The relationship between science and religion often feels like a battlefield. Words like war, conflict, and enemies get thrown around to describe how the two supposedly clash. While that framing is overstated, it does reflect a real tension—especially when conversations turn to deep questions about origins, causes, and existence itself.

Still, science and religion don’t have to be sworn enemies. In fact, they often ask similar questions from different angles. Few topics show this overlap more clearly than causality, God’s self‑existence, and the idea of self‑creation. Can something exist without a cause? Is God truly self‑existent? And is it even possible for something to create itself?

Let’s explore these questions step by step.

What Do We Really Mean When We Say “Everything Has a Cause”?

You’ve probably heard the phrase “everything has a cause.” At first glance, it seems obvious. Things don’t just pop into existence for no reason—right? But when you look more closely, the statement turns out to be a little sloppy. Strictly speaking, causes and effects go together. An effect, by definition, is something caused by something else. So while it’s true that every effect has a cause, it doesn’t logically follow that everything that exists must be caused.

That distinction matters.

If absolutely everything had an earlier cause behind it, then we’d be stuck with an endless chain of causes, stretching backward forever. And that’s a problem. An infinite chain of causes can’t actually get started. At some point, there has to be something that doesn’t depend on anything else to exist. The late R.C. Sproul put it simply: if God required a cause, then God wouldn’t really be God. He’d just be another dependent thing in the chain.

So maybe the real question isn’t “What caused everything?” but “What—if anything—doesn’t need to be caused at all?”

Enter Aseity: The Idea of a Self‑Existent God

Christian theology has long answered that question with the concept of aseity—the belief that God exists a se, or “from himself.” In other words, God doesn’t borrow existence from anyone or anything else. He simply is. This isn’t a claim that God created himself (that would be a contradiction, as we’ll see later). Rather, it’s the claim that God was never created at all. He has life in himself. No beginning. No dependency. No external explanation required.

Biblically speaking, this idea appears clearly in John 5:26, where Jesus says that the Father has life in himself. Philosophically, it means God is a necessary being, not a contingent one.
Everything else—matter, energy, space, time, and even the universe itself—is dependent. God alone is not.

Why This Makes Some People Uncomfortable

Interestingly, many scientists and philosophers agree that something must be self‑existent. The real disagreement isn’t over whether such a thing exists, but what it is. Some are willing to accept an uncaused reality but hesitate when that reality is identified as the God of the Bible. They’d rather place that role on the universe itself, or on some unknown physical principle. But there’s a problem with that position.

The universe doesn’t act like something that has existence in itself. It changes. It decays. It expands. It depends on conditions. In short, it behaves like a contingent thing—something that could have been otherwise, or not existed at all. So we’re left with a choice: either a self‑existent universe that doesn’t behave like one, or a self‑existent God who does.

The Cosmological Argument in Plain Language

This brings us to the cosmological argument, one of the oldest arguments for God’s existence. Stripped of philosophical jargon, it goes something like this:

Everything in the universe depends on something else to exist
The universe as a whole is no exception
Therefore, the universe depends on something beyond itself
That “something” is what we call God

Critics often respond with a familiar question: “If God created the universe, who created God?” The answer is simple: no one. God isn’t part of the chain of created things. He’s the reason there is a chain at all.

Why Self‑Creation Doesn’t Work

At this point, it’s worth clearing up a common confusion. Some talk about God—or even the universe—as being “self‑created.” That phrase sounds clever, but it doesn’t make sense.
For something to create itself, it would have to exist before it exists. It would have to be both something and nothing at the same time, in the same way. That’s a contradiction, not a mystery.

Nothing can create itself—not atoms, not energy, not the universe, and not God.
God isn’t self‑created; he is self‑existent. There’s a difference. Created things depend on something else for their existence. God does not. That’s what makes him the First Cause, rather than just another link in the chain.

So Where Does This Leave Us?

When we think carefully about causality, we’re pushed toward a profound conclusion. If anything exists at all, then something must exist that doesn’t depend on anything else.
That something cannot be the universe, and it cannot be a contradiction like self‑creation. It must be uncaused, underived, eternal, and independent.

In short, causality makes the most sense when grounded in a self‑existent God. Far from being at odds with reason, this idea may be reason’s deepest foundation.

Rev. Mike Hernández serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando and is a member of the National Association of Scholars. He has written for The Gospel Coalition and writes regularly for Gospel-Centered Discipleship. You can find him on Facebook here.

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The Gospel of Luke is plenty of fun to read, especially since he doesn’t present theology as a list of abstract propositions. He does theology by telling a story. And few passages show this more beautifully than Luke 24:13–35, the account of the risen Jesus’ encounter with two disciples on the road to Emmaus.

This story is more than a post‑resurrection appearance. It is a masterclass in how to read Scripture. And how not to read Jesus. On the road to Emmaus, we see the difference between reading Jesus wrongly and reading him rightly. And in that difference lies the difference between dashed hopes and burning hearts.

A Walk Filled with Disappointment

The scene opens with two disciples—one named Cleopas and the other unnamed—walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus, a village about seven miles away. It’s not a long journey, but emotionally it must have felt endless. Only days earlier, these disciples had watched their hopes collapse under the weight of a Roman cross. Jesus of Nazareth, the man they believed was the one to redeem Israel, had been crucified.

As they walk and talk, a stranger joins them. Luke tells us that their eyes were “kept from recognizing him.” The stranger asks what they are discussing, and the disciples stop in their tracks, sadness written all over their faces. Cleopas responds with incredulity: Are you the only one in Jerusalem who doesn’t know what’s happened here?

The irony is thick. They say that Jesus’ body was missing from the tomb—“but him they did not see.” And yet Jesus himself is walking right beside them, unseen and unrecognized. Luke allows the tension to build deliberately. The disciples are physically close to Jesus, but theologically distant from him.

Reading Jesus Wrong

The disciples’ summary of recent events is telling. They describe Jesus as a prophet, mighty in word and deed, approved by God and admired by the people. So far, so good. But everything turns on one haunting sentence: “But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”

That single line reveals their problem. Their hope wasn’t misplaced—it was misinterpreted.
They expected redemption to look like liberation from Rome. They assumed the Messiah would restore Israel’s political fortunes, overthrow pagan rulers, and establish national dominance. A crucified Messiah shattered those expectations completely. In their worldview, crucifixion didn’t just mean death—it meant failure. If Jesus had been truly God’s chosen deliverer, he would not have ended up on a Roman cross.

This is why the resurrection reports sounded like nonsense to them. Even when they heard that the tomb was empty and that angels proclaimed Jesus was alive, they had no category for such news. Resurrection made no sense within the story they were telling themselves about God, Israel, and redemption. Their mistake wasn’t that they hoped in Jesus. Their mistake was that they read Jesus through the wrong story.

A Messiah Who Must Suffer

Jesus’ response is sharp but merciful: “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” His rebuke isn’t aimed at their lack of information, but at their selective reading of Scripture.

They believed the prophecies about glory and victory. They ignored—or misunderstood—the prophecies about suffering. They wanted a Messiah who would reign, not one who would suffer and die. But Jesus insists that suffering isn’t an unfortunate detour in God’s plan—it’s the very road God chose.

“Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” The word "necessary" matters. The cross was not an accident. It was not a temporary setback. It was central to God’s redemptive purpose.

And so Jesus does something extraordinary. Beginning with Moses and continuing through all the prophets, he interprets the Scriptures as a unified story pointing to himself. This wasn’t a quick lesson built on a few messianic proof‑texts. It was a sweeping re‑telling of Israel’s entire story—creation, covenant, exile, promise, and hope—now seen in the light of the cross and resurrection.

The disciples had been living inside the wrong narrative. Jesus rewrites the story for them, not by inventing something new, but by showing them what had been there all along.

Reading Jesus Right

To read Jesus rightly is to read Scripture canonically—to see the whole biblical story as converging on and climaxing in him. Jesus is not merely a character within Israel’s story; he is its fulfillment. The redeeming God of Israel has stepped into the story in the flesh.

This is why Jesus doesn’t reveal his identity immediately. Recognition without understanding would not have been enough. The disciples needed their imaginations reshaped. They needed to see that God’s victory comes through suffering love, not political domination. That redemption comes through self‑giving sacrifice, not crusading power.
When Jesus finally opens the Scriptures to them, their despair begins to lift. Hope returns—not the kind of hope grounded in national ambition, but a deeper hope rooted in God’s faithfulness and self‑revealing love.

Later, after Jesus breaks bread with them and vanishes from their sight, the disciples reflect on the experience: “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?”

Burning hearts replace broken dreams. Amazing.

A Pattern for the Church

The Emmaus encounter became paradigmatic for the early church. The risen Christ is revealed through Scripture rightly read. And Scripture is rightly read when it is read through the lens of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. The early Christians learned to read the Old Testament differently—not as a collection of detached predictions, but as a coherent, unfolding story that finds its meaning in Christ. They discovered that Jesus didn’t just fulfill isolated verses; he fulfilled the narrative itself.

This is still a challenge for us today. We often bring our own expectations, political hopes, and cultural assumptions to Jesus. When he doesn’t meet them, we risk disappointment, cynicism, or disbelief. Like the Emmaus disciples, we may walk away from Jerusalem convinced that the story has ended badly.

But Jesus still walks alongside us. He still opens the Scriptures. And if we’re willing to let him correct our reading, our hearts may yet burn within us.

Learning from the Emmaus Road

The road to Emmaus teaches us that it is possible to know a great deal about Jesus and still misunderstand him deeply. It reminds us that faith is not merely about affirming facts—like an empty tomb—but about learning how those facts fit into God’s story.

To read Jesus rightly requires patience, humility, and a willingness to let Scripture challenge our assumptions. It means reading backwards and forwards—seeing how Israel’s story leads to Jesus and how Jesus redefines Israel’s story.

The greatest story ever told is the one in which the hero dies for the villains. And until we grasp that truth, we will always be in danger of reading Jesus wrong. But when we learn to read him rightly—through Moses, the prophets, the cross, and the empty tomb—we may find ourselves transformed, sent back into the world with burning hearts and renewed hope.

Rev. Mike Hernández serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando and is a member of the National Association of Scholars. He has written for The Gospel Coalition and writes regularly for Gospel-Centered Discipleship. You can find him on Facebook here.

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What is the purpose of suffering? This is a deep and vast question that has been asked across every culture, continent, and cry that cuts through the darkness of sorrow. From the heights of academia and the deep thoughts of philosophical contemplation down to the falling tears of a heart broken mother; this question is continually asked. This query is often asked in a more poignant fashion as more commonly expressed through the cries of, “Why is this happening to me?” or “Why would God allow me to go through this?” Nevertheless, the question is all the same. What is the purpose of suffering?

The resolution to this question is often a deep mystery that can take us down dangerous rabbit trails of hypothetical answers that never truly satisfy our souls. “What if I did this or that, then maybe things would’ve turned out differently,” only leaves us with unnecessary guilt and regret. Overemphasis on wrongs done to us and victimizing ourselves only leaves us feeling bitter or angry. Certainly, in cases of abuse or pain, trauma must be dealt with appropriately. Sadly, when trauma is all we have without any hope, it becomes our identity. It ends up guiding the course of our lives and defines who we are.

Suffering is subjective and because of this, everyone is subject to its touch at some point or another. In most cases, it is constant in all of our lives in one way or another, whether conscious or not. Whether it's the nagging migraine that seems to never go away, or the broken heart of a teenager who just got dumped,  all the way up to the diagnosis that has brought our lives to a screeching halt, or the dreaded phone call that a child has overdosed… Suffering touches us all in some way or another and in many cases never seems to end.

Sadly, as a result of Adam’s fall and the introduction of sin into the world, sin, death, and suffering will continue to reign over the course of the world and our lives. The good news is that Christ has already achieved victory over all these in his death and resurrection. Because of this reality, all these will be removed at the consummation of his wonderful kingdom. However, how do we as Christians persevere through the thorns and thistles of suffering as we await Christ’s return in the time between the already, but not yet?

Entire books have been written across church history to answer this question and the biblical proof texts to give us meaning in our suffering is plentiful. My intention in this blog is not to present some grandiose new concept intended to take away all your pain or heal the wounds you have. Rather, I would like to present to you a story of how one simple Bible verse on suffering changed a dear friend of mine’s perspective on his own personal grief. This change was so profound that he no longer saw his trial as a curse, but a gift that was given to him by the very hand of God. Our verse of study today is Philippians 1:29, which states, “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake”.

I met my dear friend and brother, Terry Blessing (Yes, that is his real name), in December 2017. I had just started as the program manager of a Christian re-entry program. This was a program for men who had come to faith in Christ while incarcerated and desired a residential discipleship program to help them integrate back into society upon release. He entered the program the same week that I started and immediately our personalities connected. He was a mountain of a man who liked to fist fight and wore the battle scars to prove it. He took no attitude from anyone and was ready to throw down for any reason and at any time. Yet, there was one person who somehow got away with poking and prodding him in ways that others weren’t permitted to… and that person was me. Terry and I loved each other dearly as brothers in Christ and our friendship was unbreakable.

Over the course of the next year in this program, I had the privilege of discipling Terry and watching him grow from a self absorbed and self centered bully into one of the kindest and gentlest giants you could ever know. He was a living breathing testimony of the Holy Spirit’s power in action and I had a front row seat to this wonderful transformation.

During my time of counseling and discipling Terry, he shared with me his life story. This was a dark and disturbing tale of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse that began at an early age. According to Terry, his mother divorced his father to pursue a relationship with his uncle. As a result, Terry was forced to move in with his mom and uncle. Terry recalled that his uncle hated him because, “I looked like my dad,” and began physically and emotionally abusing him. Terry shared with me that his uncle would force him to stand naked on his kitchen table and hold books in each arm. If Terry dropped the books, his uncle would beat him. This abuse eventually escalated into his uncle raping him.

To make matters so drastically worse, when Terry’s mother found out about the abuse she failed to put a stop to it. Rather, she began to participate in the sexual abuse against Terry alongside his uncle. This was a deep and shameful secret that Terry kept hidden throughout the course of his adolescence. By his early teens, Terry had run away from home and resorted to violence as a mask to hide the horrid atrocities committed against him. I remember driving with Terry through Lebanon, Pennsylvania one summer evening. On this drive, Terry pointed out an old run down shack and informed me that he, “used to sleep in there on cold nights, when I was afraid to go home.” By the age of 19, Terry was arrested and charged with armed robbery of a 7-11. He was sentenced to 5-20 years at Camp Hill State Correctional Institution.

Yet, during this time in prison, Jesus found Terry and Terry found life! Now, I had the privilege of shepherding Terry as he entered into society through our program. It should be noted that this program was difficult. A sort of “Bible Boot Camp”, if you will. Nevertheless, Terry scratched and clawed his way through the program and had reached our final phase after about a year with us. Then one morning, Terry had a moment of weakness. Another student in the program began poking and prodding Terry to get a response and Terry blew up and shoved this kid. From there, I had to hold Terry back to ensure that he didn’t kill him! When Terry finally calmed down, he knew the mistake that he had made. Our program had a zero tolerance policy on physical altercations. If you put your hands on someone, you’re out! I had bad news to break to my brother Terry. He was going back to state prison. We were both crushed…

I’ll never forget sitting with Terry to break the news to him. Before I could speak, he broke down sobbing. He knew what awaited him if we put him out. Through sobbing and a broken voice, Terry told me, “If you send me back out in these streets, I’m either going to end up killing someone or someone is going to kill me… please Doug… I’m not ready…”. This was the only time that I petitioned for our board to break our rule on physical altercations. The transformation that we had witnessed in this man could not be denied. What he needed in this moment of weakness was not law and wrath. Terry Blessing needed grace and grace is exactly what we gave him. We allowed Terry to stay in the program, contingent upon him starting the entire thing over from the beginning. Terry agreed and I was blessed to have the opportunity to continue discipling my brother for at least another year.

Then comes the plot twist. Shortly after Terry restarted the program, he got sick. It started with a consistent low fever and mild-flu like symptoms. However, within a few months, Terry began noticing large purple sores forming all over his legs. These would continue to spread throughout his body. His primary care physician was stumped, dermatologists were clueless, and Hershey Medical center could only stabilize him. However, Terry’s world came to a screeching halt when he was finally diagnosed by doctors at the University of Pennsylvania. Terry was diagnosed with a rare and extremely aggressive form of lymphoma. He was in stage four and the doctors gave him mere months to live. He was 31 years old when he received this crippling news.

At this time, I was a student at Westminster in Philly and was taking Greek courses. I would take Terry to his appointments in the city, go to class and come back to pick him up. Because of the aggressive nature of the cancer, he was constantly being poked, prodded, and worked on. Caring for Terry became a full time job that the ministry team did with great joy. We all learned how to clean his pic lines, what his diet needed to consist of, and we understood his condition intimately so that we could help him discern the next right steps. Terry was abundantly loved and supported through this time of trial.

During this time, I lived on-site with the men in the program half the week and then came home to Delaware the other half. This gave the men full access to me at any time from Sunday through Wednesday. Oftentimes, my ministry work was outside of the normal hours of operation and lasted well into the early morning hours. On one of these late nights, Terry came to my office around 1am as I was working on Greek translations of Philippians 1. Terry had just come home from a two week admittance to Hershey Hospital due to a high fever. When he came in, I could tell he was afraid and broken. Terry entered the office, laid down on my couch and before he could begin speaking he broke down in tears. His cry this morning was simply, “Why me?” “Why after everything that I have been through would God allow this to happen to me?”

In God’s providence, I had an answer for my beloved brother. Just moments earlier I had finished translating Philippians 1:29 and found a wonderful and amazing exegetical detail that was not seen in the English translation. The ESV translates this verse as, “For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake”. The verb translated as, “it has been granted” is charizomai. This verb comes from the root out of which we get the term and theological concept of grace! The picture presented by this word is not a mere granting of something to another, but rather presents a beautiful picture of something that is, “graciously given as a gift to you.” So what has been graciously given to you?

If we look at the rest of the verse, we see that Paul presents two things that God (the Giver) has graciously given as gifts to Christians (the recipients): faith and suffering. First, Paul communicates that the very faith that we have is a gift that has been given by the hand of God by grace (Acts 13:48; Rom. 12:3; Eph. 2:8-9). The very fact that we believe in Christ is a gracious gift given to us by God’s grace. Yet, this verse also seems to communicate to us that from this same grace, God has given us another gift that coincides with the gift of faith. Namely, God has given us suffering as a gift and this coincides with our faith in Christ!

Now, anyone who has suffered in any capacity knows that pain, sorrow, fear, or any other form of grief is usually not pleasant. In fact, I think it is fair to say that it is quite the opposite. So how in the world could suffering be a gift? It becomes a gift when we realize the purpose with which it serves. Paul states, “It has been graciously gifted to you for the sake of Christ…”. This statement unfolds the hidden purpose of the Christian’s suffering. Whatever our lot in life, though we may not understand it at the moment, serves a divine purpose in the economy of God’s Kingdom.

Your suffering is a part of the plan and will of God! To quote the late Elizabeth Elliot, who was no stranger to suffering, she stated, “We are not adrift in chaos. To me that is the most fortifying, the most stabilizing, the most peace-giving thing that I know about anything in the universe. Every time that things have seemingly fallen apart in my life, I have gone back to those things that do not change. Nothing in the universe can ever change those facts. He loves me. I am not at the mercy of chance.”

I shared this revelation with Terry hoping to provide some scrap or shred of hope with him, but with low expectations for the outcome. However, I can only describe what came next as an act of the Holy Spirit working in Terry’s life. This broken and sorrowful man took these 26 words and decided in his heart that his suffering was not some haphazard event that would result in his demise. Rather, his suffering was the gift of God that was meant to increase his faith, draw him near to Jesus, and was given for the sake of Christ. From that day forward, Terry determined that God had defeated death and he would no longer allow death to have a hold on him! Rather, for the sake of Christ, he would use his sickness as the means to tell anyone and everyone about the God who saved him!

This began a spiritual revolution in the life of Terry and anyone he encountered. Every doctor he met knew about Jesus. Every nurse that checked his temperature was getting an update on his spiritual temperature. Even bad days provided an opportunity to shine the light of Christ, as Terry saw his fall into short tempered moments as a chance for repentance and apology to those he was rude to.

Sadly, around June of that year, my son Jacob was born and I received a job teaching Bible at a local Christian school. My family needed me home and I made the hard decision to leave my position over this ministry. I remember my last moments with Terry as we sat in my Hyundai Sonata eating Dairy Queen. However, when the ice cream was gone, neither of us said a word and just sat in silence. We knew this moment was goodbye. It was a moment reminiscent of Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian Elders. We simply didn’t want to say goodbye, yet the time had come. I hugged my brother so tightly in those last moments knowing that I had found a friendship in him that transcended earthly limitations. It was a friendship, no, it was a brotherhood, rooted in the Lord Jesus. Nevertheless, we said goodbye for now.

As the weeks and months passed, I stayed in close touch with Terry. He had permanently checked in as a resident at Hershey Medical Center. However, he would never tell me how he was really doing. He was only concerned with how my ministry with the students was going. But with each passing phone call, I knew he was getting worse.

On September 29th, 2019, I decided to go to Hershey to see Terry and upon entry to his hospital room, I was rendered speechless. When I came in, there before me was a shell of the man I once knew. There, Terry laid naked and covered in sores from the treatments and his body black and blue from being bed ridden. Yet, this is not what shocked me. What shocked me was who was sitting next to Terry’s bedside holding his hand. There next to his bed was his mother. The very mother who abused and abandoned Terry. The same mother who set Terry’s life on a crash course of destruction and suffering, now sat next to him holding his hand. When I came over to Terry’s side and leaned in to hug him, with what little strength he had left, Terry whispered to me, “Tell her about Jesus…”.

Terry no longer cared about the abuse, the pain, the sorrow. He had resolved in his heart that all these were providentially given by the hand of God to bring him to the place where Grace and mercy produced Faith in his heart. These were the gift of God to bring him to salvation in Christ. There was now purpose and meaning in it all. Now, as he faced death, he didn’t fear it as he knew death had no power over him. Rather, impending death had provided a wonderful opportunity for him to share Christ with the one who had hurt him the most. At his request, I opened his Bible and began to share with his mom about Jesus on his behalf.

Shortly after, his mother left and it was just the two of us. I sat on his bedside and rubbed his back. Again, we both knew it was time for me to go, but this time would be the last goodbye. As we both wept and said our final peace, I shared with Terry that it was ok for him to go home. On October 31st, 2019 at 4:00am, I received a call from Terry’s stepmom that Terry had gone home to be with our Lord.

As I write this blog, I write it with tears in my eyes. Tears of sorrow over the wages of sin and sorrow over the loss of a friend. However, these tears are also a symbol of great joy and peace. Joy that my brother ran the race well, found purpose in his suffering, and is now experiencing his own joy in the full presence of Christ. I also feel great peace knowing that suffering serves a divine purpose. Though in many cases suffering is a mystery and often escapes our comprehension. Though we don’t know the immediate details of why we have been chosen to experience what we are experiencing.

Though we can only see the seconds, minutes, and hours immediately before our eyes and unfortunately, sometimes those passing moments can feel like an eternity. I feel peace knowing that God is in control of all things and that there is a purpose in his plan in the midst of our suffering. Dare I lean into the proclamation of Paul that there is even a gift in our suffering that will increase our faith and allow us to exalt Jesus through our pain. So that, we can rejoice even in the darkest valley knowing that there is a blessing in the trial and that the trial itself is an act of God’s grace towards us even if we can see it.

Doug Clarke serves as the Executive Director of MARKINC Ministries, a faith-based 501(c)3 resource ministry dedicated to offering help and hope to the hurting and heartbroken through the triage, treatment, and teaching of Jesus Christ. He is presently pursuing a Master of Divinity at Westminster Theological Seminary, is a certified advanced alcohol and drug counselor (CAADC) through the Delaware Certification Board, and is licensed to preach in the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA).

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One of the questions often left unspoken among members of Reformed churches has to do with what baptism actually does—its efficacy. When we look to our Shorter Catechism, we are given a clue:

Q. 94. What is Baptism?

A. Baptism is a Sacrament, wherein the washing with water, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, doth signify and seal our ingrafting into Christ, and partaking of the benefits of the covenant of grace, and our engagement to be the Lord’s.

Of course, this makes good sense when applied to adult professors. After all, assuming that one’s profession of faith is genuine, baptism signifies and seals our union with Christ and all the attendant benefits of that union. But what about infants? And what about the fact that some baptized infants never, unfortunately, seem to participate in a true union with Christ and its salvific benefits?

Such questions were of pressing importance, especially in the early modern period, when infant mortality was much higher than it is today. This is one reason why both the Canons of Dordt and the Westminster Confession address the state of believers’ children who die in infancy. What then was the position of the Reformed regarding the efficacy of baptism among baptized infants?

The first, though admittedly a small minority among the Reformed, held to the position that Augustine and his followers took: baptism washes away original guilt in all baptized infants. If a baptized child dies in infancy, there is no guilt for which he or she can be condemned.

A second position, a position which was popular among many of the Westminster divines and continues to be the prevailing position among American Presbyterians is the assumption that baptism signifies and seals the child’s entrance into the visible community of the church and the blessings of union with Christ which are to be had when the child, later in life, hopefully exercises faith in Christ. In other words, baptism typically anticipates a future, saving grace we pray that the Lord would actually provide to our children.

The third position, a position one finds especially prevalent among the early modern Dutch Reformed, held that baptism always signifies and seals a presupposed grace of regeneration; this position is sometimes called presumptive regeneration. Antonius Walaeus, exemplifying this position, wrote in the famous Leiden Disputations:

We do not bind the efficacy of baptism to the precise moment when the outward water moistens the body, but—following Scripture—we require faith and repentance beforehand in all who are to be baptized, at least according to the judgment of love. This holds both for the infant members of covenant, in whom we assert that the seed and spirit of faith and repentance must be determined to be present by virtue of divine blessing and the evangelical covenant, as well as for adults….

It is important not to overlook how radically different this perspective is from the typical modern American Reformed position. Walaeus affirms that one of the reasons we baptize infants of believers is because we presume that they have “the seed and spirit of faith and repentance.” Like Baptists, Walaeus unapologetically says that we Reformed “require faith and repentance beforehand in all who are baptized,” with the caveat “at least according to the judgement of love” or charity.

It is worth explaining, in a bit more detail, what exactly this “seed of faith” is. The late 17th–early 18th century Dutch Reformed theologian Herman Witsius explains in detail, in his essay on the efficacy of baptism among infants, what type of faith and repentance is assumed in the covenant child. To put it simply, Witsius believed that we should presume that all baptized infants, prior to baptism, have been regenerated by the Holy Spirit (a la John 3). Think John the Baptist in the womb (Luke 1:41-44). Baptism, then, is a sign and seal not of grace hoped for in some future time when the child or young adult can publicly profess faith, but a sign and seal of an already granted grace—the grace of regeneration, the seed of faith.

Notably, these theologians did not believe that all covenant children are actually regenerated by the Holy Spirit! They knew of situations in which children within the church community grew up and never publicly professed faith in Christ. Moreover, given that these theologians insisted on perseverance of the saints—which claims that all truly regenerate and given the gift of faith will never lose that regeneration or true faith—they insisted that this is merely a presumption (albeit based on God’s promise to be a God to our children) in accordance with charity.

To illustrate what this judgment of charity means, theologians of the period often pointed to the fact that Peter in 1 Pet. 1:1–2 calls those whom he is writing to “God’s elect” and “chosen.” Of course, no one believes that all to whom he was writing were going to persevere to the end and attain eternal life; yet, he treats them as elect, as true believers, in accordance with their profession. We ought to think of and treat our covenant children similarly, so the argument goes.

The way one answers the question of what infant baptism does and signifies raises important practical questions which we should perhaps give more consideration to. For example, does a view change how we pray for our children? Does it change how we speak to them about their baptism? How does it affect how we understand apostasy? Should I treat my young child as a pagan or as a Christian? Reformed ministers and congregants would do well to think through these questions.

My goal here is not to convince anyone that presumptive regeneration is the biblical position on the efficacy of baptism. Instead, it is important to understand these various historical positions if for no other reason than that they push back on our own assumptions and force us to examine our own position a bit more carefully. Moreover, reviewing this paedobaptistic position reminds us that there has been always diversity among the Reformed tradition on this topic. Above all, we should always seek to evaluate such positions against the supreme rule of Scripture.

Dr. Michael Lynch teaches language and humanities at Delaware Valley Classical School in New Castle. He contributes regularly to Modern Reformation, lectures for the Davenant Institute and Greystone Theological Institute. Dr. Lynch is the author of John Davenant’s Hypothetical Universalism: A Defense of Catholic and Reformed Orthodoxy (Oxford University Press, 2021).

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So what is this root and how should we biblically define addiction? In his book, “Addictions: A Banquet in the Grave”, Christian Psychologist Ed Welch defines addiction as a worship disorder. To elaborate on what this means, Welch states, “So what is the deepest problem of an addict?...The deepest problem is sin.” Long before addiction becomes a physiological issue or withdrawal symptoms become a threat, addiction begins as a heart issue. Namely, it is an issue of idolatry in the heart. While the circumstances, desires, and promptings of the heart may vary from person to person, the root of the matter remains the same.

The individual sees something in the substances that they believe will save, satisfy, or deliver them from a particular circumstance. As a result they seek to abuse and manipulate the drug to satisfy their need. However, over time the promises of these false gods fail and unbeknownst to the worshipper, the gods themselves bring the worshipper into slavery and bondage.

The drawing of the addict into slavery to the drug of worship is typified by the pattern of Israel in the Old Testament. Here, the Israelites would look to manipulate the gods of the surrounding nations to meet their physical, emotional, or spiritual needs. Yet, time after time, this would result in the nations that represented those gods conquering Israel and bringing them into physical bondage. Such is the plight of those in addiction. They look to the drug, seeing some perceived benefit to its usage, and they seek to manipulate it to their own benefit. However, after extended use both their bodies and their souls become enslaved to the substance and the spiritual forces that lay behind it.

This pattern of false worship and bondage is a foundational theme that cycles throughout the Old Testament even beyond the Israelites exile and return to Jerusalem. This cycle continues today in the hearts of unbelievers who are battling against addiction as the allure to bow their knees to idols draws them into bondage. It then repeats itself over and over again in relapse and recovery cycles with the end result being that of, “Jails, institutions, or death.”

Yet the idolatrous cycles of ancient Israel don’t end with chains of bondage. Rather, over and over again, the bondage eventually brings Israel to a place of utter brokenness and despair. Their lowly despondence renders them helpless to save themselves and in need of a savior. It is here in the lowliest of places that Israel finds their hope and salvation in the very God that they have rejected and scorned. Throughout the course of their history, he himself intervenes and delivers his people when they fully turn to him. This promise still stands today for those who are called by his name, yet still find themselves in spiritual bondage to addiction.

If it is true that addiction does not first begin with our genetics and socio-economic factors, but begins and develops in our hearts. Then it must also be true that real healing and salvation from addiction must begin in the heart as well. It is not enough to deal with withdrawal symptoms or learn behavior modification tools. While such interventions may be necessary and such tools may be helpful. Without an intervention in the heart, our inner man will only fashion new gods to worship and we will remain in the cycle of bondage with gods of a new face.

Yet the good news is that God has intervened! That root of idolatry upon which addiction is founded has found its defeat in the person and work of Jesus. This is the beauty of the gospel applied to our lives! At the cross, our sins were judged in Christ and nailed to the cross with him (Col. 2:14). In his death, sin's power was put to death and in his resurrection, freedom to obey and worship him has been provided to all who would repent and believe in him (Rom. 6). It is in this truth where we see the same God that intervened into Israel’s bondage intervene in the bondage of those who are in active addiction! This is where healing truly begins.

True freedom from addiction goes beyond the cessation of drug use. Rather, freedom from addiction is found in the same place as freedom from adultery, pride, anger, greed, or any other sin found hidden in the hearts of men. Freedom from addiction is foundationally found in the person and work of Jesus Christ. This freedom is then obtained, not through finding the right medication or learning how to behave correctly. Rather, it is obtained when one, who is broken in their bondage, looks away from the gods who enslave them and cries out by faith to the God who has died and risen to break the power of sin upon them.

In summary, addiction is a messy and elusive problem that wreaks havoc on all that it touches. Countless lives, my own included, have been ravaged in the wake of its war path. Yet, contrary to the secular claim that there is no freedom from addiction, only maintenance of a disease, the Holy Scriptures present to us a full orbed picture of humanity. One that is unobtainable by the secularist mind due to their rejection of the God that created them. In the Word of God, we find the truth about addiction that cuts deeper than genetic predispositions, socioeconomic influences, and mere maintenance of a medical condition. Rather, we see addiction defined at its root and the healing of it set forth in the fullness of its glory.

It is here where addiction is not just a problem of the drug addict, but is a problem of all men, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Rom. 3:23).” As a result, the road to recovery from addiction is revealed to be the narrow road of salvation that all sinners are called to walk. Thus, the addict is not to be seen as an ultra filthy class of sinner, but rather as one on common ground with the rest of mankind in their need for grace. The beauty of the gospel is this, even for the worst of sinners, grace has been purchased and presented by the blood of Christ. Through him there is not only forgiveness of sins, but freedom from bondage and slavery to sin… even that of addiction.

Doug Clarke serves as the Executive Director of MARKINC Ministries, a faith-based 501(c)3 resource ministry dedicated to offering help and hope to the hurting and heartbroken through the triage, treatment, and teaching of Jesus Christ. He is presently pursuing a Master of Divinity at Westminster Theological Seminary, is a certified advanced alcohol and drug counselor (CAADC) through the Delaware Certification Board, and is licensed to preach in the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA).

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What is addiction? If you were to walk into any secular 12-step recovery meeting, you would hear a lot of different perspectives and vantage points. In such groups, concepts such as god, spirituality, and the philosophy of life are subjective topics. No one is right and no one is wrong. Your truth is your truth and each individual is called to accept and support the perspective of everyone else in the fellowship. This postmodern frame of reference flows forth from the mindset that says, “there are many paths to recovery and no one path is absolutely right”.

However, such subjectivity, tolerance, and postmodern thought amongst secular recovery circles comes to a screeching halt when the question is posed, “What is addiction?” In a nearly unanimous fashion, the resounding answer to this question is, “Addiction is a disease!” To challenge such an assumption amongst the said circles is certain to produce a spectrum of eye rolls at best and outright hostile outbursts at worst. The reason for such responses to this challenge is because this matter has been settled, right? The scientific and medical communities alike have diligently studied this topic, applied the science, and cultivated the medical interventions necessary to slay the beast of substance use disorders!

This is the prevailing mindset in the majority of such circles and to challenge the “facts” is seen as intolerant, hindering progress, keeping people sick, and perpetuating stigma. To summarize the prevailing attitude of the secular recovery world, “We have figured this thing out! So let’s stop the debate on what addiction is and let's get to applying the solution!” This thought pattern not only finds a home amongst secular recovery programs, but also has found a home amongst most Christian recovery circles as well.

This position is not just the prevailing ideology amongst recovery circles, but permeates the majority of all secular substance abuse treatment programs offering care to those in need today. These programs are founded upon this notion that addiction is a disease and subsequent treatment modalities should be built upon this presupposition. The roots of such an ideology go far deeper than mere program development and application. This dogma is the foundation upon which laws governing substance abuse treatment are built. Most treatment centers that receive funding from major insurance companies have built their policies and procedures off of the American Society of Addiction Medicine’s treatment manual and standards. A manual which is founded upon the presupposition that addiction is a disease. Organizations that practice addiction medicine according to these standards are designated as operating according to, “Evidence Based Practices.”

The prevailing best practice in such circumstances is to get individuals who are dealing with substance abuse on some form of medically assisted treatment. Namely, that of Buprenorphine or Methadone and keep them on as long as possible. Even in situations where individuals desire to discontinue such medications, best practice is viewed as pushing them to stay on the meds as long as possible. Sadly, I have even seen cases where people who were battling cocaine addiction with no urinalysis indicating potential opioid abuse were encouraged to begin medically assisted treatment for opioids as a preventative measure. In most cases, to operate outside of such practices or in accordance with conflicting principles may result in a denial of licensure and the funding that is associated with it. In fact, to not adhere with such practices and tenets is viewed as being anti-harm reduction and hurtful towards those who are suffering in addiction.

So it is on the presumption that addiction is a disease that an entire substance abuse treatment industry is built upon. Yet, we must ask, is this presumption correct? Many years ago, I myself battled opiate addiction and by the grace of Christ alone, I was delivered from it. I was one of these individuals who was told, “In order to beat this, you will be on Buprenorphine for the rest of your life.” I now have 14 years clean from heroin. In my early months and years of sobriety, I had (and still have) a desire to give back to those still struggling with addiction. As a result, I began to pursue the goal of becoming a drug and alcohol counselor. My thought was, “This matter has been determined by the experts and I want to be one who would bring the information to the masses!” Yet, when I began my undergraduate studies, I became very disillusioned, by just how ambiguous the “experts” understanding of addiction was. I’ll never forget the astonishment that I felt in my first chemical dependency course when I read that this wasn’t a settled matter. The quote that hit the hardest was from our core textbook, which stated:

If you were to devote or if you were a devotee of television talk shows or read a small sample of the self-help books that line the bookstore shelves, you would easily be left with the impression that research has discovered the causes of, and the treatment for, alcoholism and addiction to the other drugs of abuse. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth. Much of what is known about SUDs, or substance use disorders, is based on mistaken assumptions, distorted data, clinical myths and theories, or, in many cases, incomplete data… Thus, much of what we think we know about substance use disorders is not based on scientific research but on assumptions, guesses, and limited data. However, it is on this foundation that an entire rehabilitation industry has been based. It is not the purpose of this text to deny that SUDs cause a terrible cost in individual suffering into society. That, hopefully, the reader has heard to understand how little is really known about SUDs.

Imagine the confusion, discouragement, and frustration that I would have felt as a newly recovered undergraduate student seeking the truth, only to discover that the scientific and medical communities didn’t possess it.

My frustration would only continue to grow as I continued my studies in pursuit of my certification as an Advanced Alcohol and Drug Counselor. In these studies, the reality that the disease model of addiction was not a settled matter only solidified. Rather, my studies revealed that leading voices in the field were actually at odds with one another on the topic. Some say it is a disease based on data found presented through a variety of disciplines. However, these leading voices simultaneously acknowledge that they know very little and research is still in its infancy stages. This was most clearly seen in an article by the Director of the National Institute on Drug Abuse, Nora D. Volkow, who states:

As a result of scientific research, we know that addiction is a medical disorder that affects the brain and changes behavior. We have identified many of the biological and environmental risk factors and are beginning to search for the genetic variations that contribute to the development and progression of the disorder. Scientists use this knowledge to develop effective prevention and treatment approaches that reduce the toll drug use takes on individuals, families, and communities. Despite these advances, we still do not fully understand why some people develop an addiction to drugs or how drugs change the brain to foster compulsive drug use.

This infantile understanding doesn’t just apply to a general knowledge of addiction, but also to an understanding of how to treat it! Again, Volkow states:

Some critics also point out, correctly, that a significant percentage of people who do develop addictions eventually recover without medical treatment. It may take years or decades, may arise from simply “aging out” of a disorder that began during youth, or may result from any number of life changes that help a person replace drug use with other priorities. We still do not understand all the factors that make some people better able to recover than others or the neurobiological mechanisms that support recovery—these are important areas for research.

In the same vein, other experts examine and interpret the same data, yet come to critically opposite conclusions, even denying the disease model altogether. One instance of this is seen in the Canadian Medical Association Journal, which states:

Addiction does not meet the criteria specified for a core disease entity, namely the presence of a primary measurable deviation from physiologic or anatomical norm. Addiction is self-acquired and is not transmissible, contagious, autoimmune, hereditary, degenerative or traumatic. Treatment consists of little more than stopping a given behaviour. True diseases worsen if left untreated. A patient with cancer is not cured if locked in a cell, whereas an alcoholic is automatically cured. No access to alcohol means no alcoholism. A person with schizophrenia will not remit if secluded. Sepsis will spread and Parkinson disease will worsen if left untreated. Criminal courts do not hand down verdicts of “not guilty by virtue of mental illness” to drunk drivers who kill pedestrians.

In reviewing such statements, what we have to realize is that this discord amongst secular addiction experts stems from a failure to have a holistic view of man. Namely, they are seeking to develop an anthropological understanding of addiction, without having a comprehensive understanding of man. This stems from the foundations of the worldview that the secular experts are operating in accordance with. Specifically, the foundational belief of the secular treatment and recovery ideologies are founded upon evolutionary naturalism. Here, any semblance of the supernatural is denied and mankind is assumed to be purely biological creatures. As a result, it is assumed that all thoughts, actions, and impulses flow forth from genetic predisposition and cognitive development, in association with sociological factors that have influenced the development of both. In summary, we are a living brain and purely biological.

This picture of man is incomplete at best and unbiblical at worst. It denies the reality that true humanity is more than just a brain. Rather, true humanity is both physical and spiritual. We are a body and a soul in union with one another to complete the image of the true man. So to deny the existence of the soul is to miss a most critical component of human existence necessary for addressing matters of addiction. The reason for this is that man is the image of God, yet corrupted in thoughts, actions, and affections as a result of the fall. This corruption has disrupted and distorted the internal function of the human soul which was created for the glory and worship of God (Rom. 11:36).

As a result, as the Apostle Paul tells us, sin’s corruption of the mind has resulted in a mental decay. This drives men to deny the God they are created to worship and into the arms of various idols that are fashioned out of the created world around them (Rom. 1:19-21). Thus, an incomplete and unbiblical understanding of anthropology and the absence of the doctrine of sin are the missing pieces in the secularist’s understanding of addiction. In this denial, they will never be able to truly comprehend, nor rightly treat the root of addiction that lies in the hearts of men.

Doug Clarke serves as the Executive Director of MARKINC Ministries, a faith-based 501(c)3 resource ministry dedicated to offering help and hope to the hurting and heartbroken through the triage, treatment, and teaching of Jesus Christ. He is presently pursuing a Master of Divinity at Westminster Theological Seminary, is a certified advanced alcohol and drug counselor (CAADC) through the Delaware Certification Board, and is licensed to preach in the Presbyterian Church of America (PCA).

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It's that time of year again (hard to believe) where I list the best books I've read this year. These books are, in my opinion, worth commending. Good books should cause us to pause, reflect, pray, or even worship. Additionally, a good book is also one that provides new ways of thinking on old subjects.

The books on this list did just that and are worth of commending.

A few things to note before we see the list. First, these are not books that were necessarily published in 2025. These are just some of the standout books I read this year. Second, the list reflects my own interests and will tend toward theology (which is what I read most). Third, just because a book made the list doesn't mean I agree with everything in it. I chose the books that were most memorable, impressive, thoughtful, challenging, and insightful.  Fourth, the books are not "ranked" but simply listed in no particular order. Lastly, this year I've decided to include a "Book of the Year."

With all that prefatory stuff behind us, let's get into this list, shall we?

J. Alasdair Groves & Winston T. Smith, Untangling Emotions

Book of the Year. This book is outstanding–lucid, learned, and easy to read. I walked away learning more than I bargained for with respects to emotions, even learning what emotions actually are and how to identify them. This is a must read for pastors, parishioners, and discipleship leaders. 

I don't think anyone has influenced my thinking more about ministry and the gospel than Tim Keller. This book, a close runner-up for Book of the Year, almost perfectly distills the best of his teaching and writing. If you want a go-to book on what Keller thought, taught, and wrote about a specific subject, look no further. 

I loved reading this book or should I say, collection of prayers. I could relate to O'Connor in so many ways, and she gave voice to some deep feelings I had. I finished it and wanted to pick it up again almost immediately. 

This is, up to this point, the best and most comprehensive book on pastoral theology I've ever read. I try to read a couple of books a year on pastoral ministry. Murphy's book is the best of its kind–systematic in his approach, readable, and convicting. Every pastor should read it.

I read this book when it first released back in 2016 and I thought it was good, but having read it this time around with more ministry (and life) experience under my belt, I must say that this is probably the best book on the gospel I've ever read. Simply phenomenal. One thing to note. I read The Marrow of Modern Divinity while working on my M.Div. Do you need to read it to read Ferguson's book? Not necessarily, but it will help give some context. 

I read other books this year (still reading, actually), but these are the standouts. Take up and read!

Rev. Mike Hernández serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has writes regularly for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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We continue our Woman in the Word series by taking a look at the life of the first woman, Eve. Interestingly, not much is really known about Eve–her name is mentioned only 4 times in all of scripture, and we have no idea of what she looked like, how many children she had, or even where or how she died. She is a mystery; and yet, she is extremely important to know because, as we will see, her story is our story..

If we stop and think about Eve's story, three things should immediately stand out to us–creation, fall, and redemption. Those three massively important theological terms truly capture the Bible's portrayal of Adam's wife, but because we don't usually associate them with Eve's life, I'll use a helpful alliteration instead: rib, ruin, and redemption.

Rib

The creation story begins with an incredible statement, “In the beginning God.” Everything in the creation account flows from that declaration. This God creates and brings order out of chaos. And each time (day) he forms and fills, he calls the work of his hands "good." That is, until we get to Genesis 2. We come to Genesis 2:18 and find out that something was amiss, something was not "good."

“Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.” God called his creation of man good, but what he did not call good was man being alone. Because, as Puritan Matthew Henry articulates out so well, “Perfect solitude would turn a paradise into a desert, and a palace into a dungeon.” So, God created a helper for Adam–a companion, a wife.  

The last living thing to be created was actually the first female. God created Adam from a handful of dirt, but Eve was created from a handful of Adam.

This all goes down through sovereign surgery:

"The man gave names to all livestock and to the birds of the heavens and to every beast of the field. But for Adam there was not found a helper fit for him. So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man" (Gen. 2:20-22).

Adam gives names to all the animals, and what’s implied here is that Adam had plenty of friends and helpers. But God knew that none of these friends and helpers of Adam were fit for him–the man needed something more like him. So God puts Adam under anesthesia and cuts him open, hence, sovereign surgery. While Adam is asleep, God takes a rib out of him, closes him back up, and out of that rib creates Eve. Adam may have lost a rib, but he gained a loving companion, a wife.

By now we should be asking, why not create Eve from the dust like Adam, why use his rib?
Good question. The reason why I believe God used Adam’s rib to create Eve was to send us all a message about marriage. Matthew Henry is helpful to us again, "That the woman was made from the rib he had taken out of man; not made out of his head to rule over him, nor out of his feet to be trampled on by him, but out of his side to be equal with him, under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be beloved."

A perfect relationship in perfect harmony, in a perfect place. But then it all goes south, really badly really quickly.

Ruin

We know all too well what happens next. Satan, disguised as a serpent, makes his way around the Garden of Eden all the way to where Eve is hanging out. He finds her and then  the two engage in a deadly dialogue (How Eve is not disturbed by a talking snake is wild to me).

Satan sells Eve on the fact that God does not want her eating from the tree because if she does her eyes will be opened and she will be like God. Consider how scripture describes what is going on with Eve, "So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate" (Gen. 3:6).

Yes, Satan sold her on eating from the tree. Yes, the serpent deceived her, but was that really what caused her to eat of the tree?

Let's be honest, we all suffer from wandering eyes. Your eyes can and do get you into trouble, and you can even argue that is what got Eve into trouble, but that’s not entirely the case. Eve’s problem and our problem are not the eyes but the heart Once Eve gave into the dark desires of her heart it ruined her, Adam, and the rest of the human race. She invested her life savings and got practically nothing in return.

Eve sacrificed the security, joy, and peace she had in the garden with God and her husband for a momentary pleasure that earned nothing but headache and heartache. She fell for what the senior demon in The Screwtape Letters had planned for humanity, “an ever increasing craving for an ever diminishing pleasure.” This is what we fall for time and again. We scrap the pleasure of God himself for some cheap substitute. And like Eve we feel the guilt and shame of our sin and instead of running to God, we run from him and sew fig leaves to cover up the fact that our sin has left us naked.

But this is not how Eve's story ends.

Redemption

The Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, cursed are you above all livestock and above all beasts of the field; on your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel” (Gen. 3:14-15).

This is not only God's pronouncement of judgment on the serpent and Satan, it’s also the Bible’s first gospel proclamation. Genesis 3:15 is God’s promise to Adam, Eve, and us that he will repair what we have broken. God would restore, reconcile, and redeem. Adam had faith that God would do this. How do we know that he did? Up until this point Adam has only called his wife woman. She had no proper name yet. But when God promises to destroy the serpent and his seed by the offspring of the woman, Adam trusts this with all his heart and in Genesis 3:20 he names the woman, Eve, which means mother of all living.

Through the woman death came into the world, even though Adam is the one held primarily responsible. But God promises that through that same woman will come life, making her mother of all living.

Have you ever wondered why Adam and Eve sewed fig leaves to cover themselves?

Of all the things they could have used to cover themselves from their nakedness, they chose fig leaves. Fig leaves? That’s hilarious! A closer look at the story reveals that Adam and Eve actually chose the best thing known to them. Consider Genesis 3:21, “And the Lord God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.” Adam would have never done what God did, which was sacrifice an animal, likely a lamb, to cover himself because Adam associated death with punishment. That’s why he chose fig leaves.

But God chooses a lamb to sacrifice to show Adam that one day the True :amb, the Lamb of God, will be punished and put to death for the sins of his people. God clothing Adam and Eve with animal skins was pointing to something greater, it was pointing them to Christ and his clothing them with mercy, righteousness, and grace. That was true for Adam and Eve as it is for us today.

You know the story of Abraham right? God made a covenant with Abraham and told him that his offspring will be the number of the stars. Remember that? Well, Jesus is the promised offspring, the promised seed to Eve so that we can be the stars promised to Abraham. His grace is our hope, his love is our gift, and his redemption all sufficient.

Rev. Mike Hernández serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He writes regularly for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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Lydia is only found in chapter of scripture, Acts 16. Which begs the question, why do an entire post on a woman who is only found in one chapter of scripture? Well, the answer is simple; Lydia’s story is pretty remarkable.

She was the first person on biblical record to ever respond to the gospel during the apostle Paul’s original missionary journey into Europe. This might not sound like a big deal, but it is, especially when we consider where Lydia was from. Acts 16 reveals that Lydia was from the city of Thyatira. Why is that important? Thyatira was located in Asia Minor and Luke tells us the Holy Spirit forbid Paul, Silas, and Timothy to share the gospel there. What this tells us is that God, instead of reaching Lydia in her hometown, pursued her all the way to Europe.

It’s safe to say that Lydia was surprised by sovereignty. As we look at Lydia’s life three themes appear: slavery to sin, the surprise of sovereignty, and the grip of God’s irresistible grace.

Slavery to sin

John Calvin said it best, the heart is a perpetual idol factory. We are idol addicts. We are on this constant quest for more–more acceptance, more approval, more affirmation, and we got to great lengths to acquire these things. Why? We do so because we believe the idols of affirmation, approval, and acceptance will give us all we need to live happy, meaningful, and secure lives. “If I have this, then I’ll be happy; if I have this, then I’ll matter.” That’s what we tell ourselves, even if not in those very words.

In early November of 2005, the show 60 Minutes interviewed the then New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady. As he sat down with correspondent Steven Kroft, he said the following:

"Why do I have three Super Bowl rings and still think there’s something greater out there for me? I mean, maybe a lot of people would say, ‘Hey man, this is what is.’ I reached my goal, my dream, my life. I think, ‘God, it’s got to be more than this.’ I mean this isn’t, this can’t be what it’s all cracked up to be…I love playing football and I love being quarterback for this team. But at the same time, I think there are a lot of other parts about me that I’m trying to find."

We hear that and think, “Tom, seriously, like I’ll trade my life for yours in a second.” Despite all that Tom has, despite all his achievements, there is something missing for him. While we think he should be more than content with all God has graced him with, Tom is not. In fact, he is on the same playing field as the rest of us, he’s an idol addict. Like us, Tom is saying, “If I find this thing, whatever that thing might be, I’ll be happy, I’ll have meaning, I’ll find salvation.” It’s a lie, and we’ve all bought it, Tom Brady included. Let me drive this point home a bit deeper.

Back in October 2014, TLC premiered a feature entitled, “Little and Looking for Love,” the premiere covered the story of an eighteen-year-old teen named Hannah. The story became hugely popular because Hannah is a teenaged primordial dwarf–a rare form of dwarfism with only 80 documented cases in the world at the time.

Hannah stands at just 39 inches tall. As she approached high school graduation, her dream was to go to prom with her friend Connor. At the beginning of the feature, they quote Hannah saying, “I believe in romance, I just haven’t found it yet.” As they recount when her adoptive parents brought her home, Hannah remarks, “I always wanted to be loved, and I got that.” As the interview goes on, it becomes apparent that is not the case.

Hannah’s condition puts her life constantly at risk, she could die from an aneurism at any moment. Despite knowing how short her life is she is completely arrested by the thought of acquiring romantic love. The love, acceptance, approval, and affirmation she has experienced from her mother, father, brothers and sister has not been enough for her. If Hannah could have a boyfriend, she would be happy.

Do you see the thread running through each of the stories?

Hannah, like Tom Brady, like all of us, are idol addicts–slaves to the thought that if we can acquire the blessings our idols promise, we would be happy. We are slaves to the sin idolatry, and we know this because our wills are bent toward what we love. When we turn to idols, we are showing we love that thing more than God. Thus, we need divine intervention. God is aware of our sad state, and does something about it. This is where Lydia’s story really starts.

The surprise of sovereignty

She was from Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, and a worshiper of God (Acts 16:14). That last part is important. Lydia was a worshiper of God. She was worshiping the Jewish way, not the Christian way yet. We know this because Luke didn’t say she was a worshiper of the Lord, but a worshiper of YHWH. You see, Lydia was hanging around the place of prayer on the Sabbath, probably a place near the local synagogue. So Paul approaches the women there to speak to them, but what we are told is one heard his message–Lydia.

Apparently, Lydia was seeking God, but really God was seeking her–drawing her to himself through Paul’s preaching of Christ. And upon his preaching the Lord opens her heart to hear his message. We are helpless to change our own hearts for the better. Whenever we see a soul like Lydia’s seeking God, we can be sure God is drawing them. Lydia was listening to Paul’s gospel, but it's only because God gave her the spiritual ears to hear.

She had an open heart, but it was God who opened that heart. The Holy Spirit forbade Paul and his companions to preach in Asia, and God could have easily met Lydia in her hometown, but he pursued her to Europe. God surprised her by his sovereignty and gripped her by his irresistible grace.

Gripped by irresistible grace

Lydia’s story shows us the truth of how irresistible God’s grace is. Grace doesn’t push sinners against their wills toward Christ; it draws them willingly to him by first opening their hearts, as in Lydia’s case. Grace enables sinners to see their sin for what it is and empowers them to despise the idols they formerly loved. Someone whose heart has been gripped by grace, whose heart has been opened like Lydia’s, will inevitably find Christ irresistible.

On one morning in May of 1973, Alister McGrath, Christian apologist and professor at Oxford University, found that his new Christian faith was taking a decisive turn. Alister was an aggressive atheist prior to becoming a Christian, and when he converted to Christianity in his first semester at Oxford he knew he was intellectually convinced Christianity was the truth. Eighteen months after his conversion he realized that he was missing the heart of the gospel. So he decided to take a trip into the woods with his Bible to read Philippians 3.

Upon reading this is what Alister had to say:

"The first breakthrough came as I contemplated Paul’s declaration, “I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.” As I read and reread those words, I began to realize the true nature of my problem: My faith had affected my mind but left the rest of me untouched."

Alister’s story is just like Lydia’s story–they were both worshipers of God, but their hearts had not been opened yet. Both their stories show us that there is a huge difference between knowing about Jesus and actually knowing Jesus. Alister captures what a life gripped by irresistible grace looks like, he said:

"Previously, I had tended to see my faith as something I needed to sustain; now I realized it could sustain me. I began to think of my faith as being grasped and held by Christ, and adjusted every aspect of my life accordingly—my mind, heart, imagination, and hands."

That’s what a life gripped by God’s irresistible grace looks like, a life transformed. Head, heart, imagination, and hands changed.

Beautiful.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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As we continue our Women in the Word series, we arrive today at one woman different from all the rest. Her name is unknown, but her story has lived on throughout the centuries. She is the Samaritan woman. Several posts could be dedicated to her story alone, but I'll just focus on three elements of it–lust, love, and the need for living water.

John documents her interaction with Jesus in chapter four of his gospel. It's a lengthy account, so I'll just give you the play-by-play. Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was making more disciples than John the Baptist. Now, whether that was a bad thing for the Pharisees we are not sure, but Jesus decided to make a move and head to Galilee. Then John says something really interesting about Jesus’ journey from Judea to Galilee, he said that Jesus had to pass through Samaria.

Why is that tidbit of information interesting?

Jesus did not have to actually pass through the Samaria to get to Galilee. It was definitely the quickest route to Galilee, but he didn’t have to pass through it, nor should he have had to at all. In fact, it’s a bit scandalous that he did so. Here’s why. Jews hated Samaritans. Samaritans were unclean and syncretists–they fused Judaism with paganism. So no self-respecting Jew would ever, no matter how quick it would get them to Galilee from Judea, pass through Samaria, but Jesus did.

Then Jesus arrives at a town named Sychar, the place where Jacob’s well is located, at around noon. Jesus is pretty drained from his journey so he takes a seat at the well. As he is sitting there a Samaritan woman approaches the well to draw some water. She didn’t say anything to Jesus, and probably didn’t look at him either. Knowing he was a Jewish man, she would’ve wanted to draw her water and get out of there as quick as possible. Then Jesus does the culturally unthinkable–he asks the woman to give him a drink. His words were more like a command, “Give me a drink” he said. And their dialogue begins.

Cohabitation and consumer relationships

The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask for a drink from me, a woman of Samaria?” (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have nothing to draw water with, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our father Jacob? He gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did his sons and his livestock.” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again. The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I will not be thirsty or have to come here to draw water.” Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come here.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you now have is not your husband. What you have said is true.”

Jesus and the Samaritan woman are talking about water and all of a sudden Jesus just steers the entire conversation in another direction. He took the conversation from water to relationships because Jesus is about to deal with a spiritual issue. The issue was initially a physical one–she is thirsty for the water Jesus is offering. But Jesus is dealing with something beyond just physical thirst, he is dealing with spiritual thirst, which is precisely why he asks her about her relationships.

Remember, Jesus should not have passed through Samaria to get to Galilee, but he did, and he did so for the sole reason to give the gospel to this woman. That is what he is doing here. In essence, Jesus tells the woman “listen, I have a water that whoever drinks of it will never thirst again,” the woman replies, “that sounds great, give me this water so that I will not be thirsty or ever have to come here again.” Jesus replies, “Go call your husband.” Imagine this for a second; the woman must have heard that command and initially been like, “ok, sounds good, will do, wait, what? Excuse me Jesus but I have no husband.” Jesus replies, “that’s right, you don’t have a husband, in fact, you have had five husbands, and the guy you’re with now is not your husband.”

Jesus is confronting the woman with the reality that she is in a consumer relationship. What do I mean by consumer relationship? Let me tease that out with a story.

In April 14, 2012, Meg Jay, a clinical psychologist at the University of Virginia, wrote an article for the New York Times entitled “The Downside of Cohabiting Before Marriage.” She writes about her 32 year old client who in the article, to protect her real identity, went by the name of Jennifer. Jennifer and her boyfriend lived together for four years before they got married. Less than a year after getting married, Jennifer was being counseled by Meg and looking for a divorce lawyer. This is what Jennifer said, “I spent more time planning my wedding than I did happily married…My parents got married young so, of course, they got divorced. We lived together! How did this happen?”

In other words, Jennifer is saying, “My parents were bound to get divorced because they married young, but not me, I didn’t make that mistake. In fact, I married later and even lived with my boyfriend for four years!”

Consider Meg’s research findings about the issue of cohabitation. In the United States, cohabitation has increased by more than 1,500 percent in the past half century. In 1960, about 450,000 unmarried couples lived together. Now the number is more than 7.5 million. In a nationwide survey conducted in 2001 by the National Marriage Project, nearly half of 20-somethings agreed with the statement, “You would only marry someone if he or she agreed to live together with you first, so that you could find out whether you really get along.” About two-thirds said they believed that moving in together before marriage was a good way to avoid divorce.

What was interesting to me was that the research clearly revealed that the 20-somethings were wrong in their assumption. Living together and engaging in sex before marriage is not a good way to avoid divorce, but a good way to set you on the path to divorce.

Remember Jennifer? She said she never felt as though her boyfriend was committed to her. She admitted that she felt like she was on this multiyear, never-ending audition to be his wife. But that is precisely what cohabitation and a sex-before-marriage consumer relationship is–an audition. It's marketing or try-outs. The tendency in these relationships is to market or put forward your best self so they can choose you. It’s reduces you to a commodity. Think of it like going shopping–you get what you want and/or need then you leave–no commitments, just business.

When you’re in a consumer relationship you are looking out for your wants and needs. This runs contrary to God's design. He gave us the grounds and guidelines for relationships–the covenant union called marriage. In a marriage we say to one another in the covenant bond, “I have given you my life, therefore I give you my body, money, etc.”

When Jesus shows up

The Samaritan woman knew this at some point, but now opted instead for cohabitation and transaction. She was in her sixth relationship audition, hoping to land the leading role in a man’s life. Then Jesus shows up.

He says, “I can satisfy your thirst. You’re not thirsty for water, no, you’re thirsty for meaning and you’ve been searching for meaning in men. You want to matter to someone. You want their acceptance, approval, affirmation, and attention. You have used sex to get love from the men in your life and the men in your life have used love to get sex, and that’s the issue. You want love–in sickness and in health love, for better or for worse love, till death do us part love. You want covenant love. In fact, you thirst for it, and if you come to me you will never thirst again."

Sound familiar? The Samaritan woman’s story is our story. We thirst for those same things and go to great lengths to quench our thirst. We got to the well to draw acceptance, approval, affirmation, and love, but only Jesus can give those things truly, deeply, and fully. Only Jesus can quench the thirst for relational perfection we desire.

So, come to the well of salvation and drink deeply. You will never thirst again.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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Today we are beginning a new blog series  entitled “Women in the Word.” Each week we will look at a different woman in scripture, their impact, importance, role in God’s larger story, how their stories point to Christ, and our place in their stories. I won't place the spotlight on every woman in scripture, and some more well-known figures like Ruth and Esther will not feature in the series because I've preached on both of them somewhat recently. We will kickoff with a look at Mary Magdalene.

Not much is known about Mary or even said about her in scripture, but what is mentioned about her is extremely important. She not only helped fund Jesus’ teaching and miracle-working ministry, but was also one of the first followers of Christ to discover his empty tomb. Despite the mystery surrounding Mary’s life, there is enough to know that God had taken her from darkness to deliverance to discipleship.

Clearing the air

Before we unpack the darkness that surrounded Mary’s life prior to being delivered by Jesus, clearing the air about who Mary really was is in order. Myths abound about the life and person of Mary Magdalene, and society has made her famous for all the wrong reasons. Consider some of the more well-known myths about Mary. We all know that Jesus had a beloved disciple–the one who laid his head on Jesus’ chest, John the apostle. However, in 1998, Ramon Jusino proposed that it was actually Mary Magdalene who was really the disciple Jesus loved. Why can’t we believe Ramon? Well, because John in chapters 19 and 21 of his gospel gestures quite clearly that he is the disciple whom Jesus loved.

Another myth about Mary was that she was engaged to John. Yes, the same John who was the disciple Jesus loved. But the evidence for such a claim is suspect at best. Towering over all other myths is the one propagated Dan Brown in his famous novel, and later movie, The Da Vinci Code. The basic plot line of the book is that the main character is trying to find and use the mythological Holy Grail, the cup Jesus drank from at the Last Supper, to prove that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene and had some children with her. The main character would then weaponize this information and attempt to destroy the Vatican.

Sound far-fetched at all? It certainly does to me, but millions of people believed this to be true and this myth caused hundreds of Christians to doubt and even leave the faith. What was mind-boggling to me was that Dan Brown said that the novel was historical fiction. Fiction! But people believed it anyway.

Will the real Mary please stand up?

So who was Mary, really? Let me begin to tease that out by first saying that Magdalene was not Mary's last name. It was actually a place-name. Mary was from Magdala or Magadan. The second worth pointing out is that Mary Magdalene is not the woman from Luke 7 or John 8. What do I mean? Plenty of scholars believe Mary Magdalene to be the woman caught in adultery in John 8.

You know the story. The Pharisees caught some woman in the act of adultery and brought her to Jesus to test him by stating that the Law demands she be stoned, but Jesus says, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” The Pharisees are stumped and so they leave, but the woman stays standing there and Jesus asks her, “Where are your accusers, has no one condemned you?” She replies, “No one, Lord.” Jesus tells her, “I don’t condemn you either, go and sin no more.”

Famously, Mel Gibson, in The Passion of the Christ, portrays Mary Magdalene as this woman. The thing is the Bible does not assert this claim, nor does it make this connection to Mary Magdalene. Let's move on to Luke 7. Luke tells the story of a woman who found out Jesus was dining at a Pharisees house, so she invites herself and begins to weep over Jesus’ feet and dries them with her hair. This woman was simply deemed a sinner, likely a prostitute, and many believe this may have been Mary Magdalene, but that is simply not true.

If we harmonize the accounts with the other evangelists, we come to find out that the woman who anointed Jesus' feet with her tears was Mary the sister of Martha (Jn. 12:1-8). An additional point to note there is that both Mark and Matthew, in documenting this incident, state that this happened in Bethany, and Mary and Martha, along with their brother Lazarus, lived in Bethany.  

Furthermore, Luke, in Luke 8, casts Mary Magdalene as a woman disciple of Jesus. So why wouldn’t Luke, a chapter earlier, mention her name if Mary Magdalene was the woman weeping at Jesus’ feet? I rest my case.

What we do know about Mary Magdalene is that she was single, likely a widow, she was a woman of means (she helped fund Jesus’ ministry), and she was once in a very dark place in life. Prior to meeting Jesus, Mary Magdalene had seven demons. But Mary having seven demons doesn’t necessarily mean she was a sinful woman, that may have been true, but demon possession usually was associated with mental or physical disorder. So, while Mary could have led an immoral life, it was more likely the case that she suffered from some sort of mental or physical disorder imposed on her by these demons.

But Jesus wouldn't leave her that way. He rescued and delivered her. What’s so remarkable about Mary going from darkness to deliverance is the path it set her on. Jesus healed people throughout his earthly ministry, but not all of them followed him, and not as many followed him as fervently as Mary Magdalene. This woman was more than just a follower, she was a disciple. I think that truth is best captured in Mary's response to the angel's question to her at Jesus' empty tomb in John 20.

She stood at the empty tomb weeping, the angel's ask why, and she responds with “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” There it is, "my Lord." Not "the Lord," but "my Lord." Jesus was her Lord and Savior, and when she saw him she clung to him. Mary was grief stricken at Jesus' death. She loved Jesus, and like everyone else, she forgot that he was going to rise from the dead. She thought someone had taken her Lord, but then Jesus shows up and all he has to say is "Mary," and immediately she knew it was him and she clung to him for dear life. Then she shared the news with everyone (Jn. 20:15-18).

A discipleship like Mary's

In documenting Mary's reaction and interaction with the resurrected Christ, I believe John is trying to teach us about discipleship through Mary’s own discipleship. It is almost as if John is telling us that this is what disciples do: disciples know their master’s voice, they cling to him, and they spread the good news.

Disciples, like Mary, know the voice of their Master. Consider Jesus’ words in John 10:1-5:

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them, and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice. A stranger they will not follow, but they will flee from him, for they do not know the voice of strangers.

Disciples know Christ’s voice and follow it. The voice of strangers is foreign to them. Whose voice are you listening to and following? Disciples also cling to their master. They know that they love because God in Christ loved them first, and this is why they cling to him. They couldn’t love Christ before he delivered them. Mary’s life proves this.

We were in darkness, but Jesus delivered us and now we hear his voice, follow it, and cling to him because he is our Shepherd, Leader, our love, and Lord. Who are you clinging to?
Disciples also spread the good news that Jesus is alive, risen, and seated at the right hand of God. Mary shows us that disciples don’t just keep the gospel to themselves–they are compelled to spread it. Why? Because they want everybody in on the good news, they want people to know that deliverance from darkness has come.

How could we keep silent? Like he did with Mary, Jesus has delivered us by grace and disciples us by grace. Now let's tell the world. 

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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All good things must come to an end, and so, we conclude our series by unpacking one of scripture’s most beloved verses–Philippians 4:13. I mean, who doesn’t love Philippians 4:13? It’s powerful and encouraging. And yet, I can’t think of a more misquoted verse than this one. It’s practically everywhere, almost always taken to mean something it doesn’t. It has literally become a blank check for whatever we want–a slogan for self-empowerment; a declaration of self-achievement and accomplishment; a motto for athletic success hanging from locker rooms all over the nation.

This misquotation and mishandling of Philippians 4:13 doesn't surprise me because, as John Piper once said, “We are willing to be God-centered, it seems, as long as God is man centered. We are willing to boast in the cross as long as the cross is a witness to our worth.”

That’s a problem. A big problem. Only when God takes his rightful place in our hearts will everything else stand in its proper place in our lives. Until then, we will continue to turn glorious truths like doing all things through Christ on their head. So, how do we quote Philippians 4:13 properly? We are going to answer that question, but first we need to lay a foundation.

Philippians ends the same way it began with Paul echoing, albeit broadly, what Philippians is about: the joy that comes from gospel partnership and gospel progress. In Philippians 4:10-20, Paul expresses his gratitude for the church’s support, past and present, but does so in interesting fashion, almost reluctantly. Look closely at verses 10-17, specifically:

"I rejoiced in the Lord greatly that now at length you have revived your concern for me. You were indeed concerned for me, but you had no opportunity. Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. Yet it was kind of you to share my trouble. And you Philippians yourselves know that in the beginning of the gospel, when I left Macedonia, no church entered into partnership with me in giving and receiving, except you only. Even in Thessalonica you sent me help for my needs once and again. Not that I seek the gift, but I seek the fruit that increases to your credit."

Paul expresses his gratitude to the Philippians, but qualifies every statement of thankfulness. It’s as if Paul says, “thank you all so much, but…” He does this to prevent a misunderstanding on their part. Why? Because Paul does not want the Philippians to think that the comfort their gifts have made possible has in some major way contributed to his ability to cope with the difficulty of being imprisoned.

What made Paul cope with being in prison and the afflictions he faced wasn’t their gifts, it was God. I love this about Paul. The man was unabashedly God-centered. He says in Colossians 1:28-29, "Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ. For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me."

All God, in all things, all the time. This is why we misquote Philippians 4:13. We take Paul’s words, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me,” as a witness to our ability to accomplish things through Christ’s strength. We make Philippians 4:13 say something about us, instead of Jesus. We make it about our independence instead of our need to be totally dependent on Christ for everything.

Here is one of those moments where Greek is helpful. Our English translations say, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me,” but in Greek it actually says, “I can do all things in him who strengthens me.”

The verse is about position, not performance. But we reverse it. We make the focus our performance instead of our position. In Christ we can do all things. But our self-obsession and narcissism doesn’t allow us to look past ourselves. It always has to be about us–our performance, our acclaim, our fame, our dignity, and our worth.

We want to shine, but we were actually made to reflect. At the tower of Babel people tried to make a name for themselves, and we all know how that turned out. We were made to reflect the glory of God so that God would be made to look great–to look like the all-satisfying treasure he is. But how else do we misquote Philippians 4:13? We take the passage to be talking about enabling, when it is actually talking about enduring.

And Paul endured some terrible things. Consider 2 Corinthians 11:

"Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches" (vss. 24-28).

In the next chapter, Paul talks about being taken up to heaven. He then says that God, to keep him from becoming conceited, gave him a thorn in his flesh. He prayed God would remove it, but God replies, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (vs. 9).
What Paul says next is simply amazing, "Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (vss. 9-10).

Paul experienced abundance and affliction, and both things drove him back to Christ. Philippians 4:13 is not about what you can do, it’s all about what Christ does. Failure to recognize that is the main reason why we misquote it. But there’s more.

What Philippians 4 and 2 Corinthians 11-12 show us is that Christ is the source of our contentment. Let me park there for a moment.

The elusive nature of contentment

Contentment is a disposition or attitude of the heart. It is the heart posture that joyfully rests in God’s providence and grace. In the simplest sense, I would say, contentment is satisfaction and gladness in God. If this is true, and I believe it is, then for most people in the world contentment is elusive. We think we have finally managed to grab ahold of some, but it almost immediately slips out of our hands. Case in point: Tom Brady.

In a 2005 interview with 60 Minutes, the former quarterback said the following:

“Why do I have three Super Bowl rings and still think there’s something greater out there for me? I mean, maybe a lot of people would say, “Hey man, this is what is important.” I reached my goal, my dream, my life. Me, I think, “God, it’s got to be more than this.” I mean this isn’t, this can’t be what it’s all cracked up to be.”

In case we forgot, Tom Brady retired with 7 Super Bowl rings. In 2015, a video was released that quoted Brady saying, “You know what my favorite ring is? The next one.” If contentment is real, and it is, it has seemingly eluded Tom Brady. The cry of every human heart, whether rich or poor, is for more. We are constantly telling ourselves, “If I have that job, I’ll matter. If I have that car, I’ll get noticed. If I have that guy or girl, I’ll be happy. If I have that many followers, post these videos and pictures, I’ll be affirmed.”

And what has come to define us is our restlessness, unhappiness, and dissatisfaction. Unlike Paul, we say, “I have learned in whatever situation I am in to be discontent.”

We allow things to compete for our contentment, and what we realize is they never deliver what we think they will. It’s as if our contentment gets kidnapped everyday. I fall victim to the greener grass conspiracy more times than I would care to admit. We all look for something other than God to satisfy the deepest longings of our soul. We experience post-Eden discontentment because we are searching for Sabbath rest and Sabbath satisfaction in all the wrong places. And so contentment remains elusive because sin is pervasive.

Contentment is elusive to us because sin colors everything we do, say, and are. Sin is not just blindness to the true, good, and beautiful, it is also deadness to what makes eternally happy: namely, God. It desensitizes us to the pleasures and providence of God, and suffocates our contentment. When it comes to our sinful search for satisfaction, happiness, and contentment apart from God, we look like Sisyphus.

Sisyphus was a powerful and clever king with some bad habits–he was greedy, deceitful, and murderous. He upset some of the gods by his murdering and lies, and once the gods caught him, they ordered him to the terrible punishment of useless and frustrating labor—he would have to push a huge rock up a steep mountain, only to find that the rock would roll all the way back down again and again and again, forever. All his strength, power, and brilliance were put to the eternal task of accomplishing nothing.

My point is that contentment is Christ sustained, but when we try to sustain it on our own, and we don’t experience the happiness we expected, not only do we sin, we also complain about our circumstances.

Complaining

I think complaint is the universal language of everyone, especially Christians. Stick around church for a while and you’ll see what I mean. Most times we equate complaint with ingratitude. There’s some truth to that. But I think complaint is ultimately distrusting God. It’s an anxious concern that things won’t work out how we want them to. When we do that, we deem God incompetent, unfair, uncaring, and irrelevant. There is a huge difference between complaining to God and complaining about God. The first shows enduring trust in the sovereignty of God. The second shows eroding trust by making God out to be powerless and incapable.

Circumstances are not occasions for complaint, but catalysts that drive us to Christ. That’s why Paul could say, "I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content. I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me" (Phil. 4:11-13).

Paul’s satisfaction and trust in Christ were not independent of his circumstance, but the place where they could grow in gospel soil. Contentment is the fruit of a mindset that knows its limitations, and trusts Christ’s provision and God’s providence. Paul knew that Christ would provide and that God governs, sustains, and guides by his power. That’s why he could be content in any situation.

Contentment includes trusting both. The content Christian believes that God sees, knows, and cares. Believing that is tough sometimes, most times, if we’re honest. We feel as though God is absent in our circumstance and troubles, that we are going to have to go at it alone. But God is there, present in pain, present in trouble, and present in the storms of life. He might be silent, but he is there.

The sufficiency of Christ

The key to contentment for Paul was not Gnosticism, as if it came through secret knowledge, nor was it stoic self-sufficiency. Rather, the key to contentment was Christ-sufficiency in all circumstances. We might not always feel this way, but there is no such thing as an incomplete or deficient Christian. Christ’s divine power has granted all things that pertain to life and godliness (2 Pet. 1:3).  

At the moment of salvation, we got all we need. Yes, we mature and grow, but no resource is missing for us as we travel the road to spiritual maturity. There is no need to search for something more because it doesn’t exist. Christ is sufficient. But I think this is hard for us to accept, not in theory, but in practice. We know Christ is sufficient, but live as though we are self-sufficient.

The one thing the self-sufficient person can never do is receive. We must open the clenched fists of self-sufficiency and receive Christ as he is offered to us in the gospel.
Why? Because everything we need is found in him.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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In part one of our "Misquoting Philippians" series, we tackled Philippians 1:21. Part two concerns itself with Philippians 2:12-13, a confusing (and terrifying) passage, to say the least. This is one of those passages that often gets misquoted, mishandled, and misapplied. And I would attribute to context, that is, we have a difficult time grasping the text's context. So, let me give you some context.

Philippians 2:12-13 is just a small part of a large section in the letter that stretches from 1:27-2:18. In that section, Paul wants to get across one thing to the Philippian Christians–that their manner of life be worthy of the gospel of Christ. What that looks like for Paul is unity, selflessness, humility, obedience, and righteousness. Put another way, Paul is concerned with the gospel implications for unity, selflessness, humility, obedience, and our position before God as justified sinners.

Those topics because they play an important role in what it means to “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling” (v. 12). Each of these topics can stand alone as essential characteristics of the Christian life, but they need to be centered on what God accomplished for us in Christ. Otherwise, we can easily slip into legalism about those very things.

Unity

As we proceed to understand Philippians 2:12-13, we must take a closer look into Paul's first concern, which was unity. Any consideration of unity should begin with the acknowledgment that love is hard. Love is hard because, to quote C.S. Lewis:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable…The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

I think Lewis is right. When we love, we open ourselves to the possibility of painful heartbreak. And since unity necessitates love, and since we approach loving with a fair amount of reluctance in order to guard ourselves, unity becomes hard to achieve. Especially in the church. We, the church, say we love, but too often our actions betray our words.  

This is particularly evident in our tribalism. We come across as accepting and open-handed, but we do tend toward gravitating to those who share the same age, race, ethnicity, socio-economic status, and personality traits. I love how Anne Lamott put it, “You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.”

That's putting it rather bluntly, but she's certainly on to something. The antidote to tribalism is love informed by the gospel. Why? Because gospel love integrates. It moves toward others in a grace soaked posture and disposition because it recognizes that everyone is broken and that God is a missionary God. He comes to the disenfranchised and marginalized and adopts them into his family.

I think most churches fail at unity. But as a quick aside, let me say this, there is a big difference between being welcoming, warm, and loving, and accepting others at their best and worst. We fail at unity, not only because we are tribal, but also because we forget we are all image bearers. Let me give you an example. Look at John 8:1-11:

They went each to his own house, but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. Early in the morning he came again to the temple. All the people came to him, and he sat down and taught them. The scribes and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery, and placing her in the midst they said to him, “Teacher, this woman has been caught in the act of adultery. Now in the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. So what do you say?” This they said to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him. Jesus bent down and wrote with his finger on the ground. And as they continued to ask him, he stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once more he bent down and wrote on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him. Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”

No name, just a status. Adulteress. Not a she, but an it. Not a person, but a thing. Not a woman, but a harlot. She’s an object, not an image bearer. If we are going to have unity in the church, we must recognize that all, saint and sinner alike, are image bearers. This is important because, as image bearers, everyone has a relationship with God. Either you are under law or under grace, “in Adam” or “in Christ.” What this tells us is that we are bound to God, and each other. I hope this changes how we approach unity because it has implications for our sanctification and growth in grace.

It’s not typical for us in the church to think of relational sanctification. I like to call it relational holiness. The biggest threat to relational holiness is disunity, and disunity affects sanctification. Relational harmony is the fertile soil in which relational holiness can grow. This is why, in Philippians 4:2, Paul asks Euodia and Syntyche to agree in the Lord. It was their issues that divided the Philippian church. Agreement on the finer points of doctrine, while important, should take a back seat to looking out for the interest of others.  

Paul says it himself, "So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others" (2:1-4).

Selflessness, humility, and obedience

If that wasn’t enough to get us to work toward unity, consider what Paul says next, "Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (2:5-11).

That should flat-out wreck us. Using Christ as an example, Paul is telling us that the pathway to unity is not self-preservation, but self-forgetfulness. It looks like Christ emptying himself, but not of any of his attributes. Christ emptied himself of the form of God to reveal God in the form of a servant and human being. So what Paul masterfully does is present Christ as an example of selflessness, humility, and obedience for the Philippians and us today to follow to achieve unity.

Essentially, Paul is saying, “Guys, strive to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. Agree. Avoid self-ambition, and in humility look out for the interest of others because that’s what Jesus did.” Think about this for a moment. Paul is calling all his readers, then and now, to not only watch their heart, but also to be sure that actions follow their inner attitudes. Be selfless, be humble, be obedient, but make sure actions follow your feelings.

But we got to be careful here because we can easily slip into legalism. If we take Christ as just moral exemplar, then we miss what Paul is saying. Paul is grounding his command of having the same love and same mind in what God did for us in Christ. This is a command that comes from the gospel. The gospel reality has to come first, then the obedience should follow. The gospel produces obedience. All commands must be Christ-centered and our response to those commands gospel-driven.

So, Paul places the example of Christ before the divided Philippian church. He exhorts them to pursue selflessness, just as Jesus was selfless. They should pursue humility and the interests of others, just as Jesus refused to exploit the power that his equality with God gave to him and instead demonstrated his deity in the role of a servant. The Philippians should pursue obedience, just as Jesus was obedient to the point of death. Each exhortation, each command is delivered in light of Christ.

Our position in Christ has to precede our performance for Christ.

Reversing the order

This is why we misquote Philippians 2:12-13. We reverse that order. We live as though our performance precedes our position in Christ. This is why Christianity differs from all major religions. All major religions say, “Obey, therefore you’re accepted,” but Christianity says, “You’re accepted, therefore obey.” Reverse the order, and you lose the gospel. Reverse the order, and you lose Jesus.

But here is our problem, deep down inside we believe we can do it. We read, “Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed, so now, not only as in my presence but much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling,” and say, “Challenge accepted, Paul.” We take “work out” to mean “work for.” That’s not gospel. So, we come to Philippians 2:12-13 and completely forget that “he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” We completely forget what Paul says in Philippians 3:

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.

There it is, “the righteousness from God that depends on faith,” not works. We so desperately want our good works to define us and get us in God’s good graces. But we can’t. That’s why Paul follows up verse twelve with “for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” Essentially, Paul is saying, “Guys, you’re only working out what God is working in.” Isn’t that freeing to you? It is to me.

Let me be clear about something, I am not opposed to effort, I am opposed to earning. Paul wants us to make efforts toward obedience, but even our effort is accredited to God. God willed the works, he will work through us, and he will one day complete them. All God, from first to last. That’s gospel. Paul says, “obey,” but all we are doing is what God enables us to do. God provides both the will and ability to work out what he is working in.

I want offer a word of caution here. We need both verses, twelve and thirteen. Stress verse twelve and you end up a legalist. Stress verse thirteen and you end up lawless. You need both. And I am not talking about balance, these verses don’t teach that God meets us halfway. It’s all God, from beginning to end. He initiates and he sees things through to the end.

So, take a deep breath and rest. Deeds don’t determine your destiny. God is working. If he called you, he will complete you.

Look for Part 3 next week.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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Today we begin a three-part series entitled, “Misquoting Philippians.” Philippians is a short, but powerful letter, and happens to be one of my favorite books of the Bible—Mark being first and Revelation second, in case you were wondering. It’s not unusual for Philippians to end up on someone’s favorite Bible book list. I mean, think about it, the book has some of our favorite verses. You know, the really well-known verses that end up on Christian T-shirts, Christian artwork, Christian websites, Christian schools, athlete’s shoes, and everyone’s favorite, Christian bodies. What better way to declare to the world how I feel about Christianity than to have, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” tattooed on my back, ribs, or biceps? Feel free to insert sarcasm right there.

I think we misquote parts of Philippians because the letter seems to lack a consistent flow of thought. So, we come to these great, powerful verses and take them out of their context because we struggle to nail down exactly the point Paul is trying to get across. That’s what the next couple of posts are for–we are going to look at some of Philippians’ most misquoted verses and find out what they actually say and mean, and how their message applies to us today.

I don’t know about you, but anytime I come to a book in scripture I ask myself, “How did we get here?” Essentially, what I am asking myself is, what circumstances did God sovereignly superintend to bring about the writing of this book? As it relates to Philippians, why did the Spirit lead Paul to write to the Christians at Philippi? To answer that question, we have to go back in time to Acts 16. Consider Luke's account:

Paul came also to Derbe and to Lystra. A disciple was there, named Timothy, the son of a Jewish woman who was a believer, but his father was a Greek. He was well spoken of by the brothers at Lystra and Iconium. Paul wanted Timothy to accompany him, and he took him and circumcised him because of the Jews who were in those places, for they all knew that his father was a Greek. As they went on their way through the cities, they delivered to them for observance the decisions that had been reached by the apostles and elders who were in Jerusalem. So the churches were strengthened in the faith, and they increased in numbers daily. And they went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. And when they had come up to Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them. So, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. And a vision appeared to Paul in the night: a man of Macedonia was standing there, urging him and saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” And when Paul had seen the vision, immediately we sought to go on into Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them. So, setting sail from Troas, we made a direct voyage to Samothrace, and the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city some days.

As we can see. Paul and his crew set out to take the gospel to Asia and Bithynia, and the Holy Spirit forbade them. Why? We don’t know, but I’ll let you wrestle with that one. Paul then receives a vision, and after a few stops, he and company arrive at Philippi gospel ready. If Luke was trying to tell us how the church in Philippi started, he did a good job. Because in the remaining verses of Acts 16, we read that Lydia and her household came to faith, followed by the slave girl, and then finally the Philippian jailer. Talk about a diverse group of people. By the time Paul and Silas left for Thessalonica, a group of believers were already meeting in Lydia’s house.

When we finally arrive at Philippians, Paul is writing to them from a jail cell. From Acts 16 to the opening of Philippians, it is clear that a deep friendship formed between Paul and that church. So much so, that it is not an exaggeration to say that the Philippian church is Paul’s favorite. He says it himself, they are his joy and crown (4:1). But what is Philippians about exactly? I’ve tried to figure that out myself for a while, and it wasn’t until some years ago that I got it. As I’ve studied Philippians, I noticed that most scholars go two ways on the question of what the book is about. They either say it’s about unity or joy.

So, I would read Philippians with those two themes in mind and wrestled with the tension that they cannot both be the main theme, right? I mean, one has to stand above the other as Paul’s main concern. Then it finally hit me. I spent a couple of months rereading Philippians and got it. The book is about the joy that comes from gospel partnership and gospel progress. And it’s right there to see in chapter 1, specifically, verses 3-20.

Paul’s joy springs up from gospel partnership and gospel progress. It is those things that inform Philippians 1:21. The rest of this post will attempt to answer, “What does Philippians 1:21 mean and how do we quote it properly?” In answering that question, we will cover the themes of suffering, joy, shame, honor, life, and death.

Gospel Unbound

The Philippians heard Paul was thrown in prison and they were distressed by the news. So, after Paul’s prayer in verses 3-11, he does what any good friend does–he fills them in on his present circumstances. He begins verse twelve with, “I want you to know, brothers.” Then things take an unexpected turn. Instead of telling them how he is doing, Paul tells them how the gospel is doing.

It's as if he says, “Guys, I know this looks bad, but what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel.” The whole palace guard and everyone else has heard and realized that Paul is in chains for Christ. Paul was bound, but the gospel was unbound.

This reminds me of an article I came across some years ago. Back in April 2015, a story was released about an ex-drug lord on death row in Indonesia named Andrew Chan. This guy was bad news. So bad, that Indonesian authorities had to keep him in solitary confinement. But it was there, in the loneliest jail cell imaginable where Andrew met God, and his conversion was radical. After he came to faith,  Andrew studied for six years to become a pastor. He taught Bible classes, ran a cooking school, and was featured in an antidrug documentary for students during his decade in jail.

But the verdict was passed and Andrew would face execution via firing squad. He stood, along with six other prisoners, before the firing squad on that fateful April afternoon singing “Amazing Grace” and “Bless the Lord, O My Soul.” Andrew was bound, even executed, but the gospel went froth unbound.

By Paul not touching on his own specific and personal circumstances, he is essentially telling the Philippians, “Don’t worry about me, the important thing is the progress of the gospel.” Paul’s imprisonment should have put a pause on gospel progress, but it did the opposite. People only became more confident and bold in their proclamation, and preached the gospel out of love and good will. But others chose to afflict Paul by using his imprisonment as an occasion to preach the gospel out of rivalry and envy.

Suffering, joy, shame, and honor

When we arrive at verse eighteen, Paul takes account of his present circumstance and says, “So what?” Why? Because the gospel is progressing, Christ is being proclaimed, and whether that is happening from false motives or true, Christ is preached and this gives Paul joy. Isn't that amazing? And I think we can learn several things from Paul here. First, God works in and through suffering. Our present circumstances, our various forms of suffering are the means God uses to evangelize the deep regions of unbelief in our hearts.

I know that stings, it stings me too. But I can tell you with the utmost confidence that God is not wasting our suffering, he is using it to advance the gospel in our lives or in the lives of others. Second, when our joy is tied to the gospel and not our physical condition or the affirmation, approval, or acceptance of others, it can withstand even the worst storms in life. Third and finally, we can learn that suffering and joy are two-sides of the same coin.

To quote on author:

[T]he nature of joy…is not the self-satisfied delight that everything is going our way, but the settled peace that arises from making the gospel the focus of life and from understanding that God is able to advance the gospel under the most difficult circumstances.

If our joy is tied to anything but the gospel, all it proves is that our happiness is nothing more than a feather in a hurricane. Here today gone tomorrow. Joy is not just a feeling, it’s a quality of life that proclaims Christ is the solid rock on which we stand and all other ground is sinking sand.

We shift gears now because Paul does. In verses 12-18, he speaks about his present circumstances, but from the second half of verse eighteen to the end of the chapter, Paul speaks of his future circumstances. And what surrounds his circumstances is uncertainty and certainty. What do I mean by that? Paul is uncertain about the outcome of his impending trial, but at the same time, he is certain that whether by life or by death Christ will be honored.

Think about that for a moment. Paul is uncertain about whether he is going to get out of jail dead or alive, but he is completely certain that whether by life or death, Christ will be honored. That’s simultaneously incredible and interesting to me. There is, I’m sure, a significant amount of shame that comes with being imprisoned. The shame of being cut off from society because you break the rules. The shame of feeling guilt or failure for not measuring up to people’s standards. The shame of losing acceptance and approval. The shame of not living an honorable life. But not for Paul.

The opposite of shame for Paul was not his being honored, but Christ being honored. He is saying, “I might be in prison, but I’m prison for Christ’s sake; I may be bound, but the gospel is not bound; I am not at all ashamed, and my mind is made up, let the future bring what it will, Christ will be honored in my life or my death.”

The meaning of Philippians 1:21

That’s how Paul can say, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Paul’s single passion in his life, and I hope it is the same for us, is that Christ will be honored; that Christ will be made to look great; that he will be made to look like the supreme treasure he is. That’s why Paul can say later on in Philippians 3:

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

When you take Philippians 1:21 and Philippians 3:7-11, and put them together, the meaning of Philippians 1:21 becomes clear. “To live is Christ” means living out of your justification; it means living out of your union and communion with Christ; it means living as if Christ is your single passion, pursuit, treasure, pleasure, Lord and Savior. It means living Christ-centered.

I think that's why we misquote Philippians 1:21. We take “To live is Christ” to mean living for Christ instead of living from Christ. If we take Philippians 1:21 as living for Christ and not from Christ, death is not gain, it’s a threat. It’s a threat to your plans, your pursuits, your pleasures, your life, and your kingdom.

But when life is lived from Christ, you can look at all the losses that death will cost you and say, “Add them up. Add up the losses of family, friends, dreams, comforts, and pleasures.” Then look at Christ and say, “gain!”

By having Christ, we have everything–every spiritual blessing (Eph. 1:3) and everything that pertains to life and godliness (2 Pet. 1:3). Christ is our life. Death is only gain when living from Christ is a vibrant reality. Living from Christ means you don’t have to live for approval, you can live from approval. You don’t have to live for acceptance, you can live from acceptance. You don’t love for an identity; you can live from an identity. You don’t have to live for love, you can live from love.

This is where our sin gets exposed. Tell me what you’re living for and I’ll tell you what you’re living from. You want to do great things for God? Good, you should want to. But you can live for Christ and not live from him. To quote John Piper: “You can’t commend what you don’t cherish. You can’t proclaim what you don’t prize.”

You can miss the Giver for the gift. Don’t let that be you.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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We are midway through 2025 (crazy, right?) and so far I've read some books that are definitely worth commending. A good book, in my opinion, is one that causes me to pause, reflect, pray, or even worship. Additionally, a good book is also one that provides new ways of thinking on old subjects. What you will find below are some books that I've read this year that are worth checking out.

A few things to note before we see the list. First, these are not books that were necessarily published in 2025. These are just some of the standout books I've read so far this year. Second, the list reflects my own interests and will tend toward theology (which is what I read most). Third, just because a book made the list doesn't mean I agree with everything in it. I chose the books that were most memorable, impressive, thoughtful, challenging, and insightful. Lastly, the books are not "ranked" but simply listed in no particular order.

So, here they are:

Joe Rigney, Leadership and Emotional Sabotage: Resisting the Anxiety That Will Wreck Your Family, Destroy Your Church, and Ruin the World

This book is outstanding. Not only do I enjoy Rigney's writing style, but I especially appreciate what he does in reimagining the concepts popularized by Friedman, who I've read before, and giving them a (more) biblical and theologically orthodox framework. This is a must read for senior pastors, especially those familiar with systems theory. 

I've owned this book since its release, but never picked up to read until recently. In fact, it's the only Keller book I owned and had not read (I think I've read everything else he's written). I regret waiting as long as I did. I began reading, not only to prep for a series on prayer, but more so for my own prayer life. I wanted to deepen it, and this book helped immensely. I reminded of important truths about prayer and infused me with new ways to pray. I'm grateful for this book and its author. Keller was a gift to the church, and this book is one of the many he gave to Christ's body. 

I love the Puritans. I love reading them and reading about them. This was a simple introduction about who they were, what they believed, how their thought impacts believers today, and even included short bio's on some more well-known puritans like Sibbes, Bunyan, and Edwards. If you want a good intro to the puritans, look no further than this volume.  

Snyder's book really did clear up misconceptions and shed light on some things we simply tend to overlook about Jews in scripture. I appreciated his friendly tone and pastoral heart. If you have a Jewish friend you're trying to evangelize, given them this book. 

For every series I preach, I read a book on the book of the Bible I am preaching through that is not a commentary. For example, when I preached through Revelation, in addition to the four commentaries I consulted, I read Brian Tabb's excellent book All Things New: Revelation As Canonical Capstone (NSBT). I did the same thing as I preached through Esther. Gregory's book proved to be a vital addition to my study. He was engaging, well-researched, and pastoral. Anyone preaching through Esther should consider it.

I read other books this year (still reading, actually), but these are the standouts so far. Take up and read!

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando. He has written for Gospel-Centered Discipleship and is a member of the National Association of Scholars.

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We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is not justified by works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ, so we also have believed in Christ Jesus, in order to be justified by faith in Christ and not by works of the law, because by works of the law no one will be justified. But if, in our endeavor to be justified in Christ, we too were found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! For if I rebuild what I tore down, I prove myself to be a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose. (Gal. 2:15-21)

Gospel realignment happens when every part of us–hopes, dreams, desires, and affections–are brought in line with the gospel. That’s why Paul told Peter he was out of step with the gospel. Peter’s life was not aligned with the gospel.

You see, the gospel is this straight line that runs through every area of life. It’s the straight line that exposes our crookedness. But we don’t like being exposed, and like Adam and Eve we sew fig leaves together to cover the things we don’t want others to see. That’s called control. We control to preserve our misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And so we do things like Peter.

Like Peter, we will maintain racial and ethnic pride because our people and tribe are better than those people over there; we will act like hypocrites so people can like us and think well of us; we will say and do things we would never think possible out of fear of losing others approval. Control.

But when the gospel realigns us, it wrestles control from our hands. And it’s not because God is a control freak, but because we are. Since the gospel has implications for every area of life, it demands gospel realignment. When the gospel realigns us we will feel less prone to control situations. We can lose the fig leaves of hiding and hypocrisy and be honest. We can stop living for approval and start living from it.

Gospel amnesia demands gospel realignment, and gospel realignment allows us to experience gospel freedom. Peter sought to justify himself by the approval of others, and Paul told him to stop. How does Paul go about it? That’s what verses 15-21 are about. Paul goes from problem in verses 11-14, to solution in verses 15-21. And the thing that solves Peter’s problems is the gospel, specifically, justification by faith.

Peter suffered from gospel amnesia, Paul realigned him with the gospel and then went a step further and reminded him of his gospel freedom. Essentially, this is the argument Paul makes in verses 15-21: “Peter, stop trying to justify yourself through racial and ethnic pride and the approval of others. Why? Because you have already been justified by faith in Jesus Christ.”

Justification comes from the courtroom–it’s legal language. This tells us that Peter tried to justify himself in the court of public opinion and Paul had to remind him that this is just another form of salvation by works. In verse 19 Paul says, “For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God.” He’s saying that he died to the law as a way of being saved.

Peter should die to the law, and so should we. Then Paul goes on to say some of the most beautiful words in scripture, "I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me."

Paul is saying that he died to the law because he has been crucified with Christ. Basically, Christ’s death became Paul’s death and Christ’s life became Paul’s life. Paul died to the law and then lived by faith in the Son of God who loved and gave himself for Paul’s own self-righteous law keeping life, so that Paul can be free.

That’s amazing because it’s true of us too. We need to remind ourselves daily that deeds don’t determine our destiny. We need to remind ourselves daily that God suffers from gospel amnesia too. What do I mean?

God suffers from gospel amnesia in that he forgets our sin by forgiving them in Christ. God suffers from gospel amnesia because while God remembers our sin by recollection, he does not remember them by retaliation. There’s no such thing as double jeopardy in the gospel. God forgives us in Christ fully and finally. Don’t ever forget that.

Let me bring this home with a story.

Several years ago I read this book entitled, Scary Close by Donald Miller. Excellent book. In the book, Donald talks about the beginning stages of his relationship with his fiancé Betsy. They’re preparing for their wedding and Donald decides he wants to shed some pounds to look good for his wedding day. He’s not a fan of the gym, so he chooses to lose weight by swimming an hour a day.

The thing is, Betsy loves Donald just the way he is, but he can’t accept that. He’s too flawed in his own eyes, and how can another person love him with all his flaws. Listen to how Donald explains all this:

Another argument Betsy and I got in was strange, for sure. She’d told me she loved me and rather than saying, “Thanks” or “I love you too,” I made some kind of self-deprecating joke. She looked at me perturbed and ate another bite of her ice cream. I was offended that she didn’t laugh, so I repeated the joke just to frustrate her. “It’s not funny,” she said. “It is funny,” I said. “No, Don,” she said straightly. “When I say I love you and you don’t believe me, you’re being a jerk. Basically what you’re saying is I only love conditionally. You think you’re being self-deprecating and funny, but you’re really saying I’m not a good enough person to love you if you have a few flaws. It gets old.”I thought about her having said that when I was beating myself up for not swimming hard enough. If I was going to make Betsy happy, I’d have to trust that my flaws were the ways through which I would receive grace. We don’t think of our flaws as the glue that binds us to the people we love, but they are. Grace only sticks to our imperfections. Those who can’t accept their imperfections can’t accept grace either.

Here's my point: You’re loved and accepted despite your flaws. So, accept grace, receive it, and then give it freely.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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But when Cephas came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. For before certain men came from James, he was eating with the Gentiles; but when they came he drew back and separated himself, fearing the circumcision party. And the rest of the Jews acted hypocritically along with him, so that even Barnabas was led astray by their hypocrisy. But when I saw that their conduct was not in step with the truth of the gospel, I said to Cephas before them all, “If you, though a Jew, live like a Gentile and not like a Jew, how can you force the Gentiles to live like Jews?” (Gal. 2:11-14)

Several years ago, my wife and I saw this movie entitled, The Vow, which stars Channing Tatum and Rachel McAdams. Like in every  Romantic Drama, you have romance and drama.
The movie begins with Paige (Rachel McAdams) and Leo (Channing Tatum) leaving a movie and getting into their car to drive home. At a stop sign, Paige takes advantage and unbuckles her seat belt to lean over and give Leo a kiss. Romance.

Then out of nowhere a truck slams into their car sending Paige through the windshield. Drama. As the couple is rushed to the emergency room, Leo narrates the following words:
“My theory is about moments. Moments of impact. My theory is that these moments of impact, these flashes of high intensity that completely turn our lives upside down, end up defining who we are.”  

Galatians 2 shows us that Peter experienced a “moment of impact” that ended up defining who he was. But here’s the thing, we won’t understand how impactful Peter’s experience was in Galatians 2 without turning to his first “moment of impact” in Acts 10. I’m sure you’ve come across the story before. It begins with God giving a vision to Cornelius, a God-fearing centurion. In the vision, God tells Cornelius to send some of his men to Joppa to bring back Peter, so he does.

The next day, we’re told, Peter was hungry and while waiting for his lunch, he went up to the housetop and fell into a God given trance. He then has this vision of a big blanket coming down from heaven with various types of unclean animals. And then a voice tells to him get up, kill and eat. But Peter refuses because he’s a Jew and Jews have strict dietary laws.

Then the voice tells him not to call unclean what God has made clean. Peter is confused by the vision, and while he’s still scratching his head over it, Cornelius’ men show up to take Peter to Caesarea. A few days later, Peter and the men arrive in Caesarea, and Cornelius meets them and Peter says,

"You yourselves know how unlawful it is for a Jew to associate with or to visit anyone of another nation, but God has shown me that I should not call any person common or unclean. So when I was sent for, I came without objection."

Moment of impact. Later in Acts 10, Peter opens his sermon to Cornelius and all his household by saying that God shows no partiality. That is, no racial or ethnic partiality. The gospel, now Peter understands, is for everyone—Jew and Greek. But does he really understand or did he just forget? It is, in all likelihood, the latter.

We all, without exception, exercise the tendency of forgetting the gospel. We all get, to use Paul Tripp's coined phrase, "gospel amnesia." And Galatians 2:11-14 reveals that Peter suffered from a massive case of it. Peter is eating with some Gentiles, and all is well until the Judaizers show up. Once they do, Peter separates himself from his Gentile friends as if he didn’t even know them. Sadly, all the Jews that were with Peter did the same.

Several things stand out to me about this situation: fear, hypocrisy, control, and the need for approval. Out of fear Peter separates himself, which Paul considers an act of hypocrisy, especially when recalling Peter’s “moment of impact” in Acts 10. By separating himself from the Gentiles and aligning with the Judaizers, Peter tries to control the situation, but the situation is really controlling him by exposing his desperate need for approval. All these things Peter is experiencing–fear, hypocrisy, control, and the need for approval–are the fruit of a deeply rooted problem: gospel amnesia.

We get gospel amnesia when we forget what God has done for us in the person and work of Christ. Gospel amnesia happens when we look to other things to give us what only the gospel can give. I’m guilty of this, and I know you are too. We all are. Gospel amnesia is a symptom of the truth that we have the tendency, not to believe too much, but to believe too little.

Being a gospel amnesiac will always cause us to search for security, significance, approval, affirmation, acceptance, hope and love somewhere else other than God.
And that is most unfortunate because, as Winnie the Pooh once said,

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

That’s what happened to Peter and it all manifested in fear, hypocrisy, control, and the need for approval. And you know what? The same things happen to us, we’re not exempt. We need, like Peter, some realigning.

Look for Part 2 later this week.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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If you have had the privilege to love and be loved, you know this difficult truth: love is hard. Why? Because, to quote C.S. Lewis:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable…The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.

Lest we be in danger of losing the weight of Lewis’ lofty language, let me bring this down to street level with a story. In the year 2000, Rahna Reiko Rizzuto, a married woman and mother of two young boys at the time, received a six-month fellowship to conduct research for her second and third novels in Hiroshima, Japan. While conducting her research, she came to the realization that she did not want to be a wife and mother anymore. When she returned back home to the U.S. she immediately divorced her husband and left her children. The product of her research in Japan was a book entitled, Hiroshima in the Morning; the book weaves together her interviews with the atomic bomb survivors and her own struggle for identity. In a subsequent interview, Rahna states the supposed reason why she left her husband and children, this is what she said: “I realized I lost myself a bit and I wanted to give myself more priority.”

But that really wasn’t the driving force behind Rahna’s action. That’s was the fruit, but not the root. The real reason why she left her family became clear later in the interview when she stated that being a mother had made her do “that thing that I didn’t want to do, which was give up my life for someone else.” I think our knee-jerk reaction to this is to call Rahna a terrible person; I mean, what she did was not virtuous in any way, but if we let this story do its heart work, I believe what emerges is the truth that, while we may not go as far as Rahna did, our natural disposition towards love is, to paraphrase John Piper, self-satisfaction over self-forgetfulness. Which is why our love must be firmly established upward for it to properly work outward.

Today, love has become a catch-all word for nothing in particular. Biblically, however, love is an action, a commitment. Love is a choice to do what’s best for someone else. All forms of biblical love have that foundation. It is others-focused. It pursues another person’s well-being. It is a compassionate and righteous pursuit of the betterment of someone other than yourself. This is why our text is so instructive in bringing about a correct view of love—a love that begins upward and then works outward.

Jesus says in John 13:33-35, "Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I also say to you, ‘Where I am going you cannot come.’ A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

While our text could stand alone as powerful and instructive, we can’t forget it is being said in light of Jesus’ action. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus gets up from the dinner table, grabs a towel and water basin, and washes his disciples feet. Peter, who I believe represents the group here, is confused by this because no Jew, let alone a rabbi, should be washing feet; that was the task for a gentile slave. So, the confusion clouds their understanding. Jesus act of foot washing wasn’t isolated, as if it had no bearing on anything else, nor was it simply an act of humble service. The foot washing pointed to the ultimate washing that would take place on the cross. It not only spoke to who Jesus was, but also to what Jesus would do. And the driving force behind all of it was love.

Consider how John 13 begins, “Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” Now listen once more to our text, John 13:33-35, "Little children, yet a little while I am with you. You will seek me, and just as I said to the Jews, so now I also say to you, ‘Where I am going you cannot come.’ A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

What John is doing here is pretty remarkable; he beautifully bookends the chapter with love. Jesus’ act of foot cleansing pointed to the spiritual cleansing the disciples, and all of us for that matter, needed. We were stained by sin, but we needed something more than mere water, we needed the cleansing blood of Jesus. By bookending the chapter with love, John is grounding Jesus’ action in love. There was nothing we could do about our condition; we deserved nothing but God’s wrath and displeasure, but in love Jesus took God’s wrath and displeasure, and absorbed and exhausted it for us and our salvation. This tells two remarkable things, to say the least.

First, it tells us that God, by sending Jesus to the cross on our behalf can end evil without ending us. Second, it tells us that we don’t have to search for cleansing anywhere else; nothing will ever deal with our desire to be cleansed from all the guilt and shame we carry around like the shed blood of Jesus. In Christ, the search is officially and decisively over.

That is gospel love, and it has huge implications for our discipleship. In our text, Jesus ties our discipleship to the action of love. Love for others is the external manifestation of the inward heart disposition towards others. If love for others, if the compassionate and righteous pursuit of another’s well-being is in your heart, that is precisely what will show in your actions. Loving people is hard. For this reason, even love can slip into legalism if not is not rooted in Jesus’ love for us. That is why love must rooted upward for it to properly work outward. I have two things by way of application, the first is directed toward disciples and the other towards those on the outside looking in.

If you’re a disciple I want you to remember that there is no such thing as only child in God’s family. The new command Jesus gave us in John 13 was to love one another, and he grounds that command in the love he has shown us. Those on the outside are looking in, and, according to our text, the distinguishing mark of disciples is their love for one another. So, remember, Jesus didn’t pass out trophies or titles, he passed out towels. Let that inform and guide our love for others.

For those who may not be sure they are on the discipleship path, l want you to know that God has done everything necessary to grip you with what will free you and bring you joy, and the proof is in the sending of his Son to pay the penalty for your sins. So, if you’re unsure about all this Jesus stuff, don’t stop searching until you know what this means: the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses and saves you from all sin.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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Doxology. The word gets thrown around a lot on Sunday's. We hear and sing it, but what is it exactly? In the simplest sense, doxology means to ascribe praise to something or to glorify something.

This tells us that doxology or worship has one subject and object–namely, God. No argument there, right? But if God is the supreme subject and object of worship, if he is the one to whom we ascribe praise and glory (doxology), then why do so many suffer from doxological disillusion? There are many reasons, but I will place them all under the umbrella of doxological reductionism.

What is doxological reductionism, you ask? It's when the liturgy or worship gets reduced to me–my feelings, my desires, my wants, my needs, and my preferences. We are active participants in worship, but it's not about us. Worship should not be preoccupied by my need for primacy and significance. No. Worship is attending to the presence of God by reflecting on what he has achieved for us in Christ. Let me bring this full circle with a quote from C.S. Lewis’ Reflections on the Psalms:

The world rings with praise — lovers praising their mistresses [Romeo praising Juliet and vice versa], readers their favorite poet, walkers praising the countryside, players praising their favorite game — praise of weather, wines, dishes, actors, motors, horses, colleges, countries, historical personages, children, flowers, mountains, rare stamps, rare beetles, even sometimes politicians or scholars… I had not noticed either that just as men spontaneously praise whatever they value, so they spontaneously urge us to join them in praising it: “Isn’t she lovely? Wasn’t it glorious? Don’t you think that magnificent?”

I can sum up what Lewis said in one simple phrase: we glorify what gives us the utmost gladness. That’s essentially what he’s saying. And this tells me that worship is about God–it’s about being alive and attentive to God in humble and grateful adoration. You see, when worship is focused on me, it gets reduced to me.

We matter, but when it comes to worship, we are not the main thing. Worship should remind us that God is unabashedly God-centered, and this is the best thing God could be for us because to love us God must give us what is best for us and what is best for us is God. We are Sunday morning people, but we live in a world of Monday through Saturday’s. This means we need a steady diet of spiritual rhythms. Why? Because spiritual rhythms coupled with Sunday mornings makes for a holistic or embodied spirituality. I like to call these spiritual rhythms living liturgies.

Because doxological disillusion and doxological reductionism exist, we need doxological retrieval. In other words, we need to retrieve or recover what doxology looks like in practice–what a doxological life, a worshipful life looks like. And I think a worshipful life looks like a liturgical life.

But what's a liturgy? Unfortunately, liturgy has come to mean “order of service,” but that’s not what it actually means. Liturgy means “work of the people.” Liturgy, then, is what we do together in corporate worship and individually in daily life. What this tells us is that liturgy is a set of corporate and individual patterns of devotion, worship, and fellowship. The purpose of liturgy is to unite Christians to the essential work of the people which is the worship of God.

And what liturgy does is provide us with an ordered participation, both corporately and individually. Because we have reduced liturgy to an order of service, we have forgotten that a living and active liturgy reminds us that we are a sacred people gathered for a sacred moment for a sacred purpose.

We can't let liturgy, worship, or doxology get reduced corporately nor can we let it get reduced individually. The Lord's Day is not simply fuel for the moment, but for the whole week until God gathers and summons us for worship again. What happens Sunday morning should form us–liturgy should form us. It does so by taking us into a gospel dialogue.

What do I mean? Our liturgy should have elements of adoration, confession, assurance, and mission. In every Lord’s Day gathering, there should be a gospel dialogue happening in the liturgy. For example: Call to worship (God speaks to us), adoration/praise (we speak to God), confession (we speak to God), assurance of pardon (God speaks to us), offering (we speak to God), sermon (God speaks to us), Lord’s Supper (God speaks to us), and benediction (God sends us).

And this should spill out into our spiritual rhythms. For example, liturgy is formative in that it changes the way we engage the scriptures. Too often we look to scripture for information instead of formation. Scripture is not something we simply hold, it’s something we’re held by. Yes, it informs us, but more than that, it forms us. Scripture is certainly concerned with us knowing more, but it is also concerned with us becoming more.

Liturgy allows a spiritual rhythm like scripture reading to form us passively as we engage with them actively. But how does liturgy free us? Liturgy frees by taking the focus off of us and directing it to God. Daily we encounter what I call competing liturgies, these are things that clamor for our attention.

What I have seen over the years as I have thought about living a liturgical life, is competing liturgies lead to idolatry. And in case you haven’t noticed yet, idols make terrible saviors. They promise plenty, but never deliver. By taking the focus off of us, liturgy reminds us that God sets the terms and conditions for how he is to be engaged, served, and worshiped.

Liturgy also frees us for mission. Remember, the benediction that is pronounced over us at the end of every service is a commission. It’s a sending out into the world with the gospel in our hearts and on our lips. We take mission as something the church does apart from liturgy, forgetting that mission begins in liturgical worship.

So, we need a renewed resolve to let liturgy, worship, and doxology form and free us.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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If we were having a sit-down conversation and you asked what defines me as a Christian, pastor, husband, and father, I would answer with three words: It is finished. What I do, how I live, and who I am are defined by those words. I don’t have them tattooed on my body, as perhaps some cage-stage Calvinist would, but these three words make me up as a person and disciple. I wouldn’t have it any other way. My daily prayer is that God would, by his grace, take me deeper into the truths of the gospel. I have a fervent desire to get the grace of the gospel deeply. I want the gospel to inform not only the ministry God has called me to, but also my whole life—every single part of it.

To put it simply, I want to be man who has been with God. These desires are not the result of gospel-centered literature and publications, although they have had a profound impact on my understanding and grasp of grace. No, these desires are the result of a realization–a realization of a downward trajectory. What do I mean?

A downward trajectory occurs when a Christian has had what I call a “gospel moment.” A gospel moment happens when the gospel makes its way from your head to your heart. A downward trajectory is when your view of self goes down while your view of God goes up. While God takes you deeper into the gospel, your estimation of self goes down. It is the pathway to knowing who you truly are–it is getting to know God’s view of you.

My desire to be defined by the three words comes from my love of the gospel. There are layers to this love. Underneath my love for the gospel is gratitude for what God has achieved for me in Christ. Just below gratitude is the grasp of grace.Love for the gospel would be non-existent if I wasn’t grateful for Christ’s sacrifice for me; love and gratitude would be non-existent if I was ignorant of grace, for grace inspires gratitude and gives birth to love.

Grace teaches me that I received something good in place of something bad–that I should deserve God’s displeasure, but instead received his favor–that I merit wrath, but instead received righteousness. This makes grace amazing. Truly amazing. Grace teaches me that I am a passive recipient of the greatest gift ever. Grace teaches me the overwhelming truth that when Christ hung on the cross, God looked on him and saw me.

But it doesn’t end there. Grace also teaches me that as God looks on me, he now sees Jesus—his righteousness and goodness. “It is finished,” that is what defines me, and yet I live with this fervent desire to grow into this even more. While this defines me, I don’t always live as though it does. I know that in those three words I have everything I need that pertains to life and godliness, that I have been blessed with every spiritual blessing in Christ, that I am more approved, accepted, affirmed, and loved beyond what I can ever grasp, but I don’t always live as if this were true.

The proof lay in the fact that I sin. This is not the gospel’s fault, nor does it stem from a lack of power on the gospel’s part, this comes from a lack of preaching the gospel to myself at times. You see, I want you to like me, to affirm me, accept me, and approve of me. I want to be the best pastoral counselor and preacher. This may sound like innocent aspirations, but they are dark feelings coming from dark places. I can easily make your affirmation of me the main thing–the thing that fuels my ministry. I can easily turn the good thing of approval into a god thing.

I can slip into idolatry and you would never know it. Yes, I am prone to idolatry. My heart is on this incessant quest to remove God from his rightful place and supplant him with a cheap substitute. Why? Because my heart exercises a particular proclivity to choose the false security of an idol over the truth of the gospel. My idols are skilled at swindling me into believing that if I have x thing I’ll matter and be happy. All the while the gospel is preaching the truth that in Christ I have it all. I am not a double-minded man, I am simply speaking as one who is simul justus et peccator, one who is at the same time righteous and sinner.

It is no secret that there is a little prodigal in all of us. We have this remarkable tendency to be extravagantly wasteful with the resources God gives us. We demonstrate this uncanny ability to be wayward because we have failed to preach the gospel to ourselves and resisted the "It is finished" of the cross to define us.

We treat sin as if it is another type of control, as something we can manage, and interestingly, we treat grace the same way. But we can’t. Sin ceases to exist if there is no sinner. The problem has never been sin, the problem is sinner man—you and I. Grace can’t be managed any more than sin can. Grace wrestles control from our hands. You can’t control or manage grace–it is scandalous, wild, and untamable.

I want grace to have free rein in my heart and life. I want the gospel to inform all I do and say because I know that gospel in the heart translates into gospel on the tongue. I want my passion for the gospel to have purpose. I want it to materialize into me leading well, ministering well, guiding well, and loving well. The gospel is a proclamation, but it is also personal. Christ died, that would simply be history. Christ died for me, that is personal–that's the gospel. The three words would mean nothing if it were not directed toward me or any of us. They are unabashedly personal. For that I am grateful.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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Who chose the Gospels? Constantine? I would be interested in knowing why you think that, but for now let me give you some background information and perhaps we can come to a conclusion together? Let me begin by saying that the gospels being “chosen” antedates Constantine and even Athanasius, Have you ever heard of Irenaeus, Tatian, or Papias? Let me tell you a bit about them and why they are important when discussing the question of who chose the gospels.

Irenaeus

Irenaeus was an incredible thinker, theologian, and apologist. History tells us that Irenaeus began writing around A.D. 180, which is quite the span of time before Constantine would show up on the scene. He argued that the church had four gospels–no more, no less–and this claim was well attested 60 to 80 years prior to Irenaeus’ writing. Interestingly, this did not come off to Irenaeus’ readers as wild or mad, but as plausible because the gospels had been in use for a long time. Irenaeus’ claim is bold. I mean, but was Irenaeus alone in this claim? History answers in the negative. Enter Tatian.

Tatian

Tatian was an interesting fellow and a bit controversial. He yo-yoed in the faith, but  nonetheless, he made a valuable contribution to the “who chose the gospels” question. Sometime before Irenaeus wrote in A.D. 180, Tatian had completed a work entitled, Diatessaron. Great name, right? Have any idea what it means? It means ‘through the four.’ What four? The four Gospels. Not five, six, or seven, but four. This is important because it tells us that Tatian, prior to Irenaeus, accepted only four gospels as canonical and by virtue of that fact thought it was a good idea to compose a harmony of them. So like Irenaeus, Tatian not only accepted the four gospels as canonical, but also knew that their acceptance antedated even him.

Papias

So what about the last guy with an odd name, Papias? Why is he important? What if I told you that Papias knew the four gospels well before Irenaeus and Tatian? What if I told you that Papias was writing about them anywhere between A.D. 110 to 130? That is some 300 years before Constantine. Papias wrote about the four gospels in his five book anthology entitled, Exposition of the Lord’s Oracles. What is incredible about this work is that Papias is very likely not the ultimate source. He collected his information from someone who antedated his writing, and this would place his source near A.D. 100. Just the thought of that is remarkable.

Papias had a source, a gentlemen named ‘John the Elder,’ who had very early knowledge of the gospels of Matthew and Mark. Papais was collecting his traditions around A.D. 100 and what is stunning is the fact that “attention was already being given to the origins of written Gospels which churches in Asia Minor were using.”  What is as equally stunning is Papias’ source was known by name. But here is one fact that trumps the aforementioned, this early testimony is the first indication we have of the belief that the gospel of Matthew was attributed to an apostle of Jesus, and Mark was written by a follower of an apostle, and the majority of scholars agree that the apostle was Peter.

I hope this clears up the matter for you and answers your question. But one more thing about Papias before you go. Papias knew all four gospels and this would make him the earliest person we can name who knew them. Incredible, isn't it?

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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Seeing other parts of the world is a wonderful experience. It seems like all your senses are engaged and heightened as you take in the various sights, sounds, and smells of a new place and culture. I recently traveled to Miami, Florida and Cali, Colombia (pictured above). The two places were similar and yet very different. Miami is beautiful–it's a sprawling metropolis with a sub-tropical climate filled with people from various countries and continents. But this beauty is soaked in decadence and materialism.

Cali was also beautiful. It's a city nestled in a valley with mountains easily in view. The food is terrific and its citizens were kind. But its beauty is matched by its poverty. The people, despite not having much in terms of wealth, seemed very content to me, and this was particularly striking. Living in the U.S., which is likely the most prosperous nation on the planet, I see and have seen poverty, but it's of a different sort, at least comparatively. I can't quite put my finger on it, but the poor in America appear different than the poor of other countries.

I am not going to get into the particulars of poverty, but it was simply an interesting contrast to note. What I do want to leave you with, and this is what has consumed my reflections over the last few days, is the realization that we need a new and better home, city, and country. As I read through the passage I'll be preaching this coming Sunday, Revelation 21:1-8, it made me long for that Holy City–the New Jerusalem that comes down from heaven from God (Rev. 21:2). That is a city where decadence and poverty are laid to rest, never to rise again.

It's a city where no mourning will be present because all tears will be wiped away. It's a city where death is no more and pain no more because the former things would have passed away (Rev. 21:4). It's a city where we will behold the One seated on the throne and Lamb who sits at his right hand. I long for that place. But this is not some kind of escapist longing, it is, as far as I know, a holy one. I long for the city that is to come because Christ is there–he is the true prize and treasure of the new heavens and earth. He is the reward. He is where all longing is satisfied.

Come, Lord Jesus. Make my faith sight.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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How do you judge whether a book is good or not?

Personally, I know a book is good or even great when it causes me to pause, think, pray, or worship. The truth is, few books do that, but that doesn't mean there weren't some memorable or impressive publications I read in 2024.

A few things to note before we see the list. First, these are not books that were necessarily published in 2024. These are just some of the standout books I read this year. Second, the list reflects my own interests and will tend toward theology (which is what I read most). Third, just because a book made the list doesn't mean I agree with everything in it. I chose the books that were most memorable, impressive, thoughtful, challenging, and insightful.  Lastly, the books are not "ranked" but simply listed in no particular order. With all that prefatory stuff behind us, let's get into this list, shall we?

Vern S. Poythress, Making Sense of the World: How the Trinity Helps to Explain Reality

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Poythress uses beauty as a theological concept to show how creation reflects the beauty of our Trinitarian God. 

Gupta's work was very insightful and even challenged my own views on women's roles in the early church. While we share different theological camps, I still benefited from his historical research and theological care. 

If you're interested in learning about just war from a Christian perspective, Patterson's book is by far the best I've read on the subject. 

Pearcey's book is like a bomb dropped on modern-day culture. I don't have the space to write how incredible this book was–it was well-informed, well-researched, and theologically astute. She was like a surgeon who cut to the very core of culture to expose its sickness. Phenomenal book!

Bolsinger's book was like a lifeline I knew I needed, but didn't know I needed as bad as I did. It gave me a framework for understanding myself, ministry, and the church I lead. A must read for any leader.

I read other books this year (still reading, actually), but these are the standouts. Take up and read!

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." (Eph. 3:14-21)

Paul intercedes, but does so with a pastoral heart. He prays that the Ephesians church be filled love, power, and all the fullness of God. I appreciate Bryan Chapell's comment on this. He says:

"When we grasp the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, we are filled up with the power that transforms our world for his sake…when we grasp the love of Christ, we are filled with the power of God…We do not acquire God’s love through our present power or future achievements. Rather, we are standing on this love, rooted and established in it…the love that motivates us is actually the power that drives us…if why I serve God is also how I serve God, then greater love always precedes greater power. And, in fact, since we will only and always do what we love the most, then greater love is the means to greater power…Love is power...Without love there will be no power to do what God requires."

My former professor's words are weighty, especially when we consider their implications for sin. If we do what we love most, as Chapell contends, then when we sin we are proving at that moment that we love something more than God. This is precisely why we need strengthening in our inner being and why we must be rooted and grounded in the love of Christ. “Those who are strengthened by the Spirit and in whom Christ dwells will have their lives rooted and grounded in love.”  

Love and power permeate Paul’s prayer because he is aware that we need both. In fact, love and power are two things people lack and crave at the same time. A rooted and grounded love in Christ and strengthening by God’s Spirit is the remedy for an unloving and weak people. Paul brings the two themes of love and power to a climax in the fullness of God. “Paul sums up the ultimate goal of his prayer for his readers…He desires that they be filled to all the fullness of God.”  There is not a consensus on the exact meaning of Paul’s words and his desire that his audience be filled with the fullness of God.

I would contend that Christ is the fullness of God and Paul desires that Christ would dwell in his reader’s hearts all the more. Here's why. The Ephesians were already Christians–Christ dwelled within them–but Paul was praying for a deeper experience of this indwelling. Calvin offers the most satisfactory comment on the issue. He believes that, “He who has Christ has everything necessary for being made perfect in God; for this is the meaning of the phrase, the fullness of God.”

Paul’s prayer is nothing short of amazing. W must consider that he is asking us to comprehend something we truly cannot—the breadth, length, height, and depth of the love of God in Christ. But this does not stop Paul from asking this of God, for he believes God can answer the most extreme prayers. In fact, for Paul, God can do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." (Eph. 3:14-21)

Prayer is never aimless, it always has an aim and goal. Seemingly, Paul’s prayer has an aim and goal. It is this very goal that makes Paul’s prayer unique. The goal of his prayer is to bring us into the life of the Trinity, so that we may experience the fullness of God. Paul opens the Ephesian letter by giving us a behind-the-scenes look at how our redemption was administered, accomplished, and applied. It was a work of the triune God.

God chose us before the foundations of the world for adoption as sons through Christ. The Son redeems us and forgives our sins past, present, and future. The Spirit is the guarantee of our inheritance, the one who gives us the assurance of our salvation. Paul is unabashedly Trinitarian from the beginning of his letter and remains so throughout. He prays in the company of the Trinity, as Eugene Peterson so wonderfully put it.  

The doctrine of the Trinity is not easy to grasp, for how can God eternally exist as three persons, each person be fully God, and yet be one God? This is a necessary question to wrestle with, but Paul is not interested in explaining the Trinity here. Instead, his desire is for us to experience the Trinity. Why? Because that is the purpose of all prayer, as Foster notes, “The primary purpose of prayer us into such a life of communion with the Father that, by the power of the Spirit, we are increasingly conformed to the image of the Son.”

I love that. What Foster’s contention reveals is that God is personal–"three-personed personal."  Aside from the Trinity’s presence in Paul’s prayer, how exactly is the prayer Trinitarian in nature? Let us begin where Paul begins. He directs his prayer to the Father.  “When Paul prays for his readers, he prays to the Lord who is above all orders of beings.”  Paul desires for his readers to be strengthened with power in their inner beings. The inner being refers to the center of a person’s life, the seat of personal consciousness, as it were, and this correlates well with the proceeding statement of Christ dwelling in their hearts by faith, as the heart is the seat and center of the person.

“Clearly the Spirit is the agent who will actualize Paul’s prayer for a mighty inner strengthening.”  This is a necessary corrective for Christians of all ranks. We tend to fall prey to the–do-it-yourself (DIY) Christianity. In this frame of mind what counts is our own strength and efforts, as if we could produce strength apart from the Spirit. When it is all about us, it is all up to us. Calvin rightly notes that this “strengthening…is the work of the Spirit; so that it does not proceed from man’s own ability.”  Not only does Paul desire that Christ dwell in our hearts through faith, but also that we know the love of Christ. He “wants to convey a feeling of the vastness of Christ’s love and the impossibility of comprehending its extent.”  

The Trinitarian nature of Paul’s prayer is what makes it unique. He brings us into the life of the Trinity by showing us how the Trinity relates to us–God is creator and the one from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, the Spirit is the agent of strength, and Christ is the one who grounds us in love. The Trinitarian nature of the prayer provides a framework for understanding.

But a big question remains. What is Paul exactly praying for?

We will explore that question in Part 3.

Rev. Mike Hernandez serves as the senior pastor of Crossroads Presbyterian Church. He is a graduate of Trinity International University (B.A.), Knox Theological Seminary (M.Div.), and is currently pursuing a Doctor of Ministry (D.Min.) at Reformed Theological Seminary Orlando.

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