Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. (1 Tim 4:13)
We are in deeply serious trouble if I have to justify the need for devotion to the public reading of Scripture. They sound like fighting words, don’t they? But they’re not. They’re words of plea, with tears in my eyes, that you let God be heard. He doesn’t need us of course, but surely the sheep who know their shepherd’s voice would want to hear that voice as often as they can.
Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. (1 Tim 4:13)
In my last post, I made one observation about why we perhaps don’t change in this matter: fear. There is another, although not one I say easily. It’s a simple reason, if appalling; perhaps some aren’t devoted to the public reading of Scripture because they no longer believe it’s worthwhile. The next post will dwell much on the infinite worth of reading the Bible to each other. But first, to our possible unbelief.
Jesus came back from the dead. A zombie is a reanimated corpse. Therefore, Jesus is a zombie.
Impeccable logic, but is this reality?
Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. (1 Tim 4:13)
We’ve already touched on some reasons why we may not be devoted to the public reading of Scripture, especially in the second post. Nevertheless, in this fifth post, I want to draw some of these out and push us further.
Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. (1 Tim 4:13)
In this fourth post, we turn to think about the implications of devotion to the public reading of Scripture for readers and congregations.
A Theology of Workflow is a top little article on Christians and productivity. It’s in Christianity Today, a magazine which has good stuff and not so good stuff, so read with care. The article itself is an excellent brief interview with Matt Perman, producer of the extremely useful What’s Best Next blog.
Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. (1 Tim 4:13)
In this third post, I would like to start exploring what ‘devotion’ looks like in general, but particularly for elders and preachers.
Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. (1 Tim 4:13)
In my first post, I asked whether there is a disparity between our esteem of Scripture, and our devotion to seeing it read publicly. In this second post, I’d like us to explore some easy ways to restore church life to be reflecting this imperative, if not encapsulating it just yet.
I was once a feminist. In my early twenties, I became a complementarian, with the view that God made men and women equal but with different roles and responsibilities. It didn’t happen overnight; I studied the Bible, read books by complementarians and egalitarians, and joined in discussions, until I was convinced that the Bible teaches that God wants men to be servant leaders, and women to be helpers by their side as, together, we make Christ known.
In 1 Timothy 4:13, Paul instructs Timothy as follows: “Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching”.
In a series of posts, I’d like to explore what this verse might mean and look like in our lives. Similar to my post on whether we believe in the clarity of Scripture, I’d like to take a look at the difference between what we may think we believe, and what our practice actually testifies to. Like previous posts, I can only speak of my experience of church life: that of Sydney Anglicanism. I trust, however, that this will be of benefit to others.
It’s not really necessary to know your heretics, unless they’re doorknocking you.
Even then you can find ways to avoid them or annoy them. I keep a Greek New Testament on hand. When they deny that Jesus is God, I mention John 1:1. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God”. I point out that in verse 14 of the same chapter, the Word becomes flesh—God becomes man, the man Jesus Christ.
This is the fifth post in Mark Baddeley’s series on complementarianism and egalitarianism. (Read parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 9.)
Such separation between egalitarianism and complementarianism is unpleasant, and people are going to be genuinely hurt on all sides as it works itself out, but it is hardly ungodly by either side (apart from the ungodliness inherent in whichever position one thinks is in the wrong). (more…)
The word ‘conflict‘ strikes us hard.
It evokes an involuntary ‘gut level‘ reaction deep within us, perhaps of pain, or danger or fear. It speaks to us of relationships that won’t heal, of people who won’t listen, of wounds never acknowledged, of conduct never discussed. It may be an extreme situation which is splitting a church, school or marriage, or it may be just that lower level of conflict which causes us to avoid someone’s company in the workplace, avert our eyes at morning tea after church, and be polite and civil when underneath we feel distant or angry.
The game begins with the two combatants facing each other, holding hands, their fingers interlocked. When the word is given, they start twisting and writhing like contortionists, each trying to gain leverage over the other until their fingers are so agonised that one is forced to concede, “Mercy!” The winner graciously releases his grip, and the round is complete. In primary school, we called the game ‘Mercy’—but our grasp on the concept was as tortuous as the game itself. (more…)
It’s not new. It’s not innovative. It’s not trendy. It doesn’t produce immediate results. But it is a key element to church planting and the long-term sustained growth of a church. It’s pastoral visitation. (more…)