Five Questions for Evaluating Spiritual Growth

In his book Nine Marks of a Healthy Church, Mark Dever shares five questions he asks when he visits with members of his church to help evaluate their spiritual growth (p. 212). We discussed these questions during an adult Sunday School class this morning, and it was a fruitful discussion. So I am posting them here as well.

• In what particular way have you grown in your understanding of the Christian life since we last met?
• In what particular way have you grown in your practice of the Christian life since we last met?
• In what particular way do you feel that you need instruction?
• In what particular way are you disappointed in your own pursuit of holiness?
• How specifically can I pray for you?
  

Catching up

We were sitting in a booth at a local diner, drinking coffee and catching up.

"I noticed you haven't posted anything at your blog in a while," he said. "You know, you might find it easier to build your readership if you actually wrote something."

I grimaced. "I know." I stared out the window for a moment and sighed. "The whole idea was to post once or twice a week with my reflections on theology, ministry, really whatever I was spending my time thinking about. But with all that has happened in the last few weeks..." I shrugged. "I haven't really known what to write."

"Why? What's going on?"

"You haven't heard?" His forehead furrowed as he slowly shook his head. "Oh boy." I sighed again. "There's no easy way to say it. I've submitted my resignation at Bethel."

His shoulders slumped. "I knew it wasn't going well. But I had hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Yeah." The waitress came by and refilled our coffee. I took my time stirring in milk and sweetener. "The church wasn't healthy when I got here. It's very tempting, and it would be very easy, to blame things on everyone else. But the last few weeks have given me a lot of opportunities to do some self-examination, some self-questioning. And I've realized that you can be right, but still be wrong."

"What do you mean? You think it was your fault?"

"Sort of. Not exactly." I leaned forward over my coffee cup. "I have no regrets about the decisions or changes we made. Our values and convictions come right out of Scripture. The congregation is hooked on expository preaching now. We've seen people grow in their faith, and several people have started following Christ in the last couple of years. But I can look back and see relationships I should have handled differently, or people I should have made more of an effort with, or how I could have taken a different tone or attitude. I didn't always help myself."

He looked thoughtful. "It sounds like God has been doing some work on you too." He grinned. "Maybe you could have blogged about that."

"Maybe I still will." I smiled. "But it's not an online diary. I needed some time to think and pray. And really I'm still processing things. Add to it that my family doesn't yet know where we're headed... There's been a lot going on lately. But it was time to go. My wife and I had already decided that. We wanted to take things in one direction, and many in the church wanted to go in another. So this is best."

"You'll keep me posted on what happens next, right?"

"As soon as there's something to tell." We both took a drink of coffee. "Did you fill out your brackets this year?" He laughed, and the conversation turned to other things.

Created in the image of God

Picking up on a line of thought from an earlier post, I intend to explore a little more of what it means to be created in God's image.

Those who believe the truthfulness of Scripture must affirm that every human being reflects or "images" who God is, more than any other kind of created being. We bear His image structurally -- it is "hardwired" into what it means to be human -- and can be seen in our faculties to reason, choose, emote, form relationships, make covenants, work, and create. And before humankind rebelled against God's rule and fell under His curse, we bore His image functionally -- we reflected God not only in what we could do but also in how we did it. Human beings were created good; when God created humans He called His creation very good (Gen 1:31).

When Adam and Eve rebelled against God and came under the curse (Gen 3:16-19), the image of God remained, but it was damaged in us. The image is retained in its structural sense -- human beings still have the faculties we had before. But the functional image has been lost. We are not capable of doing the good we ought; we do not live and use our abilities in the God-worshiping, neighbor-loving way that we were created for (Ps 143:2; Isa 64:6; Rom 3:9-20). We could describe it this way: Human beings are like mirrors, created to reflect who God is. But through our sin we have struck the mirror in its center so that it is cracked and broken. It still reflects. But what it reflects is now distorted, the image ruined.

The fact that the image of God remains provides a strong basis for human rights and inherent human dignity. This account of human being also explains better than any other how we can see such great good and great evil at the same time in humanity. We are bearers of the image of the Creator, more like Him than anything else in the universe, and are therefore capable of brilliant accomplishments in the arts and sciences. We carry the image of the Holy One, of whom the seraphim cry out, "Holy, Holy, Holy" (Isa 6:3), who calls Himself Love (I Jn 4:8), and are therefore capable of extraordinary acts of kindness and self-sacrifice. But we are broken and shattered as well, and therefore capable of taking science and destroying life with it, of taking the arts and profaning truth and beauty with it, of acting in extraordinarily cruel and selfish ways.

If we are to bear His image properly once again, we will need to be remade. And broken artifacts do not repair themselves. If human beings are to become all of which we are capable, then we will need to learn to look outside of ourselves toward the One who made us.

The image of God and the unborn

Many churches across the U. S. observe Sanctity of Life Sunday each year. Typically a Sunday is selected near the date when Roe v. Wade was handed down. Our congregation observed Sanctity of Life Sunday on January 18th; other churches will observe it this Sunday, the 25th. We mourn the death of nearly 50 million children since 1973 because of abortion. We pray for our society to repent. We call our congregations to give their time and their resources to aid mothers facing crisis pregnancies and their unborn children.

Why observe the Sanctity of Life each year? Why does the status of the unborn trouble so many Christians? The answers are rooted in the Bible's teaching about the image of God. The repeated teaching of Scripture is that every human being is created in the image of God (Gen 1:26-28; Gen 5:1-3; Gen 9:6; Ps 8; Jas 3:9-10). Whole books have been written on what that means (especially this excellent book by Anthony Hoekema, Created in God's Image).

Those who believe the truthfulness of Scripture must affirm that every human being reflects or "images" who God is, more than any other kind of created being. As such, any assault on this image is an assault on God Himself (Gen 9:6; Jas 3:9-10). This reality provides the soil in which inherent human dignity grows. It is the basis for human rights and the sanctity of all human life.

In another post, I will explore a little further what the image of God means. But in thinking about the Sanctity of Life, I want to go in another direction for now. Every human being "images" God. In this respect we are unique in the created order. Image-bearing is part and parcel of what it means to be a human being. Everywhere the creature called homo sapiens is present, there the image of God is present.

That includes those members of homo sapiens who are still in the womb. From the moment of conception, the type of biological being that has been brought into existence is a human being. The DNA that is present is human DNA. Given time, protection, and nutrition, the human zygote becomes a human blastocyst, which becomes a human embryo, which becomes a human fetus, which in fact is a human infant located inside the womb. What kind of being are we talking about? A human being. The stage of development or level of viability does not change the biological reality that the being is human. And where there is human being, there is the image of God. And where there is the image of God, there is life with inherent dignity, worthy of respect and justice.

The way that God relates to the unborn in Scripture confirms their humanity and dignity. In Psalm 139, David describes God's complete knowledge of him and the intimacy of their relationship. He includes these words: "For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb... Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them" (vs. 13, 16). Exodus 21:22-25, properly understood, showcases God's equal concern for unborn children and their mothers (see this helpful article regarding the ways this passage is misused to justify abortion). The Spirit of God rested on John the Baptist even in his mother's womb (Luke 1:15, 41-44).

From the moment of conception, the image of God is present. The unborn are fully human, fully image bearers, and therefore fully worthy of respect and justice. Abortion is therefore the taking of human life. Legalized abortion is therefore an assault on human dignity. If the God of the Bible is a God of mercy and justice who cares for the alien, the fatherless, and the widow -- the Bible's shorthand for those people in human society who lack power and resources to defend themselves and seek justice -- if that is what God is like, then that is what His people should be like as well (Exod 22:21-24; Deut 10:16-20; Ps 10:17-18; Ps 82:3-4; Isa 1:16-17; Matt 25:31-46; Jas 1:27).

And that means that Christians must defend the cause of the unborn. And that means that as long as the destruction of unborn human life is legal and is considered a moral, acceptable course of action, our churches need to observe Sanctity of Life Sunday.

Death be not proud

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do goe,
Rest of their bones, and souls' delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better then thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

John Donne, Holy Sonnet X

Tomorrow morning I will put the body of a dear friend in the ground. Tomorrow morning I will help a man say goodbye to his wife, children say goodbye to their mother, grandchildren say goodbye to the woman they called Grandma. It will be a holy moment. I am honored to have any part to play in this funeral at all.

Helen lived 84 years on this earth. As I hear the stories about her life, as I gather the facts so that I can deliver the eulogy, I can only conclude that she is a remarkable woman. I use "is" on purpose -- Helen's soul may have been torn from her body by death, but she lives still in the presence of her Savior. She is remarkable. Married 63 years to the same man. Mother to two children biologically and to 23 foster children, two of whom came permanently into her home and were embraced into her family as her own. Faithful servant and woman of prayer. A baker of legendary lemon meringue pies.

I never got to know that Helen. When I met her almost three years ago, Alzheimer's had already gripped her body and mind. But some things run deeper than a disease can reach. Her joy, her stubbornness, her generosity were all plain to see. After six months here, my wife and I realized that Helen was one of our best friends. From her we received an unconditional love that far too often is missing from our churches.

Watching her decline was horrible. For the past few months, we could only pray that God would be merciful to her. Last Saturday, they thought she had a kidney infection. On Sunday her kidneys failed. Early Tuesday morning she was finally at peace. But now her family and friends have to learn to go on living without her.

I hate death. I loathe it with a passion I cannot convey through this keyboard. It is a visceral hatred that only intensifies upon further reflection. My only consolation is that God hates it even more than I do, and that one day Christ will conquer the last enemy and throw it into a lake of fire (I Cor 15:26; Rev 20:14). One day I will see Helen again, and her body will not be wracked by age nor her mind eroded by disease. She will be fully alive, her soul aflame with the joy of seeing her risen, triumphant, glorious Lord.

John Donne was not a Puritan. But his poetry speaks to my soul, and Holy Sonnet X expresses my feelings about death as well as any non-inspired writing. It is of some comfort to think on these words: "Death, thou shalt die."

An unexpected time of rest

I should probably provide some explanation as to why it has been so long since I have posted...

The week of Christmas is always extra busy, all the more so this year because my family was out-of-town December 27th to January 3rd to visit family in South Carolina and Florida. Although the pulpit at Bethel was filled for 12/28, it was not filled for 1/4. So I spent the short week before Christmas preparing for my sermon on 1/4, planning the Christmas Eve services at Bethel, and holding some unexpected meetings with volunteers that were difficult but ultimately helpful. Christmas morning came as quite a relief for the opportunity to rest (my daughter is not yet two years old, so the idea of getting up before the sun to open gifts has not yet possessed her).

Our roadtrip to the South, as happens with most such trips, was a mix of good times and frustrating times. While on the road, I thought about what to post when we got back. In particular, I wanted to find a clever way to use barbecue -- real barbecue cooked slowly over low heat with smoke for superior flavor -- to illustrate some deep theological point.

We were back on Staten Island on Saturday night. We worshiped at Bethel on Sunday. On Monday night, my daughter came down with stomach flu. On Tuesday evening I did. So far my wife has not contracted it. But even though I have continued to do some reading and study from home, any grander plans have been scuttled for now. Instead much of the week has been an unexpected time of rest, with the high point being the introduction of Jell-o into my diet to supplement Gatorade, unsalted crackers, and toast.

I would write about how the stomach flu has deepened my appreciation of food and drink as gifts from God, or how much more I anticipate the return of Christ and the new body that I will receive then. But honestly my faith has been much more focused on asking God to provide swift healing and endurance, and on seeking to keep Christ as my joy and treasure despite how I feel physically. Sometimes when you are sick, that is as profound as you can get.

A meditation on the Good Samaritan

I am planning, for the first Sunday of 2009, to preach on the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). As I have read, prayed over, and daydreamed about the passage for the past couple of weeks, I have become convinced of at least four things.

1. Jesus changes the question that we need to ask. The lawyer asks Jesus the question, "Who is my neighbor?" What is noteworthy is that Jesus never answers that question. Look again at the parable. Does Jesus ever say that the injured traveler is the Samaritan's neighbor? No. But in v. 36 he asks which man "proved to be a neighbor." So the question is not "Who is my neighbor?" The question is this: "Am I a neighbor?" In other words, do I treat those with whom I come into contact in a neighborly fashion? This is a startling question. We dare not ignore any class of people, and we need not go out of our way to find someone to love in the Samaritan way. We need only look at whomever is in front of us. I suspect that if I learned to look at my surroundings this way, I would find plenty of pain and poverty to which to minister.
   
2. Proper worship of God always leads to sacrificial, self-forgetful love. This story would have been shocking to Jesus' lawyer listener precisely because it was a hated, half-breed Samaritan who was the hero of Jesus' story. Additional reflection shows how disturbing the story must have been to this Jewish legal expert. The Samaritans were despised for being impure ethnically and religiously. But the Samaritans did have the Mosaic Law. This Samaritan man should have known that he faced ritual defilement if the man died. But he stopped anyway, and in doing so proved himself a better master of the Law than either priest or Levite. If concerns for orthodoxy do not translate to orthopraxy, then we do not really know the truth (Hos 4:6).
   
3. A key measure of our love is how we serve those who are different from us. The barriers broken down in this story are probably the most cited features of the parable. But the implications are far-reaching. The Bible study that does not welcome people who are different for fear of disrupting their "fellowship," or the congregation that in a dozen small ways lets the family whose skin color or first language is different know that they are not welcome, or the family that will not say hello to their next-door neighbor because they do not approve of the neighbor's lifestyle... All of these attitudes and behaviors fail the test of the Samaritan way of love.
4. Jesus Christ Himself is the true Good Samaritan. If all I am left with from this parable are the first three convictions, then I am left with Pharisaism that has replaced one set of laws with another. The reality is that I am the traveler left on the side of the road, beaten and bloodied by my own sin, with no right to expect any help from God. I could not love this way even if I were inclined to try, which I was not until Christ laid hold of me. He loved me and paid for my healing at great cost to Himself, bearing God's wrath in my place and washing me in his blood. Only as a ransomed and recreated being can I walk in the Samaritan way, which is in reality the way of Christ himself.

There is much more to say about this parable than what I have said here (those who attend Bethel do not get to skip the worship service on January 4th by reading this). But as Christmas and the New Year rapidly approach, these are the sorts of things I want to be thinking about for my own soul's sake, for my family, and for my church.

What Americans owe to the Puritans

This essay at Culture11 gives credit to the Puritans for America's "egalitarian political idealism, our love of genuinely humane and liberating learning, and our human enjoyment and happiness." It is hardly a popular idea, a reality the author, Peter Lawler, readily admits. But I am inclined to agree with him as he sketches the development of education and democracy among the Puritans.

Americans owe much to their Puritan forebears, even if we have turned the label into an insult. Though come to think of it, I believe the word "Puritan" was also an insult in the 16th century (according to J.I. Packer's lectures on the Puritans at Reformed Theological Seminary). So maybe things have not changed so much. Though we have largely absorbed and expanded their beliefs regarding education and democracy, we have left their ideals regarding the communal good behind (an ideal we might want to revisit in light of the current economic situation), and even within the church we shy away from being identified with them.

The essay is worth reading. Check it out and let me know what you think.

HT: JT

Humbled by family blessings

Earlier this week, my wife and I celebrated our fifth anniversary. A friend from church watched our daughter for us so that we could get away overnight. I surprised Michelle with where we were going: up the Hudson River Valley to stay in a bed & breakfast and enjoy some wonderful food and sights. My joy was fulfilled by seeing her joy in our time together. I often joke that I married above myself -- actually, I am only half joking when I say it. She is kinder, more generous, and more patient than I am. She sees my faults for what they are and loves me despite them. I love her deeply and dearly. I do not deserve a woman as wonderful as my wife.

We chose the name Abigail for our daughter because of what it means in Hebrew: my father's joy. Our hope and prayer is that she will indeed be a joy to her Father in heaven, that she will recognize God's Anointed One, even as her namesake did in I Samuel 25, and place her faith in Him. But Abby is also her earthly father's joy. She is more than I deserve.

Today I drove to Newark Liberty Airport to pick up my wife's parents, who will be staying with us for a week for Thanksgiving. I know some men who have difficult relationships with their in-laws. I do not. I love my father-in-law and mother-in-law, and they love me as a son. My wife and I enjoy hanging out with them and have lots of plans for the coming week. They are more than I deserve.

After Christmas, we are planning on traveling to Florida to see my father and his wife. My mother died when I was in college, and Dad remarried. I know that some children begrudge a widowed parent's remarriage, but my stepmother makes my father happy. They are good together. I look forward to seeing them and spending time together. They are more than I deserve.

I am humbled by the family God has given me. It is all of grace. I hope that this Thanksgiving will be more than a time for football and food. I have much to give thanks for.

Humbled by full atonement

I suspect that while I am still clothed in mortal flesh, I will never fully appreciate the magnitude of the wrong I have done against God.

R. C. Sproul has helpfully highlighted three metaphors that Scripture uses to describe sin: crime, debt, and enmity. In the first case, God is seen as Lawgiver and Judge. In the second, He is Creator and Creditor. In the third, He is King and Master. Now of course God is Lawgiver, Creditor, and King at the same time. The metaphors are not mutually exclusive, but only offered to help us see our sin problem from a number of angles.

If God is Lawgiver and Judge, then I am lawbreaker and criminal. If He is Creator and Creditor, then I am bankrupt and debtor. If He is King and Master, then I am enemy and traitor. Each perspective helps me understand the nature of my sin problem, and what the cross of Christ accomplished for me. At the cross Jesus acted as my substitute, propitiating God's wrath, expiating my guilt, crediting me with His own righteousness so that I am pronounced "Not Guilty!" before the tribunal of God (Rom 3:21-26). At the cross Jesus acted as my surety, paying my debt, ransoming me from my futile ways, canceling the bill against me, and granting me access to the riches of God (I Cor 6:9-11, 20). At the cross Jesus acted as my mediator, reconciling me to God, making peace between us, and grafting me into His holy people (Eph 2:11-22).

All this was accomplished definitively and finally at the cross. The Scripture never uses hypothetical language to describe what Christ accomplished for me or for anyone who believes at the cross. That which the Father planned is that which the Son accomplished and that which the Spirit applied. The Father chose me and sent His Son to die not a generic death, not potentially for me, but really and actually for me (Jn 10:14-16; Gal 2:20). My salvation was decreed from eternity and securely purchased through the atoning work of Jesus Christ. And as John Owen reminds us, in this secure and completed work are grounded "the assurance of our eternal glory and freedom from all accusations."

I deserve none of this. It is all free, extravagant grace, the opposite of what I deserve. But even this contemplation does not breed the humility that I need to cultivate.

Even if I were able to number every last law I had broken, even if the overdrafts on my account printed on a statement, even if on the duties I owed were spelled out in a job description, it would not be sufficient to help me understand the depth of my problem before God. John Piper has helped begin to get even an inkling of this with the following reasoning: God is of infinite worth and value. Therefore when I do not honor, trust, obey, worship, and delight in Him as I ought, I commit an infinitely weighty wrong. In fact, never in my life have I done what I ought in regard to God. And so the justice of God then requires a punishment proportionate to that wrong.

The more I think such thoughts, the more I meditate on passages such as Isaiah 42:8 -- "I am the Lord; that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to carved idols" -- the more I see that the apostle Paul did not believe himself to be engaging in hyperbole when he called himself the chief of sinners (I Tim 1:15). The more I see that I was by nature and by choice an object of wrath (Eph 2:1-3). And the deeper that conviction runs, the lower my own self-estimation becomes, and the more precious the atoning work of Christ becomes. Philip Bliss captured it well:

Guilty, vile, and helpless we;
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
“Full atonement!” can it be?
Hallelujah! What a Savior!