Kuyperian Commentary

On January 25, 2024 By Bill Smith In Church, Theology 1

The Three Marks of a True Church

How do you know if a church is a true church? As the Reformers were being excommunicated from the Roman Catholic Church in the sixteenth century and having to form their own churches, they developed three distinguishing marks of a true church. The Belgic Confession (a Dutch Reformed confession written in the mid-1500s) summarizes these three marks:

The marks, by which the true Church is known, are these: if the pure doctrine of the gospel is preached therein; if she maintains the pure administration of the sacraments as instituted by Christ; if church discipline is exercised in punishing of sin: in short, if all things are managed according to the pure Word of God, all things contrary thereto rejected, and Jesus Christ acknowledged as the only Head of the Church. Hereby the true Church may certainly be known, from which no man has a right to separate himself. (Article 29)

The right preaching of the Word, the proper administration of the sacraments, and the exercise of church discipline are the triad that marks out true churches.

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On January 24, 2024 By Rick Davis In Culture, Podcast Like

KC Commentary Podcast – Episode 122: Kuyper’s Lectures on Calvinism

On January 18, 2024 By Bill Smith In Church, Theology, Wisdom 1

A Good Church Is Hard To Find?

“Faithful churches are hard to find” is a sentiment that is quite common among conservative Christians. It is easy to understand why we hear this so often. There are loads of unfaithful churches that receive a great deal of press. Ordaining women, homosexuals, and transsexuals to the pastoral ministry is becoming more commonplace. Churches blessing same-sex unions and affirming “gay Christians” are understood as love. The woke mobs rather than the Scriptures control the doctrine and practice of many churches. Shepherds let the wolves in to devour the sheep through false teaching and by not disciplining sins defined by Scripture. However, they are all too willing to condemn and cancel people for the sins defined by the zeitgeist. News of these sorts of churches floods our feeds, confirming our fears that a good church is hard to find.

The types of churches described above are most certainly synagogues of Satan and must be avoided. But there are times when our definition of “faithful” becomes too narrow. A faithful church is what you perceive to be a perfect church, a church in which all the families have their lives together, where the pastor walks about three feet above the ground, where nothing bad has ever happened, and where everyone is a studied theologian and biblical scholar with all doctrinal matters completely settled. The faithful church is the church that exalts your non-essential pet doctrine as the threshold for membership and harps on that doctrine in such a way every week that makes the whole congregation smug in not being like the rest of those churches out there. The faithful church is the one that employs the methods you believe are the right way to do things.

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On January 12, 2024 By David Koyzis In Culture Like

Liturgical Standards and Living Faith: the Case of the Evangelical and Reformed Church

Last month The North American Anglican, an online journal, published an article by Peter D. Robinson, titled, Our German Cousins: Liturgy in the Evangelical and Reformed Church. If you’ve never heard of the Evangelical and Reformed Church, that’s because it no longer exists. Its life as a denomination was exceedingly brief, lasting from 1934 to 1957—just short of 25 years. That’s not a very long time considering that some denominations have existed for centuries. The Anglican communion itself may be a 19th-century invention, but the Church of England has been around for nearly 500 years, with some arguing that it’s much older, going back to Augustine of Canterbury, the 6th-century Apostle to the English.

So what was this Evangelical and Reformed Church? It was created by the merger of two predecessor bodies, the (German) Reformed Church in the United States (RCUS) and the (German) Evangelical Synod of North America. The German Reformed were the descendants of Reformed Christians who had immigrated from German-speaking Europe, especially Switzerland and the Palatinate, the latter of which was once ruled by Elector Frederick III “the Pious” (1515-1576), who commissioned the Heidelberg Catechism in 1563. The German Reformed began in 1725 and were initially under the care of Classis Amsterdam of the Dutch Reformed Church until 1793. During the late 19th century, efforts to unite with the (Dutch) Reformed Church in America were unsuccessful.

In the middle of that century, a movement was launched within the RCUS at its seminary in Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, by John Williamson Nevin (1803-1886), who was later joined from Berlin by the renowned Swiss-born church historian Philip Schaff (1819-1893). Some scholars have compared the Mercersburg Movement to the Oxford Movement within the Church of England in that it represented an effort to recover the catholic roots of the Reformed Church against the popular revivalism of the Second Great Awakening, which was affecting—negatively in Nevin’s estimation—many Protestant denominations, especially as their members moved west along the advancing frontier. The Mercersburg Movement led to liturgical renewal in the RCUS, although it remained controversial, even into the 20th century, with many members believing that it imported a pronounced Hegelian emphasis on historical progress, blunting its confessional integrity and making it too willing to unite with other denominations lacking its own Reformed identity. This, of course, is exactly what happened.

The German Evangelical Synod was brought to the United States largely by immigrants from the Prussian territories following the end of the Napoleonic Wars. In 1817 King Friedrich Wilhelm III (1770-1840) of Prussia engineered a union of the Lutheran and Reformed churches in his realms, and the result was a nonconfessional amalgamation that incorporated elements of both traditions while mandating neither. Immigrants from these lands established the German Evangelical Synod of North America, which dropped German from its name in 1927. The denomination’s most famous members were undoubtedly Reinhold (1892-1971) and Richard Niebuhr (1894-1962), both academic theologians who strongly influenced the mid-century mainline Protestant consensus in the US, and, in Reinhold’s case, even American foreign policy.

In 1934 the two denominations united, creating the Evangelical and Reformed Church, while the Eureka Classis in the Dakotas remained outside and retained the RCUS label. Thirteen years later, as recounted in Robinson’s article linked above, the combined denomination published The Book of Worship. In many respects, this collection is similar to the Book of Common Prayer (BCP), containing orders for “Morning Worship, an Alternative Order of Worship, an Evening Service, The Preparatory Service, The Order of Holy Communion, and the Alternative Order of Holy Communion.” This material reflects both its Lutheran and Reformed heritage. Like the BCP it even prescribes a lectionary following the church calendar with epistle and gospel readings for each Sunday. Notably absent is a complete Psalter, although there is a list of “Proper Psalms for Seasons and Days.” Perusing this collection makes us appreciate the effort that went into it, with its evident concern to maintain continuity with the larger catholic liturgical tradition of the western church. One imagines that the brothers Niebuhr enjoyed meaningful worship Sunday after Sunday. Perhaps it would take a more in depth exploration of The Book of Worship to see whether there is a hint of what was to come, but from my own admittedly cursory examination, it looks pretty solid.

So what happened after this collection was adopted? The E&R Church lasted only another decade, and then it merged with the Congregational and Christian Churches to form the United Church of Christ (UCC), easily the most liberal Protestant denomination in the US. Bringing together the remnants of the German Reformed, German Evangelicals, descendants of the New England Puritans, and heirs of the 19th-century Restorationist movement, the UCC has steadily declined in both membership and influence. A solid liturgical document appears to have done little to prevent the combined denomination from losing its confessional integrity.

As a political scientist, I cannot resist making a comparison with nations and their constitutions. Reading a country’s constitutional document may or may not tell us how its political system works in the real world. The 1993 Constitution of the Russian Federation reads very well indeed, claiming as it does to set up a democratic political system similar in many respects to that of Fifth-Republic France, with a president, a bicameral parliament, a government led by a prime minister, and a court system, along with a federal division of powers. However, a reasonably well-drafted document has not prevented a return to authoritarianism under Vladimir Putin. Why not? Largely because the architects of a constitution cannot induce in the people themselves a love and respect for the rule of law where it is absent. After centuries of failed attempts to adopt a comprehensive legal code under the tsars, followed by 70 years of arbitrary governance by the Communist Party, the rule of law has a shallow basis in the Russian political culture, despite the existence of dissidents seeking to nurture it. But no written statute can legislate respect for the rule of law.

Americans lionize their nation’s 18th-century founders, whom many believe to have created a remarkably balanced and virtually fail-safe constitution. But even the architects of the Constitution recognized that it could not work if the people would not respect it. As John Adams famously put it,

we have no government armed with power capable of contending with human passions unbridled by morality and religion. Avarice, ambition, revenge, or gallantry, would break the strongest cords of our Constitution as a whale goes through a net. Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.

Providentially, Americans had had a century and a half of experience with representative government in their colonial assemblies, and they could readily adapt these traditions to a wider scale. In other words, despite the motto on the dollar bill, the founders were by no means creating a novus ordo seclorum, or a “new order of the ages.” They were establishing political institutions modelled on existing ones at the state level. That the American political system has been so successful for nearly two and a half centuries is testimony to an underlying respect for the rule of law inherited from English and colonial usage. If Americans lose their allegiance to the rule of law—if they begin to question, not just the wisdom of particular political leaders, but the institutions themselves—if they subordinate their respect for the Constitution to their partisan allegiances or to their loyalty to a demagogic leader promising what they want to hear, then a system once admired for its durability, will inevitably falter.

Returning to the life of the gathered church community, a denomination may boast a solid set of confessional standards and a liturgy embodying the historic faith and placing on the lips of worshippers the Psalms, hymns, and prayers of their forebears. Yet where works righteousness has replaced the unmerited grace of God—where faith in the saving power of Jesus Christ has given way to the regnant ideological visions of the day—the creeds, confessions, and liturgies become dead letters, testimonies to an earlier faithful generation whose descendants have, as it were, moved on to other things.

None of this should be taken as an argument for casting aside the creeds, confessions, and liturgies of our forebears in the faith. Quite the contrary. If ordinary Christians are giving lip service to a faith that no longer lives in their hearts, the retention of such standards may not keep them in the fold. Nevertheless, they are a necessary precondition for renewed catechetical efforts to impress upon children and youth the need to set their hopes, not in what the world has to offer, but in Jesus Christ himself. In so far as our confessional and liturgical documents testify to this hope, we should open ourselves to being taught by them and commit ourselves to living accordingly.

On January 11, 2024 By Bill Smith In Church, Theology, Wisdom Like

Colossians: The Measures of Maturity

Everyone has a worldview, a belief system about the nature of the world, where it is going, and their place in it. A worldview is not what we see in the world but how we see the world; it is the way we interpret everything around us. A worldview is the pair of glasses through which one looks.

Some think carefully through their worldviews. Others fall into and float along with the streams of cultural thought. Nevertheless, whether carefully considered or not, we all have fundamental ways in which we see ourselves in relationship to everything and everyone around us.

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On January 5, 2024 By Kendall Lankford In Theology Like

God Revealed In Our Terms

Introduction:

Have you ever pondered the majestic imagery in the Psalms, where God is depicted with “wings” sheltering His people, or the powerful depiction in Exodus of God’s “mighty hand” delivering the Israelites from Egypt? These vivid descriptions captivate our imagination, drawing us into a deeper understanding of the Almighty. Yet, this kind of language also raises an intriguing question: How can the infinite God, who transcends physical form, be portrayed with human-like or bird-like features? This enigma brings us to the doorstep of a profound theological concept in Scripture called anthropomorphisms. These literary devices are more than mere poetic expressions; they are bridges connecting the human tactile and material experience with the vastness of the metaphysical and transcendent God.

Defining Anthropomorphism:

Anthropomorphism, in its essence, is the Biblical attribution of human traits, emotions, or physical characteristics to the description of the infinite God as a way for finite creatures to understand Him. While indeed paradoxical, this concept does not conflict with a proper understanding of Yahweh, as described in John 4:24, which teaches us that He lacks a physical body and transcends human comprehension. Instead, it is a literary tool that God employs to convey His actions and attributes to fallible man in a relatable and understandable manner to His creation. It’s a theological bridge, helping us cross the chasm between our limited perception and the boundless reality of God.

Scriptural Examples:

In its rich and varied narrative, the Bible frequently employs anthropomorphic language to describe God, allowing believers to relate to the divine in more familiar terms. This use of human-like imagery is not an attempt to define God in human terms but rather a way to make the nature and actions of the infinite God comprehensible to our finite minds.

Imagine standing at the edge of the Red Sea, feeling the formidable power of God as described in Exodus 15:8, where His might is likened to the “blast of His nostrils” parting the waters. It’s a vivid and awe-inspiring metaphor that paints a picture of divine intervention in a way that speaks to our senses. Then, consider how Isaiah 59:1 brings us closer to God’s nature, not by depicting Him with physical attributes but through the metaphor of a “hand” and an “ear” — symbols of His ability to act and His readiness to listen. This imagery stirs the soul, bridging the human and the divine gap.

Envision further: the “eyes of the Lord” roving across the earth in 2 Chronicles 16:9, a poignant reminder of His all-encompassing watchfulness, or the “arm of the Lord” in Isaiah 53:1, symbolizing a strength that reaches out to save. In Exodus 31:18, the “finger of God” is not a literal digit but a powerful metaphor for divine authorship, as God inscribes the Ten Commandments. Then, there’s the “face of God” mentioned in Genesis 32:30 — not a physical face but an expression of God’s manifest presence. The “voice of the Lord” echoes through Psalm 29:3, not as a sound we hear with our ears but as a declaration of His sovereign will that resonates in the heart.

These are not just poetic words; they are a language that speaks of the divine in terms we can grasp. They remind us that the limitations of human form or senses do not constrain God. His “ear” hears more than we can imagine, His “hand” works beyond the bounds of human capability, and His “breath,” as mentioned in Job 33:4, is the very essence of life itself. In Psalm 17:8, being hidden in “the shadow of Your wings” evokes a sense of divine protection and comfort, drawing us into the assurance of God’s encompassing care.

However, it’s vital to recognize that these anthropomorphic descriptions are not literal. For instance, attributing a physical hand or ear to God would paradoxically limit His omnipresence and omnipotence, confining the infinite to finite dimensions. Instead, these images are intended as metaphors, communicating real truth about God’s attributes and actions in a manner relatable to human beings. They reveal aspects of God’s nature—His power, care, protection, and attention—in ways that resonate with human experience and understanding.

The Bible’s symbolic use of anthropomorphic language bridges the gap between the divine and the human mind. It allows believers to develop a more personal and intimate understanding of God. When Scripture describes God with human characteristics, it invites us into a deeper relationship with Him, one where we can connect to His divine nature through our human experience. Therefore, these descriptions are not just poetic flourishes but are essential tools in helping us grasp the incomprehensible aspects of God’s nature, reminding us of His transcendence and immanence.

Historical Understanding:

The Early Church’s Interpretation:

The journey of understanding anthropomorphisms begins with the early church fathers, who played a pivotal role in shaping Christian thought. Among them, Augustine of Hippo stands out as a significant figure. Augustine grappled with the scriptures rich in anthropomorphic language and sought to interpret these descriptions in a way that aligned with the transcendent nature of God. In his work “De Trinitate” (On the Trinity), Augustine argued that such language was not a literal depiction of God’s nature but a means to make the divine mysteries accessible to the human intellect. He contended that these human-like descriptions were symbolic, communicating spiritual truths about God’s nature and actions in a way humans could relate to and understand. Augustine’s interpretations set a foundation for later theologians, emphasizing the importance of discerning the spiritual truth underneath the literal text.

Medieval Theology and Analogical Language:

The medieval period saw further development in the understanding of anthropomorphisms, particularly with the contributions of Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas, a towering figure in medieval scholasticism, expanded upon Augustine’s ideas, introducing the concept of analogical language. In his “Summa Theologica,” Aquinas argued that these descriptions are analogies when Scripture ascribes human attributes to God. They offer a comparative, yet not exact, understanding of God’s attributes. For Aquinas, anthropomorphic language was a way of speaking about God that was true to the extent that it affirmed God’s actions and qualities. Yet, it remained inherently limited and could not fully encapsulate His essence. This analogical approach acknowledges that while God’s ways are vastly different from ours, there is still a correspondence that allows us to speak honestly and accurately about Him, though certainly not exhaustively. Aquinas’s approach profoundly influenced subsequent theological thought, providing a nuanced framework for interpreting anthropomorphisms.

Reformation and the Language of Accommodation:

The Reformation era marked another significant milestone in understanding anthropomorphisms, with reformers like John Calvin offering insightful contributions. Calvin, known for his influential work “Institutes of the Christian Religion,” emphasized the idea of divine accommodation. He argued that the anthropomorphic language in Scripture was God’s way of stooping to our level of understanding. By using human terms and concepts, God was accommodating Himself to our limited human capacity, making His nature and will understandable to us. Calvin stressed that these descriptions were not to be taken as literal attributes of God but as metaphors that help humans grasp something of the divine mystery. This emphasis on accommodation reflected a deeper understanding of the gap between God’s infinite nature and our finite understanding, reinforcing that while Scripture speaks about God in human terms, these terms are merely a condescension to human limitations.

Application

Understanding God through anthropomorphic language isn’t just a theological exercise; it’s a transformative experience that profoundly impacts our faith and worship. When Scripture describes God in human terms, it does something remarkable—it brings the infinite within reach of our finite minds. For many Christians, God can seem distant and abstract, a vast entity far removed from the intricacies of our daily lives. However, when we read about God’s “hand” guiding, His “ear” listening, or His “eyes” watching over us, the Divine suddenly becomes more relatable, more intimate.

This intimacy is crucial, especially in our prayer and worship, which are inherently relational. Imagine the difference in your prayer life when you think of God not as a distant force but as a loving Father who listens attentively, a Shepherd who guides with care, or a Friend who understands your deepest needs. This isn’t about simplifying God but about deepening our connection to Him. It’s about finding comfort in the idea that God cares, loves, and interacts with us in ways we understand and respond to. This understanding fosters a stronger emotional bond with God, enhancing the richness of our spiritual experience.

On the other hand, anthropomorphisms do more than make God relatable; they also remind us of His majesty and our humble place before Him. When we realize that these human-like descriptions are mere metaphors, we begin to grasp the vastness of God’s true nature. This realization leads to a more profound reverence for God. It reminds us that while He can be known, He can never be fully comprehended. This balance between intimacy and awe is vital in our spiritual journey. It keeps us from becoming overly familiar with God, preserving His majesty and otherness while inviting us into a relationship with Him.

Furthermore, these anthropomorphic descriptions serve as powerful moral guides, but within the context of the Gospel, their role is understood in a deeper, grace-filled dimension. When we read about God’s “just hand” or His “listening ear,” we’re not just learning about who God is but also about who we are called to be in Christ. These metaphors become models for our behavior, yet this is not a call to moralism or self-reliance. As Christians, we recognize that true moral transformation is not about mechanically imitating God to earn His favor or salvation. Indeed, our efforts to emulate divine attributes like compassion, justice, attentiveness, and love — qualities that these anthropomorphisms beautifully illustrate — are not what justifies us before God.

The Gospel teaches us that we cannot achieve moral perfection on our own; our righteousness is like “filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6) compared to God’s holiness. It is only through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who perfectly embodied all these divine attributes, that we find salvation and are declared righteous. This foundational truth reminds us that our growth in virtue is not a means to salvation but a response to the salvation already secured for us. We emulate God’s character not to impress Him or earn His approval but as a grateful response to the grace we have already received in Christ.

Furthermore, the empowering presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives is crucial to our spiritual growth. As we rest in the finished work of Christ, trusting in His righteousness and not our own, the Spirit works within us to conform us more to the image of Christ. This is the essence of sanctification — a process not of human striving but of divine transformation. The Spirit helps us to understand and apply these anthropomorphic descriptions in our lives, not as a legalistic checklist, but as a joyful pursuit of holiness rooted in the grace and love we’ve received from God.

Conclusion

In summary, anthropomorphisms in Scripture offer us valuable insights into God’s character and provide a model for Christian living, but they are always understood in the light of the Gospel. They are not a ladder to climb to reach God but signposts pointing us to the grace that is already ours in Christ, and they inspire us to live in a way that reflects our gratitude and understanding of this profound truth.

God bless you

On January 4, 2024 By Joel Ellis In Culture 1

The Joy of Yahweh is Our Strength

*G. K. Chesterton and his wife, Frances*

On a holy day long ago, Ezra the scribe addressed God’s people and said: “This day is holy to the LORD your God; do not mourn nor weep. Go your way, eat the fat, drink the sweet, and send portions to those for whom nothing is prepared; for this day is holy to our Lord. Do not sorrow, for the joy of the LORD is your strength” (Neh. 8:9-10). I often refer to this passage as a reminder of why churches ought to have donuts after worship and not dill pickles. But there is another part to it, the part that more often gets cross-stitched on pillows and doilies. The joy of Yahweh is your strength. What does that mean? There is a sermon there, or ten, but think about it briefly.

This is a passage I have failed to live up to for most of my life. The longer I read G. K. Chesterton, the more convicted I become over how much I have lacked the joviality of one who knows Jesus. Not that I or anyone else have anything at all to learn from a filthy papist like Chesterton. His cheerfulness is simply self deception and a demonic spirit, as I’ve been assured. If he really knew Christ, he would be sour, depressed, and slightly self righteous like every self-respecting Christian ought to be. But I digress.

I wonder if we realize just how powerful this transcendent, spiritual joy really is and can be? I’m not referring to the sappy and superficial masquerade we sometimes play on Sundays. “How are you doing today?” “I’m blessed,” by which, too often, we may mean, “I’m anxious, angry, and in a foul mood, but I don’t want to talk about it, and I need to sound spiritual so you’ll simply go away.” Other times we are all too free to tell anyone and everyone exactly how we feel, at length, and in great detail, because among our many admirable traits none stands out so greatly as our honesty and transparency.

How is joy a strength? An exegesis of the passage can tell us this and more. Suffice it to say here that the joy of the Lord encompasses joy from God, God’s joy in us, our joy concerning him. This is more than the “joy, joy, joy, joy” I have buried “down in my heart.” Where? Down in my heart, of course, even deeper than my affection for the Book of Church Order and Robert’s Rules. This is the joy that grace and truth bring to us, a joy that transcends sorrow and adversity, a joy that triumphs, the joy that enables us to smile in the face of danger, laugh in the face of opposition, and sing in the hour of death.

When they bury you, what will your friends and family remember about you? I hope all three of the people that attend my funeral remember something more than that he dipped Oreos in coffee and dressed weird. None of them will remember the answers I gave in my theology exam on the floor of Presbytery. They will not recall whether I was an infralapsarian or supralapsarian. Will my children remember the joy I had in Jesus, or will they say that Dad sincerely loved Jesus in spite of how moody, depressed, and melancholy he sometimes was?

If the joy of Yahweh is our strength, is it possible that some of us are 98-lb. weaklings and that the Devil is kicking sand in our faces most days?

What does Christianity look like? I do not mean what doctrinal convictions does orthodox Christianity affirm. I mean what does the Christian faith look like in a Christian. Does it only look like moral uprightness, daily prayer, consistent church-going, temperamental restraint? It does not look like less than any of these, but if that is what Christianity looks like, then it looks a lot like orthodox Judaism, devout Mohammedanism, and Mormonism. But we have a risen Savior.

It is astonishing how many of us seem to disconnect our Christian faith from our emotional countenance. “But the joy of the Lord is not strictly emotional!” some will object. Indeed, that is true. But is it true, therefore, that the joy of Yahweh will have no affect on our emotions and countenance? It seems counter-intuitive that we would be able to identify those whose sins are forgiven, who are filled with the Holy Spirit, and who are bound for everlasting glory by watching for those who look as if they were weaned on a dill pickle.

In this new year, whether you make formal resolutions or not, let us resolve to let the joy of Yahweh more visibly and tangibly strengthen us. Let our children and grandchildren see the earthy yet otherworldly happiness we have in our Savior. Let our brethren see the cheerfulness of knowing the serpent’s servants are being crushed under our feet and that the Dragon’s mortal wound will finally overcome him on the last day. Let us sing as those who believe Christ is our greatest treasure. Every Lord’s Day, eat the fat and drink the sweet (or bitter, if you like your coffee black). Sunday is holy to the Lord. This world has plenty of evil over which we must sorrow, but the joy of the Lord is our strength.

On January 4, 2024 By Bill Smith In Christmas, Theology, Worship 1

Star Wars

In C. S. Lewis’s The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, that crabby little modernist, Eustace, seeks to inform Ramandu, a retired star, of what a star is in his world. “In our world,” says Eustace, “a star is a huge ball of flaming gas.” Ramandu replies, “Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is, but only what it is made of.”

So it is in the story of Scripture. Stars aren’t merely balls of flaming gas that dot the black sky. Stars are rulers and authorities. This is their function from the fourth day of creation. God says that the greater light–the sun–will rule the day and lesser light–the moon and stars–will rule the night (Gen 1:14-18). These lights will judge for the earth, determining festival times and seasons. From this point forward, the lights in the heavens not only ruled these particular times, but they were also symbols of all rulers and authorities in the earth.

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On January 1, 2024 By Uri Brito In Culture 1

Resolutions for Church-Friendly Family

Merry 8th Day of Christmas and a Happy New Year! Here are the five resolutions I encourage you to take seriously as members of local churches in 2024:

a) Resolved to attend corporate worship every Lord’s Day unless providentially hindered. We live in a society that treasures entertainment and personal hobbies on Sundays, but God has made his commandments clear. If you compromise on this, you are placing your offspring at the altar of preference and convenience, and the fruit will be disastrous.

b) Resolved to be engaged in the life of fellowship. This is, of course, an extension of the first, though it does not carry the weight of the first. The solution to knowing your community is to be around it beyond Sunday morning. There are activities where it is good and right to attend and there are seasons where attending such activities/events are not profitable nor necessary. Wisdom needs to be considered often. For the life of any Christian body to grow in love and holiness, you will have to work extra hard to maintain a good community life, which demands a commitment, but the rewards are beyond measure.

c) Resolved to grow in the knowledge of God and His Word. One of the great threats of our day is apathy: Christians who sit week after week without increasing their knowledge of the Bible or who are content with the bit of knowledge they have.

Dear friend, it is a sin to not desire to know more about God. To be indifferent as a Christian contradicts the Lordship of Jesus. Jesus demands your souls and bodies. Don’t give him your crumbs.

d) Resolved to be hospitable Christians. Your home—however big or small—is meant to be a garden that provides refreshment to those who enter. I am exhorting you to take your calendars and mark one day a month when you plan to have folks over.

Some families are more gifted in this area ( a gift which has been built with years of practice) and will have people over for meals every week—and you are free to go above and beyond—but I am encouraging 12 days a year where you will intentionally invite some (one) over your home for a meal or dessert or some kind of fellowship. If you need help implementing any of these things, send me a note, and I’d be pleased to offer some suggestions. As one who has been practicing hospitality since the beginning of our marriage, I have learned much from these years and am eager to share any lessons.

e) Resolved to live out the Church Calendar in 2024. Depending on your context in a local church, you can still practice many of these things as families and on your own. If your congregation’s leadership is adamantly opposed to the calendar, I would refrain or, at the very least, talk with them. But in most cases, local churches are indifferent to private practices. Remember that everyone has a calendar. We don’t allow the government or other institutions to determine our calendar. The Church has its own. It takes some practice and creativity to use the calendar wisely. For example, most evangelicals in our culture think that there is only one day of Christmas on the 25th. Anything after the 25th becomes a preparation for the new year. But the Church has set aside 12 days to celebrate Christmas.

So, there are things we can do to make these seasons even more festive and meaningful. Ultimately, the church’s life is the only true life there is. Live it out faithfully this new year and commit your joys and sorrows to the Head of the Church, Jesus Christ.

On December 28, 2023 By Bill Smith In Church, Culture, Discipleship, Theology Like

House Building

God is an architect and builder. Creation is his house. One part of the house was finished from the beginning. God created his heavenly palace complete. It was a turn-key job. The earth, however, he gave to his son, Adam, as a project (Ps 115:16). God provided his son all the raw materials and the blueprint to complete his mission. Once the earthly house was finished, the breach between heaven and earth created on the second day of the creation week would be reconciled.

The original separation of heaven and earth was not caused by sin. The division was a design feature of the original creation, and the maturity of the earth was man’s mission before sin entered the world. When Adam sinned, the separation was deepened. From that time forward, the project to build a house in which God would be pleased to dwell, uniting his heavenly home to an earthly home, was crippled by sin.

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