had been wondering why I haven't bounced back from chemo. He expected me to be back to my usual self (strength, stamina, energy) by now. But the fluid on the heart clarified the matter for him. His hope: that I will feel like myself again after this period of recovering.
Because our middle daughter patiently waited for two weeks to celebrate her fifth birthday. And God graciously satisfied her with a great party, great friends, and great gifts.
Request
That I would finish well. I have as clear a sense as ever that God has left me here--commanded me to be here--on purpose. How I finish is more important than how I start.
That my doctors would see the glory of Christ. I had an incredible opportunity to share the gospel with my oncologist in December. Oh God, open his heart to believe your word!
3.12.2010
Letters Along the Way by D. A. Carson and John D. Woodbridge
I reviewed Letters Along the Way: A Novel of the Christian Life by D. A. Carson and John Woodbridge for the Heritage Bible Church blog today.My conclusion:
Believers–especially those preparing for or serving in pastoral ministry–will find Letters Along the Way to be an enjoyable way to eavesdrop on a pastoral mentoring relationship and hear the counsel of the godly.Included with the review is a topical index (pdf) I put together for the book. To find out why Letters needed such an index, you can read my review here.
-----
Purchase the book here.
The Gospel Coalition has made a pdf of the book available for free here.
3.06.2010
"I Agree with Most of What He Wrote"
Responding to what he describes as Kevin Bauder's "cannon ball in the fundamentalist pool," David Doran offers his assessment of the current state of affairs. Doran, the pastor of Inter-City Baptist Church and president of Detroit Baptist Theological Seminary (both in Allen Park, MI), affirms, "I agree with most of what he wrote. I would imagine that most of what we agree on is recognizable to those who are familiar with this blog."
Rather than delineate areas of agreement, for brevity's sake Doran hones in on one disagreement: "I believe that this discussion is too complicated to make that assertion [i.e., that conservative evangelicals are not new evangelicals] at this point." Doran offers two reasons for his assessment:
Rather than delineate areas of agreement, for brevity's sake Doran hones in on one disagreement: "I believe that this discussion is too complicated to make that assertion [i.e., that conservative evangelicals are not new evangelicals] at this point." Doran offers two reasons for his assessment:
- It is not very clear what constitutes conservative evangelicalism.
- It is not really clear how we are defining new evangelicalism.
Dr. Bauder is certainly correct in reminding us that these men are not our enemies. We may not agree with one another on important issues, but these disagreements are between brothers. Some disagreements, though, can adversely affect fellowship even among brothers.As with Bauder's article, Doran writes with gravitas, grace, and accuracy. I highly commend the whole thing to you (here).
3.05.2010
"Historic, Mainstream Fundamentalism Has More in Common with Conservative Evangelicals Than It Does with Many who Wear the Fundamentalist Label"
In today's "In the Nick of Time," Kevin Bauder articulates an understanding of conservative evangelicals that one rarely hears from a fundamentalist leader. Dr. Bauder is the president of Central Baptist Seminary in Minneapolis, MN. Despite the controversy that he will most certainly face for this article, I am grateful to hear someone of his stature say what so many in my generation have been thinking--and with far more gravitas, grace, and accuracy than my peers and I possess.
Here are the concluding four paragraphs:
Here are the concluding four paragraphs:
Conservative evangelicals are not our enemies. They are not our opponents. Conservative evangelicals have proven themselves to be allies and even leaders in the defense of the faith.
If we attack conservative evangelicals, then we attack the defense of the faith. We attack indirectly the thing that we hold most dear, namely, the gospel itself, for that is what they are defending. We should not wish these brothers to falter or to grow feeble, but rather to flourish. We must do nothing to weaken their hand in the face of the enemies of the gospel.
If we believe that we must respond to conservative evangelicalism, then let us begin by addressing the areas in which they have exposed our weakness. Let us refocus our attention upon the exaltation of God. Let us exalt, apply, and defend the gospel in all its fullness. If we were more like what we ought to be, perhaps we would feel less threatened by those whose exploits attract the attention of our followers.
Whatever our differences, I thank God for John Piper. I thank God for Mark Dever. I thank God for John MacArthur. I thank God for D. A. Carson. I thank God for a coalition of Christian leaders who have directed our focus to the centrality of the gospel and the exaltation of God. May their defense of the biblical faith prosper.
Read the whole thing here.
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Love audiobooks?
Here's a website that you'll want to bookmark, appropriately titled Books Should Be Free.
From its self-description:
HT: LifeHacker.
Here's a website that you'll want to bookmark, appropriately titled Books Should Be Free.
From its self-description:
BooksShouldBeFree makes the world's public domain audio books available for browsing in a visual and entertaining way. . . . BooksShouldBeFree provides a primarily visual browsing experience so you don't have to read tedious amounts to find listenting materials. . . . All audio books on BooksShouldBeFree.com are in the public domain. This means that no one holds a copyright on these books and therefore anyone including BooksShouldBeFree.com is free to distribute them.Genres include children's, mystery, history, literature, philosophy, poetry, and religion. Start browsing here.
HT: LifeHacker.
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