Suffering is not a glitch in the Christian life—it’s part of it. In this conversation, Matt Smethurst and Ligon Duncan talk about how pastors can prepare their people to face pain with faith and endurance. They discuss what it means to view hardship through God’s providence, why the “victorious Christian life” often looks like just hanging on, and how preaching, hymns, and patient shepherding can help believers trust God when he seems silent.
Imagine you could save your life through one simple, regular act. You wouldn’t always want to do it. Every week, you’d come up with multiple excuses. The night before would often be a struggle. Same with the morning before. Every time you finished, you’d feel refreshed, energized, and eager to undertake that day’s agenda. But then, when it came time to do it again, somehow you’d still struggle to do it.
I don’t know what comes to mind for you. Maybe the gym. Maybe a quiet time of Bible reading and prayer. Maybe a call or meeting with a family member or friend. But I’m talking about church and a new book by Rebecca McLaughlin, How Church Could (Literally) Save Your Life (TGC/Crossway).
Rebecca is widely known to Gospelbound viewers and listeners as the author of several of the most encouraging and successful books in TGC history, including Confronting Christianity, The Secular Creed, and Jesus Through the Eyes of Women. She’s also a fellow with The Keller Center for Cultural Apologetics. She returns to Gospelbound to discuss the life-changing research on what makes church good for your health.
In This Episode
04:30 – What makes church unique
08:00 – How many modern moral values come directly from Christianity
Every church has one ministry that shapes its future more than any other. Ironically, it’s often the one that gets the least attention from pastors. Peter’s instruction to “shepherd the flock of God that is among you” (1 Pet. 5:2) includes the children in our pews. Yet many churches treat children’s ministry as glorified childcare rather than a discipleship lab.
Wise pastoral leadership means stewarding a church’s most valuable resource: its people. Imagine an experienced, highly skilled Bible teacher joined your church and asked for a place to serve. It’d be tempting to drop that person into an adult Sunday school class or small group—and that could be a good fit. But what if your children’s ministry is an even better fit?
Here’s why it might be.
1. Children’s ministry is a gospel opportunity.
Think about how much effort churches put into evangelism programs, training church members to introduce the lost to Jesus. This is right, but we should also remember that most people trust Jesus when they’re between the ages of 4 and 14. Consider how many kids in this 4–14 window come to your church each week. Yes, you should train parents to help win these kids to Christ at home, but you should also position some of your best teachers in your classrooms. These kids need to hear the gospel over and over from loving, gifted leaders who can explain it to them on their level.
Our kids should never stop hearing the gospel. Just like us, they need to hear of its beauty and the power again and again so they not only come to believe it, trusting in Jesus for salvation, but also to embody it in how they live.
Research shows the best way for this to happen is for the church and home to echo one another. A 2020 Barna study found that 53 percent of “habitual churchgoers” and 77 percent of “resilient disciples” indicated that a key to their continued faith was having close personal friends who were adults in the church. That godly, caring children’s ministry leader can make a huge difference now and well into the future.
If the 4–14 window is a strategic mission field, what better way to penetrate it than to raise up a committed and engaged missionary force? Evangelism is one beggar telling another where to find bread. A child who has trusted in Jesus knows enough to help another do the same. Placing gifted teachers into your children’s ministry who can train kids to do just that may be one of the greatest evangelism efforts you can make.
2. Children’s ministry is a discipleship opportunity.
If a child trusts Jesus, he’s a part of the regenerate church. There’s no “junior Holy Spirit” nor “junior-varsity church.” There’s “one body” (Eph. 4:4–6). And, as Paul stated plainly, pastors have a responsibility to “watch out for [themselves] and for all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made [them] overseers” (Acts 20:28, NET, emphasis mine). God’s desire is for the entire church—adults, teens, and kids—to be discipled and released on mission. That should be our desire too.
If the 4–14 window is a strategic mission field, what better way to penetrate it than to raise up a committed and engaged missionary force?
Beyond our sense of responsibility for young image-bearers made new in Christ, we should be motivated by love and a desire for their growth. Ask any financial adviser when it’s best to invest in retirement, and he’ll tell you: early! The sooner you begin, the more time you allow for compound interest to work its magic and multiply your investment. The same is true of discipleship.
One of the best ways we can love and serve the next generation of Christians is to disciple them early and deeply. Laying a strong gospel foundation in a child’s mind and heart will pay dividends for decades to come. It’ll position the child to avoid many pitfalls and hardships and maximize her effectiveness for kingdom work.
3. Investing in children’s ministry is a church-health strategy.
In Major League Baseball, the difference between a championship team and a dynasty is its farm system. Invest in the MLB squad and you can win now; invest in the farm system and you can win in perpetuity. The same is true in the church.
God’s desire is for the entire church—adults, teens, and kids—to be discipled and released on mission.
If you want a church to be healthy and vibrant for decades, invest heavily in the next generation. Believing kids are an important part of the church today, but they’re also a critical part of the church tomorrow. A gifted teacher can surely make a mark in other areas of ministry, but in children’s ministry, perhaps more than any other ministry, that teacher’s influence ripples well beyond his lifetime.
Children’s ministry isn’t merely keeping children occupied while their parents are discipled. It’s the front lines of discipleship, evangelism, and church health. Those front lines are a great place for strong teachers to serve. A mark of a strong theologian is being able to take complex doctrines and boil them down into the simplest terms without compromising truth. That’s exactly what’s needed in children’s ministry. Kids can grasp doctrine, and we can help them do so if we place gifted teachers in our children’s ministries.
Hiking after a rainfall, we hit a mud patch so deep we’d have lost our shoes if we’d stepped in it. Thankfully, other hikers had dropped a series of stepping stones. Hopping across them, we arrived on the other side of the mud unsullied.
But we didn’t hop from stone to stone randomly; we had a destination in mind—the other side. Stepping stones aren’t meant to leave us in the middle of the morass. Yet that’s how many people around us live, isn’t it? Hopping from life event to life event with no particular destination, no ultimate aim, in mind. Their aimlessness gives us a powerful evangelistic opportunity.
Stuck in the Middle
Consider an “American dream” life marked by the achievements many deem destinations, but that are really brief stops on a road to nowhere. Study hard in school to get good grades (or work hard at extracurriculars) to get into the right university to get the right degree. Skip from stone to stone—but without arriving.
Stepping stones aren’t meant to leave us in the middle of the morass. Yet that’s how many people around us live.
After all, what’s the point of the diploma? To get the right job. Given how much of life we spend at work, it’s a huge stone—but not the end. It provides a sense of significance and security, achievement and approval (assuming we perform), but few would claim work’s the goal. We work to make money so we can live the good life. Get a job, get married, get the dream home. Then we can start a family.
“I’m doing it for my kids.” Is that the end?
No way. With kids, we don’t reach a destination; we just increase the number of travelers on the stepping-stone path. Children don’t break the cycle; we raise them to repeat the cycle. We want them to get good grades so they get into a good school, so they get a well-paying job, so they can buy a house, start a family, and have kids who get good grades and . . . uh oh. We’re still stuck in the middle of the meaningless morass—just stuck together now.
Ours isn’t the first generation to ask. Three millennia ago, the Teacher repined,
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”
What do people gain from all their labors
at which they toil under the sun?
Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever. (Eccl. 1:2–4, NIV)
In moments of transition or reflection, we grasp how meaningless human life is if it’s all there is. Life is a vain, fruitless search for wonder, for significance, for hope that transcends not just mundane life but life—full stop. And if life is all we have, it’s a road to nowhere. That’s exactly what the Teacher learns. He proceeds chronologically across the same stones we traverse, finding at each step that he’s still stuck in the middle. All those years of schooling, applying your mind to study, exploring wisdom? That’s a chasing after the wind (vv. 13–18).
Pursuing pleasure, sowing those wild oats before you settle down to responsible family life? You could refuse yourself no pleasure and still discover it’s all meaningless (2:1–11). We’re just buckets with a giant hole in the bottom. We keep trying to fill ourselves to overflowing, but it doesn’t work. The feeling doesn’t last. We go away as empty as when we started. Decades laboring at your job, even if you’re successful and achieve great things? All that “toil and striving” is ultimately meaningless too, because you have to leave it to someone else in the end (vv. 20–23).
We’re only in the Teacher’s second chapter, and it’s clear the search is in vain. “Under the sun,” he never arrives. Generations come and go, repeating the same cycle. It’s all just another step on a journey to nowhere, aimless meandering to an indeterminate end.
Help Others Arrive
How can Christians—who know “the conclusion of the matter” (12:13, NIV), who’ve learned like the Teacher to fear God and find everlasting, all-satisfying joy in him—help friends, family, neighbors, and colleagues get out of the metaphysical morass and onto the firm ground of gospel truth?
We know the dream won’t satisfy. We know it’s all drinking stagnant water from cracked cisterns when streams of living water flow nearby (Jer. 2:13). By learning to ask powerful questions, we can help those in our sphere of influence see this.
Imagine chatting with a neighbor who’s working too many hours to get that promotion, a friend who enrolled her child in extensive after-school tutoring to get a leg up on the competition, a colleague who’s on his third relationship this year . . . They’re in the middle of the mud but have no idea where the trail picks up—or where it leads. A genuinely curious, open-ended question might unlock their hearts.
“If you reach this goal, what will that give you?”
“How will you feel if you don’t get what you want—if you don’t find what you’re looking for?”
“What will accomplishing this task do for you?”
“What will you do if this doesn’t satisfy—if the good feelings fade faster than you want (like they did last time)?”
Such questions could spark thoughtful spiritual reflection: Where am I going—and why? By leading people to contemplate the destination, what they truly desire, we can get them to consider the path they’re on.
By leading people to contemplate the destination, we can get them to consider the path they’re on.
Are they heading in the right direction or going around in circles in the mud? Even if they get all they want, do all they set out to do, accomplish every goal they made, they’ll still be stuck in the middle. We can help people see that their dreams are too small to soothe the soul’s ache.
From there, we can point them to the “chief end,” the golden shore where the stepping stones of faith lead: to glorify God and enjoy him forever. That’s a place we can reach, a destination worth aiming for. When it comes to our deepest desires, God is plenty big. It’s our dream that’s too small.
First, the widespread interest in and unease about his approach tell me something deeper is going on. Many Christians I’ve spoken to express discomfort with Comer’s approach, but they can’t always articulate why. That tension warrants further reflection.
Second, the differences between Comer’s approach and a Reformed Christian perspective on spiritual formation are worth exploring. Comer’s book is influencing many evangelicals. And evangelicalism arose from the Reformed tradition during the revivals of the 18th century. Unfortunately, my own book on spiritual formation in the Reformed tradition was too far along in production to engage with Comer’s work directly.
This isn’t a book review. Rather, I want to highlight three significant ways Practicing the Way diverges from the model of spiritual formation commended by the reformers and, I’d argue, the Bible itself.
Regeneration Neglected
A Reformed approach insists spiritual growth is only possible for those who have been born again and united to Christ by his Spirit. Growth apart from this saving union is inconceivable because it’s only when we “are in Christ Jesus” that he can become for us our “righteousness and sanctification” (1 Cor. 1:30). Jesus teaches that “unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3).
By contrast, in Practicing the Way, the doctrines of regeneration and union with Christ are virtually absent. Comer does talk about the need for the Holy Spirit, stating that spiritual formation requires you to “make your home in [Jesus’s] presence by the Spirit” (37). However, he doesn’t explain how one acquires the assistance of the Holy Spirit. Nor is there any sense in Practicing the Way that the Spirit’s work of regeneration is a definitive moment in a person’s life through which God “has caused us to be born again to a living hope” (1 Pet. 1:3).
Instead, Comer focuses on the need to become an “apprentice” to Jesus, the master Rabbi, with an “end goal” of becoming “the kind of person who can say and do all the things Jesus said and did” (122). This description puts Jesus at the center—which is good— but neglects our Spirit-wrought union with him. Comer’s approach is all about the way Jesus’s earthly ministry provides an example or pattern to imitate. Patterning our life after Jesus is clearly a biblical theme (e.g., 1 Pet. 2:21), but it’s not the only or even the most important theme when considering the person and work of Jesus Christ.
Comer’s approach is all about the way Jesus’s earthly ministry provides an example or pattern to imitate.
When the Jesus-as-pattern theme is emphasized at the expense of everything else, it obscures the biblical reality that our first and primary need is a Savior rather than a moral teacher. The Bible teaches that “everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has been born of God” (1 John 5:1), the implication being that those who haven’t “been born of God” do not and cannot believe that Jesus is the Christ and thus cannot enjoy any spiritual growth at all. For example, Gandhi may have learned from Christ’s moral example, but by all accounts, he was never converted, and he died in his sins.
Scripture Sidelined
The Reformation was, in large part, a recovery of Word-based piety. The reformers insisted that deep, sustained engagement with God’s Word is the key driver of spiritual growth. They also taught that any means of spiritual formation must be derived from and dependent on Scripture. Thus, many spiritual practices that medieval people might have found useful were scrapped in favor of the biblical simplicity reflected in Psalm 119:9: “How can a young man keep his way pure? By guarding it according to your word.”
Comer lists Scripture as one of the “nine core practices” that you must incorporate into your personal “Rule of Life” (181). He also states, “Scripture is the primary way we are ‘transformed by the renewing of [our] mind’” (186). So what’s the problem?
First, Scripture intake isn’t one among many practices to be “utilized by an apprentice of Jesus for formation” (181). Rather, it is the means through which we commune with God. As Herman Bavinck notes, “Scripture is the ongoing rapport between heaven and earth.”
In contrast, Comer labels “more Bible study” as a “losing strategy” and states that “church attendance, good sermons, and regular Bible study . . . have a very poor track record of yielding a high level of transformation in large numbers of people” (86–87). On the one hand, he states that sermons and Bible study are “more than good, essential” (86). But he also says that on their own they’re “wildly insufficient” to promote spiritual growth (87).
The medieval church would have said positive things about Scripture and allowed a place for it in spiritual formation. But, like Comer, medieval authorities also maintained that the Word on its own isn’t enough. For them, the real interest, excitement, and efficacy are found in a host of other spiritual practices. For Reformation-minded Christians, God’s Word is always at the center of our piety, both as the key driver of transformation and as the blueprint for our pursuit of spiritual growth.
Incoherent Theology
Comer’s method in Practicing the Way is theologically promiscuous. He mingles sources from wildly different theological traditions—many mutually incompatible—without acknowledging the tension. While occasionally Comer cites thinkers in the Reformed tradition, like Tim Keller, Rosaria Butterfield, and Tim Chester, he more frequently turns to Roman Catholics (Teresa of Ávila, Ignatius of Loyola, Henri Nouwen), Eastern Orthodox writers (Kallistos Ware, Kallistos Katafygiotis), Quaker mystics (Thomas Kelly), and even a non-Christian spiritualist (Kahlil Gibran).
He presents these highly heterogeneous teachers collectively as “masters of the Way of Jesus” (47). The implication is that all these different “spiritual masters” (43) are heading down the same path and toward similar conclusions. That’s simply not the case.
For example, at one point he quotes a Catholic writer who mentions the “Blessed Sacrament,” a term that Comer explains as referring to “what Protestants call ‘the Lord’s Supper’” (42). Yet a differing view on the sacraments was at the heart of disagreements during the Reformation. Then, on the same page, Comer quotes Kelly on the topic. Yet the Quakers are notoriously one of the only groups in the Christian tradition to eschew the outward observance of the Lord’s Supper altogether. Comer never suggests there could be any serious conflict among his assembled “spiritual masters of the Way” (43).
For Reformation-minded Christians, God’s Word is always at the center of our piety.
The result of Comer’s eclecticism is a vision for spiritual formation that doesn’t align with any existing, recognizable stream of historic Christianity. Consider Comer’s high praise for Ware’s Eastern Orthodox spirituality. With reference to Ware’s influential book The Orthodox Way, Comer says, “When I read this absolutely wonderful book, it felt like coming home” (237).
Yet Comer’s Practicing the Way lacks, among other things, a substantial reverence for icons, due esteem for Mary as the Theotokos, and a real priesthood standing in apostolic continuity with Jesus himself—all key elements of Eastern Orthodox spirituality. Moreover, if he genuinely felt like he was “coming home” while reading The Orthodox Way, why hasn’t he been received into the Orthodox Church? In part, it seems that identifying consistently with one tradition would hamper Comer’s a la carte approach to spiritual formation.
Cafeteria Approach
Comer’s overall vision for the Christian life is a pick-what-works-for-you approach. It’s not that he’s a secret Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox proponent hiding things from his readers. Rather, his cafeteria approach is inherently unstable and doesn’t sit comfortably within any established Christian tradition.
A Reformed approach to spiritual formation, by contrast, flows out of a consistent commitment to the Bible and the Bible alone as the ultimate rule of faith and practice. That rigorous grounding in the Word provides a consistency and a coherence that has proven durable over many centuries.
Insofar as the Reformed tradition has rightly understood Scripture, Practicing the Way represents a serious deviation from a biblical understanding of spiritual formation. As evidenced by Comer’s downplaying of regeneration and union with Christ, an approach to spiritual formation that isn’t anchored to Scripture will drift with whatever theological currents seem attractive at the moment.
Perhaps Comer and others are dissatisfied with evangelicalism’s Reformation heritage and wish to reject it. That’s their decision. But they should clearly identify and own that decision.
A ton of streaming content is at our disposal these days, but precious little of it is worthwhile. Much is at best moderately amusing—or at worst, brain rot. I’m increasingly skeptical of pressing play on any new movie or series, because more often than not, it proves disappointing. Maybe you feel the same.
Thankfully, there are edifying things to stream, but sometimes it’s hard to find them. That’s why I put together this list of 20 well-made documentaries by or about Christians. They span various topics—from missions to theology to church history, and more—but each is inspiring and worth watching. Next time you have an open hour or two and want to relax with a movie, don’t bother with Netflix paralysis. Pick a movie from this list and let it enrich your faith.
American Gospel series (2018, 2019, 2025)
This series of documentary films tackles various threats to and perversions of the gospel. Coming from a Reformed perspective and featuring a who’s who of talking-head experts, the installments include American Gospel: Christ Alone (2018), American Gospel: Christ Crucified (2019), and a multiepisode series titled American Gospel: Spirit and Fire (2025). You might not agree with everything said or argued in the films, but they’re substantive and absolutely worth watching and discussing. Watch at AmericanGospel.com.
Beyond the Gates of Splendor (2004)
The title of this 2004 documentary references Elisabeth Elliot’s 1957 book, Through Gates of Splendor. The film examines the background and legacy of the five missionary martyrs killed in 1956 as they tried to bring the gospel to Ecuador’s Waorani tribes. If you enjoyed the dramatized version of the story in 2005’s End of the Spear, don’t miss this inspiring documentary. Watch for free on YouTube.
Beyond Utopia (2023)
Madeleine Gavin’s film centers on a South Korean Christian pastor, Kim Sungeun, who plays a key role on the modern “Underground Railroad” that helps North Korean defectors escape the oppressive regime. It’s a harrowing look at the plight of North Koreans today—and an inspiring example of how some Christians are stepping up to help. Rent on Amazon.
Calvinist (2017)
Released in 2017—on the occasion of the Reformation’s 500th anniversary—Les Lanphere’s documentary explores the reasons for the Reformed resurgence. Featuring R. C. Sproul, Ligon Duncan, Kevin DeYoung, Paul Washer, Shai Linne, Tim Challies, and many others, the film is also a visually engaging, effective explanation of Calvinist theology. As I wrote in my TGC review, “Calvinist’s visual storytelling does for Reformed theology what The Bible Project is doing for biblical books and themes: making it more graspable and beautiful for an increasingly image-based world.” Rent on Amazon.
A City of Light (2025)
This short documentary, produced by Christ Covenant Church in Atlanta, takes an in-depth look at church planting and missionary work in Paris, France—one of the most beautiful but most secular cities in the world. I loved how the film incorporated analysis of French history and its contemporary post-Christian culture, alongside glimpses into the good gospel work being done. It’s an inspiring, well-made film that made me instantly want to support these faithful gospel workers in the City of Light. Releases Nov. 1. Watch for free here.
Emanuel (2019)
The second film on this list from director Brian Ivie, Emanuel is a moving portrait of forgiveness after a horrific tragedy. It focuses on a handful of survivors and family members of victims of the 2015 mass shooting at Charleston’s Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. As I wrote in my review, the film “rightly celebrates the beauty of forgiveness and the unique responses to suffering and hate that Christianity enables.” Rent on Amazon.
Facing Darkness (2017)
This Samaritan’s Purse documentary profiles missionary doctor Kent Brantly, who famously contracted Ebola while he was treating patients of the deadly disease during the West African outbreak in 2014. It’s a moving account of countercultural, Christlike service: going into a deadly outbreak to bring healing, risking one’s life to help others. Watch for free on Tubi.
For the Life of the World: Letters to the Exiles (2016)
This unique documentary, narrated by actor Evan Koons, aims to give Christians a wider view of what it means to be in the world but not of it. Told in seven parts, the film ponders Christian mission (What’s our salvation for?) by looking at various examples of Christianity’s relationship to culture. More engaging and creative than your average faith-based film, For the Life of the World is a great option for a small group or class to watch and discuss together. Watch for free on YouTube.
Free Burma Rangers (2020)
Part war documentary, part missionary profile of Dave and Karen Eubank, this film is a provocative and moving portrait of how the gospel motivates believers to flee comfort and run toward danger, dodging bullets and bombs to be conduits of healing and hope. Watch for free onTubi.
From the Rising of the Sun (2025)
This 12-episode documentary series is a compelling companion piece to the book of the same name by Tim Challies and Tim Keesee. If you buy the book in any format, you’ll get a code to watch the full documentary online. The episodes follow the book’s travelogue structure, as Challies and Keesee visit 11 churches all over the world, from Fiji to Morocco to the Aleutian Islands. The documentary and book both testify to the beautiful diversity and unity of Christian worship across cultures and time zones. Watch for free with purchase of the book.
Logic on Fire: The Life and Legacy of Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones (2015)
One of the most influential preachers of the 20th century, Martyn Lloyd-Jones once defined preaching as “logic on fire.” This documentary unpacks that idea—and Lloyd-Jones’s life and influence—by featuring the insights of people like Kevin DeYoung, Ligon Duncan, John MacArthur, Conrad Mbewe, Justin Taylor, and Paul Washer. Rent on Amazon.
Look and See: A Portrait of Wendell Berry (2016)
Even if you’re not as much of a diehard Wendell Berry fan as I am, you’ll find much to appreciate in this tender portrait of the Christian novelist, essayist, and poet. The film isn’t just about Berry; it’s about what Berry can teach us about seeing. It’s a documentary about the poetics of seeing, noticing, and relishing the intricacies of God’s beautiful creation. Available to rent.
Luther: The Life and Legacy of the German Reformer (2017)
Another documentary released to coincide with the Reformation’s 500th anniversary, Stephen McCaskell’s film is narrated by Barry Cooper and features interviews with R. C. Sproul, Carl Trueman, Stephen Nichols, and many others. There’s no shortage of books and documentaries about Martin Luther, but Luther is especially well made and effective, featuring engaging animation, exceptional cinematography, and efficient editing. Watch for free on YouTube.
Many Beautiful Things (2015)
This documentary provides a lovely portrait of Victorian-era British artist-turned-missionary Lilias Trotter. Trotter (voiced by Downton Abbey’s Michelle Dockery) had the opportunity to become one of England’s greatest painters but chose instead to become a missionary in Algeria—where she served for 40 years until her death in 1928. Including a soundtrack by Sleeping at Last, the film is an inspiring introduction to a fascinating Christian heroine. Watch on Prime Video.
Mears: How One Woman Changed American Christianity (2025)
She’s been called “the mother of modern evangelicalism” and, by Billy Graham, “one of the greatest Christians I have ever known.” But until now, there’s never been a documentary film on Henrietta Mears. That changed earlier this year with the release of Mears, an informative and well-made film about the woman whose innovations in Christian education at Hollywood Presbyterian Church had wide-reaching influence. The film is a great introduction to a powerhouse woman in evangelical history. Rent on Amazon.
Puritan: All of Life to the Glory of God (2019)
This beautifully made documentary from Media Gratiae takes viewers from the birth of Puritanism all the way through to its influence in the present day. Directed by Stephen McCaskell and written by Barry Cooper, the film had its world premiere at The Gospel Coalition’s 2019 national conference. It features the insights of Al Mohler, John Piper, Gloria Furman, Mark Dever, and many more. Rent on Amazon.
The Riot and the Dance (2018)
If you like Planet Earth–style nature documentaries, this masterful documentary from N. D. Wilson is for you. Beautifully shot in locations all over the world, and full of theologically rich narration, the film effectively gets viewers thinking about nature not just as a source of intrigue and awe but as the handiwork of an intentional God whose artistic motifs and fingerprints reveal truths about him. Watch it as a family and worship our wonderful God! Rent on Amazon.
Show Me the Father (2021)
The first documentary film produced by the Kendrick brothers (Courageous, The War Room), Show Me the Father is a powerful examination of the fatherhood of God and the important role earthly fathers play in families and society. Often moving, the documentary narrates various “father stories”—one that includes a dramatic twist—that all point the viewer back to God’s perfect, fatherly love for us. Rent on Amazon.
Truth Rising (2025)
This new feature-length documentary is a production of Focus on the Family and the Colson Center. Featuring Os Guinness and John Stonestreet as co-narrators, the film examines our cultural moment and presents an array of heartening examples that the West is beginning to reembrace truth. Some of the many figures profiled in the film include Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Jack Phillips, Chloe Cole, and Seth Dillon of The Babylon Bee. The film presents compelling evidence that the vibe shift in Western civilization is real. Watch for free.
The Unseen Realm (2019)
Based on the influential book by Old Testament scholar Michael Heiser, this documentary is a fascinating, informative exploration of the supernatural mysteries referenced at times in Scripture, for example the “divine council” in Psalm 82:1 or the “sons of God” in Genesis 6:1–4. This 70-minute film will give you lots to think about. But it’s not merely an exercise in intellectual stimulation; it’s a film that provokes wonder and worship as we consider the deep things of God. Watch for free on YouTube.
My neighbor Evan (I’ve changed his name) is a successful, extroverted fortysomething: hip, engaging, friendly, and easy to talk to. He’s always willing to lend a hand, an ear, or a tool. His kids are the most respectful and responsible middle-schoolers on the block. Evan and his wife know I’m a pastor; we’ve had them over for dinner; we do our best to initiate as much conversation and front-porch interaction as we can.
Yet Evan doesn’t seem particularly curious about the deeper questions of life. He hasn’t identified any God-shaped hole in his heart. It’s not that he seems hardened or closed off to faith; he just doesn’t appear to have any persistent spiritual hunger.
I sent Evan a text message to invite him to church this past Easter. He never responded.
I think a lot about Evan. I think about him when I preach: How would this message resonate with him? I think about him when I pray: How can I love him and witness to him more faithfully? And I think about him as I lead: How might I help him experience the church—and the gospel it proclaims—as interesting, compelling, and credible?
What I really want is for Evan to see the world differently. I want him to apprehend and be changed by the fact that “the last word in human affairs is represented by a man hanging on a cross.”
It’s God, of course, who must open Evan’s eyes. But the Westminster Confession reminds us that “God, in His ordinary providence, makes use of means.” And one of those means is the church. I want my church––and your church—to give our neighbors a new set of “lenses” through which to see the world.
And we can. When churches take seriously our calling as countercultural communities, we start to do the work of cultural apologetics without even thinking about it. Because we love our neighbors and want them to know Christ, we think more intentionally about “how we do what we do.” And without losing any of its depth and richness, what we do starts to reflect the gospel’s transformative power in ways that our neighbors often find compelling. Here are five ways that happens.
1. Preaching That Engages Doubt
“What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you,” Paul declares in Athens (Acts 17:23). He aims his message at the gaps and idiosyncrasies in his hearers’ worldview, graciously confronting their inconsistency. Effective preaching in our late-modern world follows the same pattern.
When churches take seriously our calling as countercultural communities, we start to do the work of cultural apologetics without even thinking about it.
The influence of postmodern epistemology and skepticism means we’re all doubters now. A wise, evangelistically attuned approach to preaching seeks to reveal the flaws and gaps in modern ways of thinking, contrasting the weakness of cultural narratives with the strength and beauty of the gospel.
Editors often instruct journalists, “Show, don’t tell.” Compelling preaching does the same. It doesn’t just tell people what the Bible says; it also shows the gospel to be more existentially satisfying, more intellectually compelling, and more situationally applicable than the cultural narratives on offer around us. This type of preaching takes its stand “between two worlds,” confronting modern worldviews with Scripture while putting the Bible in dialogue with modern concerns.
The church’s preaching is an apologetic.
2. Hospitality That Welcomes the Outsider
Humans are distinctly aware of social cues. We quickly discern in-group and out-group dynamics, and we react accordingly.
Churches that value theological orthodoxy can unintentionally create strong insider-outsider dichotomies: We place those who believe into one category and those who don’t believe into another. But the gospel frees us to emphasize our common humanity without erasing or minimizing our differences. Evan and I share much in common. We’re husbands, fathers, and citizens. We work and play and eat and sleep. We pay taxes and cast votes and root for our favorite teams. We have hopes, dreams, fears, and uncertainties. We love, trust, and worship someone or something.
Churches that love the gospel highlight these shared human realities. They genuinely welcome outsiders by emphasizing our common, shared humanity. This allows them to be bold and forthright in communicating the gospel while displaying humility and generosity toward fellow image-bearers.
The church’s hospitality is an apologetic.
3. Worship That Shows the Arc of the Gospel
Years ago, a wise author posed a provocative question that changed the way I think about worship: “How is your worship service forming the expectations of the people who attend?” My answer was this: “It’s teaching them to expect three fast songs, then two slow songs, then a sermon and a benediction.”
The church I served at the time was a standard evangelical megachurch with little connection to history and no real concern for catechesis. It relied on an emotionally powerful worship experience and a relevant and interesting sermon to do the work of Christian formation.
Thinking about my kids and my neighbors has changed my convictions about Christian worship. Our services now follow the “gospel arc” of historic Christian liturgy, which includes singing, corporate confession of sin, spoken creeds, the Lord’s Prayer, and weekly Communion. The order of our worship service communicates something. It moves people along the storyline of Scripture from creation to new creation. It works on an implicit, affective register, drawing people into a pattern of worship that helps them connect the dots of guilt, grace, and gratitude.
The church’s worship is an apologetic.
4. Community That Rejoices in Repentance and Faith
A few years ago, I was invited to a local alumni club meeting for my alma mater. The gathering was held at a sports bar so we could watch our team play an important football game. It quickly became evident that the orienting center of this little community—the thing we gathered to rejoice in—was our football team.
Every community rejoices in something. And a gospel-oriented church rejoices in repentance and faith. We rejoice in confessing our sin, acknowledging our need, being honest about our weakness. We rejoice in the grace of Jesus Christ and the glory of God’s promises in Scripture. And by rejoicing in these, we become strangely countercultural.
A friend said to me recently, “Growing up, I never heard my dad apologize. He never admitted he was wrong about anything. When I first met some Christians, and they were confessing their sin to one another and asking for forgiveness, it radically affected me! I had never experienced that kind of humility.”
The church’s community is an apologetic.
5. Atmosphere of Resilient Hope
Suffering is the one experience guaranteed to every human being: “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33, NIV). And the gospel gives Christians a hearty resilience amid suffering.
The order of our worship service communicates something. It moves people along the storyline of Scripture from creation to new creation.
Paul and Silas, when imprisoned, sang hymns (Acts 16:25). Stephen, when martyred, forgave his attackers (7:60). And Peter, writing to the earliest Christians, urged them to “rejoice insofar as [they] share Christ’s sufferings” (1 Pet. 4:13). Christians don’t “grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). Our grief is a hopeful grief.
Because a gospel-loving church is full of human beings, it’ll also be full of death and dementia and divorce and Down syndrome. These things come for us, just as they come for all the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. But we face them leaning forward in great hope, anticipating the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come. And that speaks volumes to a culture imprisoned by an “immanent frame.”
The church’s hope is an apologetic.
Embrace Our Calling
The church exists to confront the world: “If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you” (John 15:18). The church exists as a transformative influence within society: “You are the salt of the earth. . . . You are the light of the world” (Matt. 5:13–14). And the church exists as a contrast community, an alternative kingdom to the kingdoms of this world: “Be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world” (Phil. 2:15).
Since “the power which has the last word in human affairs is represented by a man hanging on a cross . . . the only hermeneutic of the gospel is a congregation of men and women who believe it and live like it.” The church doesn’t just do apologetics; the church is an apologetic. May we embrace our calling and fulfill it to the glory of God.
Two years ago—in fall 2023—the internet was abuzz over the publication of an ancient manuscript that seemed to contain material from one of the most famous gospels outside our New Testament: the Gospel of Thomas. The online chatter was immense, which was why I wrote a lengthy article analyzing this discovery.
Unbeknownst to most people, however, the same volume of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri (vol. 87) also contained two manuscripts of the New Testament, one from Romans and one from Revelation. But these received hardly any attention from the media. There was no buzz.
This disparity highlights an intriguing reality: There always seems to be a disproportionate cultural fascination with “lost” gospels or “hidden” texts about Jesus. Write an article about the canonical texts, and you might get a few hits. Write an article about a new, lost, or forgotten gospel—and how it changes everything we know about Jesus—and there’s a reasonable chance it’ll go viral.
Publishers haven’t missed our culture’s insatiable appetite for all things lost. Books are more likely to sell if you can find a way to get some key words in the title: “lost,” “forgotten,” “secret,” or “hidden.” Here’s a sampling of real titles just over the last couple of decades:
This raises an important question: Why are people so intrigued by the concept of “lost” gospels?
Allure of the Hidden
In 2001, Philip Jenkins published an intriguing little book that hasn’t received the attention it deserves: Hidden Gospels: How the Search for Jesus Lost Its Way. Jenkins tackles this issue head-on, arguing that modern scholarship has been derailed by an imbalanced quest to replace the canonical gospels with alternative versions like the Gospel of Thomas.
While Jenkins explores many motives and causes behind our culture’s fascination with lost gospels, he homes in on one. The Western world, particularly America, perpetually distrusts authority, especially religious authority. Jenkins writes, “Quintessentially American is the distrust of external authorities such as the clergy, and the sense that through their affected learning, the priests have hidden the truth from the people.”
The Western world is inherently drawn to conspiracy theories. We love the idea that for generations we thought the truth was one thing, only to discover it’s something different. And usually such a “discovery” is achieved through the earnest and tiresome work of intrepid reporters or investigators working against the machine. After all, if “the truth is out there,” then you just need a Mulder and Scully to uncover it.
There’s a reason such conspiracy theories are so attractive. If someone can believe that the church (or Christianity) has been wrong for thousands of years, then exposing that wrongness suddenly becomes a work of justice and liberation. It allows scholars (or reporters or even laypeople) to feel they have a worthy cause to fight for. They’re now on a righteous quest to free people from religious oppression.
So, argues Jenkins, these lost gospels are perfectly suited to meet this cultural need. They provide an opportunity for people to believe what they always wanted to believe anyway.
Quest for Equality
But there’s more going on here than just a proclivity toward conspiracy theories. The interest in these lost gospels is also driven by another quintessentially American value: a desire to give every view an equal standing.
Lost gospels are attractive to our culture because they’re a reminder of the diverse viewpoints that exist about Jesus. They demonstrate that not all understood Jesus in the same way. They reveal that the landscape of religious viewpoints is vast and wide. And, of course, this is true. There are many religious positions out there. Opinions about the identity and person of Jesus abound.
But the issue isn’t the existence of diversity. Rather, it’s the implications our world draws from that diversity. Our culture moves subtly from merely observing diversity to insisting it must mean no one view can possibly be right.
Our culture moves subtly from merely observing diversity to insisting it must mean no one view can possibly be right.
So, lost gospels are attractive precisely because they allow a person to say, “See, I told you there are other legitimate perspectives out there about the person of Jesus.”
The work of the German scholar Walter Bauer has been particularly influential in raising questions about the theological character of early Christianity. His 1934 book, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, argues that in the earliest centuries, there was no such thing as “Christianity.” Rather, there were many different “Christianities,” each claiming to be the original, authentic version. And, argues Bauer, each of these versions of Christianity had its own books, its own gospels about what Jesus said and did.
Why does Bauer’s theory matter? Because it effectively means all gospels are (or must be) the same. We only value Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John because those were the gospels valued by the version of Christianity that eventually prevailed. If another Christian group had prevailed, maybe we’d be reading the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Peter, and the Gospel of Mary.
In sum, it seems some people are drawn to alternative gospels because (at least in their minds) these provide the opportunity to pick the version of Jesus they prefer. If all versions of Jesus are equally valid, I can just choose the one I like.
Better Way
There’s nothing wrong with being intrigued by lost gospels. I’m intrigued by them! A large portion of my academic career has been devoted to studying them.
But we always have to make sure we aren’t studying any gospel—including the canonical gospels—merely to satisfy or justify our preexisting preferences about the way we want Jesus to be. We don’t simply get to create the Jesus we like or the Jesus we prefer.
Instead, we need to discover Jesus as he actually was. The only way to do that is to engage in a historical investigation into whatever gospel is in front of us, asking whether there are reasons to think it accurately captures the Jesus of history.
This new volume—essentially an abridged version of his earlier and larger work The Gospel and the Gospels: Christian Proclamation and Early Jesus Books—argues that the best way to distinguish early gospels from one another isn’t by analyzing their authorship, date, or popularity but their theological message.
Gathercole says that the theological standard to which any gospel should be compared is the gospel message of the apostles. But where do we turn to discover this message? He argues it can be found in the “creedal” statement laid out by Paul in 1 Corinthians 15:1–11 and the major theological loci it contains. In that statement, argues Gathercole, Paul essentially summarizes the apostolic message in four key elements: (1) Jesus as the “Christ” (or Messiah), (2) Jesus’s saving death, (3) Jesus’s resurrection, and (4) Jesus’s fulfillment of Scripture.
The best way to distinguish early gospels from one another isn’t by analyzing their authorship, date, or popularity but their theological message.
With this theological standard in hand, Gathercole spends the bulk of the volume simply comparing various gospels to that standard. Of course, he compares Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John to this creedal formula to see how they measure up. And then he compares a selection of apocryphal gospels to this creedal formula: the Gospel of Peter, the Gospel of Thomas, Marcion’s Gospel, the Gospel of Truth, the Gospel of Philip, the Coptic Gospel of the Egyptians, the Gospel of Judas, and the Gospel of Mary.
Gathercole reaches two key conclusions. First, the canonical gospels form a very close match with the early apostolic message, whereas the apocryphal gospels typically don’t. Apocryphal gospels might share some of the four theological points, but none contains all of them. Second, the reason the canonical gospels match the early apostolic message isn’t coincidence or happenstance but because the canonical gospels are historically connected to the early apostles. Gathercole then offers a brief historical account of how the four gospels are connected to apostolic sources (e.g., Mark is dependent on Peter’s own teachings).
Insightful Perspective
All in all, Gathercole provides an insightful perspective on how to differentiate gospels from one another. He succeeds wonderfully in debunking the all-gospels-are-the-same paradigm that’s so dominant in our culture, and even in the academy.
Of course, theological comparison isn’t an absolute criterion for distinguishing canonical from apocryphal gospels (and Gathercole never claims it is). While the existing apocryphal gospels don’t fully match up to these four theological loci, it’s certainly possible an apocryphal gospel could, in principle, affirm all four theological truths in an orthodox manner. We currently have fragments of apocryphal gospels that are more or less orthodox, though their fragmentary nature prevents a full analysis.
Here’s the key point: While unorthodox views are enough to disqualify a gospel from canonical status, orthodox views aren’t sufficient to qualify them. Canonical gospels are certainly orthodox, but they’re more than orthodox.
If our goal, however, isn’t so much to establish canonical versus noncanonical boundaries but rather to establish which gospels most accurately reflect the earliest apostolic message to which we have access, then Gathercole’s volume has demonstrated the canonical gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—are undoubtedly most consistent with the earliest Christian teachings about Jesus. The comparison isn’t even close.
For this reason, my hope is that The Genuine Jesus and the Counterfeit Christs will be widely read. This slimmed-down volume is clearly intended for more than scholars but also for pastors, ministry leaders, and just about any person interested in knowing more about the origins of our gospels.
Readers will realize our gospels aren’t in the canon merely because of political pressure or an ecclesiastical power grab. They aren’t there arbitrarily or randomly. They’re there because they embody, most faithfully, the “faith that was once for all delivered to the saints” (Jude 1:3).
Log in, click, click, click . . . indulge, delete history, pretend it didn’t happen, burn with shame, promise never again, punish yourself, feel tempted again, despair . . . log in, click, click, click, indulge, delete history . . .
The fight against a pornography addiction can be exhausting and overwhelming. In East of Eden, John Steinbeck refers to lust as “that little hell” that we pretend doesn’t exist but that renders us “completely helpless” when we’re caught up in it.
How do you escape that little hell?
Here are three strategies we tend to think help (but don’t) and three we tend to neglect (but really work).
1. Self-Hatred Won’t Help; Grace Will
I became a Christian in high school and carried my porn habit with me like a bucket of slugs. I knew it was gross, but I couldn’t stop. While I hated porn, I hated the part of me that loved it even more. In flurries of self-loathing, I’d take dramatic action. It never lasted. Lava flows of self-hatred eventually cool into numb, cold stone.
Hating yourself in the aftermath of habitual sin feels so right because it feels so close to repentance. But it isn’t. Judas hated himself for his sin, but he didn’t repent. What’s the difference between self-hatred and repentance? Real repentance begins with what the sinful woman in Luke 7 does as she weeps over Jesus’s feet. She’s aware of her sin, so she weeps. But she’s also aware of her Savior, so she brings her tears to him.
Jesus invites any and all—addicts and cowards and creeps—to himself with this promise: If you bring your sins to me, you’ll find free and total forgiveness here. Those who are forgiven much, Jesus tells us, love much (v. 47). The woman’s sins “are many” (v. 47). And so are mine. So are yours. Yet Jesus’s words to the woman are the same he pronounces over anyone who comes with a broken, contrite heart: “Your sins are forgiven” (v. 48).
Self-hatred creates a barrier between you and Jesus because it prevents you from bringing your sins to him. It’s a form of self-salvation, self-atonement. But your only hope of victory over this sin is through the help Jesus offers. Sins you refuse to bring to Jesus for forgiveness are sins that continue to control you.
2. Silver Bullets Won’t Help; Endurance Will
I’ve been helped by an analogy I once read in an article: We often hear that repentance literally means to “turn around.” This makes repentance sound simple, like walking down the street. Just stop and turn around.
But what if, in the analogy, you aren’t walking but riding a bike? Turning around takes a little more time. What if you’re driving a car? That’s even more complicated. What if you’re piloting a supertanker? It may be miles before the ship can even slow to a stop, let alone begin the process of turning around.
Self-hatred creates a barrier between you and Jesus because it prevents you from bringing your sins to him.
Some stubborn sins may linger for years before victory is found. If you’ve been submerged in porn, its gravitational pull likely won’t stop overnight. Maybe it will. I’ve heard stories of men who have had exceptional turnarounds in the transformation of their desires. But for most, the fight against lust will be a lifelong battle of turning the ship around, of detoxing your brain and unlearning the habits you’ve formed.
If you’re hoping to find a silver-bullet fix that will delete your porn addiction as simply as you can delete your browsing history, you’ll be disappointed. I’m a firm believer in Jesus’s dictum about cutting off hands and plucking out eyes (Matt. 5:29–30). If you can’t access the internet without accessing pornography, then you shouldn’t have access to the internet. Buy a dumb phone. Sell your laptop and put a desktop in your family room. Put accountability software on your devices. Read John Owen’s Mortification of Sin. Do whatever it takes to cut opportunities for sin out of your life.
But, in God’s mysterious providence, he has determined not to make repentance as simple as an eye blink. All of life, Martin Luther famously wrote, is to be a perpetual act of repentance. Don’t despair when the silver bullet doesn’t drop the monster of lust. You’ll need many bullets. You’ll need endurance. Which is why we must remember the grace offered to us in Christ.
In a letter to a struggling friend, C. S. Lewis wrote,
I know all about the despair of overcoming chronic temptations. It is not serious provided self-offended petulance, annoyance at breaking records, impatience etc doesn’t get the upper hand. No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes are airing in the cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one’s temper and give up. It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present to us: it is the [very] sign of His presence.
3. Isolation Won’t Help; Church Will
I’ve been a Christian longer than I haven’t. I’ve been a pastor, a youth pastor, a small group leader, and an accountability partner to more men than I can count—and every single man I’ve spoken with about this has a history of porn use. I’ve never met a man who hasn’t viewed pornography at some point in his life. For some, it was a solitary island in a sea of purity. For others, the islands are their purity; the sea is porn.
Don’t despair when the silver bullet doesn’t drop the monster of lust. You’ll need many bullets. You’ll need endurance.
Despite porn’s ubiquity, many in its grip pull away from confessing their sins to others. They may even keep the community of the church at arm’s length for fear of their hidden vice, “that little hell,” being found out.
When I found a small group of other young men who were willing to be honest, it felt like great blasts of light broke through a dark canopy: I’m not the only one? We met weekly for accountability, and it proved enormously life-giving. Accountability groups can be better or worse, but at a bare minimum, we’re conscience-bound to obey Scripture’s commands: We must confess our sins to one another (James 5:16; 1 John 1:7–10), and we must exhort one another (Heb. 3:12–14). The group environment can become harsh or permissive, or it can be filled with Christ’s warmth and holiness (Gal. 6:1).
In Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s classic Life Together, he explains how the Jesus in a Christian brother’s words is stronger than the Jesus that exists solely in my own mind. When I’m trapped in the gloom of guilt and I rehearse the gospel to myself, it’s sometimes hard for those words to get traction in my heart. But when I hear a brother summon me to repent and believe, the externality of those words more potently captures the objectivity of Christ’s finished work. Regardless of how I feel, Jesus’s death and resurrection for my sins stands as an external, concrete fact of history. My brother’s concrete declaration mirrors this reality.
If you’re in pornography’s grip right now, you can escape the little hell of lust, but the path won’t seem obvious. Don’t hide but walk in the light and confess your sins. Don’t hope in a silver bullet but be prepared to walk the long path of repentance. And, above all, don’t collapse into self-loathing but bring your sins to your wonderful, merciful Savior and receive his words of absolution: “Your sins are forgiven.”
In this talk from TGC25, Jeremy Pierre looks at Scripture’s vision for mental well-being and offers suggestions for how to talk about mental health wisely and avoid common errors. Rather than accept or reject specific terms, he looks at the purpose of language and argues we should use language that aligns with our purpose: to know God.
Pierre provides practical guidance for pastors and counselors to help Christians use biblical categories to understand and address their struggles.
“That’s it,” he said. “I’m done with porn.” We’d sat in the same two chairs in my church office and had this same conversation many times—so many times that I had my doubts.
Why does repentance often fall flat? One moment, a man can’t see why he’d ever commit a particular sin again. A few moments later, he’s committing it. A string of defeats soon leaves him hopelessly asking, “Why can’t I just stop?”
In my years of counseling and helping young men turn from using pornography, I’ve found that one problem is a weak view of repentance. We think it’s simple: Just stop sinning. But when the Lord works repentance in his people, he turns our whole hearts. Repentance doesn’t just bring new actions but pointed feelings, changed desires, and a fresh outlook. What does it mean to heed God’s call to “return to [him] with all your heart” (Joel 2:12)?
Open Eyes to See Sin
When God’s call to turn first reaches us, it finds us in rough shape: “He has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart, lest they see with their eyes, and understand with their heart, and turn” (John 12:40). We don’t naturally turn from sin, because we don’t see sin to turn from. But the Lord sends his Word “to open [our] eyes, so that [we] may turn” (Acts 26:18). Like the Prodigal Son, we come to ourselves (Luke 15:17). Then, we can say with open eyes, “I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me” (Ps. 51:3). Repentance turns us from blindness to seeing sin clearly.
When I’m helping a young man put porn use behind him, I first want to know how clearly he sees his sin. Is it a big deal to him, or is he compartmentalizing, walking through his day without feeling the weight of what he’s doing at night? Can he admit his wrong with honest words like “I used a video of a complete stranger for selfish pleasure”? Whatever the sin, the first question to ask is “Do you see it clearly?”
Enjoyment Turned to Sorrow
Scripture says we don’t merely commit sins, we “glory in [our] shame” (Phil. 3:19), boasting like a king while our sin reduces us to beasts (Ps. 73:22). But like the tax collector and Ezra, both of whom wouldn’t lift their eyes to heaven, a repentant man senses the shame of what he’s done (Ezra 9:6; Luke 18:13). This is the path home, for a “broken and contrite heart” the Lord “will not despise” (Ps. 51:17; see 38:18). Repentance trades boasting and enjoyment of sin for shame and sorrow over it.
Like the tax collector and Ezra, both of whom wouldn’t lift their eyes to heaven, a repentant man senses the shame of what he’s done.
Men turning from pornography use typically have no trouble sensing the shame of it. But because the sin promises fleeting delusions of glory and power, feeling ashamed can make the sin all the more tempting. To repent, you must instead bring your shame to the Lord. Go to the heavenly temple, beat your chest, and weep in his arms. Let the Lord lift your head and justify you.
Ignited Zeal
When the Lord corrects his people, he calls us to “be zealous and repent” (Rev. 3:19). The admonished Corinthians do just that, moving Paul to exclaim, “What zeal!” (2 Cor. 7:11). Repentance leaves behind defeated lethargy and burns for holiness.
Like finishing a long run by tripping on the sidewalk, falling into sin after a long battle can knock the breath out of you. To strive for holiness, you’ll have to “lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees” (Heb. 12:12–14). With God’s help, you can crucify sin. But you must ignite the flame of zeal and keep it burning through the dark night of temptation.
Trust in God’s Mercy
When we feel the weight of our sin, our doubts can make us despair: How could I possibly earn God’s favor now? But the prophets call us to return to the Lord because he will “have compassion” on us and “abundantly pardon” (Isa. 55:7). A repentant heart, despite feeling sin’s weight, trusts that God is as merciful as he says he is. Like David, it asks for forgiveness not according to how hard we’re trying but “according to [God’s] steadfast love” (Ps. 51:1).
After seeing the sin’s ugliness and feeling its shame, do you still trust God to forgive you? Your answer reveals whether you’ll run to the Lord, hesitate, or run from him.
Lowered Defenses
Hiding silently pretends nothing is wrong, and defensiveness loudly insists you’re right. But confession admits you’re wrong and God is right. It looks at the Scriptures that condemn our sin and says the Lord is “justified in [his] words and blameless in [his] judgment” (Ps. 51:4).
Is the Lord right to say that lustful looking is heart-adultery (Matt. 5:28)? Is your friend right to ask about your internet history? Your reaction when confronted will tell you whether your heart seeks holiness or is defending itself.
Repayment Feels Small
Zacchaeus’s pledge when he repents is striking. Not only does he promise to give back four times what he’s taken, but he also gives away half the riches he’s earned fairly (Luke 19:8–9; see Eph. 4:28). Repayment and generosity felt like a small matter because his heart has turned from greed. This is one way wholehearted repentance manifests itself. Selfishness turns to generosity.
For a man turning from porn, this means changing how you see women. Sin trains you to take, but the Lord calls you to protect, serve, and give. The first thing your eyes should notice is what she may need from you (a door opened, help moving, your jacket). Married men need to consider the heavy cost their sin has placed on their wives. Has your deception eroded trust in your relationship? Have unrealistic standards left her feeling objectified? Has betrayal left her unsure of her own beauty? A repentant husband will work to make her rich in what she’s lost.
Sin trains you to take, but the Lord calls you to protect, serve, and give.
It’s only when our whole hearts turn from sin that we “bear fruits” (Luke 3:8) in our conduct, “performing deeds in keeping with [our] repentance” (Acts 26:20). Young man, if the outward fruit isn’t there, look inward. Do you see the sin clearly, with all its ugliness? Have you shed tears of sorrow and shame in the Lord’s arms? Is there zeal, faith, confession, and generosity? To see consistent fruit, you must repent with a whole heart.
When we disciple others, we want to help them know God deeply and live faithfully according to his Word. That often means helping women navigate various types of struggles. As a biblical counselor, I know that depression, anxiety, anger, and addiction come up in many discipling relationships, and they rightfully grab our concern and care. But there’s another important discipleship topic that we tend to overlook: body image. Here’s why we need to be prepared to discuss it.
Deep Pain Can Lead to Desperate Responses
Body image struggles are deeply personal and painful. Talking about our bodies can take us to some of the most private and shame-filled places in our hearts. The woman you’re discipling might tell you how her parents teased her about her looks or eating habits. She may share the cruel jokes she heard from peers in her childhood. She might recount thoughtless comments by coaches, teachers, or even her husband that still rumble around in her mind.
She may not know how to confront these loud voices with biblical truth. Unaddressed, those messages can become embedded aspects of her worldview that produce shame and guilt when her appearance isn’t a certain way. Self-loathing can be so consuming that it leads to desperate responses like self-harm, eating disorders, or suicide.
Cultural Pressure Is Inevitable
All women face pressures to be attractive. Physical beauty (however it’s defined) is trumpeted as the key to a happy, successful life. But this is a lie. If we don’t confront this deception with biblical truth, the women we disciple will be consumed with meeting our culture’s beauty standards, or they’ll be devastated and ashamed when they don’t.
Body image struggles are deeply personal and painful.
We need to remind women that they’re created in God’s image (Gen. 1:27) and that fullness of joy is found in his presence (Ps. 16:11). We should tell them that nothing can separate us from God’s love (Rom. 8:35)—not extra weight, not a disability, not aging. We can discuss how it’s worth counting everything as loss to know Christ (Phil. 3:8). We can point them to the truth that while people look at the outward appearance, God looks at the heart (1 Sam. 16:7).
The pressures we face about our appearance are inevitable. We will respond—either with biblical truth that combats the lies and leads to peace, joy, and contentment, or with increasingly drastic attempts to conform to cultural expectations.
Our Bodies Belong to God
We should talk about body image in discipleship conversations because our bodies are an important aspect of our worship of God.
Paul urges us, “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Rom. 12:1). Worship is the heart-activity of ascribing ultimate worth to something. When we worship God, we’re saying we love, treasure, and value him above all else. How we think about and use our bodies communicates what we think has worth.
When want to change our bodies, it’s because we think it’ll get us something we value. We may want to lose weight so we’re noticed and praised. We may want to have strong, defined muscles so we’re seen as powerful. We want something that we believe a “better” body can get us. It’s not always wrong to seek changes in our bodies, but we need to consider our motivation. The reason we want to change our bodies tells us something about who or what we worship.
God says, “You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” (1 Cor. 6:19–20). We need a right understanding of our bodies to live a life of worship that glorifies God.
Body Image Points to God’s Beauty
Discussing body image in discipleship relationships is an opportunity to consider our God, the Creator of all beauty. In him, we see ultimate beauty and glory. He says lasting beauty is being like his Son, Jesus Christ.
As David Gibson explains, “In the Lord Jesus, God has given us someone who is absolute beauty, truth, and goodness all the way through.” Christ has “no dark side, no secret vices, no selfishness that comes out now and then. He only speaks truth; he only loves what is right; he never serves himself.”
In Psalm 27:4, David articulates the perspective we all need: “One thing I have asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple.” We were never meant to be fulfilled by gazing on ourselves. God created us to love him and to be transformed by beholding him (2 Cor. 3:18).
Talking about body image is a chance to discuss God’s beauty, how our longing for transcendence finds its fulfillment in him, and how our appearance—whatever we look like—serves God’s ultimate purposes and glory.
We were never meant to be fulfilled by gazing on ourselves.
If you, as a discipler, have struggled with body image and are willing to share how God has helped you, your openness can pave the way for fruitful conversations with the women you disciple. But even if you haven’t experienced this struggle, you have valuable wisdom to share. I love talking with women who don’t wrestle with body image. Their perspective and biblical clarity are refreshing. So don’t hesitate to jump into this conversation.
Regardless of your experience, talking about body image is worthwhile in discipleship relationships because it can lead us to discussions about how to treasure God and better imitate him.
If not for the revelation we have received from heaven, no one would be debating science and faith.
God says things in the Old and New Testaments that are hard, if not impossible, to reconcile with what scientists think about the world we live in. Many Christians past and present have claimed that God made the heavens and the earth only a few thousand years ago. Christians have said that because of Adam’s first sin, each of us comes into this world morally bent out of shape, that human wickedness was once so bad, God wiped out the entire human race (and many animals), except for Noah, his family, and the animals on the ark.
The Bible claims that God sent prophets, priests, and kings—men like Moses, Aaron, and Hezekiah—who encountered one miracle after another as God set the stage for the coming Messiah. We confess that the Son of God became incarnate, lived a righteous life, died unjustly, and then rose again for our salvation. But most of these beliefs contradict prevailing scientific accounts of history and the natural world.
As a result, many Christians perceive science as a threat to biblical faith. They are mistaken. Scientism is the real threat, not science.
God and Scientism
Francis Crick, who won the Nobel Prize in 1962 for his role in discovering the double helix structure of DNA, said this about human beings: “Your joys and your sorrows, your memories and your ambitions, your sense of personal identity and free will, are in fact no more than the behavior of a vast assembly of nerve cells and their associated molecules.” This insight became his “astonishing hypothesis.” Consider what this means. If Crick is right, we can only understand ourselves through biology and chemistry.
Crick’s position is called scientism. It is the view that only the hard sciences have access to true reality, that disciplines like physics, chemistry, and biology give us the only reliable knowledge of ourselves and the world.
Scientism is the view that only the hard sciences give us reliable knowledge of ourselves and the world.
Advocates of scientism say that the claims of philosophy and theology are less trustworthy because they are not empirical or testable like the natural sciences. At its most extreme, scientism teaches that, in principle, nonscientific claims cannot be true. The problem with scientism is that many things we know to be true cannot be proved scientifically. Take any historical event, like the Holocaust. It is not scientifically testable, but we believe the abundant evidence that has been preserved. We also cannot prove love scientifically, or that sunsets and symphonies are beautiful, but we credit those claims as true. The same holds for spiritual realities: The triune God. Angels. Demons. Cherubim and seraphim. Human souls. Heaven and hell. Miracles.
According to scientism, believing in such things is blind faith, not objective truth. Supernatural realities are invisible to empirical science, so for the advocate of scientism, they do not exist. Anyone who holds to scientism will see conflicts everywhere between Christianity and the natural sciences. But this is a false alarm. The conflict is between biblical faith and scientism, not science per se.
One need not be Christian, or even religious, to recognize that scientism is not the same as science. Atheists like Michael Ruse and Massimo Pigliucci, for example, have leveled some of the most incisive critiques of scientism. Scientism is reductionistic, because it ignores parts of reality that are inaccessible to scientific analysis. It is also self-referentially incoherent; scientism does not make sense on its own logic. Its central idea that only the hard sciences give us objective truth is not even provable scientifically, so scientism collapses by its own definition. Scientism as a belief system is antithetical to reality as understood by the world religions, including Christianity. A religious person accepts that we cannot properly understand reality apart from nonscientific ways of knowing.
Christians, in fact, believe that God’s words are more reliable than human modes of knowing. Scientism also ignores the limitations of scientific research, painting a fairy-tale picture of science that is far removed from reality. Here science is the unassailable truth—“Just the facts, ma’am.” My point is not to disparage natural science, nor to rally behind the anti-science movement. I recognize the limits of science, but this does not make me anti-science. I am only emphasizing the limitations of scientific disciplines.
Science and Anti-Realism
Since every generation of scientists is prone to making mistakes, the history of science exposes the failure of scientism. But if not scientism, what are we left with? Some Christians concerned about conflicts between science and the Bible take an anti-realist approach to science. Anti-realists recognize that any given set of physical data is consistent with multiple scientific theories (that is, scientific theories are often underdetermined by the data). So, in this view, rather than offering objective truth about the world, science gives us useful tools for predicting and manipulating natural phenomena. In other words, we never discover the world as it really is, but only as it appears to us.
Christians who feel threatened by evolution, or some other scientific claim, will sometimes take an anti-realist view of the offending theory: “The earth isn’t old. It only looks old.” In this way, the data no longer threatens faith; crisis averted. But most scientists are not anti-realists about their work. Most scientists are realists. They see the aim of science as discovering the truth about the world.
When Isaac Newton formulated the law of universal gravitation in the seventeenth century, he didn’t think he was merely “predicting” or “manipulating” nature. No, he believed he had discovered a truth about the universe. Same with Louis Pasteur (1822–1895) and Robert Koch (1843–1910). According to their germ theory of disease, many illnesses are caused by microorganisms, like bacteria and viruses. Because Pasteur and Koch were scientific realists, they saw germ theory as the sober truth about diseases.
Nevertheless, anti-realists have done us a great service. Their philosophical and historical insights remind us that scientists are fallible. We make mistakes. Our theories fall short. In fact, what the majority of scientists believe in any given period may be false, or only partially true.
After all, scientists are finite and fallen like the rest of us. Having said that, I believe Christians should be realists about science. We should see one of the central aims of science as discovering the truth about the world. Creation is meaningful because it is the work of the Creator. As John 1:1–3 states: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.” Whether they know it or not, scientists are studying the work of Jesus Christ, the eternal Son.
Whether they know it or not, scientists are studying the work of Jesus Christ, the eternal Son.
So Christians have good reasons to believe we can formulate scientific theories that correspond to the real world. We accept some form of realism because the world is a created order (objective), humans have been created to work in it (empirical, rational, social capacities), and God in his good providence has ordained the two to go together. We also have good reasons to own up to our human finitude and indwelling sin, the fall’s effects on our minds and bodies; this truth encourages us not to claim too much for our theories. As Christians, then, our default mode should be to embrace the scientific consensus as an expression of the gifts and limits of creatures made in God’s image. This kind of good science is not done in isolation, like it was two centuries ago. Rather, it is collaborative, peer-reviewed, and widely tested before it is accepted.
Science and the Bible
One caveat though: Christians believe Scripture is inerrant. We hold that God’s word is free from any error, not just theologically but historically and scientifically. While we should never treat the Bible as a scientific textbook, we affirm that God has acted in space-time history and that he has said many things in the Old and New Testaments that touch on areas of science. Thus, when we have rightly interpreted what Scripture intends to teach, biblical doctrine can help our scientific investigations.
Christians should be skeptical of any elements of the scientific consensus that ignore Scripture’s witness.
Ignoring biblical teaching when it is directly relevant to scientific research not only dishonors God but also undercuts the realism of our theories. Christians should be skeptical of any elements of the scientific consensus that ignore Scripture’s witness.
However, there is an opposite danger to avoid: If we have misunderstood Scripture while claiming it is teaching a truth relevant to scientific investigation when, in fact, it teaches nothing of the sort, our faulty conviction will also undercut the realism of our theories. In short, if scientists want to glorify God in their work, they will need God’s help. But whatever the pitfalls, doing good science will always be deeply rewarding, a wonderful privilege worth more than its weight in gold.
For the past 30 years, I’ve pushed back against the critics who’ve said Christians need to abandon the label “evangelical.” I’ve argued that we shouldn’t let political associations or cultural baggage rob us of a word with such rich theological heritage. The term has deep biblical and historical roots that predate and transcend contemporary controversies.
But even I have to admit the label I love has become nearly meaningless in our current American context. What once signified adherence to core biblical truths—the authority of Scripture, the necessity of personal conversion, the centrality of Christ’s atoning work—now functions more as a political identifier than a theological one. As historian Thomas Kidd once said, “In American pop culture parlance, ‘evangelical’ now basically means whites who consider themselves religious and who vote Republican.”
What once signified adherence to core biblical truths now functions more as a political identifier than a theological one.
Perhaps it’s time we concede it is indeed a political label since, as the 2025 State of Theology survey reveals, it doesn’t seem to signify much that’s distinctively orthodox Christian. As the survey shows, self-proclaimed evangelicals in the United States hold beliefs that would have rightly been considered heretical by previous generations of Bible-believing Christians.
Doctrinal Disaster
The State of Theology survey, a project produced by Ligonier Ministries and Lifeway Research, finds unorthodox views are common among evangelicals. Consider these doctrinal disasters.
On Human Nature
Nearly two-thirds (64 percent) of evangelicals believe “Everyone is born innocent in the eyes of God,” while 53 percent affirm that “Everyone sins a little, but most people are good by nature.” This isn’t merely getting a theological nuance wrong; this is a fundamental rejection of the doctrine of original sin that undergirds the entire gospel message. If humans are basically good and born innocent, why did Christ need to die? Rather than being the center of God’s redemptive plan, the cross would be an unnecessary stumbling block (1 Cor. 1:23).
On the Trinity
Despite 98 percent of evangelicals affirming belief in the Trinity, a majority have no understanding that the Trinity is composed of three persons. More than half (53 percent) believe “The Holy Spirit is a force but is not a personal being.” How can any Christians claim to believe in “one God in three persons” while denying the personhood of one of those persons? This would suggest many evangelicals are simply parroting creeds they don’t understand.
On God’s Love
Perhaps most telling, 94 percent of evangelicals believe “God loves all people the same way”—a higher percentage than the general American population (83 percent). This moralistic therapeutic deism masquerading as Christian doctrine erases the biblical distinction between God’s general benevolence toward all creation and his special, saving love toward the elect (Eph. 2:4). It reduces the gospel to a warm sentiment rather than a plan for divine rescue.
On Exclusive Worship
Nearly half (47 percent) of evangelicals also believe “God accepts the worship of all religions, including Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.” (Perhaps this is why almost one in five Muslims in America self-identifies as “evangelical.”) This finding is particularly devastating given that all the survey respondents—100 percent—claim, “The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe.” How can Scripture be your highest authority when you reject Christ’s exclusive claims about true worship (John 14:6)? This is also the group that strongly agreed with the statement “Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God’s free gift of eternal salvation”—which makes the response even more confusing.
Church Attendance Crisis
The reason for this theological ignorance becomes clearer when you see how few evangelicals recognize the importance of the church. Only 61 percent of evangelicals believe “Every Christian has an obligation to join a local church.” This individualistic approach to faith adopted by one-third of the movement perfectly explains why evangelical theology has become so confused.
When believers disconnect from the ordinary means of grace—the Word preached, the sacraments administered, and congregational discipline exercised—they inevitably drift into error. When so-called evangelicals receive more spiritual formation from social media, talk radio, and cable news than from a local church, their drift into heretical beliefs becomes all but inevitable.
Admittedly, too many churches have made themselves unattractive by adopting the model of a social club or a political action committee. But the local church is still essential because it’s the institution Christ established to guard the gospel, shepherd his people, and equip the saints. When evangelicals view church membership as optional, they’re essentially saying that Christ’s design for the Christian life is dispensable.
Whatever its flaws, the local church is the way God chooses to carry out his plan. As Jared Wilson has said, “Your weird, messy church . . . is God’s Plan A for your world. And there is no Plan B.”
Path Forward for Church Leaders
The cure for theological confusion is theological clarity. Church leaders must return to the fundamentals of pastoral ministry: teaching, correcting, and discipling. Here’s how we can begin addressing this doctrinal crisis.
Recover Catechetical Instruction
The survey results show the need for basic theological education. Implement catechism classes for all ages. Use proven resources like the Westminster Shorter Catechism, the Heidelberg Catechism, and the Baptist Catechism. Or implement one of the modern approaches, such as the New City Catechism and the Gospel Way Catechism. These documents exist precisely to prevent the kind of theological confusion we’re witnessing.
Exercise Church Discipline
When church members publicly embrace beliefs that contradict Scripture—like universalism or Pelagianism—it requires a pastoral response. This doesn’t mean being harsh, unloving, or excessively punitive. But it does mean taking doctrine seriously enough to correct error and, if necessary, exclude those who persist in teaching false doctrine.
Emphasize Membership Requirements
Stop treating church membership as automatic on profession of faith. Institute membership classes that clearly articulate what the church believes and expects every member to profess. Make it clear that joining a local church isn’t signing up for a basket of consumer services but covenanting with other believers under the authority of Scripture.
Don’t Dumb It Down
We pastors often think we need to lower the bar on the theological content of our sermons so it doesn’t go over the heads of our congregation. While we shouldn’t use unnecessarily complex jargon, we need to train all our people on basic theological literacy.
Mortimer Adler’s approach to education offers a helpful model for how we can do this. The philosopher likened the differential capacities of children to containers of different sizes and said that equality of educational treatment succeeds when two results occur: “First, each container should be filled to the brim, the half-pint container as well as the gallon container. Second, each container should be filled to the brim with the same quality of substance—cream of the highest attainable quality for all, not skimmed milk for some and cream for others.”
Whatever its flaws, the local church is the way God chooses to carry out his plan.
Preaching and teaching in the church should take the same approach. Use theological vocabulary from the pulpit and explain it for every level. When you preach about sin, explain the doctrine of total depravity in a way that all can grasp. When you preach about salvation, explain substitutionary atonement clearly and coherently. Train your congregation to think theologically about everything. Whether their capacity for understanding is a half-pint or a gallon, fill them to capacity with the cream of God’s truth.
Connect Doctrine to Life
Show how orthodox theology leads to transformed living. The problem isn’t that doctrine is irrelevant to daily life. The problem is that we’ve failed to demonstrate its relevance.
Take, for example, the doctrine of total depravity. When parents truly understand that their children are born with sinful hearts rather than coming into the world as innocent blank slates, they’ll approach discipline as heart transformation rather than mere behavior modification. They’ll rely on the gospel to change their children from the inside out rather than using rules to merely manage external conduct. Right thinking about God’s holiness should produce holy living. And right understanding of human sinfulness should produce humility and dependence on grace.
Let’s Stop Managing Decline
Church leaders can either continue to lament theological compromise or take steps to return to the historic Christian faith that actually deserves the name “evangelical.” The choice will determine whether future generations inherit a robust, biblical faith or an empty shell of cultural Christianity that can tell you whom you should vote for but not how many persons are in the Trinity.
The gospel is too precious to be sacrificed on the altar of political expediency or therapeutic sentimentality. It’s time for pastors and church leaders to choose: Will we shepherd evangelicals toward biblical orthodoxy, or will we continue managing the decline of American Christianity?
We’ve already waited far too long, for this assessment isn’t new (read The Gospel Coalition’s analysis of past State of Theology surveys: 2016, 2020, 2022). Every year we delay, another generation grows up thinking that being “evangelical” means holding certain political positions rather than certain theological convictions. Every Sunday we fail to catechize our people, we cede more ground to the therapeutic deism that has already captured so many evangelical hearts and minds. We need to take action now if we want the gospel to survive in recognizable form among those who claim to champion it most ardently.
The State of Theology survey has—once again—given us the diagnosis. The question is whether we have the courage to finally apply the cure.
Addendum: In the survey, evangelicals were defined by Lifeway Research as people who strongly agreed with the following four statements:
The Bible is the highest authority for what I believe.
It is very important for me personally to encourage non-Christians to trust Jesus Christ as their Savior.
Jesus Christ’s death on the cross is the only sacrifice that could remove the penalty of my sin.
Only those who trust in Jesus Christ alone as their Savior receive God’s free gift of eternal salvation.
Mike Graham, program director for The Gospel Coalition’s Keller Center, decided to find out. He asked seven major AI platforms seven basic questions about the gospel. Since AI platforms largely rely on the same technology and draw from the same body of information, he figured the answers would be similar.
He was wrong.
Not only were the answers different, but only two platforms nudged a searcher toward Christianity. (You can access the entire AI Christian Benchmark report here.)
In this episode of Recorded, Sarah Eekhoff Zylstra asks Mike, Keith Plummer, and Gavin Ortlund what the experiment revealed, why it matters, and whether Christians should be encouraged.
Something drastic is shifting in the spiritual atmosphere of the Western world. Surprised whispers of a “quiet revival” are swirling in and around the church. Pastors and pollsters, pagans and podcasters are taking note.
My simple theory: Young men became poor. And now ours is the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 5:3). Allow me to explain.
Imagine Being a Gen Z Male
Imagine that you were a boy growing up, as I did, in the 2000s and 2010s.
Throughout most of your school years, the word “toxic” was the most popular descriptor for “masculinity.” It often felt like you should apologize for your inherently oppressive maleness.
When you were young, your male energy spent eight hours a day boxed into a very colorful, very feminine classroom, and then, when you got back from school, your biological father probably wasn’t there to greet you. There’s a one in four chance you never lived with your dad in the first place. You loved your mom and your female teachers, but it was nearly impossible to find any consistent male presence in your life.
Young men became poor. And now ours is the kingdom of heaven.
Multiple times in high school and college, you joined clubs where men were outnumbered three to one. These were ostensibly the most important leadership roles in the school—but you realized “important” basically meant event planning and making sure the school was a “safe space” with lots of good vibes and cute posters.
But school wasn’t the only arena where you were affected. By age 7, your developing male competitiveness had been relegated to “everyone’s a winner” sports or off-loaded into the virtual realm, where you murdered hundreds of virtual humans every night with glazed, sleepless eyes. This made you feel like you had control. Like you had power. But deep down, you knew you didn’t.
Before you hit puberty, a pack of online megacompanies monopolized, monetized, and commodified your sex drive. You likely had years of digital sexual shame by high school, secretly battling pornography addictions ever since. This battle is hard to win. After all, virtual relationships and digital simulations of “intimacy” are simpler.
Now, young adult women are 30 percentage points more liberal than you—the largest gap in American history. To say this makes relationships hard and loneliness easy is a gross understatement.
You and your twentysomething peers have fewer marriages, fewer friends, fewer kids, fewer siblings, and fewer mentors than any generation before you.
You are—by all the most important metrics—very, very poor.
Becoming Rich Again
Yet one of Scripture’s core themes is this: Only those who need God will find him (Isa. 57:15; Jer. 29:13; Luke 5:31–32).
Stripped of any vision for manhood, the men of this generation have become beggars. And now, in a surprising turn of events, God Almighty has made blind men see. Jesus whispers gently, then firmly, then—gripping our uncalloused palms, dragging us to our feet—he shouts, “Blessed are the poor in spirit! Yours is the kingdom of heaven!” And we’ve begun to believe him.
We’ve become disenchanted with the emerging father figures of the secular world. Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules lose their magic when you need 13. Andrew Tate’s macho ethics seem pubescent and power-lusty. Andrew Huberman’s self-growth says nothing about the heart. Porn, video games, chatbots, and YouTubers turn off and become nothing more than a blank screen reflecting our blank faces. None of these offers the deep meaning and sustainable growth we seek.
We need a far more powerful Man and Father and Brother and King—and we’re beginning to think we’ve found him. Or perhaps he’s found us.
Exemplar: Crucified Man
It’s not wrong for young men to come to church seeking meaning and empowerment as men. But what they need to hear from churches is not a Jesus advertised as a political activist, culture warrior, or self-improvement guru. This type of Christianity will recripple men, for “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6).
Instead, young men need to cry out with Paul, “I decide to know nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2). The manhood this generation needs is the paradoxical manhood—strength and humility—epitomized in Christ crucified.
On the one hand, today’s young men feel the need to escape the “quiet quitting,” silent-sitting, digital passivity of contemporary male experience. In inviting followers to take up their cross and follow him, Christ calls young men out of passivity to bold, daring, radical strength. On the other hand, young men know that more money, more 1950s “tradvalues,” and more self-empowerment will often only make them narcissistic. The crucified Christ calls young men out of selfish ambition to humble, meek, simple service.
Only in humility, in boldness, in crucifixion with the True Man will the men of my generation find their resurrected selves.
My Simple Advice
Considering all this, allow me, a young man, to finish with practical advice. If, as the data overwhelmingly suggests, the Lord has decided to awaken young men to our weakness—to our need for Jesus Christ—then perhaps the best method to get young men into church is for leaders to model humility in their own lives (James 4:10). Historically, revival takes the form of people in face-down prayer for hours on end, pleading for Christ’s blood to cover a generation like a Carolina hurricane.
The crucified Christ calls us out of selfish ambition to humble, meek, simple service.
God has already done the work of priming a generation for Christ. Now, the church’s task is to arrange the meeting. Our first strategy, as Jonathan Edwards so often coached, is to pray and preach and publicize the crucified Man, persisting until he comes.
Young men, now is the time to wake up and need God. Old men, now is the time to wake up and need God. Young women, old women—now is the time (Joel 2:12–17).
Father, awaken this generation. Awaken your whole church.
In his 1896 lecture “The Will to Believe,” American philosopher William James (1842–1910) described religious beliefs as either “live” or “dead” wires. A live hypothesis is a real possibility for someone.
For example, James said, if he were to ask you to believe in the Mahdi (someone claiming to be the messianic figure in Islam who is to appear at the end times to rid the world of evil and injustice), you’d probably not even know what was being asked. There’s no “electric connection with your nature.” No spark of credibility at all. It’s a dead wire for you. But if he were to ask an Arab (even if not one of the Mahdi’s followers), the possibility would be alive. “Deadness and liveness in a hypothesis are not intrinsic properties,” James said, “but relations to the individual thinker.”
The possibility of a religious belief is either a live or dead wire. “A living option is one in which both hypotheses are live ones.” For many in James’s time, the choice between being a Muslim or a theosophist was basically a “dead option,” but the choice between being “an agnostic or a Christian” was alive. (And many of his contemporaries opted for agnosticism over traditional Christianity.)
For centuries in the West, much of human life was understood within the conceptual framework of a society influenced by Christianity. Belief in an unseen realm, or the assumption of heaven or hell after death, or the reality of human sin and the need for divine salvation—these were so widespread as marks of “common-sense thinking” that the evangelistic task was relatively straightforward: Show that Jesus is the One who overcomes the powers of evil and brings deliverance from sin. Show that Jesus is the only Way to eternal life because he took on himself the punishment for our sin. Show that we’re sinners in need of a Savior, and Jesus is the Son of God who meets us in our need and accomplishes our redemption.
With the fading of a Christian framework in society, these cultural touchpoints (God’s existence, the unseen realm, the definition of sin, our understanding of salvation) can no longer be assumed. An evangelist’s work becomes more complex. We often have to start further back—whether we’re talking about God’s existence, or distinguishing between cultural conceptions of sin and what the Bible says about human depravity, or making a case for the goodness and beauty of the church.
If traditional apologetics is about making arguments to defend Christian truth, cultural apologetics is about making arguments that showcase Christianity’s beauty and goodness, using cultural touchpoints as an opportunity for gospel witness. It’s a precursor to evangelism. It sets the stage so the gospel’s beauty can be accentuated.
In what follows, I offer two reasons (and one caveat) why cultural apologetics should no longer be a neglected tool but a necessary way of engaging people in a secularizing world.
1. We Want to Respond Wisely to New Social and Cultural Narratives
Returning to James’s analogy of dead and live wires, we may wonder, Is Christianity––traditional Christianity and its creeds and confessions and congregations and cathedrals—a plausible option for radically secular, never-churched people? Is it a live wire, a possibility for most people? Or is it increasingly a dead wire?
Cultural apologetics is about making arguments that showcase Christianity’s beauty and goodness, using cultural touchpoints as an opportunity for gospel witness.
Asking this question gets to the root of anxiety among Christians today. The reason many Christians worry about Christendom’s decline and the loss of traditional moral values is that it seems to make evangelism and discipleship more challenging. Likewise, the loss of cultural Christianity is met by the rise of new social and cultural narratives—different visions of the good life and how we find fulfillment.
One of the dominant visions of life today can be summed up by the term “expressive individualism,” an outlook described in Habits of the Heart by Robert Bellah and several other American sociologists. Bellah defines it this way: “Expressive individualism holds that each person has a unique core and feeling of intuition that should unfold or be expressed if individuality is to be realized.” In other words, every person is unique, and the way we come into our own as human beings, the way we fully realize our humanity, is when that feeling of what we are inside, that spark of uniqueness, can unfold publicly.
There’s another way of describing expressive individualism, which comes from the philosopher Charles Taylor’s work in The Malaise of Modernity and A Secular Age. He says we live in the “age of authenticity.” Many of us Christians react positively to the word “authenticity” because we tend to pit it against “hypocrisy” (and Jesus was right to chastise hypocrites!), but this isn’t the way Taylor uses the word. The opposite of authenticity in Taylor’s telling isn’t hypocrisy but conformity. To be authentic means you refuse to conform your life to any vision that comes from outside yourself.
In the age of authenticity, the dominant questions are these: How can I find my true self and express my inner essence to the world? How can I make sure the presumptions of my family, my society, my religion––all these cultural expressions— don’t get in the way of me being me?
These definitions help us understand what is meant by “expressive individualism,” but most of the people we talk to every day have never heard these academic terms. They’re more likely to capture the ethos in slogans like “You be you,” “Be true to yourself,” “Follow your heart,” or “Be yourself.” These sayings, in one way or another, capture the essence of expressive individualism. Countless self-help books reinforce this idea.
Cultural apologetics is one way of adapting our mentality toward expressive individualism and other cultural narratives, helping us make a holistic case for Christianity. Our response to these cultural narratives will not be to merely point out the flaws and failures in what our neighbors believe but also to show them why these outlooks on life are ultimately unsatisfying and why only Jesus brings salvation, both for this life and the next.
2. Caring for Your Neighbor Implies Curiosity About the Neighborhood
Another reason why the discipline of cultural apologetics matters today? Because culture matters. There is no such thing as a noncontextualized gospel presentation. When we proclaim the gospel, we’re always presenting a divine and powerful message in cultural terms. As we see in 1 Corinthians 1, the message will be a stumbling block to some (Paul preaching the message to Jews) and will sound like foolishness to others (Paul preaching the message to Greeks).
Depending on the cultural context, some aspects of Christian teaching resonate with people and others sound foolish. Not long ago, I had a conversation with a church planter in Germany whose ministry is directed to both highly secular people and immigrants from the Middle East. Sometimes, during just one day of conversations, he’ll witness the same aspect of Christianity acting as a stumbling block for different reasons. The Christian view that any sex outside of marriage is sin is an obstacle for a secular German, yet for the immigrant Muslim, Christian compassion for all kinds of sexual sinners is the obstacle.
In the first conversation, the pastor must explain why Christian teaching on sexuality is good and not hateful toward those who identify as LGBT+. In the second conversation, the pastor must turn around and explain why Christian teaching on human sin and God’s love is good and why God’s mercy toward us rules out any sense of superiority or hatred toward other sexual sinners.
Cultural apologetics is one way of adapting our mentality toward expressive individualism, helping us make a holistic case for Christianity.
As more and more cultures collide in the West, we will not be able to fall back on the same apologetic method for Christianity as if all or most people are the same. One way we learn to love our neighbors effectively is to seek to understand them—what they hope for themselves and loved ones, what they think about the world, and what they want the world to be. To care about your neighbor means you’ll give some attention to the neighborhood—the norms, the values, the presuppositions, the culture of the world we live in.
Important Caveat
As we engage in this method, I should mention one important caveat: We mustn’t be so faithless as to think the gospel needs cultural Christianity or cultural apologetics to remain the power of God unto salvation. The church before Christendom wasn’t propped up by cultural Christianity, and Christians in many parts of the world today walk with God just fine with no need for cultural crutches.
Yes, Christendom may be an asset to Christianity in terms of plausibility structures, making it a live wire in a sociological sense. But theologically, we must never assume cultural Christianity supplies the electricity. It’s the Spirit who makes the gospel spread like wildfire, blowing when and where he pleases.
God doesn’t depend on Christendom, and we shouldn’t either.
Conversion is always impossible without supernatural intervention. Cultural Christianity may be one of the tools that God uses to smooth the path so some will understand the basics of biblical truth before being confronted with Christ’s specific claims. But God doesn’t depend on Christendom, and we shouldn’t either. Whether we labor in fields where Christianity seems as far-fetched a possibility as becoming Zoroastrian, or whether we labor in areas that still bear the fragrance of commonly held Christian values, our call to evangelism and missions remains the same—even if certain methods must change based on cultural context.
No matter what approaches we suggest or methods we use, we mustn’t forget that in the end, the primary reason anyone believes the implausible testimony that Jesus of Nazareth walked out of his grave isn’t because of live or dead wires, traditional or cultural apologetics, or our expertise in sharing the gospel. The reason is the Spirit’s awakening.
This year, I realized that while my wife and I had put a lot of thought into protecting our daughters, we’d not been as intentional in entrusting them with more responsibility and freedom. We were keeping them safe but not thinking about how to give them opportunities to grow into greater resilience by taking on risks and new responsibilities.
The apostle Paul often compares ministry to parenting, whether in describing his care and affection for the churches, or his love for Timothy as a son in the faith, or an elder’s qualifications. So it’s no wonder that the cultural tendencies we see in parenting show up in missions. And in our current moment, many missionaries think more about protecting and caring for those they aim to reach and less about long-term maturity.
Although popular parenting trends don’t always acknowledge this, the goal of parenting isn’t simply to protect your children. It’s to prepare them to thrive—even after you’re gone.
Likewise, missions isn’t just about sharing the gospel and then providing spiritual care for new believers. It’s about preparing local congregations to thrive for generations after the missionary is gone.
Do Less
Parenting is a gradual process of doing less and supporting your kids’ independence more. That’s because teaching requires persistence and patience, especially when your children are slow to learn and you just want to get them to bed. In ministry, too, transferring responsibility is hard, especially since you can’t control how people respond. But when you do it thoughtfully, others are equipped for the future.
Missions is about preparing local congregations to thrive for generations after the missionary is gone.
The work it takes for me to teach a rising preacher to stay close to the text in his sermon is much more laborious than just preaching myself, in the short run. It may be true that no one in my church can preach as well as I can. But if I want anyone to preach faithfully after I’m gone, I need to be willing to endure some sermons that aren’t as good as mine. I need to let the church sit under teaching that’s faithful and fine, rather than insisting that I, the most qualified chef, cook every meal.
Two nights ago, my 5-year-old daughter brushed her teeth without supervision. Progress! Last night, we were out way past bedtime, and she was so exhausted that I brushed her teeth for her. That’s fine. But if I have to brush her teeth for her when she’s 15, something is disordered.
The young brother may have some real stinker sermons. He may have days when he needs you to hold his hand all the way through a really difficult passage. But if after 10 years, that brother still can’t handle the text without you working through it with him, something is disordered. There may be other significant reasons why he’s not grown. But one reason may be that his spiritual father isn’t thinking past this week’s responsibilities and so is depriving him of the chance to learn.
Become Less
Some people’s parenting styles seem far more about their own sense of fulfillment rather than their children’s prosperity. The amount of work they do seems to tell you how important they are in their children’s lives rather than how important their children are to them.
Similarly, missionaries often struggle to separate their personal worth from their service to others. I’ve seen missionaries struggle with purposelessness once a local church has homegrown elders who can bear the pastoral load. I’ve seen missionaries rejoice that their converts have grown but struggle to rejoice that their disciples are sharing the gospel without them. It’s as though their own activity, rather than others’ maturity, had become the goal.
So they lead every Bible study they can. They show up and mobilize local believers for every event or activity in the church’s life. They volunteer to fill every need. But if missionaries only measure their faithfulness by how full their hands are, when will they ever think it’s time for local believers to lead the way?
I love Christians who want to serve. I love men and women who are clearly thinking of others and how to help them. But if you, a missionary, feel you have to address every need, you’ll become the spiritual parent equivalent of the mother-in-law who shows up every week to do her grown kids’ laundry.
If the Lord has used you to bring someone to Christ, to teach him in his spiritual youth, he’ll look up to you. Praise the Lord! But just as parents must eventually recognize that their children are adults, missionaries need to aspire to see local Christians grow in maturity and competence to also do the work of ministry—not as mere assistants but as colaborers. A missionary who remains the center of relational and even organizational activity in the church has failed in a fundamental part of the work.
Celebrate More
Parents who do everything for their kids aren’t happy. They’re worn out and don’t seem to be encouraged. They might tell you they love their children, but it seems like they love even more to talk about how hard parenting is.
Missionaries need to aspire to see local Christians grow in maturity and competence to also do the work of ministry.
Some missionaries are likewise worn out by the work. But to unpeel their grip from a particular ministry is unthinkable. The work of ministry regularly pushes all of us beyond our own strength. That doesn’t mean that living on the edge of exhaustion is proof of faithfulness. We sow, another waters, but God gives the growth (1 Cor. 3:6).
Learn to look for how God is working through others—especially the very disciples you’re investing in. Practice giving praise to God not just for conversions but for when a young believer takes faltering steps toward exercising leadership. Rejoice at that hard conversation a local believer navigated without your supervision. Rejoice at the church that was able to resolve a significant dispute between members while you were on furlough. Celebrate young believers who grow so much that they can give you sound biblical counsel about your life. Allow those you saw come to faith to grow into fellow colaborers who exceed you in wisdom. Celebrate them first in your heart. And celebrate them out loud.
Every good parent hopes her children will exceed her. We ought to pray the same thing in missions. Don’t approach missions as if you’ll be the permanent parent, finding fulfillment in how much you can do for others. Approach it like a parent who knows that while his children might be small in faith for now, they’re only little for a short time. The goal is that they stand before the Lord, mature and complete.
This may sound strange coming from a therapist, but you can have too much therapy.
I say this knowing full well the benefits of having someone who helps you understand your story. This is work I’ve loved. There are many upsides to an experience that can shape your soul in new ways. In a chaotic age where isolation has become the norm, a good counselor can help us find our moorings.
Yet therapy is changing as the culture shifts. For example, it’s much harder now to shed light on the human longing for a mother or a father, since any family structure is deemed as good as the next. Good therapy has also taken a beating because of the growing taboos and confusion around gender. A therapist can pay with her license for challenging a girl’s desire to be a boy. How do you talk about the responsibilities of a man if a man is no different from a woman?
For these and other reasons, contemporary therapy can devolve into simple prescriptions for better self-care: Just establish good boundaries. Take better care of yourself. As Christians, our understanding of the human condition is far more complex—and far richer.
How, then, can you tell if your therapy experience is helpful? When do you know you’ve had enough, at least for now? Let me offer two barometers.
1. Good therapy should help you grow in gratitude and hope, pointing you to new possibilities.
Good therapy helps you see old fears and insecurities as bumps in the road to where you’re going.
If you’re repeating the same stories and keeping the focus on what you lacked or how you were wronged, you might be stuck. Maybe it’s time for a break. Yes, a relationship with Christ provides the space to consider how you’ve been hurt or wronged. But that’s only half the story.
The real miracle is that Christ’s grace enables me to face where I’ve hurt others or been hurt, and how I can repair. The gospel has power to change our deepest motivations, our most intractable habits. God created us to be remarkably resilient, with incredible aptitude to heal and recover.
Good therapy helps you to see old fears and insecurities as bumps in the road to where you’re going.
A major turning point in my life was realizing that my mother’s inability to speak encouraging words didn’t have to hold me back. God had 100 ways to bring the words I needed to hear. Psalm 27 (KJV) puts it like this: “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.” This is true of every primary relationship in our lives. God isn’t limited by our failures or the failures of others.
Good therapy isn’t afraid of gratitude and naming the blessings you’ve been given, even amid hardship. Gratitude is a powerful engine for moving us forward with hope. It puts situations in perspective and allows me to recognize that the hardship or loss I’d never have chosen isn’t the end of my story. “A thousand things are happening in this one thing,” Christa Wells sings. Gratitude helps us see some of those, which often leads to the next right step and a new possibility.
2. Good therapy right-sizes the disappointments of a fallen world.
Our instincts are right. The world isn’t as it should be or was meant to be. A lot can go wrong in life, and we don’t have any assurances we’ll escape pain. But we do have the promise that God will take what’s genuinely awful and bring good from it.
I sat on the back porch with my son one warm summer afternoon as we mourned together the saga of infertility that would likely keep him and his wife from having biological children. He was only 28. How could this happen? Friends were having children left and right.
“Every cell in your body, every relationship—it’s all marked by the fall,” I remember offering quietly. “Your friends just haven’t hit the wall, the big ‘no’ that comes to everyone at some point.”
None of us gets out of this life alive. Yet a deeper understanding of gospel reality allows us to weather disappointments without concluding we were given a raw deal.
A deeper understanding of gospel reality allows us to weather disappointments without concluding we were given a raw deal.
“Trauma” is an overused word. It was once reserved for an extreme event that racked the mind and body and left a sort of psychological paralysis in its wake. But in recent years it has become common to label normal life experiences—the death of a spouse, a broken engagement, the loss of a job we loved, a hard conversation—as “trauma.”
Life, then, looks like a series of inevitable mishaps and losses. We live in fear and defensiveness, braced for the worst, assuming nefarious intentions in others, and sabotaging our resilience. When therapy is making you more fragile and defensive, and you define yourself by past pain and live in perpetual fear of future “trauma,” it might be a good idea to take a break.
Therapy at Its Best
Rather than being a constant fixture in your life, the best therapy often happens in shorter bursts spaced months or years apart, where some new phase of your life is integrated with the story that came before. Through good counselors, God can weave a tapestry where discordant threads come together slowly over time, giving you a better sense of yourself—not just as a personal coping mechanism but to fuel future growth and relational flourishing.
Good therapy helps us see that life is knocking on doors and walking through the ones God opens, but not being defined by or resentful about the ones he doesn’t. Good therapy doesn’t excuse behavior that God doesn’t excuse. Good therapy helps God’s Word become more alive to us as we understand our story and see it in the context of God’s bigger story. Good therapy imparts courage to take new steps of faith, without having to see how it’ll work out.
This is the sanctifying process good therapy is meant to serve.
Scientists engage creation empirically rather than philosophically; they seek knowledge through sense experience. Yet this distinction between empirical and philosophical research is relative, not absolute. Scientists aren’t merely empirical in their research. They come to their work with theological and philosophical assumptions.
They (even atheists!) interpret the empirical data using broad conceptual and philosophical categories. Though philosophers and scientists have similarities, they use distinct tools and emphasize distinct aspects of creation.
Characteristics of Science
Scientists go out in nature to study its inner mechanisms—looking at cells under a microscope, conducting clinical trials on a new emphysema drug, or studying rock samples in Yosemite National Park to uncover past geological processes. Scientists are empirical when they make observations, gather data, and carry out experiments others can reproduce.
Scientists aren’t merely empirical in their research. They come to their work with theological and philosophical assumptions.
Good science also aims to be objective. Any valid scientific theory must be objective in how it sorts through the empirical data, rather than simply cherry-picking. Here’s one example of science failing to be objective: Physicians in the 19th century thought they could identify human personalities by bumps and depressions on people’s skulls. This approach, called phrenology, was hailed as the future in fighting crime, but it was eventually discredited.
The problem was that scientists were interpreting the data in a highly selective way. There was no real objectivity. The scientists zeroed in on physical data supporting their theory and ignored the rest. Conversely, good science tries to be as objective as possible by weighing all the available evidence.
Finally, not just any interpretation of the physical evidence will do. Scientific theories should have a rational connection to the data. Astrology, for example, claims we can predict world events by studying the positions of stars and planets. Ronald Reagan’s wife, Nancy, regularly consulted a San Francisco astrologer, Joan Quigley, for guidance while in the White House, relying on Quigley’s astrological advice to such an extent that it affected the timing of presidential speeches, appearances, meetings with heads of state, airplane travel schedules, and even discussion topics.
I wonder how Reagan’s vice president, the cabinet, and the White House staff would have reacted had they known. They would’ve been shocked, surely, and rightly so, since there’s no rational connection between Reagan’s life and the movement of celestial bodies. Quigley’s astrology was pseudoscience.
Christian Assumptions Make Science Possible
Far from being antithetical to faith, Christian assumptions about creation make science possible.
For one, Christianity assumes that animals like seahorses, koalas, and flamingos are part of God’s creation rather than part of God’s nature, that animals and their ecosystems are real and separate from the divine nature. Sometimes called the Creator-creature distinction, this assumption provides the basis for reliable science.
Far from being antithetical to faith, Christian assumptions about creation make science possible.
Historically, many people have believed creation is divine. Pantheists, for instance, teach that nature is divine and thus sacred. But if we believe nature is divine, then we would be less likely to investigate it empirically, lest we blaspheme God. The pantheistic outlook would lead us to pursue spiritual, not empirical, explanations for natural phenomena. In fact, science emerged in Europe in large part because Christians recognized that nature isn’t divine.
Furthermore, Christians affirm the fundamental goodness of creation. This belief that creation is good implies it has intrinsic value and is worthy of empirical study. This theological assumption was instrumental in the development of science in the West (whether scientists today recognize it or not). Many people in history, such as the ancient Greek Gnostic philosophers, had a different view of creation; they thought that physical matter is evil—only spiritual reality is good. Nothing like empirical science could have developed in a Gnostic culture. Thankfully, Christianity operated by a different logic.
Irenaeus, the second-century church father, blew the whistle on Gnosticism, arguing that since the eternal Son took on human flesh, we should never disparage the physical creation. For him, the incarnation proves the goodness of matter. Better yet, Irenaeus argued, Jesus not only was incarnate but rose again from the dead bodily. In this way, the Son of God bound himself to creation forever. Jesus is embodied even now in his heavenly session at the Father’s right hand, and he’ll be embodied when we see him face-to-face in the new heavens and new earth.
Science Worth Studying
Because of these gospel truths, early Christians were convinced that nature is deeply valuable and worthy of study. And their belief in the goodness of matter paved the way for the Scientific Revolution in the 17th century. Scientific inquiry also owes much to the Christian assumption that creation is knowable, rational, and dependable. These facts about our world make the most sense in a theistic framework where the underlying coherence of creation mirrors God’s wisdom.
In ancient cultures, the cosmos was seen as chaotic, changing at the whim of testy gods who might zap you when they got angry. The Christian view of the world isn’t like that at all; creation itself has an intrinsic rationality that derives from God. Scientists like René Descartes (1596–1650) and Isaac Newton believed that “laws of nature” describe regularities originating from God’s mind. Samuel Clarke, one of Newton’s allies, wrote that the “course of nature, truly and properly speaking, is nothing else but the will of God producing certain effects in a continued, regular, constant, and uniform manner.”
Remove the Christian God from the equation, and science reduces to a set of laws without a lawgiver.
Remove the Christian God from the equation, and science reduces to a set of laws without a lawgiver.
Worse yet, without God, the existence of real scientists would be impossible to explain, people like Marie Curie, Albert Einstein, and Stephen Hawking. Their capacity to think rationally, draw connections between things, and examine facets of the physical world—all of it would be deeply mysterious. Where did these genius minds get their abilities?
The standard answer is that our cognitive capacities emerged from a long evolutionary process. But how could we trust our scientific observations if we don’t know that our cognitive abilities evolved to discover truth about the world? What if they evolved unreliably?
Christians have a good reason to trust empirical observations. In our view, science is possible because God made humanity in his image. It makes all the difference in the world, for truth itself is grounded in God; “the LORD is the true God” (Jer. 10:10), and his very words are truth (John 17:17). The human mind’s bent toward truth reflects God’s mind.
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