As we begin this 8^th Council of the Communion of Reformed Evangelical Churches, I want to thank the men who have carried much of the burden of our presbyteries over these last three years. In particular, I want to thank our presiding ministers, who have worked overtime to care for their own flocks while also caring for churches and ministers beyond their own congregations.

My Travels

I have had the privilege of seeing some of that work firsthand. I am also aware that this kind of work happens behind the scenes, sometimes late into the night, while trying to work across time zones and schedules. Brothers, you have given yourselves generously to this Communion. My deep thanks to all nine of our presiding ministers. The CREC has grown because of your tireless efforts to minister to pastors and parishioners.

I have traveled over 330 days on behalf of our denomination. My Session and congregation have been enormously accommodating and gracious. I was on the road and in airports for almost one of the three years I served as PMOC. That has given me plenty of time to get to know many of you—and far more time in American airports and airport lounges than any pastor should probably experience.

Through those travels, you have welcomed me into your homes and fed me at your tables. I have prayed with you, preached in your churches, answered questions, lectured, and enjoyed splendid fellowship.

Those visits have put faces to the names I see in correspondence. I can now picture particular families. I can hear their children singing. I remember meals, conversations after worship, and hundreds of conversations with pastors whose faithfulness has encouraged my own.

Our Numerical Growth

Saints—God has been very kind to us these last three years. In 2023, we counted 97 member churches, 23 mission churches, and three candidate churches, for a total of 123 congregations; according to our latest numbers, we have reached 170 in the U.S. and abroad. We have added 47 congregations over the past three years. We have also learned of a small network of churches in Cuba that share our values and distinctives, which means that if everything goes according to plan, we should have a Cuban Cigar vendor in Council of 2029.

If we add another 48 congregations over the next three years, we will reach approximately 218 churches by Council in 2029. At that size, the CREC would be larger, in number of congregations, than the RPCNA and the URCNA, and would be approaching the size of the Associate Reformed Presbyterian Church. Translation: we are still very small and insignificant, but we believe in a mighty mission with a great and mighty God.

The Priority for the Next Three Years

To me, the most fundamental work over the next three years is training new ministers. The CREC desperately needs faithful preachers and pastors. As our denomination continues to grow, with healthier congregations and presbyteries, we need a comprehensive strategy to raise a new generation of pastor/theologians to shepherd our people.

I am truly grateful for this growth, and I want us to receive it with the seriousness appropriate to men who will give an account for their shepherding (Heb 13:17). These are not just other names added to our congregational directory; these are saints who need to be shepherded for the good of the Gospel.

The words of the Apostle Paul are especially fitting for us:

The CREC has been unmovable since its inception. We have stayed true to our vision through the darkness of cultural decay and the glories of the present day when trends seem to be shifting our way. Yet, our growth can only be rooted in the glory of the resurrected Messiah. We have grown in number because the Lord has placed his benediction on all our endeavors.

But as we grow, I hope that we will grow in our loyalty to one another and in our friendship for each other. This growth will test us. It will test our patience, our charity, our willingness to listen, and our ability to disagree without treating every disagreement as a crisis.

I have stressed the three pillars of the CREC: culture, theology, and liturgy. And I put culture first deliberately. A culture of joyful obedience to Jesus is what allows our theology and liturgy to be loved rather than merely possessed. We must live these things with heart, mind, soul, and strength.

So, thank you for the privilege of serving you, for the kindness you have shown me, and for the many ways you have made these three years a joy. I am grateful to work alongside you, especially in this season of uncertainty regarding my health.

And let me conclude with a word concerning our Agenda, which appears to be competing with War and Peace for its size: I trust our proceedings will give us more of the latter than the former, and I would remind the brethren that to be concise is also a form of hospitality.

May God bless our deliberations and establish the work of our hands.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The text is quite direct in principle, and the methodology used for the practice:

¹³ Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray. Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise. ¹⁴ Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. ¹⁵ And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. ¹⁶ Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

Jeff Meyers argues in his persuasive commentary on James that the command applies to those suffering persecution and, thus, enduring great tribulations, both physically and spiritually. If so, the anointing practice applies beyond deathbed experiences to a wider range of needs. It is not a sacrament. Sacraments are means experienced by the entire congregation. This is one reason Luther rejected the sacrament of marriage and ordination.

Perhaps we may use the language of sacramental, but not of a sacrament. According to St. James, the parishioner requests the liturgical practice of anointing rather than the pastor initiating it for all people. It has a particular function within the body, as it did among those suffering persecution in the first century.

When considering anointing, we should remind ourselves that such practices are always rooted in Old Testament initiation rituals.¹ Healings in the Bible invariably have a symbolic and typological meaning. Direct healings were common during periods of redemptive history when special revelation was given directly to God’s ambassadors. Because it is typological, it does not eliminate or remove the need for physical means. Rather, it signifies that it may have a different redemptive purpose in the New Testament.

And it follows that we cannot say to every afflicted Christian, “Jesus will heal you now through the use of oil.” We are not orphans of revelation. The completed Word and the completed Christ have been revealed to us. There may be many reasons why Jesus does not want a particular person well at a particular time. God’s ways supersede our desires, even those rooted in the good desire to be well again.

In the resurrection, God has judicially declared the world cleansed of evil; that is, God has re-symbolized the world from darkness to light. And since the Pentecost of Acts, the church is the society of the saved; the institution chosen to bring healing to the nations. A ministry of physical healing is an integral part of the work of the church.

To Heal or Not to Heal?

In cultic rituals, Satan has the power to grant temporary physical healing, and those who seek health for reasons of personal greed and pleasure may thus find their latter state worse than their former. To endorse evil so that good may come only leads to the corruption of body and soul.

The Biblical method is uncompromising. It is rooted in the purpose of God to restore his chosen people to wholeness again. The practice is for the church elders to pray over an individual, asking if the man/woman has any sins to confess. The confession declares that God is invested in cleansing the whole person. The minister may ask whether the anointed has sins to confess. Such situations can lead to fruitful discussions even before the anointing takes place. It can give ministers an opportunity to instruct the individual(s) and declare absolution in the name of Jesus Christ.

Since it is not a sacrament, the Reformed tradition rejects sacerdotal interpretations used in medieval and much of modern Roman Catholic liturgy. As is common in Calvin, he attributes whatever benefit the oil may have to the power of the Spirit. Therefore, there is no need to “consecrate” such oil, and what kind of oil is used does not matter (Olive Oil and Baby Oil are two we can recommend). The use of oil is not medicinal, contrary to the assertions among evangelicals who fear that mysticism may be creeping into the church. While such abuses can take place, there is a solid Reformational history of anointing the sick that does not fall into mystical rituals.

The anointing with oil is a ceremony performed “in the name of the Lord” by the elders. It does not conflict with or take the place of the labor of physicians. Rather, the church’s healing ministry forms the (symbolic) foundation and (whole-life Christian) context for medicinal help.

It is important to understand that only the gospel gives men health. The labor of physicians is important, but only as a means of holding back the curse. Physicians cannot give men true health. Nor can fasting, exercise, dietary laws, or any other feature of the Old Creation. The first creation is decaying. It is only the New Creation that can bring true health through transfiguration. It is only in Christ and in eating His Spiritual food that healing can take place.

What does it communicate?

Anointing with oil is a sign to the sick, spiritually grieving, or dying person, enabling him to turn his suffering into true martyrdom; to be a true witness to the transforming health the gospel gives in the post-resurrection world.

All Christians are martyrs (witnesses) in the general sense, but the suffering Christian is a martyr (witness) in a special, exceptional sense. God is most specific through James. If we need healing, we are to approach our local church’s elders (plural) with a confession of sin and ask to be anointed with oil.

We may further ask, “If God rejects our request for healing the first time, should we return and try again down the road?” Should we call upon the leaders of the Church a second time? Paul states that he came to the Lord three times (2 Cor. 12:8; and cf. Luke 18:1-7 on perseverance in prayer). Paul did not make a fourth request. This provides a rule for us.

If God does not grant healing the first time, we should return with renewed petition two more times. If, after three requests, God still does not grant health, then we are to understand that He has a special purpose for us, rejoice in that exceptional calling, and view the rite of unction as a means of transforming our problem from a manifestation of the curse into a special manifestation of the Kingdom, for our good and the good of others.

The elements James sets forth are confession of sin, a request for healing, prayer for healing, and anointing with oil. James also indicates that several elders should be present, which again runs counter to the modern one-man-show approach of self-made healers. The plurality (2 or 3 witnesses) confirms that the Church works for the needy and sick, and God’s mercy will flow according to God’s rich healing power.

Nuntium

I have been in Nashville for 11 days now, preparing for Council, but also lecturing, preaching, meeting, and writing. The long 12-14 hour days haven't slowed me down yet, though I suspect my body will need some adjustments when I return home this weekend. Council has officially begun, and it’s the culmination of three years of work. The labors of the Council team have been remarkable, and I hope we can get a picture together to memorialize this august occasion that has gathered over 800 people worldwide.

Our Pre-Council Counseling Conference went splendidly well here in Nashville yesterday. It was standing room only! Mike Ruff, Duane Garner, and Bo Cogbill hosted a needful gathering to discuss pastoral care for our CREC congregations. I gave a talk on the history of pastoral care, from Gregory the Great to Jay Adam and the second generation of biblical counselors, and concluded with ways for the denomination to move forward.

It was especially delightful to meet Dr. Jim Newheiser, a disciple of Jay Adam who has done a remarkable job moving the conversation with grace and courage and whose labors at RTS Charlotte have been a breath of fresh air in restoring biblical counseling to the forefront of that campus. I believe all these talks will be available through Reformed Evangelical Seminary in the days ahead.

So Philip ran to him, and heard him reading the prophet Isaiah, and said, “Do you understand what you are reading?”And he said, “How can I, unless someone guides me?”

Acts 8 is first an account of evangelism, but it also provides a model for counseling. The text recalls the familiar story of the Ethiopian Eunuch. The wealthy Ethiopian had been worshipping in Jerusalem. As he returned home, he read the prophet Isaiah, and Philip approached him before he asked for guidance. Intrigued by it, he sought the help of someone who was capable of interpreting that text. The Ethiopian found an interpreter of Scripture, but also an interpreter of life.

Philip’s interpretation was not only Messianic, but also a fulfillment of Isaiah 52:14-15, which promised that Yahweh would sprinkle the nations. The Ethiopian was sprinkled/washed clean from his transgressions. He began to see that Messiah suffered so that he might have life.

This passage establishes in many ways the need for biblical counseling. Counselees are asking Philip’s questions. Their lives, torn by a host of events, have clouded their understanding of life, and sometimes even the Bible itself. Counselors must then come alongside the hurting and the needy and provide an accurate view of their lives through the lens of the Bible.

Jesus is the starting point of all healing. He is the suffering servant, who received no justice, according to Isaiah’s prophecy. The interpreter/counselor begins by pointing to Jesus. He guides the counselee to see that Jesus answers his despair. But he is not simply pointing him to a concept, but to a Person. Jesus, as a Person, died and suffered. Jesus, as a concept, offers no hope.

Notice that Philip ran to him. Philip understood the eunuch's pain and despair. Philip was troubled by the eunuch’s lack of knowledge. The Spirit guides us to those who are most troubled, whether rich or poor. Philip, the counselor, then asked a question.

A few observations concerning the text above:

Notice that Philip asked him a question. Counselors are in the question-asking business. A porn-addict may benefit from a stern rebuke, but he has already been rebuked by his own conscience, which is why he is seeking interpretation. A man enslaved by pornography needs to probe his motivations and his justifications behind his sinful habits. He needs to think through his worldview before he can see how deeply flawed it is. Questions will bring these assumptions to the surface.

Notice that the counselee needed help. Counselors cannot help those who do not want help. The counselee acknowledged that his answers, his attempts to be good, his efforts to get away from certain habits were not paying off. He realized that unless someone guides him, his efforts will all be in vain.

Guiding someone is a form of life interpretation. The counselor needs to take the counselee's assumptions about the world and dissect them so the counselee can see the context surrounding his sins. He may be oblivious to his own environment. He may not know that the culture he is imbibing is causing a greater urge to immerse himself in those sins. He needs guidance to see that his interpretation is flawed.

Finally, notice that the eunuch invites the counselor to come and sit by him. This is not always the case. The work of the Spirit, of course, was already humbling the eunuch. His encounter had already softened his own mind to seek wisdom. In some cases, the counselor needs to make the counselee aware that he needs help and guidance. At times, pride keeps the individual from seeking help. He is certain that his lack of knowledge of the text and his own life is not a problem and that, in time, he will learn to deal with it.

This is where community life becomes crucial.

If sins are seen as separate acts from the community, then they bear no weight on anyone besides the individual. If, however, sins are communal by nature, then making known to the addicted man that he needs guidance becomes a necessary component of community life. The hurting has little hope of finding the right interpretation if no one is willing to point out his need for one.

The eunuch was baptized. Philip’s interpretation offered him a perspective that changed him and caused him to act upon it. Counselors offer interpretations that change the counselee's course of action. By God’s grace, counselors offer a message of hope. Jesus is that hope. The One who received no justice offers justice in the sight of God to those who humble themselves and seek his guidance. Jesus sat with us and offered us an interpretation of our lives that made us whole.

Nuntium

I will be with my old friends, Jeff Meyers and Steve Wilkins, in St. Louis in a few weeks. I will be offering three lectures relating fatherhood and the home to the necessity of liturgical life and cycles.

I had a delightful time with the saints of King’s Cross in Columbia, TN, this past Lord’s Day. I baptized two little ones and administered word and sacraments. The saints were also cheerful and hospitable. Further, I cannot speak more highly of Chris Hwang, who is part of the leadership of this new plant. He was a great host and made me feel right at home. If you are in the Columbia area, please visit these guys.

I was also grateful to meet a fellow Brazilian who added tremendous joy to my visit. Hearty cheers to Matheus and Chloe.

If you would like to follow the progress, here is the revised introduction, chapter one on “Fatherhood as Divine Imitation,” chapter two, entitled “Glad Fathers and Glad Sons,” chapter three on “The Proverbial Father,” chapter four on “The Environment of Wisdom for Fatherhood,” chapter five on “The Role of Fathers in Life and Death,” and chapter six on “The Running Father.”

If you're not a paid subscriber, I’d be happy to comp you for 90 days so you can follow along. Send me your email via Substack.

Chapter Seven

“Good Christian liturgy is friendship in action, love taking thought, the covenant relationship between God and his people not simply discovered and celebrated like the sudden meeting of friends, exciting and worthwhile though that is, but thought through and relished, planned and prepared – an ultimately better way for the relationship to grow and at the same time a way of demonstrating what the relationship is all about.” - N.T. Wright

The Nature of Liturgy: God’s Service to His People

Liturgy is grounded in acts. Every act leads to another act. In liturgy, skipping to a meal before being cleansed (the washing of hands) is improper. Liturgy requires table manners because it shapes us. The word liturgy itself refers to the “work of the people.” Theologically, however, what happens in worship in the gathered assembly is not so much our work, but “the continuation of the service of the ascended Lord Jesus for His people.” We can say that liturgy is the work of God on our behalf, or as theologian Jeff Meyers puts it, “It is God’s service to us.”

In particular, the Lord’s Day liturgy forms us into obedient children of the Most High God. God's service in forgiving us and ministering to us in Word and Sacrament re-orients our duties throughout the week. The goal of biblical liturgy is to make us vessels of the gospel as parents and children. Liturgy is order and decency (I Cor. 14:40). This is one reason structure is so crucial to the Church and, more to the point, one reason structure is so significant to the life of the home. A home without structure lacks a well-thought-out liturgy.

I am not advocating perfection. Any parent who has been a parent for any amount of time knows that there is always work to be done. Parenting does not operate within a 9–5 boundary marker. Perfection is not the goal; persuading your children to be participants in this liturgy is.

This is why, before anything else, it is important to grasp the nature of liturgy. Its nature will indicate its purpose. The liturgy of the people of God is a holy one, and those principles that are generally fixed as we gather as God’s family are principles that can be applied to our homes as well.

Liturgy and the Act of Discipline

Worship establishes patterns of behavior. In broad categories, we could summarize the nature of worship in three acts: first, we are cleansed; then we are consecrated; and finally, we are commissioned. This is a synopsis of a covenant renewal model. But when we apply this pattern to child-rearing, it also offers an edifying method of discipline. The covenant is universal in application.

First, once we are in God’s presence, liturgy demands cleansing. Children need to understand that they have sinned against God (Ps. 51) and against one another. They need to confess and be cleansed (I Jn. 1:9). The ability of children to understand sin is far greater than we often imagine. This cleansing process presupposes that all sin is communal. No sin affects only the self. Even if one commits sin privately, that sin still shapes the individual and their actions toward others. Children are born and baptized for the sake of incorporation. The individualist believes his sins remain isolated. But sin in the home disrupts the peace of the house. When sins are treated as isolated consequences, divorced from the household’s ethos, parents develop a faulty view of discipline.

Second, when sins are repented of, children need instruction in what that repentance entails. This is the consecration portion of the liturgy. Just as God’s people are called to submit to the spoken Word and act upon it, so children are to submit to the spoken word in the home. The father instructs for renewal. When a son sins, a father’s response should not be to hastily discipline him and move on. Rather, it is incumbent upon him to explain briefly how the child’s sin affects those around him, how his selfishness provided a poor example for his siblings, and how his ungratefulness trivializes the generosity of God toward his family.

Get 85% off for 1 year

When a child sins, he needs to see his actions in the context of his community. His sins are not merely exposed, but explained within a broader framework than himself.

Parenting as a Liturgical Formation

The task of parenting, then, follows in teaching. This is didactic parenting. All parents are home educators in one way or another. As noted, discipline must be followed by explanation. Discipline and instruction must go hand in hand, especially when dealing with young children. Instruction must be age-appropriate and biblically saturated, even if a verse is not quoted verbatim. The language and principles of Scripture should permeate parental instruction.

This is an area where fathers sometimes fail to tread carefully. The Bible is not a magic book. It is not given to parents as a tool to abuse, but as a means of renewal. When Scripture is used flippantly or as a weapon, children may grow to resent the Word of the Lord rather than cherish its admonitions. Teaching, therefore, must be done calmly and with great patience. Often, our children’s impatience reveals our own. Likewise, impatience in instruction reveals a deeper reluctance to teach. If we are unable to explain the consequences of sin to the least of these, how will we explain the consequences of sin to those more mature?

Alongside instruction, parents must communicate love. The Christian faith is holistic. Consecration is not merely an intellectual exercise; it is an exercise in encouragement and edification. If we end only in the didactic, we risk training children to respond mechanically rather than sincerely. Ultimately, we are not merely teaching children to know the law, but to love it.

This communication of love is often assumed within instruction, yet parents sometimes forget that physical affection must follow verbal correction. Children must feel both our presence and our affection. Word and Sacrament belong together because God never completes His service to us without feeding us. When a child is fed, he is reminded of the father’s provision and security. Our Lord comforted His disciples when He commissioned them. Even at His ascension, He sent His Spirit to dwell within us. The Trinitarian pattern is to instruct and then comfort the saints.

Similarly, parents must hug, kiss, and show their children that parental training involves more than words. It involves actions—actions that leave lasting impressions as children are commissioned to fulfill their callings day by day.

Finally, the parenting liturgy concludes with commission. The parent, having cleansed and instructed the child, sends him out to “go and sin no more.” This commission flows naturally from the steps that precede it. Commissioning calls us to reconciliation with the world, beginning in the household. Luke 2:52 says that Jesus grew in favor with God and man. When we confess sins, we are not only restored before God but also called to reconcile with one another. We grow in favor with the members of the household. In this way, children are trained to be ambassadors of peace.

Parenting is always liturgical. A make-it-up-as-you-go liturgy will negatively affect the home's liturgy. Every child needs structure—not a rigid, unchanging one, but a foundational one. Liturgy is nothing more than the structure of life.

Fathers, our children learn something about repentance by the way we receive their confession. Do we keep reminding them of their failures, or do we forgive them and help them make things right? After correction, a child should know that he is loved and that the matter is settled. We confess our sins, receive forgiveness, hear instruction, and return to our work. These ordinary habits belong in the Christian home. We will need to practice them again tomorrow, and fathers will need them as much as their children.

Notations

The MRI results shocked me when I heard them on July 9th of this year. I was told there was a 98% likelihood of cancer—not the odds I wanted. After I shared the results with my Session, I drove home with a thousand thoughts. The next step in my journey was a prostate biopsy. The problem was that my schedule was full of speaking engagements, some booked a year earlier, and I truly wanted to honor them. My urologist was comfortable with the delay. So, I set the biopsy for 40 days later—August 18th.

Thanks be to God for the travels to California, Texas, North Carolina, and other places to keep my mind plenty occupied. Of course, I began to digest everything I could on prostate cancer. I looked into a host of reliable voices that weren't mainstream but didn't discount science and cancer research. I wanted someone who would take my questions seriously—someone who wouldn’t have a heart attack if I mentioned Ivermectin, but also who would look me straight in the eye and tell me if I needed more than diet or alternative treatment.

Those 40 days between the MRI and the biopsy were a wilderness of waiting. My hope that God would remove my cancer could only be confirmed when the result of the biopsy arrived. I believed that God would do something miraculous. And while I traveled across the country, I spoke with some friends who had been diagnosed with cancer (prostate or otherwise). I saw the waiting as an opportunity to learn more about the disease, and reckon with my own mortality. As a result, I took the advice of wise men and kept the possibility of cancer to an inner circle of friends, who prayed for me, anointed me, and checked up on me during that season. Everywhere I went, I was encouraged, and so when I returned from my last trip (Moscow, ID), I felt ready for the prostate biopsy. I needed to know what I was facing.

Finally, after 40 days, August 18th arrived. My faithful wife drove me to the surgery location. They quickly took me to a room, and my urologist came in and told me what he intended to do. He told me the surgery would be quick and that in 24 hours I’d be lifting weights again. Then, the anesthetist came in and added some comedy to my life with some great lines, which I am sure he’s delivered thousands of times.

Once in the procedure room, it took only a few seconds for the happiness to kick in, and I was out; the next thing I remember is waking up with my wife next to me. I don’t remember much, but I do remember that when the nurse asked what I wanted to drink, I asked her if they had any beer or bourbon. Thanks, Mr. Anesthetist!

Counseling as a Ministry of the Church

Pre-Council Conference
Monday, September 28th, 2026 9:00 AM – 4:00 PM
Sonesta Airport Hotel
Lunch and Counseling Resources Included

Pastors and elders often express that they feel under-equipped to respond to the complicated counseling needs presented by their congregations. Ministers are regularly confronted with a host of mental, emotional, relational, and habitual disorders among people in their churches, and believing that they are unqualified to respond effectively, they send saints to secular professionals who preach a false gospel to them.

What if the shepherds of the CREC were built up with a greater confidence in the sufficiency of God’s Word for all matters pertaining to life and godliness? What if pastors and elders were better equipped to instruct God’s people in how to live and think in a way that pleases Him? What if ministers could skillfully respond to suffering with the Scriptures and with a gospel hope in the Man of Sorrows?

Join us on the Monday before the 2026 CREC Council meeting in Nashville, at the Sonesta Airport Hotel to receive some instruction, encouragement, and resources from CREC pastors who are certified biblical counselors, and to hear from Dr. James Newheiser, director of the Christian Counseling program at Reformed Theological Seminary in Charlotte, NC.

This conference is organized through a partnership between Trinity Presbyterian Church, Valparaiso, Florida, Reformation Covenant Church, Oregon City, Oregon, and Christ Church, Raleigh, North Carolina.

Register at Eventbrite

Conference Schedule

1. What is Biblical Counseling? – Jim Newheiser
2. Counseling is a Pastor’s Duty – Duane Garner
3. The Sufficiency of Scripture in Counseling – Jim Newheiser
4. A History of Pastoral Care and the Future of the CREC – Uri Brito
5. Counseling Practicalities – Mike Ruff
6. Covenant Renewal Liturgy as Counselor – Bo Cogbill
7. Q&A Panel

But what’s unique about Joel is that he doesn’t lay out the particular sin he is addressing when he threatens judgment. Instead, he assumes you are in conversation with the other prophetic books. He presupposes that you know your Bible quite well.

Joel is so skilled in the prophets that his book is essentially a tapestry of quotations, allusions, and echoes from Isaiah, Jeremiah, Zephaniah, Ezekiel, and others. Joel is a prophet who is convinced that neutrality is a myth, and so he bathes his letter in judgment and promise language. These two themes fall under the category “The Day of the Lord.”

For Joel’s audience, the question is “On which side of the day do we want to stand?” There is a good day of the Lord, and then there is a bad day. What kind of day do you want? At the center of this dreadful day, however, Joel announces an open door. Judgment is approaching, but grace still speaks. And when grace speaks, it summons God’s people to return—not only to inward sentiments; it takes on bodily form.

The Day of the Lord is not experienced the same way by everyone. It depends on which side of God’s covenant you stand.

On one side, the Day of the Lord is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. But for those who refuse, the Day of the Lord looks like Portland weather—dreary, dark, uncertain, and with no prospect of sunshine.

The linchpin for determining what kind of day, or even what kind of future you want, is the character of God. We change like petals on a daisy. Some days, we love him, and some days, we love him not. But God is a God abounding in steadfast love. He does not change; there is no shadow of turning in him. Our trust comes from God’s unchanging promises.

The key for Joel is to return to God with your heart. Don’t look inside yourself. Don’t look to special signs in the skies. Don’t look to gurus. Look to God. Go to him. In Joel, repentance is entering Lent with all your heart—turning away from sin and to the Savior.

For the Prophet, you enter into a repentant world, “with fasting, weeping, and mourning.” However they are interpreted, we know that fasting, weeping, and mourning are not the kinds of things unrepentant people do. If you fast, your body is needy; if you weep, your composure changes; if you mourn, you change your disposition. These are all action-themes.

Repentance turns night into day, Sodom to Jerusalem, valley to mountain. So, we must always walk intentionally through the valley of death. To be on the right side of the Day of the Lord means that it’s not business as usual, but business unusual—business done differently.

Joel describes the restoration of the land in the rich language of the prophets.

Look at the promise for those who walk humbly: your land and garden will be established. But not only that, God is also sending you grain, wine, and oil. Bread is good. Wine is great. And oil is liquid gold. Oil anoints, oil fattens, oil adds flavor. It’s the one-two-three punch of glory God is promising.

What is Joel saying? Joel is pointing us to Easter Sunday! On Easter Sunday, our fasting turns to feasting; our weeping turns to laughter, and our mourning turns to celebration. On Easter Sunday, all the diligence we put into Lent will make sense, but more than that, it will be good for our souls and bodies. It will make the champagne taste even better.

So, don’t let your sins coat your tongue and stain your lips. Come and confess them in all seasons; come and tell our God that we want to be on the right side of the Day of the Lord. Come with weeping, so that your mouth may be filled with laughter. Come and embrace the prophetic word!

Nuntium

I will be with my old friends, Jeff Meyers and Steve Wilkins, in St. Louis in a few weeks.

Cancer Diary #4

I am in Nashville for two full weeks of speaking engagements and meetings before the CREC Council. I am exhausted, but not because of the cancer, simply because we have been traveling non-stop for the last three days to Jacksonville for consultations, then to Nashville totally around 18 hours in these last three days.

But I still owe you the diagnosis story. In my third installment, I concluded thusly:

That Wednesday in June, I finally received a phone call from my urologist’s office. But there was no charm in it. His assistant, without a trace of elegance, simply told me the doctor was out of town, stuck in an airport, but that he had sent her a message saying he wanted to see Uri Brito urgently— in two days.

I was aghast at her lack of decorum, and overwhelmed by her words. Apparently, something was so urgent that my stranded urologist had dispatched a message through his assistant, who then delivered it with the worst bedside manner humankind has ever witnessed. Well, I exaggerate to make the point of my precise sensation at that point. She could have said, “Sir, the doctor would like to go over your MRI results in two days,” or “Mr.: I’d like to confirm that you will meet the doc at the office on such-and-such a day.” But instead she chose anxiety-medication-level-discourse.

Get 85% off for 1 year

How on earth was I supposed to interpret her words? Surely she didn’t mean that, in 48 hours, the urologist was desperate to tell me the good news from my MRI. She spoke in apocalyptic terms on the phone. And anyone with sophomoric familiarity could read between the Shakespeare lines. This was a damn tragedy, O Titus Andronicus!

I looked at my wife and told her I think my doctor believes I have cancer. She looked distraught, hoping for another outcome. “No, I really think so.”

Now, in my line of work, I have walked with many people through cancer, and I have conducted and attended funerals with cancer patients lying in those coffins. So, the conversation about cancer already carried a nefarious ring to it. It seemed that I was falling into this ring of fire, a ring of fire, I tell ya.

I became rather pensive as I waited for my results. I don’t think I was very productive those days. I read and wrote, but I don’t remember what I read or wrote. It felt mechanical, without the ordinary oomph I bring to it. I kept my invisible Calvinist tattoos exposed so I could look at them and remember my Heidelberg Catechism. That stuff about comfort in life and in death. I told myself, “Time to stop reciting, and really believin’.”

My bride met me for the appointment. I was called in and waited. Somehow my doctor was quite upset at his assistant for one thing or another, and we had the privilege of listening to about 15 minutes of scolding. As you can imagine, the outside noise wasn't comforting. But after a while, we started laughing. It was quite the overture to the doc’s entrance.

He finally walked in. Fairly rushed, I tell you. Told a story or two about his unfortunate delay at the airport a few days earlier. And then, with the temperance of a hyena approaching its prey, plunged right into the matter.

I became numb as he began to talk about potential surgery, side effects, recovery, and what awaited me on the other side of removing my prostate. I listened carefully, but my mind was traveling well over the speed limit. My wife looked puzzled and inquired about some of the side effects of radical prostatectomy, and I calmly followed up. No, I wasn’t calm. I was just comfortably numb.

But then, said the man in white, “We can’t know for sure that you have cancer until we have a prostate biopsy.” At that moment, all the expectation that this was all a big misunderstanding was gone. “Now, how certain are you this is cancer?” I asked. He said, “98%." Now, in the statistical world, that’s what people say to avoid being sued. He could have said 100%, but that would be too certain, and medicine operates on high probability.

We left.

My wife was driving a separate vehicle. I told her that I needed to call my Session. They are my trusted friends and men to whom I give an account. They quickly accommodated my urgency; we did a conference call, and I gave them the news. There was always that pesky 2% that could fool us. But deep down I knew—the C word was here to stay.

We cried that night.

Get 85% off for 1 year

Preparing for our meeting has me reflecting on these last three years. These 36 months have been fundamentally different from what I imagined. I knew things were brewing, but I didn’t know the end result of the fermentation. Of course, the detractors were everywhere. The fellas asking questions proved they weren't as innocent as they portrayed themselves. And the detractors were unhappy that we grew despite their efforts to diminish us.

As we come to the Nashville Council in a couple of weeks, it’s become clear that folks who are opposed to our agenda are trying to minimize our growth in at least three ways:

First, they affirm that the denomination grew exclusively from the Covid bump. In other words, we received a booster (pun intended) that accelerated our “virus” into the Reformed world. To this, I simply respond: you protesteth too much, and obviously can’t see what’s happening on the ground level. The CREC has grown most significantly post-Covid as the numbers reveal. And we have grown in larger cities and smaller towns, which confuses folks. While the COVID bump helped bring attention to our small body of churches, that conversation is tertiary compared with the reasons people come to us.

Second, they affirm that the CREC grew because of our political convictions. This criticism is not really a criticism, but an enforcement of the ethos of our 175+ churches. I have said before that there are no Democrats in our churches, and if there are, they are prone to feeling very uncomfortable with our preaching and teaching. It is true that our political convictions will attract many who have seen that there is no light in the Leftist agenda. Further, there is no God and no future. Nevertheless, the political implications are not the sine qua non of the CREC; they are simply the byproduct of a biblical culture. For instance, one cannot treasure the role of motherhood in its creational norm while maintaining leftist ideologies. Indeed, we will overwhelmingly attract conservative families. We do not shy from these convictions.

Finally, they affirm that we have been pushing members from other Reformed congregations to join our tribe. This is the proverbial sheep-stealing. There are a few thoughts to add here, and I begin with myself in Pensacola. In my 18 years in this town, I think I've encouraged someone to explicitly leave their church and join ours only once. And that was after I encouraged him to stay in his congregation far longer than he wanted. Beyond that, I am not aware of cases where our churches are seeking others out. Churches often have a natural relationship with one another. In fact, when we received visitors from nearby churches, we often let their pastors know they visited us. We desire a spirit of camaraderie among the clergy in particular towns.

The blessing of growth is that we have way too much to do on our own. The goal is to minister to the parish, and all these things will be added unto you. As an additional note, I am highly suspicious of folks leaving their own congregations and joining a CREC body, unless there is a tangible reason for concern, public heresy, or geography.

As we gather in a few weeks, I am grateful to God for our growth and am conscious that we must be good stewards of these gifts. Indeed, people are gifts. And we hope to enjoy the benediction of friendships when we come as one.

Notations

Once you overcome the plethora of people and places, the Iliad becomes a poem on just how a bad temper can mess things up for the cosmos.

I have never treasured the agrarian life that Wendell Berry cherished, but I treasure the intimacy of Port Williams to this day.

Psalm 15 is like an autobiography of faithfulness, and by nature, an anti-biography of prodigals.

Cancer Diary #3

I will keep this one short. You can find my notes #1 and #2 thus far. When I first began to contemplate the matter of cancer, I took on a comical approach to it. It’s a cell rebellion against the good guys. Yes, but then there was a sobering wake-up call. This rebellion has led to lots of people dying. In fact, the C-word leaves sad stories behind. I have buried folks who died of that thing. Fortunately, I began working diligently through the cancer studies and discovered that prostate cancer is survivable if found early; there is a large degree of curability.

When my urologist opened that door of imagination in March, I kept the entire conversation tucked in a corner of my mind. I knew there was a lot of work to do, and I am not going to stress myself into oblivion at the possibility. I took some dietary actions, which were merely reinforced—stay away from carbs. Check. It’s been my habit for almost ten years with keto. Don’t consume too much animal meat. Tough to check. I adore meat of all varieties. Drink more water. Easy to check. And on and on, I noted some principles and abstractions.

My urologist urged me to do an MRI and check my PSA once again in early June of this year. That would be three months from that March consultation; I confess I had rarely thought of cancer throughout those 90 days, except to make some mental notes occasionally. I mean, I knew there was a possibility that this thing could be dangerous, but there were so many tests before arriving at such a conclusion that, inevitably, the tests would win the cell warfare and conclude that my body is clear of all cellular malice.

The day arrived. I went to the imaging center on June 22nd for my MRI. The tech gave me the synopsis of the event and said that I needed to stay still in this catacomb. My words, not his. The coffin, also known as an MRI machine, made strange noises and scanned my body for 30 minutes. They gave me a choice of music, and I promptly told them to put on the Jonny Cash station. I put my earbuds on and quickly entered the tomb. The first few minutes were trying. I am claustrophobic, and I talked myself into staying simply because I told myself stories in there. Stories about life. Stories about what it must be like to see God working in my body. I kept humming Cash songs simultaneously about rings of fire and trains.

The 30 minutes were up. They ushered me out. And then I opened my veins for another set of blood tests. Then, I left. I had to wait for results. I waited. I waited. I waited. Seven days and seven nights. Then I got that phone call on a Wednesday afternoon, and it changed everything.

Read more

That evening, someone from the campus took me to my dorm room and showed me my room. Since it was summer, everything was relatively quiet. A few students stayed on campus to make some extra cash, and a few international students couldn’t afford a trip home. I was so weary that first night that once my head hit the bed, I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up refreshed the next day with no place I needed to be. I think it was a Friday, and work began on Monday. I toured the campus and greeted a few of the workers, some of whom would become close friends.

After a quiet weekend exploring the campus, I reported to the grounds crew office early Monday. The Central Florida heat was excruciating. But there was plenty of water and breaks, and the conversations kept me going all day. When I went back to my dormitory at around 4 pm, my physical exhaustion was profound. It had been almost a full year since I had worked outside all day. My body could feel every detail of that experience.

Long Form Conversations

Long before long-form podcasts became popular, we were already engaged in them for hours. We discussed theology, grass, food, marriage, and manliness. The older folks were always gracious and shared stories as we mowed the lawn near the ladies’ dormitory. Those 5-8-hour conversations were muscular. They strengthened me spiritually. We began our days reading the Bible. Our crew leader would offer a word of encouragement from the text. I listened intently. I was fed and ready to take on my weed-eater wherever the day’s work required. I was hungry for the Bible, and even the simplest word had a profound impact on me. In the first few days, they asked if anyone had any thoughts to contribute. Nothing was said. I endured the silence, and by the third day I began to add plenty of words…too many words. After a while, I realized that those words needed to be reduced. Even then, I remember thinking about the necessity of economy in speech. What thou sayest, say succinctly.

That Summer flew by with wonderful occasions for dialogue and new friendships built in the hall, and by the time the school year came, I was comfortable with the campus dynamics and had asked enough questions to feel equipped to handle my first semester at Clearwater Christian College. When the students began to arrive, I found myself giving them instructions and helping some of them unload. I was the new kid who had spent three months on a deserted campus. I felt confident about the work ahead and remained grateful for those preceding months. I introduced myself to everyone who arrived. Some of them thought I was a senior. I looked the part.

I quickly found the Bible students, and they found me quickly as we settled into the routine, and our late-night conversations were filled with heated discussions about the Bible, theology, and our denominational backgrounds. I was a dogmatic Baptist. In fact, at that time, I wouldn’t have known the difference between a Pentecostal and a Presbyterian. There were only Baptists, and most of the campus fit that profile, so I remained relatively ignorant of anything else.

The One-Minute Speech That Changed Everything

Something dramatic happened during that first week. It was a kind of confirmatory ritual I didn't expect. Our freshman communications class had around 100 of us, and each of us was invited to share something about ourselves in one minute. Because of my last name, I was among the first to speak. I think I was the third or fourth on the list. The first few got up and timidly offered a few words about their background. When I got up, I had composed a short speech in my mind. Philippians 1:21 was on the tip of my tongue, and I offered a mini-sermon. Every student received applause, however minimal. But no one applauded after my speech. I felt somewhat embarrassed by it. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to talk about the purpose of life in Christ. Maybe I had gone over the time-limit. I don’t know, but there was no applause, just staring eyes.

At the end of that class, the professor thanked everyone and went over the syllabus. As we were dismissed, a host of individuals came up to me and thanked me for my introduction. I felt somewhat better. Then a day or two later, several sophomores and juniors approached me and started asking about my background. They had heard from freshman students about my 60-second speech and were now curious about who I was. Unbeknownst to me, the class needed to elect a freshman chaplain that week. He was supposed to be the class's spiritual representative. I didn’t know what the role entailed, but I remember being interested in the possibility of ministering to the freshman class. The voting took place, and I received an overwhelming number of votes and was elected freshman chaplain.

Little did I know that among my responsibilities was to address the entire freshman class a week later. I had never officially preached a sermon. So, with a little notebook, I began jotting down ideas for sermon titles. In that world, a clever sermon title was half the game. In my morning devotions, I had read from Deuteronomy 8: “Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” A title came to mind which I thought was rather clever. “Starve the Old Nature, and Feed the New Nature.” With enthusiasm, I rushed to my professor’s office seeking his approval. I even had an outline to show him.

When I arrived, he welcomed me in and told me to summarize my sermon. Dr. Spotts was an iconic figure with a laugh that was hard to replicate: a deep, guttural snort. He often laughed at his own observations in class, which made him endearing. But on that day, there was no laughter. He thought my title was unhelpful. Then he poked holes in my entire outline and concluded with a better way. Seeing my disappointment, he said, “Well, you can always try again.” I went back to the library and changed my entire outline, but stubbornly kept my sermon title.

I delivered my first sermon the following morning. I paced around quite a bit, as some will testify. But whatever I said, I remember saying it with sufficient conviction that everyone present could see and hear that I meant what I said. That experience taught me an early pastoral lesson: what is said needs to be said with authority. I remember several students pulling me aside afterward, and a few even followed me back to my dormitory. We chatted, and we built a camaraderie among what fundamentalism has deemed the Preacher Boys. That was my first formal sermon. I don’t know if that audio ever survived, but I recently found a poorly recorded clip from a year later, in 2000, in a box of cassette tapes. This was a sermon on Jude preached in early 2000 in Tampa Bay, Florida. It’s entitled The Defense of the Christian Faith. I still find it remarkable that much of my cadence and rhythm has not changed in 26 years.

Cancer Notes #1

I shared my story with the Facebook world and have been flooded with wonderful notes from friends. Here’s my note:

Afterward, Gary Demar sent me a note sharing a bit of his cancer story. Gary is a cancer survivor. But he reminded me that one of his closest friends, the late Dr. Gary North, was also a cancer survivor who eventually became a victim. North kept copious notes. In fact, they are incredibly detailed. You can find them at garynorth.com

I met Gary North many years ago. He kept a rhythm of writing four articles a day; a feat that is hard to achieve, but he did for decades. His cancer notes are also quite details, and I am trying to read about one day. He died of complications from prostate cancer in 2017 at the age of 80. While some details in my own journey compel me to keep certain things private, I will begin here a series of brief notes on my cancer diagnosis and what I am doing to treat it.

But I need to start early. Back in November of 2025.

A friend encouraged me to see a local doctor who does her consults online. At this stage, I had reached peak frustration with my mainstream doctor, who gave me around five minutes of his time each time we met and always pushed for more allergy medication to deal with some of my sinus problems. Even after I had done thorough allergy tests and found absolutely nothing, he continued to prescribe them, and I continued to refuse them. After five years, I finally changed. I figured an online doctor could not do worse than the experience I had had so far.

My first meeting was more of an introduction. She asked me for a full blood test. I think I had done a few in previous years, but they were limited in scope; now my new doctor was ordering the whole shabang. To be precise, it was ten vials of blood. It was exhausting. I quickly opened my patient portal page that morning, and maybe 12 hours later, I started to get some results from those tests. They were color-coded. I supposed that as long as they stayed in the green range, I was safe. I didn’t know much about those things, and I knew absolutely nothing about those three letters, which now haunt me: PSA. It stands for Prostate-Specific Antigen. It’s a protein produced by the prostate gland to screen for prostate cancer. At the time, it was 4.6. A week or two later, when I met with my doctor to review my results, she seemed content with most of my numbers, except for that pesky PSA. “That number is high,” she said. We need to keep an eye on it. I didn’t think a word of it. She said, “Let’s do some more blood tests in three months.” She was not panicked, just reasonable and cautious.

I had strayed a bit from my regular keto/carnivore model, which I have been following for close to ten years. So I thought I needed to get back to it and maybe lose some weight. At the very least, I knew then that I finally had a doctor who cared about my well-being and wasn't in a hurry to move on to the next patient. Looking back now, it was a comforting moment as I entered my 46th year of life.

I remember hearing that line from a couple of my high school teachers. The problem, of course, was that, from my earthly perspective, I was running out of time—at least if I wanted to remain legally in the U.S.

The Perspectivalist

Answering the Call to the Pastorate: My High School Days in Pennsylvania, Part 3

My ambitious attempt to finish all of this in three installments has now been shattered by the profound sense that there are far more details than I envisioned. So, we will continue slowly but surely. If you lose interest along the way, I will still find the project personally profitable. The more I think about this, the more I prefer not to be economic…

Read more

a month ago · 9 likes · 1 comment · The Perspectivalist

As I considered receiving training for pastoral ministry, I knew that I needed to go to college. But as God would have it, my first thought was to follow in my father’s footsteps and go to Bob Jones University. I even remember meeting one of their traveling musical ensembles. I can’t recall now whether they sent me a letter denying my application or called me. Either way, that dream was over. Pensacola Christian College had offered me a small scholarship, and though I knew little about the school at the time, I felt no burning in my bosom. Besides, who would want to live in Pensacola, FL—lol-ed the middle-aged man!

Read more

Read more

To my recollection, I didn’t put up much of a fight. She had a plan. And I followed that plan. My mom bought me a very expensive business briefcase for my trip. She wanted me to arrive in America as a returning hero, ready to face a daunting new world.

The Angel From Georgia

When I arrived, an old friend I had met as a child picked me up, and we made our way home, chatting and sharing stories of our shared Brazilian history. That evening, he was to drop me off at Yvonne Dey's home. Mrs. Dey, as I called her, had a reputation for housing missionaries on furlough. That is, short for missionaries returning to the U.S. to raise funds, then returning to their missional place. One of those missionaries convinced her to host an 18-year-old from Northeastern Brazil. She agreed without hesitation.

Get 50% off forever

Mrs. Dey was already in her early 70’s when I met her. She was the classic Georgian Aunt Bee. Her drawl was stronger than 100% proof whiskey, but she assured me that she had no Southern accent. I gaffauwed internally when she said that, ‘cause ya’ll, that was some serious elongations coming out of her mouth. At a practical level, that first night I arrived, she had some sweet tea, cornbread, and some kind of meat pie—the Southernest thing I’ve ever seen and tasted. Mind you, this was railroad country, and sweet tea was nowhere to be found…nowhere.

Mrs. Dey was married to a Vietnam veteran, who had served our country, but struggled with severe health problems after returning from war. I believe he died in the 80’s. She had been a widow for some time and had become accustomed to that life. She was a woman of habits. 6 am toast and coffee. Midday sandwich. 5 pm supper. I quickly fell into her routine and joined her for every meal.

When the meal was ready, she would call me. “Uuuuri!” “Yes, Ma’am,” I would reply. She was hard of hearing, but I never struggled to speak to her. I had the upstairs all to myself. She could no longer walk up the stairs regularly. It was like a private suite. So, she’d call me down for supper. Afterward, we would sit down, and she would shower me with stories about her past and how excited she was about her church, grandchildren, and friends. She wanted to introduce me to everyone. She had an old TV where we watched The Price Is Right and The Lawrence Welk Show. To me, that was America at its prime. I’ve always been a traditionalist. In fact, my wife has told me in the last 23 years that I was born in the wrong century and in the wrong country. I remember the purity of those programs with tremendous clarity.

She also introduced me to the Gaithers. The deep Gospel songs of the Gaither choir and soloists got into my soul. Ol’ time religion became sentimental to me. I needed that Billy Graham revivalism in my bones. In that season, my faith did not bask in the existential delights of heaven. But the music, the routine, and Mrs. Dey’s simple faith kept giving me a renewed sense of the holy.

Brethren, We Have Met to Worship

Sunday mornings were also ritual-laden. We got up during the Summer, ate some breakfast, and made our way to church.

Church was different.

There weren’t bands. It was a lovely 19th-century building in the heart of Altoona, PA. She introduced me to everyone. It was an elderly congregation with a few scattered teens, which I spotted fairly quickly. I should say we spotted each other.

The service was traditional, like an old Baptist church in the 60’s. We sang out of a hymnal, and though I was not quite familiar with a hymnal, I sang my heart out as soon as I could comfortably predict the melody line. In a few weeks, I knew almost everyone in that congregation by name and their favorite hymns. The pastor, an elderly man, took an interest in me and kindly invited me to Saturday morning breakfast with the men. I had lived in the U.S. in the 80’s as a kid, so when he took me out to eat, it was the first time I had ever ordered something. My English, though proficient, lacked restaurant etiquette. I remember being quite embarrassed as I figured out what sunny-side up meant. I thought it was some northern weather analogy. Nay. It was about eggs. Such a jubilant title for an aberration. I should have told them loud and clear that real men eat fried eggs. But alas.

All the men were incredibly kind to me. I should mention that Altoona is a city in Blair County, central Pennsylvania, nestled at the base of Brush Mountain within the Allegheny Mountains. Translation: lots of white people. And white I was not. They were so curious about Brazil. And I entertained their questions. Their generosity baffled me at times. For instance, at the beginning of soccer season at school, a dear friend, Duane Brooks, took me out and bought me cleets, jersey, sox, chin guard, and whateever else I needed. I will never forget their acts of kindness.

The church was the highlight of my week. Though my Bible knowledge was lacking, I began to delve into it deeply. Every time the pastor took me out, I used the opportunity to ask questions. He enjoyed the inquiries of an energetic young man. He was a Brethren minister. Their roots were deeply dispensational, and they still practiced foot-washing. I enjoyed our time, and he always seemed encouraged by our conversations, even though we were 50 years apart.

One day he pulled me aside and asked whether I wanted to share my testimony in an evening service. I dreadfully agreed. I wasn’t quite sure what all was involved in my testimony. So I pulled up a page from the printer and began jotting down an outline. He knew I dabbled with a guitar and asked me to sing something. I can’t remember what I sang, but by the time I was done, I was quite at ease in the pulpit. To my recollection, fewer than 50 folks were present that evening. My outline was a bit of my childhood story in a pastor’s home, and my present desire to serve Christ. I honestly don’t remember much, except that when I was done, folks gave me a rowdy applause. I didn’t think what I said was particularly thrilling, but to the Solomonic figures in attendance, hearing a young man talk about the faith was genuinely reason to rejoice.

Afterward, the pastor and a few others asked whether I had ever contemplated pastoral ministry. I smiled politely, but that evening, lying in bed in Altoona, PA, I began to narrate in my mind what it would be like to follow in my father’s footsteps and the life of the church. That night, I may say with some confidence, was the planting of seeds—religious seeds, but also ecclesial seeds.

Notations

I have been reading the Iliad out loud at home. Son #2 finds it amusing, and he also interprets portions so his dad can get a sense of what it may have been like to grow up with a classical education.

Psalm 14 is a retelling of the flood story. David sees the fool as those who failed to heed the Noahic call to life. They said in their heart there is no God, and God rightly judges them so that they would know that salvation can only come from Zion.

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." ~C.S. Lewis (The Problem of Pain)

Nuntium

I know this may seem like a shock to those outside the world of CREC officers and my local congregation who have already heard the news, but many of you have followed my writing for almost two decades. I feel the need to be honest. While the details are best shared locally, those of you following me should know that I have been diagnosed with cancer. While it is serious, there are far worse forms. I am thankful for God’s providence in my life.

What those of you on the outside of my immediate circle should know is that my faith is strong, and I am confident that God has called me for such a time as this. Please pray and lift me to my Great Physician!

So I shared some thoughts about a Brethren pastor who pulled me aside after I shared my testimony in 1998. He said, “You should consider the ministry.” And that was the birth of my pastoral search. Then I told my son that I loved people, and loved hearing their stories, and loved speaking God’s truth. He seemed content with my explanation. But then I realized I hadn't yet elaborated on it publicly at any level, and while my story is unique in some respects, it will likely resonate with many pastors or those pursuing a call into the life of the Church.

So, here is a bit of my journey into pastoral work divided into three parts. Some of it is autobiographical, but you can’t take the personal from the Person of God who put me into the story. In part one, I will focus on the years preceding my return to the United States.

Early Years

I grew up in a pastor’s home. My early years left few memories of my father’s pastoral and pulpit ministry. He was a well-known pastor in Northeastern Brazil, part of the General Baptist tradition. At the time, it was a fairly rigid form of Christianity akin to the American Independent Baptist movement (think Pensacola Christian College and Bob Jones University). My father was somewhat repulsed by that movement's cultural ethos. In fact, I don’t recall him making those distinctives overly preeminent in our congregation. He was a fundamentalist at heart, but that fundamentalism generally stopped at the doctrinal level, and not at the practical one.

Get 50% off forever

In fact, perhaps the opposite was the case. The music in our congregation was relatively contemporary, with some hymns thrown in, but with guitars leading the way into the garden alone (let the reader understand). And I should know because I was already singing in the praise band long before I ever picked up a guitar. Yes, according to testimonies, my volume was on display since I was 12.

My father was a man of conviction. There are gaps in my memory. I still don’t know why. It may be because I left Brazil so early, but I do remember his storytelling and jovial way about him. Unfortunately, there are no recorded sermons of his from that era. We lived in a poor town, and possessing some microphones was already quite an achievement. I don’t think recorders were common in the 90’s where we lived. That same congregation still exists. And occasionally I glance at their Facebook page to watch a few minutes of their service.

All of this to say that, unlike many of the great preachers who received some form of mystical calling in their childhood, I was not one of them. I knew my father was a pastor, and a few of his brothers were too, but it never dawned on me that I would follow in their footsteps. Again, I didn’t fall off a horse, nor did I hear Hebrew words from heaven. Maybe God offers divine and mystical experiences only to the Billy Grahams and Pauls. I think I have said before that watching my dad undergo ecclesial battles, rough counseling sessions, and some health problems towards the end of his life did not inculcate in me a desire for pastoral ministry.

My father died in 1996 when I was 16 years of age. It was quite a shock. I remember one Saturday evening a friend of the family driving us to youth group and then heading to the hospital to drop off my dad, who was complaining of some pain. I honestly don’t remember my last words to him. But days later, he had a heart attack, and the next thing I remember, we were all gathered in an American Missionary’s home. Everyone was weeping. My mom was uncontrollably sobbing, and for some reason, I don’t remember crying until that evening when everything began to sink in. At 16, I thought anyone over 30 was too old, but even then I remember thinking that at 41, my father was indeed not old at all. But now, he was dead. And as the oldest in the family, I knew that much was going to change.

Translating In the Days of the Titanic

After my father died, I was awakened. Suddenly the world of beach volleyball—something I had been pursuing for some time—became tertiary in interest. I realized at that moment that there was something far greater ahead; something that would demand more of me than treading through beach sand.

I didn’t know what that thing was, but it became clear that my father’s commitment to speaking English at home once we returned to Brazil would open many doors. You can find a little of that story here:

My mother was the visionary in this endeavor. She saw that I could teach somewhere. And at the age of 16, that opportunity arrived. I applied for a position at a local private school where students were eager to learn English. My students were quite eclectic—from doctors to lawyers to nurses and ordinary kids. I chose the Titanic subtitle because it was the era of Celine Dion and her soundtrack, My Heart Will Go On. To say it was just a song minimizes its impact on Brazilian culture. While the United States looked thrilled to introduce two young actors (who would eventually become movie icons) to the big screen, Brazilians looked back into their bloodline to see if anyone had any remote connection to DiCaprio. When someone found a connection reaching back a few hundred years, they would be interviewed and treated as heroes.

The kids in the classroom also wanted a fresh translation of such “masterpieces,” treating it like Homeric work fresh with new insight. And I was the translator par excellence. The professionals in the room were also enthusiastic about translating words that ultimately meant a load of nothing layered by more nothingness.

Translating in the age of Titanic was precisely what I needed to increase my bank account. Yes, indeed, more noble work was done in the classroom, but adverbs and adjectives did not make the cut. It was pop-music translation that did. And I am thankful for those two years of teaching.

Evidently, the money I had been depositing into a savings account did quite well in those 24 months. My mother wanted me to know it was time to do something with it. I had the idea of a vehicle. At the time, I was 18, and I was tired of taking a bus every day. My mom had another idea. She suggested I go back to the U.S. And so, after a lot of networking, I arrived at Pittsburgh, PA, airport in the summer of 1998, and began my life in a town a couple of hours away called Altoona, PA.

Note: If my thoughts on Psalm 2 feel sermonic, it’s because it is based on a series of sermons on each Psalm. They are chanted and sung congregationally throughout, then explained. Much of this material is edited to fit a larger audience. This series aims to stir our people at Providence Church (CREC) to love the song and the promise in each of God’s inspired lyrics. This is the second in the series. You can find the essay on Psalm 1 here. All quotations are used from the New King James Version—the official translation of our congregation in Pensacola, FL.

Unprecedented Times: Right?

Everyone has learned, in the last five years, to say, “We live in unprecedented times.” It’s become a modern refrain everywhere in the media. But it is better to say, “We live in times where people no longer look to precedents.” The Scriptures have already given us precedents for what our society considers unprecedented. Of course, it is true that a nation undergoes cycles or turnings, but there is nothing novel in God’s revelation.

Remember that scene from The Wizard of Oz where the wizard desperately declares, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” The wizard is like a man trying to hide from God or trying to hide behind new theories to explain or justify his actions. God sees it all. There is no new ethic for America in 2026; there is only God’s ethic for the Christian. There is no unprecedented way of being; there are only the virtues or fruits of the Spirit. We cannot reinvent ourselves because the times change. Whether we are in a positive, neutral, or negative world, there is only one thing that transcends all others: God’s Word.

In the beginning of Psalm 2, David is shocked by the boldness of the ungodly. Perhaps they thought they would catch God off guard with an unprecedented move. Yes, the ungodly can be subtle at times, but in Psalm 2, they are rather blatant about their strategy to destroy God’s people.

Get 50% off forever

Remember Psalm 1, where David speaks of the counsel of the ungodly. They think they can rule over us in judgment. Psalm 2 begins with David’s astonishment at their attempts—“Why do the heathen rage?” Why do they invade our churches and scream on a Sunday morning in Minneapolis (see video below), trying to interrupt the assembly of God’s people? They want attention, and they sincerely believe they can cause enough tumult to disrupt God's people. But David says it is “a vain thing.” The church will only grow stronger as a result.

Read more

The crisis here is real. Many men simply should not enter the pastorate; others may need a season of careful reflection on the nature of the pastoral calling. They may need deeper confirmation of that calling, both externally and internally. If we are to cultivate a new generation of pastors, we will need a new generation of shepherds whose love for books is surpassed only by their love for the people of God.

I read recently a charge that John Murray offered at a pastoral ordination in 1960. It’s simple and to the point, and something worth considering for all those pursuing pastoral ministry:

Notice the tenderness required of ministers; and also note that the absence of a pastoral love for the people will be “offensive to all discerning people.” The old adage that people can forgive a bad sermon, but they will not forgive a bad pastor is relatively accurate. But I think a more fruitful way of saying this is that good pastors rarely preach bad sermons. They know their people, and the text is shaped by their pastoral affection for them.

I have written elsewhere about the significance of sermon manuscripts, and in some small measure, I believe that sermons are theological manuscripting through our people’s lives, questions, and concerns. We theologize on the basis of our pastoral labors among them. We don’t theologize in the absence of God’s people; we theology in their midst. Theology is the application of the Holy Scriptures fleshed out in the ecclesial life.

For the church to rebuild a wealthy reservoir of pastoral candidates in the future, we need to cultivate a sense of calling to ministry among our young men. In our attempts to desacralize the pastoral call and place it on equal footing with every other vocation, we have inadvertently diminished the noble work of shepherding God’s people and disincentivized the pursuit of serious theological and pastoral training. This is not to denigrate other callings (shoemakers are good) but to recover a proper esteem for the pastoral office with its weighty responsibilities, costly demands, and profound privilege.

I firmly believe the church should once again encourage qualified young men to consider whether God may be calling them to give their lives to preaching the Word, administering the sacraments, and caring for the souls of his people. The Church needs a new generation of sons of God who will go forth to war for the sake of the kingdom with bread and wine and Word

Nuntium

We have just returned from Moscow, ID. Apart from a host of CREC meetings and a fruitful NSA Board meeting, we also bid a temporary adieu to my favorite daughter. My first-born is now in the northenest region of the north; on the south side of Canada; in the great Palouse. While tears were shed, hopefulness prevails. It’s hard to imagine a more glorious place of Christian life and festivity, and an abundance of scholars who treasure the life of the body and who instruct for the sake of the greater good of their students.

Notations

The Influence of Postmillennialism

As recently as thirty years ago, postmillennialists were often dismissed as an obscure sect of utopian theologians. There may have been a scattering of Reconstructionists and the occasional Puritan remnant, a minority within a minority.

Today, postmillennial convictions are helping to shape denominations such as the CREC, institutions such as NSA and ACCS, and families through the homeschooling movement and the development of Christian curricula.

The postmillennial hope is not utopian fantasy; it is confidence in the creational pattern by which Christ, through his gospel, sanctifies peoples, cultures, and societies

Praying like David

Nota Bene

No name quite stands out in the crime-solving world as that of Sherlock Holmes. Over the span of nine books, Arthur Conan Doyle managed to write Sherlock Holmes, along with his partner, Dr. Watson and his nemesis, James Moriarty, into the hearts of Western civilization. Since then, a constant stream of approved novels and shows has continued to expand his reputation. One of these shows is called Young Sherlock.

Directed by Guy Ritchie, known for his normally fast-paced films, but also his ability to slow down at times [films of his include Snatch (2000), The Covenant (2023), and the live-action Aladdin (2019)], paired with a brilliant cast, this TV series stood out in my mind for a few reasons.

First, the plot was genuinely intriguing and at times unpredictable. It follows a young Sherlock Holmes (played by Hero Tiffin) through a crime/murder solving spree. Starting at the prestigious University of Oxford, where his brother Mycroft Holmes (Max Irons) managed to get him a job as a scout (something like a college servant) after he fell out of favor with the law, he quickly became friends with James Moriarty (Donal Finn). Interestingly, as already mentioned, in the books this is Sherlock’s arch-nemesis, a genius without a soul, as Doyle puts it, but in this show, Moriarty plays the role of refining Sherlock’s wit.

Sherlock Holmes, along with James Moriarty, are unsurprisingly caught up in the deaths of multiple professors, a veritable murder mystery. Along the way, a Chinese princess, Holmes’s mother (residing in a mental institution), his father, and a plethora of other characters are introduced, coming together to weave a wonderfully interesting narrative.

Second, the script is simply delightful. Interactions between Sherlock and his brother Mycroft ought to be studied and emulated, and even the general level of dialogue is high above what I am used to finding in most, if not every movie or TV show I have watched. This was undoubtedly one of my favorite aspects, and it was where I thought this show completely triumphed. I have no other words to describe it, except to say that I loved the script.

Third, the supporting actors were phenomenal, particularly Donal Finn as Moriarty. He has been called a “show-stealer” by many critics, and I completely agree. I also personally enjoyed the character Mycroft Holmes (played by Max Irons). He longs for advancement in the British Bureaucracy, but his family comes first. In the first count, he is his father; in the second, his mother. He is stable throughout the show and demonstrates the remarkable first-child tendencies; he really is his mother’s boy. Those two are all I’ll mention for the sake of word count, but there were many more that provided just as much depth.

And this brings me to number four. The villain. And in the case of this show, the understood villain. Let me do a little explaining.

In my mind, the most common theme among villains is writers making them misunderstood in an effort to understand them. A little bit paradoxical if you ask me. And for this reason, it just doesn’t resonate. It is off. It tries to shift responsibility and to make the audience feel pity for a character who was/is otherwise meant to be deplorable. But in Young Sherlock, the villain, the mastermind, is unrepentingly a Darwinist. There is no misunderstanding. It is survival of the fittest drawn to its logical conclusion, then put into a person. For this person, ethics have no meaning; dog eats dog. What has to be done to secure your status will be done; analytical and domineering opportunists and plotters take the stage, oftentimes with a little too much Machiavellian principles in them for my taste. After all, isn’t it better to be feared than to be loved? And in the show, Sherlock comes to understand this, albeit after he unravels a web of lies that had ensnared him. But what a relief this is.

There is only relational pity for the villain. The villain’s greed is his driver, the world his stage, and the people his puppets. But if you have too many strings to control, one will eventually escape your grasp.

Interestingly enough, seeing atheism and Darwinism drawn to their conclusion is quite pitiable; I experienced the same frustration when watching the Marvel film Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. The main character has moments when her atheistic beliefs are on display and she says that her desires, her wants, are all that matter, everything else be damned. I digress; they just don’t seem to understand that you can never be the top dog. And in most cases, the man who is loved and who has a foundation that supports him, rather than one built on lies, will be their undoing. And so I present a significant achievement, in my mind at least, of the TV series Young Sherlock: the understood, and the understandable villain.

A little rehash: four things that stood out to me. The intriguing plotline, the delightful script, the thrilling supporting actors, and the emergence of a well-defined villain. In short, I loved this show. Sitting down in the evening to watch it with the older contingent of my family was the highlight of my week or so. But I probably would suggest 14 and up for Young Sherlock.

Now, I am no professional critic; I find most of them to be nitpicky. So I decided to present the things I enjoyed about the show, because it was enjoyable and worth my while. And I sincerely encourage you to also make time to watch Young Sherlock. I think that you will find yourself both charmed and entertained.

Preaching is not simply conveying data without thought to rhetoric. Healthy preaching develops a rhetorical framework through which ideas can be appropriately communicated and received by the people. It seeks to understand the ecclesial context before proclaiming the ecclesial word.

Much of this comes with time and trust in the pulpit. Each minister will develop a particular flavor that will communicate more astutely to their listeners. But the problem is that while we may communicate well to our particular people, we may not train them to listen well. It is possible to learn from poor communicators, but it is not ideal.

For this reason, ministers need to train themselves in preaching, considering their style and adjusting it as needed. I have written about ten questions to ask before each sermon here.

The danger of poorly articulated ideas is that they leave parishioners vulnerable to more seductive forms of learning. Preachers are imaginative creatures proclaiming a heavenly revelation that changes the thinking and structures of human understanding.

Paul chastises sophistry (I Cor. 2) but does not chastise proper rhetorical pursuits or persuasion (Acts 19:8). The minister brings the kingdom of God to full display in the preached word. He is not simply conveying data but a biblical dramatizer of the Word.

A Shout, Not a Whimper

The Bible is a book of stories. Every story whispers his name. True enough. But then again, we should believe that every story also shouts his name. Christ is there in the defeat of fat Eglon when the sword pierces his body, revealing that he is a man of dung. That was no mere whisper. It was there when Jael drove a tent peg through Sisera’s skull. That was no mere whisper.

Examples like these could be multiplied with little ease. This is more than a whisper; it’s a hallelujah ringing loud and clear. Jesus is the defeater of fat and evil kings and drives tent pegs through the skulls of his enemies, fulfilling the promise of Genesis 3:15.

Far from shyness, Christians should rejoice at such raucous occasions through sacred scriptures. Wherever our Lord goes, he produces disciples unto life or disciples unto death. There is no neutrality. There is no whisper but a loud shout of praise for the Lord our God, omnipotent, who reigneth over all his enemies (I Cor. 15:24-26).

C.S. Lewis’ Reading Advice

C.S. Lewis’ Introduction to “On the Incarnation” by Saint Athanasius is a lovely and fatherly overview of Christian reading habits. He warns against reading only modern books in favor of a first-hand account from the lips of Augustine or Calvin himself, for instance. He notes that modern portrayals of ancient authors give the false impression that reading current books satisfies the nature of ancient literature. Thus, he warns against the dangers of an “exclusive contemporary diet” (10). He sets the good rule of reading “at least one old book for every three new ones (10).

Two Categories of People to Avoid in Leadership

The more public a work/ministry becomes, the more careful one has to be with two categories of people:

Flatterers: I have often differentiated flattery from praise by stating that flattery is consistent and generic, whereas praise is timely and specific. Something similar to what the poet Anne Bradstreet noted when she wrote, “Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach.” Or some variation of the multiplication of words principle (Prov. 10:19). A leader must learn to despise flatterers by dismissing their comments and giving them little attention.

He needs to see that their intentions may not always be to gain favor with your role, but are often to gain something from the association. Flatterers rarely serve, but they are generally charismatic. They watch from afar and come close only when suitable and advantageous for them.

Anonymous Naysayers: These will pose on social media as genuine interlocutors, but ultimately, they are only here to cause distractions and function as detractors. They will find a hundred reasons to parse a jot or tittle. They will take issue with virtually everything you say, hoping you will engage with their words and give them a spotlight. But they are not seeking genuine interaction. They are pursuing a monological moment in which they can speak from angst, hoping you will absorb their frustration and respond to their grief.

I recommend avoiding these: blocking them quickly and limiting your online interactions only to those with a disposition toward knowledge.

I have said, humorously, to my congregation and in other contexts that every parent should pray that their children share a boring testimony as they age. And of course, I mean it facetiously to get their attention. In other words, they should be content and thrilled that their offspring never experience the bitter taste of unbelief; the unsavory feast of unrighteousness, and the fellowship of demons. Their testimony should be that Jesus is good, life is good, and fellowship in the community of Jesus is good. No history of drunkenness. Drugs. Multiple sexual partners. Just ordinary faithfulness and ordinariness in the house of the Lord.

We should undoubtedly rejoice in the kindness of God in bringing satan-bound sinners to the foot of Jesus; to the Father’s house. But Luke 15 should not be treated as a statistical paradigm guaranteeing that those who abandon Christ will eventually return. Instead, they show a redemptive historical reality of God’s people finding refuge in his fatherly care after their exile and wilderness wanderings. And again, at a personal level, they do serve to comfort the grieving parent whose child has been excommunicated, but it should not be seen as the norm.

Get 50% off forever

Evangelical culture loves a dramatic story. It has romanticized the prodigal, turning him into a hero who squanders his inheritance only to return home triumphantly. Revivalistic religion prioritizes the testimony of the alcoholic, the four-times-married individual, the drug-addict who comes to Jesus, because such stories make good headlines.

But the covenant child who was baptized at First Presbyterian, catechized from his earliest days, killed the dragon, got the girl, raised a tribe of little hobbits, and now serves quietly as a deacon in his local church receives no red-carpet entrance. His story has little dramatic appeal and attracts no front-page attention. I am not saying that it should. I am saying that the steady life of ordinary faithfulness is often minimized in favor of the spectacular. The ordinary is set aside for the extraordinary, even though the ordinary is itself an extraordinary work of grace.

Blessing the Ordinary, Non-Prodigal Life

Recently, we had one of those stories of a prodigal coming home. It was splendid. There was much rejoicing. Believe it or not, a Reformed congregation cheered out loud at the occasion! We brought out our inner Pentecostal and rejoiced that a sinner who was lost was now found. Thanks be to God.

But on the other hand, the repentant covenantal member who lives, moves, and has his being in God needs also to be encouraged by the regularity of feasting at his Father’s house. The prodigal returns to a great feast, but the son who never leaves should receive the regularity of the good life. He too needs to be exhorted to live faithfully before God and man—to continue the good fight of faith towards the upward prize. He needs to be urged to action and godly ambition.

The nature of such steadiness needs three additional encouragements:

First, they need the well-done remarks from older saints. They need to be reminded often to continue in the path of righteousness, and to pursue and delight in the ordinary. They need resources, wisdom, and affection from those whose lives may not have seen the ordinary, but instead came through the eye of the needle. Those who have suffered violence to enter the kingdom of heaven should urge the sons and daughters of God to avoid that tumultuous route.

Second, pastors should be aware of such testimonies of loyalty among their young men. Not only should they be cultivated, but also urged towards diaconal functions in the church. The young married man may be too young to become a deacon, but he is not too young to be a diaconal assistant in various duties. Put him in positions where his faithfulness is harvested as an example among all.

Finally, encourage them to urge others in the goodness of the Christian life. Remind them of the blessings of hospitality, songs, worship, fellowship, festivities, Church Calendar, liturgies of the morning and the evening, obedience, and benedictions. Make the ordinary heavenly and the heavenly life to be the ordinary life.

While we all rejoice when the prodigal comes home from the den of pigs, there is even much more to rejoice in the ordinariness of a Christian life—the faithful and true baptismal life.

Such experiences ought to be the norm. We should not hope to see extensive cases of apostasy within the church. We should not have to experience the pain of an excommunication as a regular feature of the Church’s life. Instead, we should expect that from the font to the table and to the grave our children grow in the wisdom and knowledge of God all their days. So that, looking back over their lives, they cannot remember a day when they did not know God’s fatherly care.

Notations

As I walked the beach in Outer Banks this past week, I did something I rarely do: listen to an entire funeral service. In this case, it was the funeral of the late Glen Hansard. I had delved into Glen’s canon after wandering happily into Falling Slowly, which I still think is one of the finest ballads ever written.

The service was a mix of Catholic liturgy and Ireland’s greatest artists (including Bono). I cannot tell you how moved I was by the service and the vast eulogies. The song composed by his older brother, Gary (I Can See God), was an emotional masterpiece.

In these last seven days since Hansard's death, I have worked my way through most of his albums and found a wild collection of gems, including The Song of Good Hope, which I have listened to liturgically. All of this leads me to the interview below, recorded three months before Glen’s motorcycle accident in Dublin. The interview is warm and almost like a living-room setting, with Glen speaking candidly about his writing process, growing up with a broken father, his collaborative work with blues icons, and the appearance of his little boy, Christy, on the screen. I was handling the interview with intellectual strength until his little one showed up. At that moment, the agony of knowing that the little lad would grow up without his father really hit me.

Anyway, here’s Glen; a man I never met, but a man I hope to meet.

Get 25% off for 3 months

The plane landed around midday on Monday in Norfolk, Virginia, and then we drove a couple of hours across the border to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. My first talk was that first evening, and I had not yet tasted sleep since 3 am. Suffice to say, the mind was not as pristine. But after six talks, three Q&As, and a host of incredibly pleasant interactions throughout our time, I can honestly say that I have spent the entire week lecturing in the company of some truly delightful humans, all of whom were alert, aware, and self-assured about the good news in their lives. To my knowledge, no one fell asleep, and these lectures were up to an hour on a few occasions.

My goal was to use my talks to engage these young adults, who are already productive members of their local churches (CREC, PCA, and others) in hospitality, work, and submission. It’s been some time since I addressed young adults exclusively. Poiema was a terrific example of the healthy environments we are providing for our young, single adults to talk about objective things from a place of present experience rather than expectation. After all, some of them own businesses and are already engaged in many serious aspects of life while making consequential decisions. May God provide them with faithful spouses and steady godly communities.

Read more

I wish to briefly address what must take place within the body of Christ so that such incidents are avoided or, at the very least, learned from. There is too much at stake, and the unrelenting attacks on manhood in our day will compel this misery unless God, by the power of the Spirit, reorients our attention to a renewed brotherhood.

Get 50% off forever

Read more

II. Modern culture has adopted this same serpentine rhetoric. It has divorced the couple even before they are married by whispering to them that eating the fruit of deception will make everything easy. Our society says that just as Eve went on her individualistic journey in the garden, so too can two individuals pursue their own separate agendas and journeys. This is the dogma of the false gods.

III. After Genesis three, Adam and Eve learned that marriage is dangerous and that it takes a new family working together to ensure that Satan’s lies are no longer accepted. A godly marriage needs to reassert to the world that the fall did not destroy God’s purposes; that the fall was no surprise for God’s ultimate intentions for a husband and wife.

IV. Marriage is dangerous, but it is a danger you should joyfully embrace. Marriage is dangerous; it is as dangerous as the gospel of grace. Just as the gospel does, marriage accomplishes its purpose in the world. Marriage is dangerous, but it is a risk you must be willing to embrace for the life of the world. And by embracing this risk, your marriage is a part of the re-creating of the world after the image of the Triune God. It has cultural and cosmic implications. So as you embrace this holy calling, know that your marriage becomes a symbol of the gospel.

V. Marriage is fundamentally a metaphor. In Ephesians five, Paul says, “This is a mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the Church.” It is not as if God created marriage and then afterward said: “You know, this would actually make a pretty good picture of the relationship I have with my people.” It is the other way around. God intended to unite Himself to His people, to join Himself to His people, to marry His people, and then He created human marriage between husbands and wives to show and reveal and to symbolize that to us. In Ephesians five, it is Christ’s marriage to the Church that is foundational. Our marriages are derivative; they are the copy. Marriage is a metaphor of Christ and the Church. It is a parable of the gospel. It is a replica; a model of Christ’s relationship to the Church. The first thing you must understand is that marriage is not really about marriage; it is about Christ and the Church, and if you do not understand this, you will never understand the glorious danger of marriage. The symbolism is not added on top of marriage; the symbolism is the root and foundation of marriage. The greatness of marriage is found in what it symbolizes.

VI. Marriage is dangerous because selfishness dies and selflessness becomes the living premise of this new family. In a wedding ceremony, death is a necessary part of this journey. And by dying, you symbolize to the world that marriage has responsibilities. You are not two individuals pursuing different agendas under the same roof; rather, you are two individuals who are dying to individualism and embracing a new identity. This marks the end of an old world and the embrace of a new one. But as you are united to one another, you are also declaring that the relationships and marital paradigms of the world are dead without Christ. What makes your death so glorious is that it is a death united to the crucified Lord. And it is precisely because of the necessity of your deaths that God proclaims the purpose of marriage to be one of feasting and resurrection.

VII. Marriage is the most joyous and celebratory event in the sight of man. It is the last bastion of formality in an age of informality, the last ritual in a culture barren of ritual.^[1] The reason modern culture seeks to destroy it is because of its inescapable parallel to the marriage victory of Christ and His Bride in time and history. In a wedding ceremony, you are tasting what it means to be in the tomb of death and out of the tomb in resurrection. In marriage, you are declaring to the world that Jesus has fundamentally changed the sadness and sorrow of death to the ever-growing abundance of resurrection life.

VIII. Marriage is dangerous, but it is a danger worth embracing; a danger which the Son embraced when he came to dwell among us. So, when you begin to experience the natural difficulties of marriage, remember that Jesus has gone before us.

^[1] Quoted from A Great Mystery by Peter Leithart, pg. 2.

Notations

C.S. Lewis would have been appalled by modern contemplations of heaven found in Christian bookstores. Some see John’s measure in the end of Revelation and assume that the author is interested in conveying an exact dimension. Liberals, on the other hand, despise and mock any version of heaven since the literal descriptions thereof have more in common with fairy tales than an actual place.

Though these perspectives may differ slightly, they all suffer from a similar problem: literalism. No Biblical thinker will deny the legitimacy of a real heaven, where real people will walk in real places. However, the danger in interpretation is that genres are often overlooked. Take, for example, the apocalyptic dimensions of the Revelation of Jesus Christ. Anyone familiar with such language will immediately assume that it is rarely, if ever, used literally.

According to Lewis, we cannot take these literally; they are symbolic. To assume that these descriptions were literal betrays a fundamental principle of hermeneutic. The early fathers understood this, and so did the Reformers. Lewis has a few words for those who attempt to make the text the unthinkable:

People who take these symbols literally might as well think that when Christ told us to be like doves, He meant that we were to lay eggs (Mere Christianity, 123).

Nuntium

I am headed to Virginia this Monday to speak at Poiema. My traveling has been about 40% lighter than 24-25. It’s been refreshing, but I confess it is always a pleasure to meet new folks, teach, and enjoy the festivities of different communities around the country.