As R.C. continues work on his book, Believing God, he is likewise working on a book we pray will be a kind of new 95 theses. Like Luther's theses, our hope is that this book will spark discussion within the church on the issues it covers, issues near to the heart of the Highlands Study Center. We will be, from time to time, posting some of these theses here on our website.

Below are the samples from this book.

1. When our Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, said "Repent," He called for the entire life of believers to be one of repentance.

Thus begins Martin Luther's 95 Theses, a list of disputations first nailed to the door of the church in Wittenberg on October 31, 1517. Thus began the Reformation. I would add to Dr. Luther's wisdom this nugget, "When our Father in the faith, Martin Luther, said 'Reform,' he called for the entire life of believers to be one of reforming." These two sentiments, in the end, mean the same thing.

Both repentance and Reformation involve a nuanced understanding of change. In both instances there are things we keep, and things we toss aside. No matter how much dust and ashes we heap upon ourselves in our repentance, there must remain something in us that we do not repent for. That is, we hold on to that which is good in us, while turning our back on that which is not. Before anyone gets their knickers in a twist, thinking I've denied total depravity, note that I am instead affirming irresistible grace. We do not repent until we have been regenerated. And we not only do not but cannot repent for what the Holy Spirit has wrought in us. We repent for the death in us, and give thanks for the life in us.

By the same token, Luther sparked a Reformation, not a revolution. His goal wasn't to raze everything that came before him and start from scratch. His goal was to recover the wisdom of the ages, to strip away the accretions that came through time, slowly choking away the very power of the gospel. His goal was to recover what we lost, not to destroy what remained.

Both are true in our own lives, in our churches, our families and ourselves. What we need is what the people of God have always needed, to repent and to reform. Neither should be pinpoints in time, but should instead be a way of life. Both are indeed the way of life. We fail to repent and to reform precisely because we love what is unlovely in us. We want to hold on to our sin, to deny its power and reality. This is the way of death.

If Jesus is indeed our Lord and Master, and if Luther is indeed our Father in the faith, we have no choice but to repent and to reform. Better still, we have no reason not to. Jesus knows our sin far better than we. Yet He loves us. Luther saw far greater weakness in the church than we see, yet he loved her. We have nothing to hide. We have nothing to lose, save that which is dragging us down. We have everything to gain—life, and life abundant. A life of repentance and reformation is not a life of sorrow and sadness, but a life of peace and joy. May we, by the grace of our Father in heaven believe our Master, and Master Luther, as they call us to repent, and to believe.

3. We must stop the psychological equivalent of selling indulgences.

Tetzel, the seller of indulgences that first got Dr. Luther's goat, was known for a rather crass sales pitch. "As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from Purgatory springs." This practice is what sparked the Reformation. Intent on raising funds for refurbishing the church at Rome, the Pontiff offered to use his powers to hasten the day that people could be set free from purgatory. All it took was a sufficiently sizable donation. Write a check, and grandma can skip the torment of having her sins purged, and skip right to heaven itself.

We, of course, because we are moderns, believe ourselves to be past all that. The Reformation happened, and now even Rome wouldn't practice such flim-flammery. And we, because we are moderns, are hopeless fools that just fell off the turnip truck. The devil doesn't give up easily on successful stratagems. On those rare occasions that we figure him out, he simply repackages the same old snake-oil, and we rush to buy it.

Here is how it works in our day. First, we buy into the world's therapeutic revolution. We believe, like our unbelieving neighbors, that the good life is one of psychological wholeness. We believe, like our unbelieving neighbors, that the purpose in life is self-actualization. We believe, unlike our unbelieving neighbors, that the right church, or church program, or church guru, will get us there. We believe that the church will give us our best life now.

The church offers to help us feel better about ourselves. It promises programs and premium coffee. It presents feel good talks delivered by some charming guy in a sweater, the Christian equivalent of Dr. Feel-Good. And all it asks in return is that we drop a check in the plate, that we purchase the program, that we donate to the guru. These will drive our guilt far from us, and we will be purged of all that makes us feel utterly unlovely. That is how the program is supposed to work, and now we, heirs of the Reformation, build cathedrals to our own glory.

Luther did not have as his goal psychological wholeness. His beef wasn't that indulgences didn't deliver the emotional goods. Neither was his goal the recovery of an abstract doctrine. He wanted instead to recover the very work of Christ. He wanted people to not jettison their feelings of guilt, but to have their guilt taken away.

The church is that place where we must be told the truth. We must be told the ugly truth that we are in ourselves nothing but ugly, a poisonous blending of dust and rebellion. We must be told the ugly truth that our sins drove Christ to the cross, that we crucified Him. We must be told the shocking truth that because God brought this to pass, we now, if we are His, have peace with God, that we have been adopted into His family.

Here we stand. We can do no other. God help us.

7. We must stop confusing worldliness with pre-evangelism.

The devil has perfected any number of ways to profane the holy. Worse still, he has perfected any number of ways of encouraging us to do the same. Our worldliness is problem enough. The devil scores the most style points, however, when he persuades us to baptize our worldliness by thinking it somehow holy. So he has done with our wholesale immersion in the culture. He has led us from the observation that Paul quoted an unbelieving poet into believing that our mass consumption of mass quantities of mass culture is a sacrifice the pious ought to be ready to make for the sake of those outside the faith.

How, we wonder, will we ever get the chance to speak with our unbelieving neighbors unless we too get lost in the matrix of Hollywood's latest hits? How can we direct our unbelieving neighbors away from American idols, unless we too learn to sing their songs? And so we spend our time and treasure down at Vanity Fair, never realizing, to mix a metaphor, that we are growing donkey ears. Worse still, we are growing coarse tongues, and numb consciences.

First century Rome was a sports crazed culture. Sundry stadia still dot their ancient cities, all across their empire. As Christianity spread as well, but before Christians would be dragged to these sites to become sport themselves, the Christians did not attend the Roman games. No, they did not organize a boycott in order to protest the skimpy clothing of the combatants. Nor did they carry signs outside the gatherings prophetically denouncing the violence of the games. Their reason for not attending was far more spiritual—they just didn't care. Their lives were focused on better things. This doesn't mean, of course, that the first century Christians were too austere to go to the games. The point isn't that godliness is next to crankiness. Instead, their joys were too grand to be compared to having your favorite athlete win the laurel.

Christ has given us life, and life abundant. And we fill our lives with petty trifles. We think we're doing it for the lost, but are instead showing how lost we are. What the lost need from us is not that we would live lives like theirs, not that we would be consumed with the petty and insignificant. They do not need one more conversation around the water cooler about last night's episode. What they need is to see lives lived for something more important than "Must see TV." We do not need to learn the jargon of this subculture or that. Instead we need to live lives that speak plainly, and we need to speak plainly about our life in Christ. "Repent and believe the good news" is understandable in any language. Better still, when we are speaking our language, at least we will hear it. If the lost are not found through our faithful lives, we are still blessed with faithful lives. Worldliness is no virtue, no matter what end we say it serves. If we were honest, we would admit that it serves our flesh. But, not only are Cretans liars, but Christians are too.

10. We must celebrate the Lord's Supper.

I cannot count the number of friends—pastors, elders, laypersons, who have happily told me this strange bit of something: "At our church, we are working towards weekly communion." Working towards? I like to give them the following counsel: "Here is how you reach your goal. Serve the bread and the wine this Lord's Day. Next week, do it again. Repeat." Why are so many churches working toward the weekly celebration of the sacrament, and so few making it there? Because we don't believe God.

Truth be told, the dirty little secret is this—we are reluctant to do this each week because of the time and effort involved. There are deacons to purchase, pour and clean up all that grape juice. There are all those saltines to break into bitty little pieces. But perhaps worst of all is the time added to the length of the service. There are tee times to get to, and the line gets awful long down at Morrison's Cafeteria if we don't get there before First Baptist lets out.

The second reason we don't celebrate the Lord's Supper is found in the way we talk about it. Even if we do it every week, we are doing it wrong if we what are doing is "observing" the sacrament. We think that Jesus gave us the sacrament as a kind of flannel graph lesson for adults. We see the broken body, and remember what awful sinners we are. We see the spilled blood, and we remember what awful sinners we are. Having remembered what awful sinners we are, we can go home more knowledgeable about what awful sinners we are. Make no mistake about it—we are awful sinners. We do need to be reminded of that reality. And a weekly observance of the Lord's Supper may remind us of that truth. Because if this is how we observe the supper, we are awful sinners who do not believe the promises of God.

When we come to the Lord's Table, we do come as sinners. But we come as forgiven sinners. We do not come to eat and drink bitterness, but to taste and see that the Lord is good. We do not observe the Lord's Supper—we celebrate it. It is God's divine declaration of absolution. It is sharing table fellowship with our Lord.

Which is the proof that we don't believe God. If Jesus stood before you and suggested, "Hey, why don't you come and eat with me every week? All of you. Bring all your friends from church. It will be a great time." which of us would say, "Thanks an awful lot, Jesus. It sounds great. But you know how it is. All that running off to the grocery store, setting out the little thimble cups, sweeping up crumbs. Besides Jesus, you're kind of a drag to be around, making us feel so sinful and all. How about we do it once a quarter? That way it will be so much more special." And then, when we begin to suspect our hearts aren't in the right place, we send Jesus a memo, letting Him know that we're "working toward" meeting Him every week at the table and we'll let Him know when we arrive.

You might be able to derive a command to observe the sacrament weekly from something in the Bible. But you'd still be missing the point. What believer meets with Jesus because He commands it? Wouldn't it be better to come joyfully, because He invites us? Wouldn't that be a greater delight to Him?

17. We must dress to meet the King.

By God's grace we don't believe most of the cliches that rule our lives. No one actually believes, for instance, that there is no objective right and wrong. Steal their pocketbook, and you will find them swiftly appealing to some transcendent law. Neither do we really believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The most ardent aesthetic relativist does not play the sound of car crashes on their CD player. Neither does anyone actually believe that forms have no meaning, that it is only the heart that matters.

This breezy indifference to form is bolstered in the church by the words of Jesus. When He met the woman at the well and she asked about the proper place of worship, He responded, "But the hour is coming, and now is, when true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him. God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth" (John 4: 23-24). Seems like a slam dunk, doesn't it? Jesus says it doesn't matter what form our worship takes. All that matters is the heart.

But what if forms influence our hearts? Isn't it just possible that you can't fully separate forms and hearts? Consider, for a moment, a wedding. Who among us would be pleased if they were married with vows like this: "Me and you. I won't sleep around on you. I won't leave you until you keel over." How does that compare with "forsaking all others, till death do us part." The formal forms that are a part of our weddings do not make the ceremony sacred. All they do is help us remember that they are sacred.

Which is why it actually matters how we dress when we gather together to worship the living God. It's true enough that God looks on the inside rather than the outside. It is also true that He is apt to see a casual approach to worship if He is looking at the heart of someone dressed casually. Why is it, I wonder, that we are willing to come to worship dressed like it's casual Friday at the office, but we would be unwilling to dress this way, were we to meet the President? Why is it, that we would never dress in jeans and a polo for our wedding, but we would when we come to feast with our Husband on His day? It is because we have listened to the serpent.

I am not arguing that all men everywhere must where an expensive suit when they gather to worship. I'm not suggesting that we ought to sit about our pews mentally doling out grades to those around us, looking down our patrician noses at others. I am suggesting, however, that we ought to come to worship in our best. I'm not suggesting that we do this so that God will take our worship seriously. I am suggesting that we do this so that we will take our worship seriously. I'm not suggesting that worship is only a somber and serious event. It is, like a wedding, a joyful event - a joyful, somber and serious event. The truth is this—spirit is influenced by bodies. And our bodies should reflect our spirits. We are meeting our King. We are meeting our Groom. We are coming into the presence of the living God. If we dress as though this is something important, perhaps we would better understand how important it is. Perhaps we would in turn teach our children the same.

20. We must sing the songs of our fathers.

More often than not the central battlefield in what has come to be known as "the worship wars" is music. Of late there hasn't been much of a battle as the great bulk of evangelical churches have chosen the path of praise choruses and worship songs. Many of the folks on my side of this battle (in the church where I serve we sing hymns and Psalms) have labored to make careful, nuanced arguments for the musical and theological superiority of the great hymns of the church. On the other side arguments have been presented arguing for contextualizing the message, for aesthetic relativism, for a greater sense of the closeness of God exhibited in praise choruses and for historical precedent. (The old saw that even the classic hymn A Mighty Fortress drew its tune from a bar song is the result of a misunderstanding. The melody is born out of an older form called "bar music" that has nothing whatever to do with taverns in old Germany.)

The argument I have not often seen on this issue, however, is built not on music theory. Neither does it grow out of a call for solemnity in worship. Instead the better argument grows out of the fifth commandment. Here God calls us to honor our father and our mother.

Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, blows the lid off the hamstrung understanding of the ten commandments favored by the Pharisees. They came to the Decalogue, and instead of seeking to plum its depths, they tried to narrow its scope as much as possible. Jesus reminded them that the prohibition against murder was more broad than simply avoiding first degree homicide, that one was not necessarily clear on the adultery charge if one keeps his pants on. The same is true with respect to the fifth commandment. The call here is not merely to remember to call our parents on their birthday, or even to obey their commands. We are called to positively honor our parents. One way to do that is to sing their songs.

Some argue for traditional hymns on the basis that they must be good because they have withstood the test of time. That may be true. But wouldn't it be better for the church at large to say, "We might prefer songs built around a pop sensibility. But we're not alone here. Our congregation includes those who have acquired the wisdom that comes with age. Maybe we can thank them for their faithful labors for the kingdom by learning to sing and to love their music." In the worship wars, somehow it is the hymn singers who have been stung with the accusation of being narrow, of being overly particular, of insisting on having their own way. Wouldn't it be better if neither side insisted on their own rights, but if both sides sought to honor those who have gone before us? If we honor our fathers we may just be better able to honor our Father.

24. We must stop being more pious than God.

If we understand piety as a devotion to God and to His Word, then naturally one could never over-do it. Indeed one of the great weaknesses of the modern American evangelical church is that we do not hold piety in high regard. That said, there is such a thing as false piety. False piety is where we have a great devotion, but it is not to God, nor to His Word. Rather, it is to our own conception of God, or to our own false understanding of His Word.

The Pharisees misused and misunderstood the law of God in two distinct directions. On the one hand they diminished the scope of the law of God. Their narrow understanding of the ten commandments, for instance, allowed them to believe that they actually kept the law. On the other hand, however, while the Pharisees were making the law less stringent than God, they often made the law more stringent than God. If God said, "Do not touch" they affirmed their "piety" by saying, "Don't go near …" This is called "fencing the law."

A few examples may make the point more clear. How many evangelical Christians hold the view that while Jesus did turn water into wine, while the moderate enjoyment of alcohol isn't a sin, it is still "unwise" to partake? How many evangelicals recognize that Jesus clearly allows a spouse who is the victim of adultery to divorce, but would suggest that the "better" option is to forgive? Assuming that God's law does permit the use of alcohol and divorce of adulterous spouses, what are objections that abstaining from either is wiser or better option than adding to the law of God? If God says "You may …" and we say, "You'd better not …" are we not claiming to be more pious than God?

The issue, however, isn't the issue. That is, our problem isn't that we misunderstand alcohol or adultery. Our problem is that we misunderstand our relationship to God's law. We are neither His co-counselors nor His parents. We do not get to give Him advice on His law, far less are we free to supersede His law. The appropriate response to the law of God is "Yea and amen."

The same is true with respect to His grace. The Bible says that if we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness (I John 1:9). How often do we confess our sins, and then try to demonstrate the depths of our piety by refusing His forgiveness? "Please forgive me O Lord!" we cry out. God says, "I forgive you." And we think we're showing how good we are when our response is, "No, you can't forgive me. My sin is too great. My heart is too black. I don't deserve to have my sins forgiven." Of course we don't deserve to have our sins forgiven. That's why it's called grace. The appropriate response to the grace of God is "Yea, amen, and thank you dear Lord."

If we were wise, if we were truly pious, we would cease to add to His law, and we would cease to take away from His grace. Our piety would seek to obey all that He commands, and to rejoice that He forgives us though we do not obey all that He commands. Indeed our adding to His law is against His law, and our taking away from His grace may mean we have not received His grace.

26. We must preach Christ.

The Bible is a big book. It was written by scores of different authors over the course of thousands of years. It contains historical narrative, apocalyptic prophecy, poetry, song, law and more. It is written in three different languages. And yet, it remains one book. It is a unity because in all its myriad forms it tells but one story. This is the story that we are called to preach.

The greatest sermon ever preached was given, in the providence of God, to only two men. These men were walking on their way to Emmaus, when the resurrected Lord walked alongside them. Without revealing His identity, we are told, "And beginning at Moses and all the Prophets, He expounded to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself" (Luke 24:27).

Sound preaching is preaching the Word in context. Context, however, isn't merely the few verses before and after our text, or even the whole book from which we are preaching. Instead Jesus is the context. We preach the text rightly, and preach the whole counsel of God only when we preach Christ. The Bible, though it contains wisdom and law and beauty in teaching us about marriage, isn't a book of tips on having a happy marriage. Though it tells us a great deal about the sinfulness of man, the grace of God, and how God is about the business of remaking us, it isn't a book of systematic theology. The Bible, though it tells us about the coming of God's judgment, and the promises of God's goodness to us into eternity, isn't a book on eschatology. The Bible, though it contains God's will for every situation we will ever find ourselves in, isn't a law book. The Bible is the book of Jesus. He is our husband. He is the Word. He is the returning King. He is the very law of God.

The Bible, in short, has the answer to every question we could ever have. And like the little girl in Sunday School who was asked by her teacher, "What hides nuts for the winter and has a bushy tail?" who said, "I know it sounds like a squirrel you're talking about, but I'm going to guess 'Jesus,'" the right answer is always Jesus. Our sermons should have as their alpha and omega the Alpha and Omega. We should begin with Christ, and we should end with Christ, and we should stay with Him all the way in between.

The Apostle Paul wrote to the church at Corinth, "For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified" (I Corinthians 2:2). Fools that we are, we come with excellence of speech and wisdom. The Puritans, who were known for being rather austere in their worship, who sought to purify out of the church all that God had not explicitly commanded, happily had an inconsistency. Though Scripture no where enjoins us to do this, many of them would have engraved on their pulpits, facing not the congregation, but the pastor, these words, "Sir, we would see Jesus" (John 12:21). They did this to remind themselves of Him whom they were called to remind their congregations of. We would be wise to do the same.

29. We must preach rather than teach.

I don't know if it happens at all seminaries, but it happened at the seminary I attended. Seminaries, presumably, are established to prepare men for gospel ministry. But where I went more young men than not were there preparing not to serve in the church, but in the seminary. They came, they looked up to their professors, and they dreamed that one day they too would be professors. Trouble was, precious few of them make it that far. The pressures of families and work cause most who had hoped for an academic career to "settle" for a pastoral one. What tends to console those who "settle" I suspect, is the prospect of having a flock of sheep to serve as a substitute for a classroom of seminarians. These men can pretend to be professors, because they are given, as pastors, a captive audience. The result? Sermons that sound, feel, and act more like lectures than sermons. Preachers who are really teachers. And sheep with swollen heads and shriveled hearts. What we are too often left with is "worship" where we hurry through the preliminaries so we can get to the good stuff, where the pastor downloads his knowledge into the heads of the flock.

We, especially those who us who consider ourselves heirs of the Reformation, have jumped from the wise belief that sound thinking can change our hearts to the foolish notion that sound teaching will automatically change our hearts. We react against the sloppy sentimentalism of the broader evangelical church, where we are told that doctrine divides, and we are encouraged to merely emote when we gather together for worship, and fall off the other side of the horse. We think that if we have all our theological ducks in a row, then we are ready to inherit the kingdom.

We need to reform our thinking about our feelings. We need to confess that "dry orthodoxy" is not only real, but is pandemic in our circles. What we need is preaching. Preaching, like teaching, certainly involves and includes the passing along of information. But unlike teaching, it is designed to go through the mind and into the heart. Preaching not only explains, but exhorts. It not only proclaims, but pierces. Preaching causes those who hear it not merely to affirm that what they have heard is true, but causes them to cry out, "Brethren - what must we do to be saved?" Preaching causes hearts of flesh to burn with joy for the glory of the Son.

We must put away the pride that says, from the pulpit, "I must give the people some new insight they could not have discovered on their own." We must put away the pride that says from the pew, "Let us see if the pastor can come up with something that is both new, and orthodox." We must come to the preaching of the Word prepared to be changed. The Word is not smarter than a super computer, but sharper than a two-edged sword. Teaching talks about the sword. Preaching wields it.

31. We must elect elders based on biblical criteria rather than cultural criteria.

Ideas, Richard Weaver sagely reminded us, have consequences. They are neither discreet nor inert. We ought not to be surprised when our brilliant new insights beget sundry ripples that we myopically didn't plan on. Nor should we be surprised that there is nothing new under the sun, that our new insights are often old folly, and the ripples have all lapped up on the shore before, often undermining our foundations.

Consider for a moment the church growth movement. Did Bill Hybels invent the idea that we ought to market the church, rather than proclaim the gospel? Would not Simon the Sorcerer fit in this same mold? How about the believers to whom James wrote, warning them against putting the rich and powerful into seats of honor? These two issues intersect in how too many of us choose our elders. When we adopt a business model for the church, it ought not surprise us that we adopt a business model for choosing elders. And would not that model suggest something like this—if the church is a business, should we not have men who are successful in business running things? In many of our churches we do just that. Our elder boards look more like the local chamber of commerce than living examples of the qualifications listed in I Timothy 3.

There we are told that elders should be blameless, the husband of one wife, temperate, sober-minded, of good behavior, hospitable, able to teach; not given to wine, not violent, not greedy for money, but gentle, not quarrelsome, not covetous, one who rules his own house well. Notice that nothing is said about being successful in business. Notice as well that not a word is said about being a person who delights to argue obtuse theological issues, or having an advanced degree. This is the biblical model, not a cultural one.

We elect elders based on what we value. Because we are a part of the broader culture, success in business is high on our list. Because we are a part of a more narrow subculture, wherein spiritual maturity is measured by the number of volumes in our libraries, being up to date on the latest theological controversies is likewise high on our list. What we ought to value is godliness. What we ought to value is men who rule their own houses well. What we ought to value is spiritual maturity, which cannot be discerned by the size of ones bank book, nor the size of ones bookshelves. The business of ruling over the church is not business, but shepherding the flock, guarding the very family of God.

Reformation will come only when we reform our thinking, no longer having it conformed to the patterns of this world. When we cease looking for new insights, and go back to ancient wisdom, we can be confident that there too we will see ripples. These ripples, however, will make known the glory of our King. May God be pleased to renew our minds, and to give us shepherds more faithful than we deserve.

32. We must practice catholicity, not ecumenicity.

The prayer of a righteous man avails much, the Scripture tells us (James 5:16). We know in turn that Jesus was the only righteous man. If we want to know what will come to pass, it would seem, we would be wise to see exactly what Jesus prayed for. In what has come to be known as Jesus' high priestly prayer, Jesus prays that we who are His would be one, even as He and the Father are one (John 17:11). How are we doing?

While it may be appropriate for us to hang our heads over our petty squabbles and power struggles, we need to reach the right conclusion from our syllogism. That is, we do not affirm that because Jesus is righteous, and He prayed for unity but there is no unity, that therefore the promise that the prayers of a righteous man avail much is a false promise. Instead we affirm that because Jesus is righteous, and because the prayers of a righteous man avail much, that therefore the people of God do in fact enjoy the unity that Christ prayed for. We need to learn to distinguish between institutional unity and spiritual unity. There may be many churches, but the church is one.

While it may be wise to seek to expand institutional unity (remembering that those local bodies that remain independent for the sake of avoiding the "divisiveness" of denominations have simply created one more very small denomination) we do so so that the unity that we now enjoy would be made more visible. We believe, if we confess the faith once for all delivered to the saints, in one, holy, and catholic church. While it certainly may make the unity of the church more visible when we are all a part of one institution, we would be wrong to equate the two. To put it another way, church mergers may be a good thing, and church splits a bad thing, but where two or three are gathered together in His name, not only is He there, but we are all there, because we are one together, and we are one with Him.

What this means in practice is expanding our vision. Our tendency, certainly in Reformed circles, is to begrudgingly acknowledge that there are believers outside the Reformed circles, but to treat these other believers as so weakened as to be insignificant. Yes, we seem to reason, there are Baptists who will be in heaven, Lutherans will make it, but we are the front and center, the part of the church that really counts. The charismatics and the African Methodist Episcopals may have fire in their bellies, but if they were more sanctified like us, they would be more staid and calm.

Catholicity means affirming not only that God is at work in places far from our homes, but that we are one with those in far away places. When the church in the Sudan is being persecuted, we are being persecuted. When the church in China is going through revival, we are going through revival. Recognizing that we are one body means much more than being nice to your neighbor in the pew. It means identifying with your neighbor in the church in Pago Pago.

33. We must seek out the logs in our own eyes more than the specks in others.

It is a perennial temptation. We tend to judge the relative importance of a given sin in proportion to the likelihood that we are tempted by it. Most of us, for instance, find armed robbery, adultery and arson to be seriously bad stuff. Slander, gossip and envy, on the other hand, we think of as small potatoes. We do much the same thing corporately. That is, we think the gutless preaching at the local mega-church is a great evil, while the heartless orthodoxy we practice is a peccadillo.

There are relative demerits to sin. Jesus, we remember, condemned the Pharisees for neglecting the weightier matters of the law (Matthew 23:23). On the other hand, the better scale may well be more personal. When Jesus calls us to remove the log in our own eye before removing the speck in our brother's eye, He may be suggesting that more important than the importance of the sin is its closeness to us. Even if our sins are "smaller" than those of our brother, because they are ours, we need to focus on them.

Consider the Reformed church. There are any number of descriptives that come to mind when we think of the Reformed church. We are the persnickety crowd, taking great care always to dot our theological I's and crossing our theological T's. We are also known for being fairly cold. We are called, "The Frozen Chosen." It is, of course, a good thing to be theologically careful. It is one thing to be sloppy when thinking through the content of a Dr. Seuss book. It is altogether another to be sloppy with the Word of God. But if we were careful with the Word of God, we would know that theological precision not only does not excuse a cold heart, but makes it all the more a matter of judgment. We would know that obedience in one area does not atone for sin in another.

In I Corinthians 13 the Apostle Paul gives us a list of peculiar strengths a person, or group of people might have. We could be strong in knowledge and wisdom. We could be gifted orators. We might be selfless in our giving. And if we have not love, it's all junk. We do not fix the problem by getting more knowledge and wisdom. Increasing our oratorical gifts won't solve the problem. Giving even more won't solve the problem. We do not fix our weaknesses by trying to highlight our strengths. We certainly don't fix our weaknesses by complaining about the weaknesses of others.

If we were wise, and seeking faithful Reformation of our own wing of the church, we would wonder what Luther might nail to our own door. We would give thanks for our strengths, but seek faithfully to find the logs in our own eyes. We would have faith in the sovereignty of God, that He will see to the specks in the eyes of our brothers.

35. We must be the bride of Christ

When God the Holy Spirit gives us a metaphor, we do Him a disservice in reducing it down to a mere metaphor. When He describes the church as the bride of Christ, we are denuding His words as we conclude merely that this means, "Jesus loves the church in a way much like how a groom loves his bride." The church as the bride of Christ certainly includes that notion, but its meaning is far richer, far more full. One thing we too often miss is that because the church is the bride of Christ, and Christ is the second Adam, the church is the second Eve. We, like our mother Eve before us, exist to be a helper suitable to our husband. Adam was called to exercise dominion, and Eve to be a help in that calling. Jesus is now exercising dominion, bringing all things under subjection, and the church is to be a help in that calling.

Brides, however, are far more than just helpers. They have a peculiar calling. Brides, for instance, are called to beauty. When a bride processes into the sanctuary, does anyone complain about the inefficiency of it all? Do we think, "You know, she'd make it down the aisle a whole lot more quickly if she weren't dragging that train behind her?" Do we complain because she walks so slowly?

In like manner, the church is to be about the business of exercising dominion. This, however, is not merely an exercise of power. It is also an exercise in beauty. We move the kingdom forward when we are about the business of removing every spot and wrinkle from us, as we seek, through the grace and power of the Holy Spirit, to wash away all that is displeasing to our Husband. When we attend to our beauty we have not fallen into world-denying piety. We have instead entered into the great battle, wielding the weapon of beauty.

The bride does not merely work beside her Husband, but is likewise defined by her love for her Husband. That is, that Christ loves the church is true enough, but we are called in turn to love Him. We are to delight in Him, rejoice in Him, draw near to Him. Jesus is not an interest we have in our life while we pursue our life. He is instead our very reason for being. Progress in life is measured by growing in our capacity to love Him.

The bride's calling is to be a help suitable to her husband not only in terms of ruling over all things, but also in the call to be fruitful and multiply. Here too it is the same with Christ and His bride. Our calling is to bring forth godly seed, both through the work of evangelism and through the work of nurturing our children in the Lord. When we are barren, when we are content that we are in the kingdom, and have no passion to bring more in, we are an unfaithful bride.

That, in the end, is the defining mark of all these things - our call is to be faithful, not just to the faith, but to our Husband. We faithfully seek to please Him. We faithfully grow in love toward Him. We faithfully bear fruit. And we faithfully give our affections to no other. The reject the seduction of the world. We rejoice in the love of our Husband. And we long for the day when we will dance with Him, with neither blot nor blemish.

38. We must honor and obey our parents.

The serpent persuaded Eve that she would have a better life if she would disregard the law of God, and strive to become like Him. The serpent still in our day seeks to entice us to a better way, laying before us ever more complicated and treacherous paths to the good life. In our day he has persuaded us that the good life can be had through the attaining of personal peace and affluence. If we go to the best schools, and study hard, we will make our way to the finest universities. If we study hard there we will be accepted to the most prestigious graduate programs. If we excel there, we will find the most coveted jobs, and bring home the bacon. Then, of course, we'll be able to afford the finest schools for our children, so they can follow in our path. This is not God's path to the good life. It is hell's hamster wheel.

In the book of Exodus God is busy about the business of taking His people to a land flowing with milk and honey. Along the way He meets with them at Sinai, becoming there the very husband of Israel. And He blesses His people with His law, the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments are not merely rules to follow lest God should get angry with us. They are instead guides that reflect what we were made to be. They reflect the glory of our Maker, and show forth His character. Because we bear His image, they show us what we are to become.

While all of His law directs us in the paths of righteousness, one command stands out, the first command with a promise. God says, "Honor your father and mother, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord God is giving you" (Exodus 20:12). My own children have memorized a paraphrase from a children's Bible that reads, "Honor your father and mother that you may have a good life."

If we love our children, this is what we want for them, that their days may be long in the land that the Lord God has given them. Our desire is that they would have a good life. (We desire the same, naturally enough, for ourselves.) God has not left us in the dark as to how we can attain this blessing—we are to honor our parents.

It is because of the craftiness of the serpent that we find this promise to be either too simple or too good to be true. It is by the grace of God that we can learn to believe the simplicity and power of this promise. And having wisely come to believe this promise, we in turn teach our children to do the same.

The Reformation doctrine of the priesthood of all believers affirms that we need not be highly trained professionals in order to understand the Word of God. We affirm that the Bible is perspicuous, that it is clear. It does not get any more clear than this: Blessing comes to those who honor their father and mother. May God be pleased to bless us such that we come to believe Him, and to honor Him, our Father in heaven.

40. We must believe that blessing comes to our children as they honor their parents.

We fail to be deliberate when we allow the direction of our lives to be determined by precedent, by tradition, by sundry unexamined presuppositions. Some of these are the most potent forces in our lives, though they lurk beneath the surface. Consider, for instance, what we believe to be the path to the good life. Since the time of the Enlightenment, education has been our high sacrament. During the modernist era education was deemed the engine that would lead us into utopia. In the postmodern era education doesn't have quite the same cache. It won't lead all of us to utopia, but it is still the power to bring each of us individually to the good life. That is, in the modern era we believed if we could get the great mass of men to embrace our worldview, whether it be fascism, socialism, or "the American way," then we would construct a culture befitting our status as the pinnacle of creation. In the postmodern era, education won't change the world, but it will make it possible for us to buy the world.

Both inside and outside the church we have come to believe that the way to live a good life is to get a good education. We are encouraged to work hard when we are young so that we can attend a more prestigious college. There too we are to buckle down so that we can get into the most highly ranked graduate program. From there we will have our pick of the highest paying jobs, putting us in a position to send our children to the finest schools so that they can follow in our footsteps. This, however, is not the path to the good life. This is hell's hamster wheel.

In Exodus 20:12 God tells us that we ought to honor our father and mother, that it would go well for us in the land God is giving us. Here God gainsays the wisdom of this age, and gives us crystal clear direction toward a good life. There is nothing complicated about it. There is nothing difficult to understand about it. We, and our children will enjoy the blessing of God, if and when we, and they honor our and their parents.

Of course this all begins when we learn to honor our Father in heaven. When He tells us this is what it takes to live a good life, we begin to honor Him by believing Him. Next, we encourage our children to do the same. Indeed, when we honor our Father in heaven, we teach our children to honor us. Better still, we teach them to teach their children to honor them. As we honor Him, we enter into the good life of receiving honor from Him. We may not be tops in our field. We may not win the acclaim of men. We will, however, receive two profound blessings. First, our children will rise up and call us blessed. Second, at life's end, we will hear our Father say to us, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter into they reward."

45. We must raise our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.

It's an odd reality about the heroes in the Bible. Despite the myriad ways God used men such as Eli, Samuel, Aaron, and even David, none of them could be held up as exemplary fathers. Each of them raised up children that in the end brought them shame. Each of them, I'm sure, would trade all the honor heaped upon them in the Word of God just to have their children's names in the book of life.

We who are Reformed face the temptation to forget that God works through means. We know that God has determined all that will come to pass. When our Arminian friends object to our view, we give the good and sound argument about God being sovereign over means. But when there is work to be done, then we rest on the soft pillow of sovereignty. When things don't go our way, rather than looking for where we may have failed, we yawn and declare, "It was the will of the Lord."

The names and number of God's elect are set and determined, unchangeably so. But each of those elect will be brought in, according to the sovereign decree of God, through sundry means. One of those means is faithful nurture of covenant children by faithful parents. None of us, of course, are perfect parents. Each of us, when God blesses us by gifting our children with new life, must humbly thank God for His faithfulness, and repent of our faithlessness. And we cannot make the mistake of Job's friends and determine that when a child rejects the true faith it must mean that the child's parents were particularly weak. But, we must heed the call of God. The solution is not a deadly passivity wherein we shrug our shoulders and affirm, "Well, what are you going to do?"

Our calling with respect to our children is simple enough. We ought to pray for them with fervor. We ought to pray that God would make of them faithful sons of the kingdom. We ought to pray that He would help them raise our grandchildren in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. We ought also to call them continually, as we do with ourselves, to repent and believe the gospel. This does not necessarily mean a crisis conversion experience. It instead means a constant and lifelong recognition of our dependence upon the grace of God. When the Lord commands us to repent, after all, He calls us to a lifetime of repentance.

We ought, finally, to be prophets, priests and kings to our children as we raise them in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. As prophets we bring the Word of God to bear in their lives, reminding them of what God teaches us, teaching them to obey all that Christ has commanded. As priests we intercede for them, constantly storming heaven on their behalf. As kings we rule over our houses well, and teach them submission to lawful authority.

Raising our children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord then isn't something we sprinkle on top of a "normal" life. Our calling isn't to prepare our children to make their way in the world, and then equip them with enough religion to survive into the afterlife. Instead we raise up citizens of heaven. Instead we raise up sojourners and pilgrims. Instead we raise up soldiers of the kingdom of God who will not make their way in the world, but will make war with the world, for the glory of their King.

46. We must sanctify our wives.

Paul is rather clear in the end of Ephesians chapter 5. He draws a striking parallel between Jesus and the church, and husbands and wives. He calls on husbands to love their wives as Christ loves the church and gave Himself for her. And there we tend to stop. Jesus died for us, that we might have peace with God. A godly husband, then, is one who is ready and willing to lay down his life for his wife, if such an occasion should ever arise. A godly wife is one who submits to her own husband. A godly husband, or so we think, is one who is willing to take a hypothetical bullet for his bride. The trouble is, or the good news is, that neither the text, nor Jesus stops there. Jesus does not merely die for the church, but He washes her with the water of the Word, that she might be without spot or wrinkle. Jesus' work of atonement ended on the cross. But He is far from finished. He is about the business of bringing all things under subjection, and is purifying His bride.

The dominion mandate, wherein we are about the same business of bringing all things under subjection, in turn includes the call to purify our brides. Of course we are but means. That is, it is the Holy Spirit from whence comes the power. It is the Word of God which washes. But husbands are the tools in the hands of God to bring this to pass. Our calling is to wash our brides with the water of the Word.

Our calling here is prophetic. The prophet brings to bear the Word of God to those under his care, calling on them to believe all that God has said. So husbands ought to do with their wives. When our wives face the temptation to grumble and complain, we call on them, as Paul does, to rejoice in all things. When our wives face the temptation to covet, we encourage them to give thanks for all that God has provided for them. The power is in the Word. It has the power to change us.

Our calling isn't merely to have happy marriages. We are not brought together as husband and wife for the sake of self-fulfillment. Instead, the very center of the garden a man is called to cultivate is his own wife. His life's work isn't ultimately making better widgets. It is instead being used to help make better wives. Jesus works for the sake of His bride. Husbands ought to do no less. For anyone who loves himself will love his wife, for the two are one flesh.

A husband set on the sanctifying his wife will realize as well, that because we are one flesh with our wives, we had better be busy about our own sanctification. It is likely that the blots and blemishes on our brides are rather similar to the blots and blemishes on ourselves. In both instances, wash with the Word. And pray that God would be pleased to sanctify us, to make us both, husbands and wives, ever more like our Lord, like our Husband.

48. We must teach our children that the Bible is their family story.

A gracious friend recently gifted me with what may have become something of an anachronism. We in these United States are awash in Bibles. We have study Bibles for just about every station in life, and just about every theological conviction. We have more translations than we can use, and more paraphrases than you can shake a stick at. What we seem to have fewer and fewer of is what were once known as "family Bibles." These Bibles, of course, contained the Word of God. But that also served a different purpose. The family Bible was where a family recorded the most significant events in that family. Deaths were recorded therein, births, baptisms and marriages. The family tree was kept there, and anyone, wanting the see a shorthand version of their own corporate history could find such there at their fingertips.

What may be lost in our plethora of Bibles is this fundamental truth, that every Bible is the family Bible, because the Bible tells the story of our family. If push comes to shove, and we are willing to look at it from something of a scientific perspective, we might be willing to accept this. Adam and Eve, after all, are the very root of our family tree. We all trace a common ancestry back to Noah. Genetically speaking, we have a connection. But there is far more to it.

Our children are constantly being seduced into other faux families. The culture sees our children in demographic terms, as members of particular markets. The culture wants my 13 year old daughter to see herself as a 13 year old girl, with all that means in terms of clothing, music, even language. But her identity is in Christ. She is an heir of the king, and a child of Abraham. The same is true of each of my children, and my wife and me.

Which means that when we come to our Bibles we are not coming to study the history of a distant people, and how they related to God. We are not coming to a list of truths. Instead we are reading the story of our own people, and how God related to them. My paternal grandfather served in the African theater in World War II. My grandfather, however many greats back, led our people out of bondage, out of Egypt. My father has served for decades as a teacher of the Bible. My fathers, so many generations back, were prophets called by God to call my other ancestors to repent for their unbelief. My children sing along with me that father Abraham had many sons, many sons had father Abraham. I am one of them, and so are you. And I am the child of the children who sat upon the knee of Jesus.

The Bible isn't simply something we believe. It is instead our own story, and the story of our children. It, like a family Bible, defines what and who we are. It marks our boundaries and sets our paths. It sets our place in space and time. Jesus said to His disciples that they would be His witnesses in Jerusalem and Judea, in Samaria and the outermost parts of the world. God, by His grace, brought His grace to a cold and misty island in the North Sea, to Scotland. And there He brought my people in, and better still, made us His people. My children need to understand that the promise to Abraham that he would be a blessing to the nations is fulfilled in them, and that because of that promise, we who were once not a people are now not only the children of Abraham, but by faith are the children of God.

50. We must proclaim loudly our love for our children.

It is not by accident that God draws parallels. The relationship of husbands and wives, in comparison to Christ and the church isn't some helpful analogy that the Holy Spirit stumbled upon, and thought He might use. There is instead a designed unity to these things. The same is true with the Biblical language that describes God as our Father. When we come across this language, too often we practice simultaneous translation. That is, our eyes see these words, "See how very much our heavenly Father loves us, that He allows us to be called His children" and what our mind thinks is, "The Bible is trying to tell me that just as a father generally loves his children, so God generally loves us." Our translation is true enough as far as it goes, and false enough because it does not go as far as the original. God does not merely love us like a father, He loves us because He is our Father. This fatherly love, of course, is for those who are in Christ.

Once we realize that God actually is our Father, it tells us a great deal about how to be a godly father. That is, if "God is our Father" is just a word picture, there isn't much we can do with it. If, however, it is a reality, then we can draw conclusions from it that apply to fathers like us. In short, because God as our Father is quick, eager, insistent in communicating to us the reality of His love for us (after all, the text in question begins, "See how very much our heavenly Father loves us"), we might be wise to follow His example and communicate with equal insistence to our own children that we love them.

Consider for a moment what it does for us to know that our heavenly Father loves us. First, it frees us. We do not need to labor to attain, nor fear to fail to attain that love. Neither do we need to fear anything else. If God is for us, who can be against us? Second, that love empowers us. In the church where I serve, we often pray words to this effect, "And also that we, being defended from the fear of our enemies, might live in peace and quietnes …" When we know that we are loved, we are able to die to self, which gives us life, and makes of our lives service to the brethren.

Our children ought to receive the same kind of encouragement. They ought to go forth into each new day knowing that they are deeply and profoundly loved by their mothers and fathers. They ought to know that we not only see children as a blessing, as the Bible teaches (Psalm 127), but see each of them as a specific blessing. My own children receive from me correction, and instruction. They receive from me, from time to time, words and tones that I must repent of. But what each of them hears from me more than anything else is this — "Daddy loves you." A close second is this, "You are a joy in daddy's life." Our Father in heaven delights in we who are His children. This ought not only to delight us, but should remind us to delight in our own children, those also in whom He delights.

52. We must be under the authority of a faithful, local church.

No, this thesis is not misplaced. The importance of being under the authority of a local church is certainly true for singles, but it is also a family issue. There are any number of reasons for this truth, not the least of which is in Hebrews where we are told "Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls, as those who have to give an account" (13:17). The elders of a local church are not there to balance the church budget. They are not there to man programs, or make sure that good teaching gets done. They are there to watch over souls. A part of that calling may include the exercise of discipline. Just as parents discipline their children to help them to grow in grace, to protect them from their own folly, so elders may be called upon to discipline the sheep under their care, for the sake of the sheep. And wise sheep recognize this. Our families are protected when we are under godly authority.

Without the blessing of church discipline undergirding the integrity of our families, what happens when we are tempted to stray away from our families. Suppose, for instance, that out of a sincere desire to minister to those who belong to unbelieving mainline churches, a family stays in an unbelieving mainline church. Now suppose that the husband finds himself caught up in the sin of adultery. The function of church discipline here is much like the function of Nathan in confronting David about Bathsheba — to bring about godly repentance. But a church which will not discipline a man for having a boyfriend will certainly not discipline a man for having a girlfriend. The integrity of the family is jeopardized by the failure to be under actual authority here.

The same argument applies when we determine that our family is a part of the "invisible" church, and we meet on our own, or with a few friends, with no accountability as in Hebrews. Suppose a Bible believing, evangelical husband who runs his own "house church" with his older children and their spouses is severely mistreating his own wife. What recourse does she have, and how can he be helped toward repentance?

The elders of the church in the New Testament context are like the elders of clans in ancient Israel. They exist not to lord their authority over the people, but in part to serve as a sort of court of appeals for the family. Without that authority above a man, he becomes exposed to the danger of being unaccountable.

My wife understands that the Bible calls her to submit to me. She can do so in peace, however, knowing that should I ever use that God given authority in an ungodly way, there are others that she can appeal to. I, in turn, should be tempted to use that authority in an ungodly way, know that I will have to give an answer, right here on earth. The church family is a blessing to the particular family. It is a blessing we refuse to our peril.

54. Husbands must command the respect of their wives and children.

We live in a casual age. Professional men, at least on Fridays, show up at work without a tie on. I'm sitting at my computer wearing shorts. And I'm shoeless. Broadly speaking we find that which is formal to be stuffy, uptight, boring, something for old folks. Even our relationships are now more casual. We are so egalitarian in our understanding that children not only do not rise when an adult enters the room, but frequently speak to adults using their first name. Even some children do the same with their own parents. Worse still, perhaps due to our cultures obsession with youth, some adults encourage this. "Don't call me Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith was my father …"

While the notion that less formality creates greater collegiality is dubious at best, it is nearly certain that less formality breeds disrespect. Our calling within our families is to foster both intimacy and a healthy respect for different roles. Sarah and Abraham could not be understood as aloof from one another. Yet, according to the Bible, Sarah called her husband, "Lord." This posture of respect toward her husband wasn't given due to servile fear. Nor did it flow out of changing cultural mores. Instead Peter tells us the context, "But let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening." (I Peter 3: 4-6). It would certainly seem that all our children should follow that example.

When we suggest that husbands ought to "command" respect, we need to tread carefully. It has oft been said that respect is something earned. And surely husbands ought to earn the respect of their wives and children. On the other hand, respect is likewise due to the offices held by fathers and husbands. Even bad husbands are husbands, even bad fathers are fathers. A weak father and husband will not best fulfill his calling by blustering and demanding. But neither will he be helped by rolling over, or by neglecting the authority of his office.

We live in a broader culture that has lost sight of these truths. Once upon a time, Father knew best. In our age, fathers are publicly presented in the media, on television, in comic strips, as at best well meaning boobs. They are called, however, to be leaders in their homes. Servant leaders to be sure, but leaders nonetheless. As husbands learn to lead in their homes, as they are treated with respect and dignity by those under their care, next we will see elders leading in their churches, and there too treated with respect and dignity. This, in turn, will not only change our families and our churches, but will change the world.

56. We must believe and teach our children to believe that God is the one who gives us our daily bread.

It is a common enough argument between those who believe in the sovereignty of God and those who do not. Those who do not want to know, "If God has already determined all that will come to pass, why pray?" or the slightly less aggressive version, "Does prayer really change anything?" Those of us who believe in the sovereignty of God have good and sound answers to this objection. Often we break into a discourse on primary and secondary causality. We talk about how God ordains means as well as ends. It's all true, though it may miss the heart of the matter. The truth is that prayer does change things. It doesn't, of course, change our future. Instead it changes us. We do not, in other words, pray, "Give us this day our daily bread" because we will starve if we don't so pray. We pray it instead to teach us that it is God Himself who provides our daily bread.

Our temptations are legion here. The serpent provides any number of different substitutes for God in our equation. We may believe that our skills, our diligence, our market savvy provide our daily bread. We may believe that it is our job that provides our daily bread. When our job is in jeopardy, we then tend to worry. We may believe it is the government that provides our daily bread. And so we expect it to ensure the stock market rises, to insure our risky home mortgage, and if things get really bad, cut us a check so we can buy our daily bread. Of course our gifts and our hard work are a part of the way God answers this prayer. Of course the company we work for is a part of the way God answers this prayer. Of course governments can either guard prosperity or destroy it, and so is a part of the way God answers this prayer. None of which changes the reality that it is God who provides our daily bread. When we sit down before a meal and return thanks, we ought, as we open our eyes, be as joyfully surprised as the children of Israel who awoke each morning to see the ground covered with manna.

Evangelicals, especially those of us who are Reformed in our thinking, are often practical deists. Just as deists believed that God wound up the great clock that is the universe and stepped back to watch it all play out, so we believe God wrote the story, His decrees, and then stepped back to watch it all play out. He has indeed decreed all that comes to pass. And He has decreed that He acts in space and time. He puts bread on our table. He meets our needs.

We are His children. We need to know this. Our children are His children. They need to know this. They need to know that as much as they are cared for by their earthly father, their heavenly Father is, in the end, the one who watches over them.

59. We must model for our children how to be hard-resting and joyful.

It is something of a yuppie cliché, that we ought to work hard and play hard. Like many clichés, this one latches onto at least a kernel of truth. God did not merely command us to work six days, but He in turn commanded us to rest one day. Both work and rest are part and parcel of what it means to reflect the image of God. Both are essential to living healthy, God-honoring lives. While playing "hard" may not be the exact equivalent of the biblical notion of resting, it gets at something we often miss. Resting is not merely the cessation of labor, but is the celebration of labor, and of the grace of God.

In the church we have this common struggle. We either do not enter into the reality of our sin, the command of God to be perfect, and our constant failure, or, on the other side of the coin, when we do grasp the depth of our sin, too often we don't sufficiently rejoice in the grace of God. We sometimes seem to think that if we stay glum enough, that our sorrow will help atone for our sins. In both instances we miss out on the depth, the scope and the glory of the grace of God.

We have sinned much, but we have been forgiven much. When the prodigal son returns to his father, the father does not merely declare his son not guilty, and move on. No, the best robe is brought forth, the ring is put on the son's finger, and the fatted calf is slaughtered that there might be a feast. In like manner we need to learn to celebrate the grace of God in our lives. When we rest, we must rest, remembering that it is not the depth of our sorrow that covers our sins. It is not the depth of understanding of our sins. It is not our fidelity in this spiritual exercise or that. We have peace with God, are adopted into His family because of the work of His Son, brought to us by a faith wrought in us by His Spirit.

Do your children see you rejoicing in this reality? Do they witness you weeping in joy for the beauty of the gospel? Do they see you sinning, repenting, and then laughing for the prodigal love and forgiveness of our heavenly Father? Do they see you, at the end of a hard-working day, looking at the feast set before you on the dinner table, stunned at the overflowing grace of God, that He does not give us bread daily, but mashed potatoes and gravy, steaming bowls of chili and cornbread, salads sprinkled with dainties from all across the globe? Do your children see you rejoicing before the Lord? God commands that we do so, (see Deuteronomy 14:22-27) not in the end for our well-being. Nor does He call us to do this for the sake of our children. He calls us to this feasting before Him for His sake. Our Father delights to see His children delight in His grace.

61. We must see our children as soldiers now, not just soldiers in training.

One of the most dangerous unexamined notions that has come out of our modern notion of schooling is that childhood is merely a time of preparation. We shuffle our children out of the worship service, though the Bible tells us that "Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have ordained strength" (Psalm 8:2) and "Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have perfected praise" (Matthew 21:16). We guard and protect them, while young David was doing battle first with a lion and a bear, and later with Goliath. There is certainly an appropriate calling to protect our children. We ought not to throw them to the wolves. (Indeed when people object about my wife and me homeschooling our children they often accuse us of "sheltering" our children. I often ask in response, "What are you going to accuse us of next, feeding and clothing them?") There are battles our children aren't ready for. The problem is that we sometimes fail to recognize that there are battles that they are ready for, even now.

Our children, like we parents, are epistles read by men. They are able to win great victories for the kingdom of God simply enough by living lives of godliness. When they treat their parents with respect, they win a victory. When they treat the neighbors with respect, they win a great victory. When they exhibit brotherly love to each other, they win a great victory. When they sign the praises of God in the assembly of God's people, they win a great victory. On the other hand, when they fail here they have no left the battlefield, but have fought poorly thereon. In neither case it is possible for them to sit out the battles, to wait until they are older or more mature before they join the cause.

It is true enough that as they age their battle might grow bigger. (Though we probably do greater damage to the seed of the serpent when we treat one another with respect than when we pass some great ballot initiative.) They will, as they grow bigger, face bigger temptations. But they do not move from being spectators in this great war to becoming active combatants. They are enrolled into the army from the time they are at their tiniest. They are, from their earliest memories, arrows in the quiver of their earthly father, and weapons in our warfare.

Parents are about the business of training up soldiers. We are God's chosen drill sergeants in the little boot camp where He has placed us. But we do not merely train, we deploy as well. If we were wise, we would embrace this calling, and at the same time, encourage our children to embrace their calling. The battle is here, now. And so are God's soldiers. They may never march in the infantry, ride in the cavalry or shoot the artillery. They are, however, in the Lord's army.

63. We must faithfully pray with and for our wives and children.

The story is told, though I do not know if it is true, that Martin Luther was asked by a parishioner, "Brother Martin, why do you keep preaching the same sermon week after week?" Luther is said to have replied, "Because you keep forgetting the gospel week after week." It is our pride that drives us to believe that we fall into sin because we do not understand some complex bit of theology. We think our problem is ignorance, when it is merely forgetfulness. We have forgotten that when we seek, we will find, that when we knock it will be opened unto us, and when we ask, it will be given to us. We have forgotten as well where we find the good life. Children are told in the fifth commandment that by honoring their parents they could expect that it would go well for them in the land. We are told in Proverbs 31 that a virtuous wife is far more valuable than rubies. If we want a good life, the Bible makes clear, we will get it not by landing this job or that, not by earning 'X' amount a year, not by receiving some great honor. It happens as we lead our families into godliness. This isn't some mere metaphor, but is the very economy of God.

How we do this, in turn, is abundantly simple. We do not need advanced degrees. We do not need elaborate programs. We are to avail ourselves of the means of grace. Most of us bring our families to Lord's Day worship where the Word is preached, and where the sacraments are administered. Where we tend to fall down is prayer. It may be that we neglect prayer because it is so simple. We want our wives to be more precious than rubies. We want our children to enjoy God's blessing. The simple calling on us is that we would pray for them. When we face such a difficult challenge, it is right and fitting that we should turn to our Maker. He is likewise our Father, who delights to answer the prayers of His children.

This too has become a cliché, again because there is much truth in it, the family that prays together stays together. While prayer is sacred and holy, and should not be turned into a means to an end, there are blessings that flow out of our obedience here. We set an example for our families. We demonstrate to them what our priorities are. We live out the reality that we don't live for that promotion, or the big game, when we are praying for the sanctification of our families. We are also drawing near together. There is precious little more intimate than to approach the throne of grace with someone. Should that not be your spouse, and your children?

It is too simple to forget, though we do. It is too simple to mess up, though we do. It is too simple not to be powerful, but we doubt its power. Here is how the very world is changed, as we pray that our wives would grow in grace and wisdom, as we pray that our children would bear much of the fruit of the Spirit.

66. We must look to the Word of God as the source of all wisdom.

Martin Luther stood firm on the Word of God. He declared at the Diet of Worms, when asked to recant of his teaching, "My conscience is held captive to the Word of God. To act against conscience is neither write nor safe. Here I stand, I can do no other." The Protestant church, in following Luther's lead, has rejected the notion that church tradition is equal in authority with the Word of God. Protestant Christians, on the other hand, in following Lucifer's lead, have rejected the authority of the Word of God. We do not, of course, come up with an elaborate exposition of doctrine wherein we justify our seeking wisdom in all the wrong places. We just seek wisdom in all the wrong places. Our authority isn't church councils and traditions, but psychologists, experts and polls. We decide whom we should marry on the basis of psychological evaluations. We don't decide but delegate the education of our children to bureaucrats with Ed. D. degrees. And then we chose who to vote for based on the latest numbers from CNN.

Our lips say that the Bible is the source of all wisdom, but our lives say otherwise. Our lips say that the Bible is the source of all wisdom, and the Bible wisely says that our hearts are deceitful (Jeremiah 17:9). Just as Moses warned our fathers that they should not seek out those who practice witchcraft, or soothsayers, or one who interprets omens or a sorcerer, or one who conjures spells or a medium or a spiritist or one who calls up the dead (Deuteronomy 18:10-11), so we should beware seeking answers where they cannot be found.

The book of Proverbs begins with nine chapters wherein a father implores his son to hear his words of wisdom, to heed his words of wisdom. This book was, in the end, written by our heavenly Father. He wrote it to us, those whom He has adopted as His sons. If we are wise, we would heed His call. If we would be wise we would look to His Words, His Word.

Paul tells us this eloquent and elegant promise, "All Scripture is given by inspiration from God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be equipped for every good work" (II Timothy 3:16). This text is not merely saying the Bible is valuable or helpful. It is telling us that it gives us everything we need for a godly life. If it is true (and how could it not be true if it is God breathed?), then it is all we need for every good work. "Wisdom" from other sources will either equip us for bad works, or badly equip us for good works.

For decades now we have been taught by the world to bifurcate our lives. The Bible, we are grudgingly allowed, is fine for information on faith matters. For millennia we have been taught by the Word to be men of integrity, to look therein for all our answers. Today our calling is to repent and believe, to repent for looking for wisdom in all the wrong places, and to believe that the Bible has all that we need.

68. We must rejoice in the Lord always.

The grass is always greener at that other time. Or, to put it another way, our retro-vision glasses have rose colored lenses. Many of us face the tendency to not only look to the past as a sort of golden age, but in like manner, to look to the present as this present evil age. There is much both within and without the church, for us to mourn about our peculiar moment in history. In the west Christians are typically looked down upon and made fun of. Our churches are filled with those who want their ears tickled, our pulpits filled with men willing to tickle ears. On the face of it, it would seem that these would be among all times the most sad.

When Paul wrote his epistle to the church at Philippi, their problems were not like ours. They weren't merely laughed at. They faced real persecution from their neighbors, and from the Roman empire, "For to you it has been granted on behalf of Christ, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake" (1:29). At the same time they were warned not just of ear ticklers, but to "Beware of dogs, beware of evil workers, beware of the mutilation …" (3:2). Worse still, the church at Philippi receives this letter from their father in the faith, the man who first planted their church, who loved them with such zeal, while he himself languished in prison. And what was Paul's command for this church, at this time? "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice!" (4:4).

Sixteen times in these four short chapters Paul enjoins the church to rejoice. What is God's command for us in our circumstance? That we would rejoice as well. Consider all that troubles us. Go ahead, and make a mental list of all the grieves you now suffer. Now suppose someone made you this offer. You could lose everything that grieves you. It could all be taken away. All you would have to do to have your troubles disappear, is to give up the Pearl of Great Price. Would you take up that offer?

Is this not the very point of the parable of the pearl of great price? Did not Jesus tell us that those who are wise would give up everything they have, every blessing, every comfort, every penny, in order to acquire this precious pearl? If you are in Christ, you have this precious pearl.

And this precious pearl has you, and nothing will snatch you away. All of your troubles then are not in the end the cost of the pearl of great price, but the very gift of the pearl of great price. That is, all our troubles are not things we must slog through to get to the good stuff. Instead they are given to us by Jesus Himself, that we might be made more like Him.

Joy is indeed circumstantial. We should only have joy in these circumstances — where God is on His throne, and where we are His beloved children. If that describes you, then repent of your gloom, and rejoice in this promise, that if we will confess our sins, "He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (I John 1:9).

70. We must practice a judgment of charity toward others.

"Judge not," Jesus preached in His Sermon on the Mount, "lest you be judged" (Matthew 7:1). There are, typically, two reactions to this potent warning. Those outside the kingdom of God, despite refusing to bow the knee to Jesus, here cheer Him on. This is, without question, the favorite text in all the Bible amongst those who don't heed the Bible. These folks find here a blanket condemnation of all judging in all circumstances.

Those inside the church, however, have a slightly more sophisticated understanding of the text. They, perhaps after having this verse used as a club by unbelievers against them, have enough smarts to know we're being judged, and that rather harshly, by those fussing at us for judging them. We point out the hypocrisy of our unbelieving friends, and move on.

In both cases, I'm afraid, we miss the point. Jesus, contra those outside the church, is not telling us that we ought never to make any judgments. Jesus, contra those inside the church, is in fact saying something about judging. Refuting the unbeliever's take on the passage may tell us what the text doesn't mean, but it doesn't tell us what it does mean. What is means, simply put, is that we can expect to be judged with the same level of care with which we make judgments. If, for instance, we rush to judgment, we can expect others to rush to judgment against us. If we mistake our subjective guesses of the motives of others as gospel truth, we can rest assured that others will confuse their guesses on our motives as gospel truth. Jesus is here calling us to judge, with both care, and with grace.

We judge with grace by not assuming the worst about others. We take our well developed skills at self-rationalization, and use them for good, for explaining in a gracious way the behavior of our neighbor. That is, when we snap at a friend, it's because we've had a bad day. When friends snap at us, it is because they are horribly impious people who are lucky to have us for friends. What we ought to think instead is that we snap at our friends because we are the chief of sinners. Our friends snap at us because our sins would test the patient of a saint, because we are so aggravating.

The practice, of course, puts us in grave danger of being abused. Which is a good thing. When we remember that we are already unchangeably the children of God, when we remember that we are called to die to self, we are in a position to take chances like this. Our snapping neighbor may in fact be a big, fat, jerk, and we are making, in our hearts, excuses for his boorish behavior. The end result is still coals heaped upon our neighbors head (see Romans 12:20). This practice allows us, encourages us to rest in God's strong right arm, to enter into battle confident that He has numbered our days, and is our strong tower. Not only that, it encourages others to practice a judgment of charity toward us, something we are sure to need before long.

72. We must seek always to see Christ.

Neil Postman, in his compelling book, Amusing Ourselves to Death, argues that we have moved as a culture from one wherein the printed word drives us, to one wherein the image drives us. With the advent of the printing press, we became better able to think in abstract terms, to follow arguments, and to reach conclusions. Now, in a world driven by television, we think less and feel more. Now we emote on the basis of images, rather than think on the basis of arguments. We are more likely to be moved, than we are to be persuaded.

As is so often the case, however, what we are called to here is balance. We do not want to be carried away with our emotions, nor by what we see. Neither, on the other hand, do we want to suppress our emotions and live like robots. Our goal is that we would think rightly, that our minds would be renewed, and having had this happen, that we would be changed in our hearts, that we would be transformed.

That same balance is reflected in how the Word reaches us. Far too often in the history of the church theologians have pitted the sacraments against preaching, failing to see their organic connection. The Bible is the Word of God. Jesus is the Word of God. Jesus is the bread and the wine. The bread and the wine is the Word of God. To put it better perhaps, in the worship service we are blessed by the Word preached, as we are blessed by the Word touched, and tasted, at the table.

To push our analogy a step further, we must also remember that the church is the body of Christ, and the bread is the body of Christ. God has not given us just words on a page. He has given us the Word visible in the sacrament, and in the church. Our calling is to seek to see Him in both. We need to see Him in our brothers and sisters in the pew, and when we come to His table.

In both instances we are changed. In both instances we draw near to Him. In both instances we are changed, in our whole being. Jesus told us that the world would know we were His by our love one for another (John 13:35). Given that we are still sinners, how can we rightly love one another? Because we grow in our capacity to see Jesus in one another. He indwells each of us, and He is altogether lovely. We in ourselves are merely dust and rebellion. But Christ in us, that is glory and beauty and all that is lovely.

Our calling is to keep our eyes on the prize. Jesus not only secures our reward, but is our reward. As we look to Him, whether we find Him in the Bible, at the table, or in the pews, we move toward our eternal home. Jesus promised that lo, He is with us always, even to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20). We ought then always to see Him with us.

75. We must not grow discouraged with our spiritual growth.

It is an optical illusion that the Serpent is more than willing to exploit. He knows all to well that if we are in Christ, we will grow in grace. We will bear the fruit of the Spirit. We will find sin more and more repellant. Our moral vision will grow less clouded with each passing day. That, for us, is the good news. It is also, however, the source of the illusion. The trouble is that the more we grow in grace, the more like Jesus we become, the more our sin becomes apparent to us. As our eyesight clears, suddenly we become aware of sinful thoughts, attitudes and actions that once passed by unnoticed. The better we get, the worse we seem to ourselves.

Satan, whose name is "The Accuser" takes advantage here. He whispers with his forked tongue in our ears, "How could God possibly love a sinner like you? Given all your sins, what possible reason do you have for believing that you are even His?" Our Lord leads us beside still waters. The serpent leads us into the pit of despair, the slough of despond. How can we fight this discouragement?

First, we ought to try to be as objective as possible. That sins x, y, and z escaped our notice in the past doesn't mean that they weren't there in the past. Our ability to see them, in other words, as is argued above, is evidence of growth rather than decline. We ought also to look for those sins that we have increasingly been able to put behind us. I still lose patience with my children. I'm sorry to admit it, but it's true. On the other hand, I lose patience with them less often than I once did. I'm not where I ought to be, but I am making progress. In like manner former besetting sins are now behind me as well. I trust if you were to ask my dear wife if I love her better now than I did when we were first married, she would agree. (That too is a fine way to aim for greater objectivity. Ask those whom you trust, and who know you if you are making progress.)

Second, we ought to seek to discern if our conscience has grown more or less tender. The more quickly we find ourselves struggling with guilt, the more likely we are more attuned to our sin. Is our shame over our sin less personal than it once was? That is, are we more ashamed of God's knowledge of our sin, whereas when we were less spiritually mature we were more concerned that others knew about our sins?

Third, and perhaps most important, are we growing in our gratitude for the grace of God? Do we find the gospel more sweet with time? Our encouragement, in short, comes not only from sinning less, not only from repenting more, but also from rejoicing more that our sins are forgiven in Christ. Do we remember, and rest in the glorious truth that we are accepted by our Father not because of our obedience, but because of His life and death for us? While our sins are troubling, the good news is good news indeed. We not only remember but celebrate this gospel truth, that Jesus came into this world to save sinners (I Timothy 1:15). And that's what we are, and will be until we go to Him, or until He comes to us.

78. We must ask God for wisdom, believing He will give it.

God's promises are shocking. Our sin, in turn, is shocking. These two intersect when we in our sin refuse to believe the promises of God. He, because He is abounding in grace, makes some kind of stunning promise. We, because we are cynics, skeptics, sophisticates, refuse to believe Him. We may try to masquerade our unbelief as something praise worthy, arguing perhaps that contextual understanding of the Bible diminishes what at first blush looks like an extravagant promise. Truth be told, our faith is just too anemic.

Consider this straight forward promise from God, "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him" (James 1:5). Now if we take a too light look at this text it seems to be saying that if anyone will ask God for wisdom that God will give it to him. If, however, we take a more deep look at the text, if we consider the vagueries of the original Greek, if we consider the context of James' original audience, we find that the text actually says that if anyone will ask God for wisdom that God will give it to him. The scholars who gave us our English Bibles are not stupid men. They did well here. And James himself was no fool. He spoke not just wisdom here, but God's own wisdom. This is God's promise.

Our calling isn't to seek to mitigate its extravagance. Were we to try, we would find only this. "But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind" (verse 6). It's true enough that James says that doubt will undo this promise. Which ought not to cause us to doubt the promise, but to believe it. This caveat is designed to encourage us to believe the promise. Indeed, failure to believe the promise makes one like a wave that is driven and tossed by the wind.

So how do we get this wisdom? The answer is still right there in the text — we ask for it. We don't do anything else. We just ask. And He will give it to us. He will give us wisdom if we will but ask Him for it. Wisdom, you'll remember, He said, is more to be valued than silver and gold, yes than much fine gold (Psalm 19). How often do we ask Him for a better (higher paying) job, or a raise? How many ways do we find to ask God for silver and gold? But we are told that if we will ask for that which is better than silver and gold, He will give it to us.

Wisdom begins with fearing God. It moves on to fearing God. It ends with fearing God. If we fear Him, we will heed Him. As we heed Him we will value what He values, and we will believe His promises. Ask Him first for the wisdom to ask Him for wisdom. And then do not stop until Wisdom welcomes you into His eternal kingdom.

81. We must believe God loves us.

Love is one of the good words. Just as no one particularly labors to have words like death, or cruelty, associated with themselves or their ideas, so everyone wants to lay claim to love. The devil is quite content for all of us to love love, as long as he maintains the power to define the term. The mainline American church follows mainstream American culture and defines love principally in permissive terms. Love means never requiring others to say they are sorry. God's love for us, in this scheme, makes our sins insignificant (as well as the atonement of Christ.) God winks us into heaven, because we're so valuable and lovable, and He's such a swell guy (or girl).

The devil's goal in promoting this nonsense, is not, in the end, directed at either liberal professing Christians nor those who are not professing Christians. Instead, his enemy is always those who trust in Christ alone. In getting them to embrace this foolish idea of love, he tempts us to deny or at least diminish the sound idea of God's love. Evangelicals, at least the fundamentalist and the Reformed wings, want to affirm the reality of God's wrath. He is a just and holy God. His wrath, justice and holiness are more real than we will ever realize. But they ought never to be contrasted with His love. We should not diminish any attribute of God to emphasize any others. The Lord our God is one. The Bible tells us time and again that we are loved by God. Our duty is to believe Him.

This is, in the end, the very end of the work of Christ. God's goal was not merely that we would end up forgiven for our sins. This was but a step in a longer process whereby we who are by nature children of wrath become His own children. Our justification is in the service of our adoption. Jesus, His beloved Son, suffered for our sins so that we might become by grace His beloved sons.

I spent over a decade of my public ministry seeking to make known this startling reality — that if we are in Christ, we are loved by our heavenly Father as much now as we will ever be. Even when we remember our evangelical theology, even when we sing with our lips that we are justified by faith alone, too many of us too often seem to think that God is angry with us when we sin, and that we keep His anger far from us by not sinning. We long for heaven in part because we know that there we will sin no more. Guilt will no longer stand between us and our Father. The truth is, however, that guilt does not stand between us. Our guilt was driven away as far as the east is from the west two thousand years ago. God's anger at our sins was spent on Calvary.

Over the past few years I have repented of preaching this message. I no longer believe that I ought to be seeking to persuade people that God loves them now as much as He ever will love them. My goal now is to persuade Christians of this truth, far more shocking still — if you are in Christ, God loves you now as much as He loves His own Son. This is the good news. Not only were our sins forever expunged at Calvary, but the very obedience of Jesus became ours. He is as pleased with us as He is with His first born Son. We are now joint heirs with Him. We are in union with Him.

Believing this precious truth changes everything. So much of our fear, our weakness is driven by a failure to rest in this truth. We long for the approval of men, because we do not believe we have the approval of God. And so we fail to be faithful. Faith, however, is believing God. He has told us that He loves us. He has told us that He has made us His Sons. By his grace may He bless us with hearts that believe Him.