My father wrote and published over 100 books in his lifetime. What may be even more impressive is how he coaxed me into writing my first. I was 17 years old and a freshman at Grove City College. We were talking on the phone and he asked me a weird question. “Son,” he said, “do you think you could write a ten-page paper on inflation?” “Sure,” I replied. Though I was young I spent most of my spare time reading Austrian economists. I had chosen Grove City College in order to study under Hans Sennholz, one of only two scholars to earn a Ph.D under Ludwig Von Mises himself.
“What about a biblical view of profits? he continued. “Yes, I could do that.” “How about caring for the poor? Could you write one on that?” I was terribly puzzled by this point. Hesitantly I responded, “I suppose if I had enough time I could.” “Do you think you could do ten such papers?” “Yes.” “Well if you did, then you’d have a book. That’s what I think you should do this summer as your job. When you are done I’ll go through it and then we’ll find a publisher.”
That book, Money Matters, with various updates, retitles (it’s now called Biblical Economics) and revisions, under various publishers, has been in print just under forty years. And that is how one gifted and accomplished author got an uncertain teenager to write his first book.
Since that time I’ve published more than a dozen books of my own while helping others do the same. I’ve edited other books, and served as editor-in-chief of multiple magazines. I’ve published in magazines as well, poetry and fiction, Christian and secular. I’ve been a columnist for World magazine, Tabletalk, Homeschooling Today, Family Reformation and more. I’ve had pieces in Chronicles, The Freeman, Decision, Homeschooling Digest and more.
I love writing. Which is why I love helping others to do the same. Five years ago I started The Purpose Driven Write. My purpose is to help writers get their writing polished brilliant enough to earn and find an audience. I’ve been blessed to do everything from taking others’ ideas and putting them in book form to laying out the broad outline to actual coaching writing to substantive editing to buffing a final draft to a sparkling sheen.
The hard truth is there is much more to getting a book in the hands of a reader than writing enough words and hiring someone to fix whatever typos there may be. The other truth, on the other hand, is that it can be done, with help from the right person. I want to be that person. My experience has likewise given me contacts throughout the publishing world. Let me put in a good word for you.
If you have a message you want others to find, if you have a story you want to tell, I can help you, just like I’ve helped others. To talk more about this, please feel free to contact me via email at hellorcjr@gmail.com or leave a comment. Let’s get this started. Let’s get this done.
Before Christmas we finished a six-part series on our call to be as children. For more on that theme, see my book The Call to Wonder. Today, January 26, we continue our new Bible study called Truth You Can Count On. We will explore together the nature of God’s revelation, how our knowing relates to His knowing. Also how sin has impacted our capacity for understanding, the role of the Holy Spirit in our knowing and more. Tonight we focus on the intersection of God’s knowledge and our own.
Each Monday our study begins at 7:00 PM eastern time. We stream it on Facebook Live (at the account Lisa and I share, RC-Lisa) for those who attend online. You can usually also find a link to the week’s study a day or two later right here in this space. We welcome conversation from all in attendance, whatever form it takes. The atmosphere is casual, though the study itself is serious.
This week we will “meet” but given the storm and road conditions, will do so only online. Hopefully next week we can safely invite you all back in our home.
Yes and no. In Matthew 13 we find Jesus back in His hometown. The people had heard of the wonders He had done, but were skeptical. It is here Jesus said a prophet is not without honor except in his own house. Matthew goes on, “Now He did not do many mighty works there because of their unbelief.” Clearly there is a connection between the unbelief of the people and Jesus not doing the miracles. Matthew says “because.”
What Matthew does not say was that Jesus was unable to do many mighty works there because of their unbelief. We might hear him saying such because it is not uncommon for Jesus to praise the faith of those He blessed with miracles. Or to rebuke those whose doubt troubled them. He promised that even a little faith, like a mustard seed, could enable one to move mountains (Matt. 13:20).
Our faith, however, is not the power of a given miracle. Rather it is the One in whom we have the faith that holds all power. Does Jesus have the power to move mountains? Of course He does. Not because He’s so full of faith but because He is God incarnate. Which means also that He had the power to perform whatever miracles He wished in His home town. It wasn’t that He couldn’t do the miracles, but that He wouldn’t.
Our calling is to faith. That faith, however, isn’t in the coming of the miracle but in the Creator of the miracle. How do we know this? Because, once again, of Jesus. If ever there was someone who needed to be delivered from great hardship and calamity, it was Jesus in the lead-up to His passion. His prayers, of course, could have no deficit of faith, for He is perfect. He asked His Father if the cup could pass.
Did the Father have the power to let the cup pass? Of course He did. But Jesus prayed, “Nevertheless not My will but Thine be done (Luke 22:42). All things being equal, Jesus asked that the cup pass. But all things were not equal. Jesus’ ultimate desire was that the will of the Father be done.
Which ought always to be our desire as well. When we pray for deliverance, our acknowledgment that He may not give it on this side of the veil isn’t a lack of faith but the very epitome of faith. It acknowledges our affirmation of His power to bring it to pass. Likewise it affirms our belief in His good intentions toward us. But it also declares our faith that He knows best.
When we lose a loved one despite our earnest prayers, when doors we prayed would open slam shut, when earthly victory is swallowed by defeat, we respond in faith, with Job, “Though He slay me, yet will I praise Him” (13:15). Faith says He is able. It says He is for us. And it says we trust Him to plan all our days forevermore.
It was Augustine who argued that every sin is a failure to love ordinately. Either we love something more than we ought or love something less than we ought. We are to love, in order. Eve, for instance, found the fruit pleasing to the eye and desirable to make one wise. Nothing wrong there. She would have had to be blind to miss it. But she loved that fruit more than she should have, and loved God’s law less than she should have.
Our temptation, because we are the children of our parents, is to defend our sin on the basis that it is grounded in love. That we steal our neighbor’s reputation because we “love truth” is one form of love justifying a multitude of sins. That we steal our neighbor’s wife because we “love her” is another attempt to defend sin. To love ordinately is to love as God loves, in due measure. It is to love what we love as we ought to love it.
This sin operates in both directions. All of us fail to love the Lord as we ought. He commands us to love Him with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. Likewise He commands that we have no other gods before Him. He is to be our singular holy passion. Every other passion ought only to serve this one passion.
We fail, however, not only in loving too little, but in loving too much. The love of money, for instance, is the root of all kinds of evil. We should not be surprised to discover that these two kinds of failure to love ordinately, sins of omission and commission, are often tightly related. That is, we love one thing too lightly because we love the other thing too heavily, and vice versa.
Jesus makes much the same point when He commands us to seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness (Matt. 6:33). He gives us this command right after encouraging us to cease from our worries over things of little import. He reminds us that we ought not to be anxious about what we will eat, what we will drink, or what we will wear. Then He commands that we focus our minds on that which truly matters.
This does not mean, of course, that food, drink, or clothing are sinful. Jesus is no gnostic, suggesting that salvation means escaping the dirty, grubby, earthly things for the ethereal, spiritual, heavenly things. In the same chapter, after all, He commands us to pray to our Father for the provision of our daily bread. Our food is, in itself, adiaphora. This is why Paul later commands us not to judge one another on these matters (Rom. 14:13). We fall into sin, however, when our love for these things, which are in themselves adiaphora, becomes misguided.
Jesus’ wisdom here in the Sermon on the Mount, however, isn’t to unduly separate food or drink from the kingdom. Having told us not to worry about these things — having warned us against the folly of the Gentiles who lust after these things, as He prepares to give us a more kingdom-minded perspective, calling us to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness — He reminds us that our Father knows that we need these things. And He promises in the end that as we seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, all these things will be added unto us.
Our calling, then, is neither to obsess about these things nor to look down our noses at them. Instead, we are called to give thanks to our Father in heaven for every good gift. We must never allow our passion for the gift to obscure our view of the Giver. Instead, we should look through every good gift to see and to praise the Giver.
This is our Father’s world. While His law may give us liberty, we are never free not to give thanks. While God does not see vanilla ice cream as sin and strawberry as righteousness, He does require that we thank Him, that we remember with joy that He is our Father who gives us these things. Indeed, both the kingdom we are called to seek and the righteousness we are called to seek are built from our gratitude.
Remember, again, that He rules over all things. His kingdom is not only forever, it is everywhere. What distinguishes us from the world isn’t that He reigns over us but not them. Instead, it is that we are grateful for His reign while they bristle under it.
The ordinary things of this world — the mundane — are not mere artifacts of culture. They are not merely the tools of the natural realm but are instead precious gifts from our heavenly Father. He gives them to us for His glory. And our gratitude will redound for eternity. Everything, adiaphora or not, connects with our Father above. Nothing is merely human. How we handle His gifts therefore matters. That is why we would be wise to remember that right now counts forever.
Scott Adams passed away recently. He, to some degree, “live streamed” his last days via Twitter. That is, he posted regularly through his final moments. Besides writing a delightful, enduring comic strip in Dilbert, he was unashamedly conservative, and so had many fans among Christians. Thus many of us held out hope when he noted a few days ago that he was considering Christianity.
His first such announcement, however, carried with it strong echoes of the deeply flawed “Pascal’s Wager.” Pascal, who has much to his credit, posited this notion, a kind of cost-benefit analysis of embracing Christianity. He said that if Christianity is false, and one embraces it, nothing eternally terrible will happen. You will die and return to the dust, the same thing that would happen if it is false and you don’t embrace it. If, on the other hand, Christianity is true, and one doesn’t embrace it, something eternally terrible will happen, your damnation.
Trouble is, of course, that resting in the work of Christ for you, repenting and believing, isn’t the same thing as pushing button A rather than button B. It requires, you know, actually repenting and believing. Still, many hoped that given Mr. Adam’s admittedly weak biblical training, that maybe there was reason to hope. When a dog can play checkers, it is silly to criticize his strategy.
This is what he wrote:
I’m not a believer, but I have to admit the risk-reward calculation for doing so looks attractive. So, here I go: I accept Jesus Christ as my lord and savior, and I look forward to spending an eternity with him. The part about me not being a believer should be quickly resolved if I wake up in heaven. I won’t need any more convincing than that. And I hope I am still qualified for entry.
Scott Adams tried to win Pascal’s Wager. It is certainly possible that some time after he wrote these words that he did in fact believe. I hope he did. If not, however, clearly he lost both the plot and the pot. He, like the rest of us, doesn’t get to draw more cards after death. We die, then comes the judgment (Heb. 9:27). I’m not at all surprised at Adam’s “plan.” It is widely followed around the globe.
I am, however, disappointed in those who are so eager to see Scott in heaven that they poo-poo the biblical reality that the work of Christ is applied only to those who have genuine faith. Not perfectly informed, perfectly performed, faith, but genuine faith. Everyone “believes” at death. No one becomes a believer after death. When we negotiate away the necessity of saving faith we are helping others try to write checks that cannot be cashed. When we allow our “broadness” or “compassion” to sweep away repentance and resting in Him alone we have killed the gospel with a thousand “kindness” cuts.
We are not called to negotiate the gospel. Rather we rest in and proclaim it. Today is the day of salvation.
It is because we are saved by grace that we sinners are able to confess publicly that we are sinners. It is because we are sinners, however, that we are so quick to get defensive any time someone accuses us of a specific sin. Why the disconnect? Because being a sinner is a condition, a universal condition, an oddly antiseptic descriptor of humanity. Sinning, however, that requires acknowledging that we have done wrong. And we can’t have that.
Years ago I wrote a brief piece wherein I argued that practicing a particular voting strategy was a sin. A friend replied to my piece with an argument and a judgment. The argument was simple enough- unless I was prepared to quote chapter and verse, to provide a proof-text, I had no business calling said strategy a sin. The judgment was this- that my piece was wrong, uncaring, harsh, judgmental, reprehensible and not so good at all. Happily, he refrained from calling my piece sin, lacking a proof-text and all.
That was when I first learned of our aversion to call sin sin, especially when it is directed at us. Sin is vile, cosmic rebellion, worthy of God’s eternal judgment. But what it’s not is unusual, rare. While we in one sense of course ought to be ashamed of our sins, we ought also to remember that the only way for them to be covered is if we repent of them. And to do that, we have to acknowledge them. Getting our back up when someone points out a sin, I fear, exposes the all too living Pelagian inside of us. We need to put him to death. We need to own our sin.
Some years ago I received a letter, well, a copy of a letter. An old friend had written my then boss to point out her unhappiness at some of my sins, and was honorable enough to send me a copy as well. Truth be told, it stung. A lot. I went through a long list of replies I wanted to give. I wanted to object that her characterization of me was unfair, dated, unbalanced.
As the sting remained I begin to wonder over why it hurt so bad. The answer was staring me in the face- it’s because the accusations were true. Specifically she faulted me for a propensity to be flippant and sarcastic. If, to you, that doesn’t sound like me, you must be new here.
The defenses I concocted were true enough- that tone is hard to grasp with mere written words, that she was hearing me through ears that knew me better when I was younger, that sarcasm has its place, that a well spoken prophetic word can be just a subtle but important shade away from flippancy. All true. Just like the accusation. Better to own the sin, confess the sin, to seek forgiveness. After all, the man who defends himself has a fool for a client.
What, after all, are we afraid of? My heavenly Father loves me. He forgives me. His love and forgiveness are immutable. They do not ebb and flow based on my obedience in a given day. Rather they are built upon the Rock of His Son’s perfect life and sacrifice. I can own my sin, because He owned my sin. It must be my reputation with others I’m trying to protect. It must be their approval I fear losing. That sounds like me, a sinner. Better, by His grace, to back down.
Before Christmas we finished a six-part series on our call to be as children. For more on that theme, see my book The Call to Wonder. Today, January 19, we begin a new Bible study called Truth You Can Count On. We will explore together the nature of God’s revelation, how our knowing relates to His knowing, how sin has impacted our capacity for understanding, the role of the Holy Spirit in our knowing and more.
Each Monday our study begins at 7:00 PM eastern time. We stream it on Facebook Live (at the account Lisa and I share, RC-Lisa) for those who wish to attend via the interwebs. You can usually also find a link to the week’s study a day or two later right here in this space. We welcome conversation from all in attendance, whatever form it takes. The atmosphere is casual, though the study itself is serious.
Our goal, however, goes well beyond learning. We also want to grow as a community. That’s why each Monday night we are delighted to feed our local guests dinner at 6:15. We enjoy a time of conversation, and typically, a time of prayer after the study has ended. All are welcome to attend. It would, however, be helpful if you’d let us know in advance so we can be sure to have enough food for everyone.
As much as is possible we meet weekly. Occasionally providence dictates otherwise. Such doesn’t mean, however, that if you miss a week we won’t let you come the next week. Come when you can; come when you like. We have some who have attended for years and some newbies. Either way, all are welcome. Please, plan to join us. We think you’ll be glad you did. We’ll certainly be glad to see you.
I’m in favor of reparations. Because the Bible is in favor of them. When God established His nation, when He delivered that law which was to govern His people, He established reparations as the fitting punishment for those who were guilty of theft or negligence. They didn’t call it reparations, but restitution, but the principle is the same.
The thief, or the negligent, had a responsibility to make things right for their victim. One could even argue they were required to go beyond making things right. Sometimes they might have to return twice what was taken, or even more. One thing they never had to do. In that era considered harsh and inhumane by postmoderns, imprisonment was off the table. God’s law provided for no such punishment. There were only two kinds of punishments, restitution, or death.
Long before God told Ezekiel He will not punish children for the sins of fathers, God required that the guilty be punished. That the victim be recompensed not those who are not victims. Which is not to say that the Bible has no room for the concept of corporate guilt.
When Achan took of the accursed things God’s judgment lead to many dying at the battle of Ai. Clearer still Achan’s family was put to death. During the days of the kings it wasn’t at all uncommon for God Himself to pronounce a judgment on a wicked king that he would die and all his children. How do we deal with that? By simply remembering this foundational truth- we are all, in ourselves, because of our own sin, under a death sentence from the living God. Ever soldier at Ai, every family beyond Achan’s, every king, prince and every pauper are all guilty before God.
Which should lead us to this conclusion which is as plain as something remarkably plain- the call for, even assuming we could know who was whom, descendants of slave owners to pay reparations to the descendants of slaves is a cry for injustice. What is stranger still, however, is that any Christian, whomever his ancestors may be, would think it prudent to demand justice. Every last one of us has stolen from others. Every last one of us have treated others at one time or another as property. The very evil that resided in the hearts of slaveowners resided in the hearts of slaves.
Which is why it doesn’t surprise me that the racism that justified slavery (“these Africans are the descendants of Ham and therefore it is right to enslave them”) or even genocide (“these Jews should be put to death because they killed the Messiah”) is at work in the hearts of the descendants of Africans and the descendants of Jews. It’s what we all are. There are two kinds of people in this world- those who think other people are wicked and those who, by His grace, know that we are all other people to other people.
I know of a man who was enslaved. His master was a believer. The slave ran away. He became a believer. The same man led them both to Christ. That man sent the slave back to the master, carrying a letter not demanding reparations, not even demanding that the slave be freed, but rather asking that, in light of their shared liberty in Christ, who paid all that we all owe, he be welcomed not as a slave but as a brother.
And all three of them now live happily ever after. We are all the servants of the One who paid all our debts. We are all His, and each other’s brothers as well. May we cease giving demands and ever more give thanks.
