Growing Old

As Floyd the Barber used to say that Calvin Coolidge used to say, “Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.” On the other hand, everybody talks about growing old, and everybody vainly tries to do something about it. We live in a culture that is obsessed with youth. Our heroes are athletes who are all stalked by age, whose time in the 40 yard dash is unbeatable. They are movie stars who learn that the more lines they have on their faces the fewer lines they’ll have in their movies. Like our heroes, we spend fortunes trying to hold on to our youth. Alas, it is quicksilver.

The Bible takes a more nuanced perspective. It acknowledges that there are good things that come along with youth. It affirms the blessings of vigor, the strength of strength. These kinds of blessings diminish over time, as a general rule. We grow weary faster. Pain becomes a frequent guest that overstays its welcome. Soft chairs, no matter how comfortable, become quicksand. Memory becomes increasingly fickle and flighty.

The nuance, however, comes in that the Bible acknowledges also the blessings of aging. Aging isn’t merely the diminishment of various gifts of God, but the exchanging of some gifts for other gifts, each perfect in its time. The Bible affirms that age has a common fellow-traveler in wisdom. And wisdom, we learn as we grow older, is really, really good. Something we’re supposed to cherish, pursue, hold on to. Wisdom, we’re told, is even greater than gold. Walking alongside the wisdom that tends to walk alongside aging is respect. While our broader culture in embracing youth has a concomitant rejection of the honor that comes with the hoary head, such should not be the case among believers.

It’s all too easy for us to think the grass is greener on the other side. As young people we long to be taken seriously, to have our ideas valued. We buck against the notion that we are little more than pack mules. As older people we long to have the energy to be pack mules, to be seen as virile. We give our “organ recitals” wherein when we meet together we list all our aches and pains.

The greater biblical truth is this- every day we grow closer to both goods. That is, there is coming a day when I will not only have no sickness, but no pain. I will have a body that isn’t merely disease resistant but incorruptible. There is, in turn, coming a day when every bit of folly I retain will be cut off. My tongue will speak nothing but wisdom. And every day that passes brings me, us, one day closer to those sureties. Every day, every age is a good one when we are under the care of the Ancient of Days. Every day and every age then is a good one to give thanks.

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Monday’s Romans Study

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Sacred Marriage; Tucker Carlson; Rivalry in the Church

This week’s Jesus Changes Everything Podcast

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RC’s Confessions

Several of my real sins, often liberally mixed with unreal sins, are available for your reading pleasure through the help of Google. Sadly, as effective as Google and sundry attack bloggers are, they have missed too many of my sins. Thus I have determined to go public, in the hopes that the furor will die down before I run for President in 2024. Be prepared to be shocked.

1. I was, as a boy, a habitual player of that ghastly game, “Smear the Queer.” This is a game where a group of children all seek to tackle the one child with the football. I not only played this game, but did so brazenly and openly.

2. I wore blackface. Granted, it was for a part in our Christmas play Amahl and the Night Visitors. I was one of the Wise Men. And I was only doing what I was told. I was seven years old at the time. But I should have known better.

3. I love eating dim sum. You probably don’t know what that is. Good for you. I am left to confess the shame of my cultural appropriation. In my defense, I can’t stand tacos, so I have that going for me.

4. I have eaten meat. And while we’re being honest, I will likely do it again. Most of the time I don’t even try to resist, nor do I feel bad about it.

5. Several of my favorite football players when I was a boy played for the Washington NFL team. I didn’t even have the sense to be embarrassed for cheering those men on. The shame makes my face turn red.

6. I still embrace the same view of marriage that that wicked, regressive, patriarchal monster Hillary Clinton held twenty years ago.

7. I love Chik-Fil-A’s sandwiches, and even more, their fries.

8. I once called a visually challenged friend, in a fit of rage, “Four eyes.”

9. Up until I was seven or eight years old I didn’t believe in the holocaust. Granted, it was only because I had never heard of it. But still, I should have known.

10. I had a time in my life when I was under the spell of homophobia, when my mother warned me, a little boy, about strange men in bathrooms.

Look away from me. I’m hideous.

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Romans Study Tonight- Paul and James

Tonight we continue our look at the monumental, towering book of Romans. All are welcome to our home at 7 est, or you may join us for dinner at 6:15. We will also stream the study at Facebook, RC-Lisa Sproul. We hope you’ll join us.

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May Christians object to their taxes?

God establishes civil government. As Romans 13 points out, they are God’s ministers of justice, and rebellion against civil government is rebellion against God. Secondly, Jesus commands believers to pay taxes to the state (Mark 12:17). Christians, however, like most other taxpayers, are never happy to see a third or more of their earnings swept up by various governments, and more still eaten away by inflation, the not so hidden tax. Are Christians in sin for raising those objections? Of course not.

While I say, “Of course not” I can also say that virtually every single time I’ve ever raised an objection publicly to a particular tax, or tax rate, or even a particular program funded by taxes I’ve gotten this same retort. I’m accused of breaking God’s law, precisely because of Romans 13 and Mark 12. These texts are presented to me as de facto proof that I’m out of line, with no further explanation necessary. I don’t, however, roll over, and I pray you don’t too.

It is absolutely, beautifully and wondrously true that God gave us government, as His minsters of justice. For all my complaints about intrusive and expansive government, I recognize that there is one thing worse- no government at all. I’m no anarchist, and neither is the apostle Paul. It is likewise absolutely, beautifully and wondrously true that Jesus commands that we pay our taxes. For all my complaints about how intrusive and expansive taxes are, I recognize that there is one thing worse- no taxes at all, which comes complete with no government at all. I’m no anarchist, and neither is Jesus. Yet I am absolutely free, indeed called to object to rapacious taxes and government overreach.

The Bible is chock full of moral instructions about what to do in the face of injustice. Often we’re instructed to not fight back, but to leave room for God to act. Jesus tells us to go the second mile, and turn the other cheek. Surely we can see that such doesn’t make it right for someone to compel us to go one mile, or for someone to strike us on one cheek? When the children of Israel want a king like all the other nations God instructs Samuel, right in the midst of granting their wish, to warn them that the king will do the unthinkable- tax them at ten percent (I Sam. 8). Such a tax rate is wicked. It is good and right to call it wicked, even while paying the taxes.

When those in authority over us mistreat us, we are not left with only two options- deny the authority they have and engage in open rebellion, or say that all they do is right and proper. We can instead submit to the authority while speaking out against the command. In a day when the state acts as though it has a right to all our wealth, where it acts as though it has the right to control our bodies, where it acts as protectors of the murder of the unborn, we are called not to take up arms but to raise our voices. We’re called not be rebels but to be prophets.

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Two Thumbs Down


Neil Postman, in his delightful albeit ominous book Amusing Ourselves to Death, draws an insightful comparison between two important dystopian novels. Utopian novels, of course, are those designed to show us edenic cultures. Dystopian novels show us hellish futures.

The two Postman discusses are 1984 by George Orwell and the slightly lesser known Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Both books alarm us, but in different ways. The citizens of 1984 are haunted and hunted by Big Brother, the embodiment of the statist dictator. Every moment of every day is both regimented and watched by the repressive state. In Brave New World, however, the citizens are, in a certain sense, not at all oppressed. They don’t live in fear of the state. They are enslaved more by the carrot of pleasure and entertainment, while in 1984 they are enslaved by the stick of torture and the secret police. What if, Postman asks, we were all on our guard for 1984, but what snuck up on us was Brave New World?

Winston, the “hero” of 1984, works as a bureaucrat at the Ministry of Truth. He is both a censor and a revisionist historian. The past is changed to fit the needs of the regime, and truth is sent to burn up in the memory hole. One of his friends has a slightly different job — culling the nation’s dictionary. Here the goal isn’t merely to rid the book of outmoded words but to rid the language of dangerous thoughts. By whittling the language down, the state can whittle away the capacity of its citizens to even think in terms of freedom and liberty. Is it possible that all our communication conveniences in our so-called “Information Age” are, in a manner of speaking, an assault on language and liberty, but from the perspective and approach of Brave New World? Have we, with emails, tweets, and texts 4gotn how 2 thnk? Have we entered a brave new world not with our fingers in our ears but our thumbs on our keypads?

Postman argues persuasively that levels of discourse can certainly rise or fall, and that such may be the fruit of given technologies. His argument is that with the advent of television, we ceased to be a word-based culture and rapidly became an image-based culture. Images, as a medium, are much better than words at evoking emotions. They are much less effective than words at communicating abstract ideas. I recall realizing just how dumbed-down our culture had become while a student in seminary. One of the key books we were assigned to read for our systematic theology course was The Institutes of the Christian Religion by John Calvin. I read both volumes, finding them rich, helpful, but by no means an easy and comfortable read. I was ashamed, however, to consider Calvin’s goal in writing this work — it was designed to be a primer, a basic introduction to the Christian faith for laypeople. And there I was not only reading it as a text in my seminary but finding it among the more difficult books in the whole of my studies.

Perhaps stranger even than our growing ignorance is our concomitant growing confidence in our wisdom. Instead of looking to the ancients as our betters, we see them as hopelessly undereducated rubes. Reading the epistles in the Bible, however, ought to disabuse us of our foolish pride. We might be tempted to escape this conclusion by remembering our doctrine of inspiration. Paul, Peter, John, all the authors of all the epistles had some rather potent help along the way. When the omniscient God of heaven and earth is superintending your writing, you can certainly reach depths of wisdom that you would not have reached on your own. Communication, however, is a two-way street. What we learn from reading the epistles is not just the brain power behind the writing of them, but the brain power behind the reading of them. Like Calvin’s Institutes, the New Testament epistles were written by and large for laypeople, pew sitters, regular folk.

The readers of these letters, while they were certainly blessed to have pastors and teachers to help them understand, likely did not sit down over the course of a year or three to dissect these letters, word by word. They didn’t spend a month of Sundays on 1 Corinthians 1:1a, before daring to move on the next month to 1:1b. Instead, they received these letters as letters. They understood them as letters. They submitted to them as letters.

As education gadfly John Taylor Gatto has wisely argued, we are being dumbed down by our own state school systems. That is 1984. But we are also dumbing ourselves down by refusing to sit, be still, and to read reasoned discourse that moves sequentially from one thought to the next, communicated in complete sentences. That is our Brave New World. Our calling then is not to live as the citizens under 1984. Nor should we see ourselves as the vapid consumers of Brave New World. Instead we are called to seek first a different kingdom. Instead we are to seek His righteousness. We find both in the Word of Him who is the Word. May we drink deeply of that Word, that we might walk rightly with that Word.

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Stealing Offense

It is no wonder that in a world that argues that all language is a power play we are always on high alert for verbal offenses. Nor is it any wonder that in a world populated by sinners like us we would often find offenses where there were none to be found. And in a world that affirms we each make up our own reality, it seems plausible that any offense taken must have been an offense given.

But it’s not. All language is not a power play. And if you argue that it is, I’ll just wonder what angle you are playing, and have no reason to even hear your argument. Language, rightly used, is a tool of communication, a tool to bring people together. For it to work it must involve, one way or another, a shared language with shared meanings. Given that our Lord is the Word incarnate, that our Father spoke the world into existence, suddenly words are less weapons (though they can be) and more sacraments.

Nor is it true, that is to say, corresponding to reality, that we all make our own reality. Reality is apart from us, outside of us, independent of us. Which means that not every offense taken is an offense given. Our duty, before taking offense, is to ascertain if there is an offense there to be taken.

Consider one of my favorite accounts from the book of Joshua. Chapter 22 finds the two and a half tribes that have settled on the east side of the Jordan setting up an altar. The rest of the tribes muster an army to destroy what they perceive to be their wayward brothers. How dare they set up an alternate place of sacrifice? When the soldiers arrive, however, they discover that the intent of the message of the altar was the precise opposite of how it was taken. These tribes set up the altar not to make sacrifices to a different god from their brothers, but as a memorial to their brothers that they worship the same God. Once this misunderstanding in untangled, peace breaks out. And there was much rejoicing.

Paul tells us in I Corinthians 13:5 that love is not easily provoked. As we enter into conversation we come from a posture of peace, with a perspective of peace. We are open and vulnerable rather than prickly and defensive. We are not quick to employ sarcasm in our own defense. We have here another opportunity to push back against the spirit of the age, to win battles without firing shots simply by not hiding in our emotional bunker. We have an opportunity to shine gospel light into the darkness of a world gone mad simply by being slow to become mad, slow to speak and quick to listen.

The message we bear, of the cross of Christ, brings with it its own offense. Let us not add to it being easily offended.

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Proverbs 31; Devil in the Blue Dress; Nimrod; 70s Candy

This Week’s Jesus Changes Everything Podcast

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Me Not Me

I’m not the man I used to be. Neither am I the man I will one day be. And yet, I am the man I used to be, and will forever be that man. The passage of time experienced by us is a great enigma, an entering into the mystery of being and becoming. We have, all of us, a continuity of consciousness. My memories are mine, though they sometimes star a me with a full head of hair and a 32 inch waist. I don’t have those two things anymore, but somehow I’m the same guy as the one who did have them.

Continuity and discontinuity are part and parcel of where not only we are headed, but the whole of the universe. The resurrection promises not that our old bodies will be banished to history’s ash heap when we get sparkly new ones. No, the promise is that our bodies, these bodies will be raised again, only now, raised incorruptible. The same is true of our planet. It will not be decimated, with a fresh new earth waiting in the wings. Instead, like us, it will be remade, renewed, redeemed, reborn.

Can you imagine a world that is utterly untouched by the ravages of sin? Not according to the Word of God. It tells us that eye has not seen nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the mind of man the things which God had prepared for those who love Him (I Corinthians 2: 9). Still harder for me is to imagine me without sin. The wonder of it all is not just that I will be without sin, but that I will be me. I will be, in fact, more me than I have ever been. Real me, true me, me the way I was meant to be. If you are in Christ, the same promise is true of you.

Long trips can prove wearisome. We often feel like we’ll never arrive, like every peek topped simply reveals the next one. Our new selves seem so distant that we can’t imagine it will still be us when we get there. But it will. He has promised. He has assured us that having begun a good work in us, that He will carry it through to the day of Christ Jesus. I’m not the man I used to be. Neither am I the man I will one day be. And yet the man I once was, and the man I will be, that’s me. Better still, it’s Him. Then I will be, for the first time ever, fully me.

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