I began a series last Thursday about the process I’ve been through in writing an evangelistic talk on the topic of sex. We started off by thinking a bit about the secular story of sex. But it occurred to me fairly early on that Christians have a problem when it comes to communicating about their moral worldview. Everybody thinks that we just want to live back in the 1950s.
I was asked recently to come preach evangelistically for a university-aged audience, and I was given the topic ‘Free for sex or living in bondage?’ I’ll tell you straight up that it wasn’t the easiest evangelistic talk I’ve ever had to prepare!
How do you say something sensible about a biblical understanding of sex, and something worthwhile about the grace and kindness of God in the death and resurrection of Jesus, in the same talk while maintaining people’s interest and not speaking for too long?
I was listening to a sermon the other day, in which the preacher said, “Christianity is not about morality. It’s not about right and wrong. It’s about a relationship.” It’s not the first time I’ve heard that phrase, or something like it, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I know what it’s trying to say. I just can’t help feeling that we’ve got the right argument for the wrong moment in history.
Ever since my early 20s, I’ve struggled on and off with anxiety and depression. In the last few years, the struggle has become particularly acute. I often wake at 4:30 am and pretend that it’s just the call of my bladder, but I know it isn’t. I know that as soon as I wake, I won’t go to sleep again. My body feels tired—like I’ve been running in my sleep—and my brain whirs away like the hard drive on my computer. I wake up with a thousand questions in my head—none of which seem solvable—and, at times, I’ve been so exhausted, I’ve just curled up in a ball on the floor and cried, wondering if the emptiness will go away soon. I have suffered mainly from anxiety, with periods of very low mood thrown in for good measure. (more…)
The opening verse of Micah indicates the prophet’s origin (“of Moresheth”), time of prophesying (during the reigns of Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah—about 750-700 BC) as well as the object of his prophecy: the people of Samaria (northern Israel) and Jerusalem (the capital of Judah in southern Israel). Less obviously, it also presents us with Micah’s main theme: his name means “Who is like Yahweh?”, a question that is paraphrased in 7:18: “Who is a God like you?”. While there are many great themes in Micah, such as judgement, hope and justice, the main theme is that Yahweh, Israel’s covenant God, is Lord.
How do you know you have forgiven someone? How can you be certain that you’ve forgiven someone who has wronged you? (more…)
I was in church on Sunday morning, listening to a sermon on Romans 5. In spite of having read it hundreds of times in my life, I was struck by my lack of understanding. Suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character and character produces hope (Rom 5:3-4). Why have I never thought about how those things fit into the context of Paul’s argument in this chapter?
Leviticus, one of the Old Testament books of God’s law, seems, for some reason, to be the target for particular mockery both by non-Christians (who will invariably allude to the silliness of the food laws as they attempt to satirize its opposition to homosexual practice) and even some Christians (who will use it to empathize with some who feel that Bible reading is boring).
But Dave Bish over at the Blue Fish project reminded me of the wonderful story of how Charles Simeon, uber-preacher of Cambridge University during the late 18th and early 19th century, became a Christian:
Sandy, I am delighted of course that you are with me on so many things. And I hope you will also be pleased to know that I am with you completely on the goodness and value of singing. (In fact, the only thing I wouldn’t be with you on is the need for that ‘but’ at the beginning of your second paragraph. But let’s not quibble.)
As for why we don’t sing more or better, and in particular why your men aren’t singing, I think the Bible also points us to the answer.
Okay, Tony, I’m with you on not calling our singing the ‘worship time’. I’m with you on not even calling our church gathering the ‘worship service’. I’m with you on wanting to avoid mere emotionalism. In fact, I also know you believe the emotions (or better, the affections) matter.
But I believe singing is important.
I believe the Bible says it’s important.
After two decades of living the Christian life and almost a decade of preaching the Bible regularly, it’s easy to think that I trust God’s word. But this week I’ve been confronted by my unbelief.
What’s your instant reaction to reading this passage?
Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God. Therefore whoever resists the authorities resists what God has appointed, and those who resist will incur judgment. (Rom 13:1-2)
I’ve been thinking a lot about emotions recently. This, of course, may be precisely my problem. I shouldn’t be thinking about emotions; I should just be feeling them.
At least that’s what people tell me. Emotions, I am assured, are an important part of who we are as humans created by God, and so Christian faith should also be emotional in some way. It’s not enough just to think and to do; there’s something a bit wrong with us if we don’t also feel.
It’s hard to argue with this, and so I have begun to rummage around in my soul to see if I can rustle up some emotions. And you’ll be glad to know that I’ve managed to find some.
I have been thinking about the nature of Christian truth recently—in particular, what it means to live the Christian life. And I keep coming across these poles to avoid: one the one hand, legalism, and on the other hand, licentiousness.
But what would happen if you tried to drive your car down the middle of the freeway by adopting this strategy—whatever you do, avoid the right hand and left hand edges of the road? (The golfers all know the answer to this question already: “Don’t hit it left, don’t hit it left … Doh!”).
There are rumours afoot that the key thing to think about when it comes to theological students is how much work they are not doing. A very strange shift has taken place somewhere, and it makes you wonder.
It is not unusual in our world-that-is-running-madly-after-Mammon to concentrate on (that is, be anxious about) busy-ness. Didn’t Jesus himself say that it takes a lot of crazy running around to make sure you get enough of the good things God wanted you to have anyway? You would hate to miss out on those, so get up early, steamroll your way to work, overload your timetable, pressurize your body and relationships—you know the drill.
I was part of a group a few weeks ago where a wonderful, faithful, godly older pastor told us about something that had happened in his church. During an important public meeting, a man had risen to his feet and started shouting abuse at the pastor. It was a tirade full of invective and malice and hatred. How would you respond?