Like so many of you, I've been moved by what seems like a steady stream of news stories depicting the rise of violence against Christians worldwide. For example,
the Washington Post ran a story this morning describing brutal persecution of Christians in Pakistan. Here's an excerpt:
A spasm of religious violence came to this rural town in the
shape of an angry Muslim mob Saturday morning. The Muslims marched to avenge
what they believed was the desecration of a Koran one week earlier. When it was
over, dozens of houses were torched and Faith Bible Pentecostal Church lay in
ruins. Two villagers were shot dead, residents said. Five others, including two
children, burned alive.
It's stories like these that force me to check my heart and consider if I'm real--a real Christian, that is. Would I go? Would I preach the good news in the face of violent threats and the distinct possibility of death? More to the point, would I go next door and tell my fellow suburbanite about Jesus?
Will the violence in Pakistan or Nigeria or in any number of places around the world today thwart the American church's efforts to fulfill the Great Commission?
God help us to boldly proclaim the good news wherever you call us to speak--whether overseas or across the street.
[For more information on Christian persecution and the triumph of the Gospel around the world, follow
@NationsBeGlad on Twitter.]
Carl Trueman, professor at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, has
an excellent article in the latest edition of
Themelios journal. While it is primarily written for theological students wondering about the merits of pursuing a Ph.D., his cautionary tale (and commendation) of higher learning is applicable to every thoughtful Christian.
Here's Trueman's recipe for nurturing a life of the mind while avoiding the temptations that accompany theological education--and it has everything to do with the church:
The simple way for theological students to resist both the
temptation to pontificate beyond their pay grade and the temptation to pride
and the moral and intellectual problems that inevitably come in its wake-fall
is to find the proper context for accountability, to find their true home; and
the good news is that this true home is easy to find—simply join an orthodox,
gospel-believing and proclaiming church as member, submit to the elders, attend
the corporate worship services, fellowship with the saints on a regular basis,
get involved in the day to day work of the local body, even if it is “only” the
cleaning rota (and, hey, worshipping in a dirty church quickly reveals how
important that is), and pursue a disciplined life of private devotion.
Here's the all-important conclusion:
Too many theological students come unstuck not because they
do not master the sophisticated intricacies of their chosen fields of
specialization but rather because they failed their apprenticeships in the
basics, the corporate disciplines of church attendance, submission to elders,
hard work for the local body, and the individual disciplines which flow from
these: private prayer and Bible reading, a crying out to God for his mercy, and
a burning desire to be mastered by the Word of God. Successful theological
students are never the subjects in theological study; rather they are always
the objects of God’s grace. And the church is the place where they will be held
accountable for these things. The church, not the seminar room, provides their
only true home, their best classroom, and their best form of strenuous
spiritual rest. Theological study at the highest level is a high calling
indeed; but just for this very reason those who pursue it need to make
especially sure that they truly are humble servants of the church.
Evangelicals (I include myself in this category) love to "celebrate Jesus" on Sunday mornings. More and more churches seem to be moving toward this kind of language to describe what happens during corporate worship. I'm not convinced it's a good thing.
Now I'm not saying Jesus--and the infinitely good news associated with his death and resurrection--is unworthy of our celebration. But I do worry that "celebrate" is an inadequate word to describe the response we should have to the Lord of the universe.
Take, for example, the reaction of the guards when they came upon the angel at the empty tomb: "And for fear of him the guards trembled and became like dead men" (Matt. 28:4). The response to an angel was fear, trembling and what I'm assuming was utter paralysis (i.e., like dead men). And this upon seeing an angel--a created being.
It made me wonder: What will it be like when we see Jesus?
There will be, I imagine, a sense of celebration. However, I think our idea of celebration is too often like fans at a sporting event: we will cheer and yell and maybe do the wave for our Savior. But this can't possibly be how we will respond to the Christ. It's too chipper; too trite.
We will be no less overwhelmed than the guards upon seeing an angel. Indeed, we will be more so. How that looks I'm not exactly sure, but it's a sobering thought. And one I think should influence what we do on Sunday mornings--and throughout the week.