Day 6 — Mercy: The Absorber “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.” Matthew 5:7 The Fifth Pylon In every well-designed structure there are elements meant not to resist force, but to absorb it. Shock absorbers, dampers, and flexible joints do not eliminate stress; they take it into themselves so the structure can remain intact. Without them, pressure transfers outward until something breaks. The Kingdom of God works the same way. By the time we reach the fifth Beatitude, something decisive has already happened. The soul has been emptied of illusion, sobered by truth, surrendered in will, and reconciled to God. Now the question is no longer merely how we stand before God—but how we will stand with others. Jesus names the answer: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” A well-known story tells of Mayor LaGuardia, that irrepressible mayor of New York, showed up at a night court in the poorest ward of the city. He dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench. That night a tattered old woman, charged with stealing a loaf of bread, was brought before him. She defended herself by saying, “My daughter’s husband has deserted her. She is sick, and her children are starving.” The shopkeeper refused to drop the charges, saying “It is a bad neighborhood, your honor, and she’s got to be punished to teach other people a lesson.” LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the old woman and said, “I have to punish you; the law makes no exceptions. Ten dollars or then days in jail.” However, even while pronouncing sentence, LaGuardia reached into his pocket, took out a ten-dollar bill, and threw it into his hat with these famous words: “Here is the ten-dollar fine, which I now remit. And furthermore, I am going fine everyone in the courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Bailiff collect the fines and give them to the defendant. The following day a New York Newspaper reported: “Forty-seven dollars and fifty cents was turned over to a bewildered grandmother who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving grandchildren. Making forced donations were a red-faced storekeeper, seventy petty criminals, and a few New York police officers.” (Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel (Multnomah Press, 1990), pp. 91–92.) Mercy is not law; it is the character of a Judge. Mercy is not sentimental. The law is upheld. The offense is named. The penalty is real. But the cost is borne by the one who has the authority to do so. Mercy is not softness, sentimentality, or moral indifference. It is not ignoring wrong, excusing harm, or pretending that justice does not matter. Biblical mercy takes wrongdoing seriously—so seriously that it absorbs the cost rather than transferring it. Mercy is justice fulfilled through self-giving love. Mercy costs the one who gives it something real: pride, vengeance, moral superiority, the right to settle the score. That is why mercy is never cheap—and why it is so rare. Mercy is impossible without reconciliation. Only those who have been reconciled to God—who have discovered that righteousness is a gift rather than an achievement—are free to show mercy without self justification. If we believe we are “right” because of our own virtue, mercy feels threatening. It looks like compromise. It feels like loss. But once righteousness is received rather than earned, mercy becomes natural. The first thing the person discovers as he or she approaches God is that He is a God of mercy. That discovery changes everything. The Fifth Pylon Holds Architecturally, mercy is the flexible strength that prevents building from collapse under relational strain. It absorbs shock. It keeps fractures from spreading. It allows a community to endure pressure without breaking apart. Spiritually, mercy is the outward sign that reconciliation with God has become real. It is grace made visible. And mercy prepares the way for the next Beatitude. Because once mercy governs our relationships, something deeper begins to form within us—not just compassion for others, but clarity of heart. The fifth pylon holds: “Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.” Thought Questions Mercy involves absorbing the cost of another person’s failure rather than demanding repayment. Is there someone in your life toward whom you are holding resentment, seeking vindication, or keeping score? What might mercy look like in that relationship? The merciful are those who have first discovered God’s mercy toward them. When you reflect on the grace you have received, how does it challenge or inspire the way you respond to the weaknesses, mistakes, or offenses of others? Explore becomeing a Matthew 25er: Tell the truth. Love your neighbor. Plant hope for the future. To receive these email directly in your inbox, click here . Sermon on the Mount BACK TO TOP Previous Next

Personal Spiritual Disciplines There were four students in the same grade in a one-room country school: three boys and one girl. Two boys were twin brothers who lived on a neighboring farm. The three boys walked to school together each day and played together on weekends, but after school on weekdays their lives diverged. The twins went home each afternoon to practice the piano. The other boy went outside to practice throwing a knuckleball with an older friend, convinced baseball would be his future. In time, the brothers became accomplished musicians, one faithfully serving as his church organist for decades, the other becoming a respected music professor and composer at a nearby university. Their lives were shaped not by talent alone, but by quiet, faithful practice. Consistent practice through repetition made what was difficult appear effortless. Over time, they learned to sight-read musical notation instinctively, hearing the music internally before their hands touched the keys. Through constant practice, their eyes, mind, and hands became coordinated in what musicians call muscle memory. What once required deliberate effort eventually became embodied response. Something similar underlies Jesus’ teaching in Matthew chapter six. Throughout the chapter, Jesus repeatedly warns against public displays of religiosity detached from private devotion. Giving, praying, and fasting can all become performances when they are disconnected from private life with the Father. Jesus’ concern is outward hypocrisy and inward formation. He is describing the kind of person one gradually becomes through sustained habits of trust, prayer, reading Scripture, and faithfulness. When believers regularly immerse themselves in Scripture, the words of God begin to dwell within them. The psalmist says, “I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.” As disciples meditate upon God’s law day and night, cast their cares upon Him because He cares for them, and quietly seek the Father in prayer, something deeper than information is being acquired. (I Peter 5:7) The Habits of the Heart The habit of spending time with the Father forms a heart that recognizes temptation quickly, discerns hidden allegiances more clearly, and responds to pressure differently. Anxiety loosens its grip because trust has been repeatedly practiced. Money loses its power because the heart has been trained toward a different treasure. Discernment deepens because the inner life has been shaped by truth over impulse. This is why Jesus emphasizes private faithfulness throughout Matthew chapter six. These practices cultivated quietly with the Father gradually shape the whole person until trust, mercy, prayer, generosity, and discernment formed responses. The Sermon on the Mount is training in a way of seeing, desiring, and responding—a Kingdom life slowly practiced until faithfulness becomes part of the disciple’s character. Thought Questions Just as musicians develop muscle memory through years of practice, disciples are formed through repeated habits of prayer, Scripture, trust, and obedience. Which spiritual practices have most shaped your life, and which ones might God be inviting you to cultivate more intentionally? Jesus emphasizes hidden faithfulness before public visibility. When pressure, temptation, disappointment, or anxiety arise, what do your instinctive responses reveal about what forms your heart? How might deeper time with God reshape those responses? More about Good News For Our Time here. Sermon on the Mount BACK TO TOP Previous Next

Day 2 — Poor in spirit: Honest Self-Knowledge “Blessed [are] the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:3 The First Pylon When Jesus sat down on the hillside and began to teach, He was laying the spiritual foundation for life in His Kingdom. The heart of the Sermon is an invitation into a new kind of life—one animated from the inside-out. Human beings inevitably absorb the values of the systems in which they live. Political sociologists describe this tendency as “isomorphism”—the process by which people and institutions gradually take on the values and characteristics of the systems surrounding them. Rome measured greatness through power, wealth, and domination, while Caesar portrayed imperial success as proof of divine blessing. In Jesus’ time, the Jerusalem priestly leadership, especially the Sadducean leadership connected to the Temple, functioned in close cooperation with Rome. The high priesthood had become heavily politicized. Rome often appointed and removed high priests according to political expediency rather than purely religious legitimacy. Josephus records repeated Roman intervention in priestly affairs. The Old Testament covenant ideal of justice and care for the poor was eclipsed by systems that mirrored Roman attitudes and actions. In that sense, Israel risked becoming structurally similar to the empire surrounding it. Jesus announced the arrival of a different Kingdom. He spoke as though human beings are capable of something deeper than survival, something more enduring than accumulation of wealth, and more hopeful than attaining power. He assumes that life under God’s reign produces a distinctive kind of person, and that when such people live together, the world around them is changed for the better. The way of Jesus is strength without domination, trust that inspires faithfulness, and justice through righteousness. Achievement, class, and tribe do not secure human dignity, but peace arises from reconciliation, and joy is found when humility replaces self-assertion. To be poor in spirit is to accept the truth about oneself before God. The poor in spirit do not pretend. They do not bargain. They do not posture. They do not claim spiritual strength they do not have. They know that to face temptation and pressure their will is not strong enough, their effort is not sufficient, their knowledge is not complete. This is not despair. It is honesty. People spend their lives trying to escape that realization. But eventually life exposes the illusion. The poor in spirit stop resisting that truth. Jesus does not say that the poor in spirit will someday receive the kingdom. He says theirs IS the kingdom of heaven. Why? Because the Kingdom of God is not entered by achievement but by acknowledgement. Those who know they are weak and powerless are open to grace. This is why poverty of spirit is the doorway to everything that follows. The Sermon unfolds as a deliberate construction. Each movement presses downward before anything rises upward. Each teaching is like a pylon driven into the bedrock of the human spirit, creating support strong enough to bear the weight of relationships, public life, and moral responsibility. Jesus’ teaching moves beneath behavior that mimics empire. He addresses the interior life where desire is shaped, where anger begins, where truth is either honored or eroded, and where mercy either takes root or withers. What emerges is a vision of humanity distinguished by humility, sustained by truth, and bound together by mercy. The Beatitudes are not a random list. They trace spiritual progression. It begins here—with honest self-assessment. With humility. With the recognition of poverty. Only then does mourning make sense. Only then can meekness emerge. Only then does hunger for righteousness awaken. Only then can mercy be received and extended. Only then can peace be possible. Sermon on the Mount BACK TO TOP Previous Next

Explore Christian articles, reflections, sermons, and resources on following Jesus, the Kingdom of God, Restored Dominion, faith, and life in today's world. Good News Magazine Discovering God at Work in the World Home Subjects Search Select Explore the Library A Christian Worldview, Part I Christ and Culture A Christian Worldview, Part II Christ and Culture A City Waiting for the Gospel Bible Study Advent Conspiracy Bible Study After the Wave Christian Workers Breakthrough Christ and Culture Gathering Together Church Grace Bible Study How Jesus Changes the World Born Again Immigration in the Bible Christ and Culture Jesus Matters Christ and Culture Notes from Cambodia Christ and Culture Restored Dominion Christ and Culture The "Umah" is Broken and Restored Restored Dominion The "Umah" is Broken, Restored Dominion The Cross in the Time of COVID Christ and Culture The Love of God: Part I Bible Study The Love of God: Part II Bible Study The Love of God: Part III Bible Study The Meeting in Kenya Colonialism, Loss of Dominion, Power, The Temptations Bible Study The Wealth of the Poor by Stephan Bauman, Wendy Wellman, and Megan Laughlin World Relief Community Development The Wisdom of Wisdom Part I Bible Study The Wisdom of Wisdom Part III Bible Study The Wisdom of Wisdom, Part II Bible Study BACK TO TOP

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< Back Jesus Matters Something remarkable is happening; it is reported that many people are leaving the church in yet are still fascinated by Jesus. Some have been disappointed by religion. Some have been hurt by Christians. Some have walked away from church altogether. Yet they still find themselves thinking about Jesus. Part of the answer is that Jesus has a way of pursuing people long before they understand what is happening. People assume that faith begins when a person starts searching for God. Sometimes that is true. But many followers of Jesus tell a different story. Looking back, they realize that before they were searching for God, God was already searching for them. Perhaps that has happened to you. You cannot explain why Jesus continues to capture your attention. You have questions about Christianity but remain curious about Him. You have left the church but cannot completely leave Jesus behind. What you are experiencing may be more than curiosity. You may be discovering that God has been drawing you all along. What is it that Jesus offers that continues to attract people generation after generation? He speaks to two realities every human being eventually encounters. First, you want to become the person you were created to be. Like the Greeks of the ancient world, you long for a life that is authentic, meaningful, and whole. You want healthy relationships, purpose, integrity, and peace. You want your life to matter. You want to become the best version of yourself. Yet you have probably discovered that some obstacles cannot be overcome by determination alone. Fear, selfishness, resentment, anxiety, addictions, wounds, and destructive habits often prove stronger than our best intentions. You know who you would like to become. The challenge is becoming that person. Second, like every human being, you carry things that cannot simply be forgotten. You may carry guilt for things you have done. You may carry shame for things that have been done to you. You may carry regret over opportunities lost, relationships damaged, promises broken, or years wasted. No amount of success, achievement, distraction, or self-improvement completely removes these burdens. The Bible calls these realities sin. However, as the Bible explains, sin is more than breaking rules. It is everything that damages our relationship with God, with others, and even with ourselves. It is what keeps us from becoming fully human. The Hebrew prophets understood this. They challenged people who carefully practiced religion while neglecting justice, mercy, and compassion. John the Baptist called people to repentance through honesty, generosity, and fairness. Jesus welcomed outsiders, healed the broken, confronted injustice, and restored dignity to those who had been pushed aside. Jesus understood the hunger beneath our struggles. When he said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” he was speaking to people who knew something was wrong and longed for life to be made right. Perhaps that describes you. So, what is Jesus’ answer to these two human problems? It is not a philosophy, a self-help program, or a set of religious rules. His answer is Himself. Through His crucifixion, Jesus confronted everything that separates us from God and diminishes our humanity. He bears our sin, our guilt, our shame, and our failures. The cross is God’s declaration that no person is beyond forgiveness, beyond mercy, or beyond redemption. The cross reveals the depth of God’s love. It shows that God does not stand at a distance from human suffering and brokenness. God enters it. Jesus willingly entered the worst that human beings could do—betrayal, violence, humiliation, and death—and responded not with hatred or revenge, but with forgiveness and self-giving love. But forgiveness alone is not enough. You and I need more than a clean slate. We need a new life. That is why the resurrection matters. The resurrection is God’s declaration that sin, evil, despair, and death do not have the final word. It is the beginning of a new creation. It is the promise that people can change, wounds can heal, relationships can be restored, and hope can be renewed. Jesus not only forgives us for what we have done. He begins transforming us into the people we were created to be. The earliest Christians called this grace. Grace is not God’s overlooking our failures. Grace is God’s active presence working within us. It forgives. It heals. It restores. It strengthens. It empowers. Left to ourselves, we remain trapped between our aspirations and our limitations. We know what kind of people we want to become yet repeatedly fall short. Jesus enters that struggle and offers both forgiveness for our failures and power for transformation. This is why Jesus matters. He matters because he addresses the deepest needs of the human heart. He matters because he offers forgiveness where there is guilt. He matters because he offers healing where there is brokenness. He matters because he offers hope where there is despair. He matters because he shows us what true humanity looks like. And He matters because through his death and resurrection. He makes that new humanity possible for us. Those are the reasons Jesus continues to fascinate people—even those who have left the church—is that He has not left them. Long before many people begin searching for God, they discover signs that God was already searching for them. The invitation Jesus offered two thousand years ago remains unchanged today. When Jesus met people wrestling with life’s deepest questions, searching for meaning, purpose, truth, and hope, he did not begin with a theological system. He began with an invitation. “Follow me.” “Come and see.” That same invitation extends to you. If you are weary from carrying burdens you cannot seem to lay down, if you are searching for forgiveness, longing for authentic life, or hoping that change is still possible, listen to the words of Jesus: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” — Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus matters because he still offers that invitation today. Previous Home Next

< Back The Cross in the Time of COVID Numbers 20-21, John 3:15-17 (Note: I originally preached this message in a church in Florida during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the time, we were living with a very particular kind of fear—fear of illness, isolation, death, and a future none of us could clearly see. Looking back, however, I believe the message speaks to something larger than the pandemic that gave rise to it. Every generation faces its own forms of fear, uncertainty, suffering, and disruption. COVID has receded, but the questions it forced upon us remain: Where do we look when the things we have trusted begin to fail? What does faith mean when we cannot control what is happening around us? And what does the Cross reveal about God in the midst of our suffering? The Cross is not merely an answer to a question about what happens after we die. It reveals something about the character of God and the way of life Jesus calls us to embrace here and now. That is why I have chosen to preserve this sermon as an article in the Magazine. It belongs to a particular moment in history, but its message is not confined to that moment. The circumstances have changed. The Cross has not.) After their exodus from Egypt, Israel journeyed toward the Promised Land. In Numbers 20:1, they arrived in the Desert of Zin, in the northeastern part of the Sinai Peninsula, east of the lower Jordan Valley. They were now less than 150 miles from their destination. Yet those final miles would prove difficult. Many things happened in the Desert of Zin, and the people grew weary and discouraged. Miriam, Moses’ sister, died there. She had been a faithful and loving leader and an adviser to Moses throughout their long journey. Perhaps the Israelites were also grieving because she would not live to see Israel enter the Promised Land. Then opposition arose. The people quarreled with Moses (vv. 2–3). They had been wandering through the deserts of the Sinai Peninsula for almost forty years. Many of their friends and family members had died along the way. They had endured thirst, hunger, and attacks from their enemies. Now they were exhausted. “If only we had died like the others,” they complained to Moses. “Why did you bring us here? This is a terrible place. There is no grain, no figs, no grapevines, no pomegranates—and no water.” Then King Arad, who lived in the Negev, heard that Israel was approaching and attacked them. Although they seemed to face opposition at every turn, Israel defeated King Arad. But then Aaron died. They were so close to the Promised Land, yet it must have seemed so far away. The journey had already been long and difficult, and the road ahead appeared to be even harder. Because of their complaining, the Lord sent venomous snakes among the people, and many were bitten and died (Numbers 21:4–9). The people came to Moses and confessed, “We sinned against the Lord and against you. Pray that the Lord will take the snakes away from us.” Moses prayed, and the Lord told him, “Make a bronze serpent and put it up on a pole. Anyone who is bitten can look at it and live.” To be saved from death and healed, the people had to look upon the very image of the thing that had caused their suffering: the serpent. They had to look directly at what had brought death and suffering into their midst. They had to face their own sin. Their sin was complaining, but it was more than complaining. They wanted to go back to Egypt—to slavery. They wanted to go back to the way things had been. It is a terrible mistake to confuse former bondage with God’s plan for life. There was no healing in going back to the way things were. There was no salvation in the past and no Promised Land in the past. The Promised Land was ahead of them. To return to the past would mean believing that God had been pleased with what they had left behind—that their bitter slavery had not really been suffering at all, but somehow represented God’s will for them. Their sin was imagining that the future was supposed to look like the past. When they looked at the serpent lifted upon the pole, they confronted that sin. They repented. They turned their backs on the past and looked to the Lord to lead them into the future. They were healed when they looked upon the serpent and confronted their longing to return to what they had left behind. There is a remarkable reference to this story in John 3:14–17. Jesus said to Nicodemus: “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes may have eternal life.” Jesus, the Son of Man, was lifted up on a cross. Those who look to Him are saved. Jesus invited Nicodemus to see the cross in the same light as Israel had seen the serpent in the wilderness: look upon the Son of Man, lifted up, and live. John continues: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” And then comes the explanation: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” What is important is that we look at the cross—and look honestly at the reason Jesus suffered and died there. It was because of us, and it was for us. Jesus died so that we might have a better future. Like ancient Israel, we look up to the cross of Jesus and are saved. Looking at the Cross Today It is useful to consider this story in light of our own situation. Allow me to describe what I am feeling. Perhaps you are feeling and thinking some of the same things. Let’s face it: there is plenty to complain about. I am tired of staying home because of this virus and of being frightened that I might get it. I responsibly wear a mask—I hope you do, too—and gloves. I try to keep my distance from people, both to protect them from me and to protect myself from them. But I am tired of it. Aren’t you? Don’t we all want to get out and do the things we used to do? Don’t we want to go to church like we did before, travel like we did before, and gather with others for fellowship like we did before? In June, my granddaughter missed her high school graduation. Now her college classes cannot always meet in person. It will not be a normal school year for my grandson when high school students return in the fall with remote learning. He misses his friends. Church ministry is different. We do not know when “normal” will return. Sports are different. Travel is different. Going to the movies and eating out are different. So much has changed that we naturally long for things to return to the way they were. But perhaps this is a moment like the moment Israel faced in the Desert of Zin. Their circumstances had overwhelmed them. They were weary, frightened, and discouraged. And their temptation was to look backward—to imagine that returning to the way things had been was the way forward. It was not. And neither is it for us. This moment gives us an opportunity to look at the cross and confront the sin that put Jesus there. I am certainly not saying that we caused the virus. I do not know what caused it. It is a virus. But this moment has revealed something else. It has exposed issues in our society that we might otherwise have ignored. It has given us an opportunity to look honestly at ourselves, our communities, and the world in which we live. Jesus was put upon the cross because of cruelty, hatred, prejudice, revenge, jealousy, anger, and much more. Jesus died for us—and because of the brokenness represented by these things. There is no healing in simply continuing what was. There is no salvation in pretending that the past was better than it really was. There is salvation in a changed future. Besides, we cannot go back. But we can repent of our longing to return to what was. We can look to the cross. We can ask Jesus to save us, heal us, and lead us toward the better future He has prepared for us. Nicodemus and the Cross There is a television series called *The Chosen*. Perhaps you have seen it. The series offers an interesting and enlightening depiction of Nicodemus. If you are like me, you may have assumed that the meeting between Jesus and Nicodemus recorded in John 3 was the whole story. Perhaps it happened that way. But the version presented in *The Chosen* offers another possibility. Nicodemus was a Pharisee who loved God. His heart longed to know God. At the same time, he loved the traditions of the Pharisees, which had their roots in the Torah and the Old Testament prophets. In his heart, however, he knew that his religion had become entangled with power and political influence rather than remaining centered on loving and serving God. It was a profound struggle for him to look upon Jesus—and later upon His cross—as the way of salvation. If the cross meant anything, it meant humility. It meant resisting the temptation and lust for political power. And it meant placing our confidence in the transformational power of love. That is why the cross is so important. The cross does not restore the past. The cross calls us into a new future. The disciples themselves locked themselves away in fear after the crucifixion. But the resurrection brought a new day. After His resurrection and ascension, the disciples gathered in an upper room, waiting as Jesus had instructed them. Then the coming of the Holy Spirit brought a new day—a new beginning that launched more than two thousand years of His presence and work in the world, a presence we still experience today. The Bible promises a new day, a new song, a new heaven, and a new earth. All of that lies in the future. So let us pray for patience, endurance, hope, and faith as we wait for this virus to pass. There is no question that this is a pivotal moment in history for the whole world. Irreversible change is happening. Let’s not panic. But let’s also not insist on returning to the way things were. Instead, let us look to Jesus, lifted upon the cross, and see in Him the model—and the hope—for our new future. Previous Home Next

< Back The Wisdom of Wisdom Part III Choosing What Is Better One of the most surprising words in the Book of Proverbs is a very small one: Better Again and again Solomon compares two ways of living. “Better is a little with righteousness than great wealth with injustice.” “Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a feast where there is hatred.” “Better a patient person than a warrior.” “Better the poor whose walk is blameless than the rich whose ways are crooked.” These sayings are not commandments. They are invitations to think. That may be one of the greatest gifts Proverbs gives us. The Law tells us what we must not do. Wisdom teaches us how to choose between good things and better things. Most of life’s important decisions are not choices between obvious right and obvious wrong. They are decisions between competing values. Should I pursue wealth or contentment? Success or integrity? Recognition or humility? Power or self-control? Proverbs refuses to measure life by the standards our culture so often celebrates. It quietly asks a different question. What kind of person are you becoming? That is the difference between knowledge and wisdom. Knowledge accumulates information. Wisdom evaluates it. Knowledge answers questions. Wisdom asks whether we are asking the right questions in the first place. Several centuries after Solomon, the English philosopher John Locke observed that prudence is among life’s greatest virtues. He argued that people cannot live happily without living wisely, justly, and virtuously. Reading those words, I could not help thinking that Solomon had already reached the same conclusion nearly three thousand years earlier. True wisdom always leads toward better choices. The Greeks had an interesting word for wisdom. The translators of the ancient Greek version of the Old Testament used the word sophia to translate the Hebrew chokmah . From sophia comes our English word philosophy —literally, “the love of wisdom.” That definition has always appealed to me. A philosopher, at least in the best sense of the word, is not someone who simply collects ideas. He is someone who loves wisdom enough to pursue it. Christians should be philosophers in that sense. Not because we delight in abstract arguments, but because we desire to understand God’s world truthfully and live faithfully within it. The pursuit of wisdom requires thought. It requires curiosity. It requires humility. It even requires the willingness to change our minds when evidence or Scripture shows us that we have been mistaken. That is becoming increasingly difficult in our culture. We often confuse certainty with wisdom. They are not the same thing. Wise people continue learning. The Book of Proverbs repeatedly urges its readers to listen, to observe, and to grow. It assumes that becoming wise is a lifelong journey. One of the recurring themes in Proverbs concerns wealth. Again and again Solomon reminds us that riches are unreliable measures of success. That observation continues to be confirmed in surprising ways. Several years ago, researchers supported by the Sloan Foundation followed more than a thousand American teenagers, asking them repeatedly about their happiness. One of their unexpected findings was that adolescents from affluent communities often reported lower levels of happiness than those from more modest circumstances. Money certainly solves some problems. It does not necessarily create joy. Solomon would not have been surprised. “Better is a little with righteousness,” he wrote, “than great revenues without justice.” Proverbs also has much to say about the poor. When we hear that word, we usually think only of money. The Bible often means something broader. The poor are those who lack power. They are the vulnerable. The widow. The orphan. The stranger. The refugee. Those whose voices are easily ignored. While studying the Psalms, Old Testament scholar Michael Rhodes made an observation that I found both fascinating and unsettling. Comparing the themes of the Psalms with many of today’s most popular worship songs, he noted how frequently the Psalms speak about justice, oppression, and the cries of the poor. The contrast is striking. The Psalms repeatedly teach God’s people to mourn with the oppressed, to seek justice, and to bring the suffering of the powerless before the Lord. Much contemporary worship, by comparison, tends to focus almost exclusively on our own personal spiritual experience. That observation made me stop and think. Have we become so preoccupied with what God is doing for us that we have forgotten what God cares about? Wisdom refuses to allow that. It constantly turns our attention outward. Toward our neighbors. Toward justice. Toward truth. Toward the common good. That is one reason I enjoy studying history. We sometimes forget how recently much of the world lived under kings, emperors, and dictators who controlled nearly every aspect of human life. Freedom, justice, and human dignity are far more fragile than we often imagine. Many of the values we cherish today did not arise by accident. They grew out of centuries of moral reflection rooted, in no small measure, in the Scriptures. Ideas shape civilizations. Wisdom shapes ideas. That is why Proverbs remains remarkably relevant. It reminds us that the best life is not always the richest. The strongest person is not always the wisest. The loudest voice is not always the truest. The greatest victories are often won quietly—in the daily decisions to choose integrity over compromise, humility over pride, generosity over greed, and truth over convenience. That is wisdom. And according to Solomon, it is worth more than silver, gold, or precious jewels. Previous Home Next

< Back Grace Several years ago, I learned one of the deepest lessons about grace from a man who was not a Christian. The lesson began with a minor automobile accident. Talking on a cell phone while driving through Jakarta traffic is never a good idea. Unfortunately, I was in a hurry—or at least moving as fast as Jakarta traffic would allow, which was only a few miles an hour. Distracted by the conversation, I stopped just a little too late and bumped the car in front of me. It was nothing more than a fender-bender. The driver climbed out of his car. He was a Muslim businessman from Sunda. Fortunately, he was gracious and calm. Like many Indonesians, he was less interested in assigning blame than in getting the problem solved. We agreed to drive together to a repair shop so he could obtain an estimate. During the drive he asked why I was living in Indonesia. I explained that I was helping coordinate part of the response to the Indian Ocean tsunami. “Good,” he replied. Then, after a brief pause, he asked another question. “But where is all that money going?” It was a fair question. I explained that we were building more than two thousand homes, replacing hundreds of fishing boats, rebuilding schools, restoring salt flats, and supporting several public health projects. He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good,” he said. “But what would someone have to do to receive one of those houses?” “Nothing,” I answered. “Except help design it and help build it.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he said something I have never forgotten. “If there are strings attached to a gift, then there is an agenda. But if there are no strings attached, then that is truth.” His words have echoed in my mind ever since. It seemed to me that he was describing more than humanitarian aid. He was describing the world as he had experienced it. Gifts often come with expectations. Favors create obligations. Assistance purchases influence. Even generosity can become a subtle form of control. A gift with conditions attached is no longer entirely a gift. Without realizing it, this Muslim gentleman had given me one of the clearest illustrations of grace I have ever heard. Grace has no hidden agenda. The more conditions, expectations, or requirements we attach to a gift, the less gracious it appears. Grace does not need coercion to accomplish its purpose. It possesses its own quiet power. That realization has shaped the way I think about Christian service. It is tempting to believe that every act of kindness must immediately produce a spiritual conversation. We worry that unless we explain ourselves, require something in return, or make our intentions unmistakably clear, we have somehow failed to share the Gospel. Yet Jesus often allowed grace to speak before words did. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, welcomed the outcast, and showed compassion to those who could offer him nothing in return. His miracles were not bargaining chips. They were signs of the character of God. That is why genuine charity is so important in Christian ministry and community development. When help is offered without manipulation or coercion, people remain free to consider both the gift and the One who inspired it. They are not responding to pressure or obligation. They are responding to grace. This requires faith on the part of those who give. We naturally wonder, Will people understand why we are doing this? Will they ever hear about Christ? Are we missing an opportunity? Those are understandable questions. But perhaps we should remember that the credibility of the Gospel is judged not only by the message we proclaim but also by the spirit in which we proclaim it. Our world is fractured by suspicion, mistrust, anger, prejudice, and violence. People have learned to question motives because too often generosity comes with hidden costs. Perhaps that is why grace is still so powerful. It is one of the few gifts that asks for nothing in return. And because it asks for nothing, it quietly points beyond itself to the God whose greatest gift was given freely. Previous Home Next

< Back The Wisdom of Wisdom, Part II Wisdom Is Meant to Be Shared One phrase echoes through the Book of Proverbs more than almost any other: “My son…” Again and again Solomon begins his instruction with those two simple words. “My son, pay attention to my wisdom…” “My son, keep your father’s commands…” “My son, fear the Lord…” The repetition is striking. Proverbs is not only a collection of wise sayings. It is a conversation between generations. Wisdom, by its very nature, is meant to be passed along. That gives these verses a double audience. Certainly they speak to the young. Every generation needs older voices to help them navigate the joys and pitfalls of life. The wise young person is eager to learn from those who have walked the road before them. But I have come to believe these verses speak just as powerfully to those of us who are older. They ask us an uncomfortable question. What wisdom are we passing on? Growing older is more than accumulating birthdays. It is about accumulating perspective. Every success, every disappointment, every mistake, every answered prayer, every season of grief becomes part of a treasury that God intends us to share. Modern culture often celebrates youth while quietly pushing the elderly toward the margins. The Bible does exactly the opposite. Throughout Scripture, gray hair is frequently described as a crown of honor—not because age automatically makes us wise, but because a lifetime of walking with God can produce wisdom worth sharing. Not long ago I read an interesting article entitled Living Near Your Grandmother Has Evolutionary Benefits. The researchers were wrestling with a fascinating question. Why do human beings continue living long after their childbearing years? If survival and reproduction are life’s primary goals, why has nature preserved grandparents? Their conclusion was intriguing. When grandmothers live near their daughters, families often flourish. Mothers receive practical help, children benefit from experienced guidance, and, statistically speaking, families tend to be healthier and larger. Scientists had discovered something the Book of Proverbs had been teaching for nearly three thousand years. Older generations matter. They matter not simply because they provide assistance, but because they provide wisdom. I would like to think the same is true for grandfathers. Connie has found her own beautiful way of putting Proverbs into practice. For several years she has taken each of our granddaughters on what she calls an “Excellent Adventure.” Usually the trip happens around the age of twelve—just before the teenage years begin, while Grandma is still considered interesting and perhaps even a little wise. Each granddaughter spends several days alone with her. They visit New York City together. They wander through the Metropolitan Museum of Art, discovering masterpieces they have never seen before. They visit the 9/11 Memorial and learn that history is more than dates in a textbook—it is made up of real people whose lives were forever changed. They walk through Central Park, stand atop One World Observatory, attend a Broadway play, and, perhaps most importantly, spend hours simply talking. The girls probably don’t realize what is happening at the time. They think they are taking a wonderful trip with Grandma. Years later they begin to understand. Connie is not just showing them New York. She is teaching them how to see the world. That, it seems to me, is wisdom. Wisdom is not information. It is perspective. It is helping someone else see life through older, more experienced eyes. Eventually our younger grandchildren begin asking, “When do I get to go?” That question makes me smile. The adventure has become a family tradition, but it is really something much deeper. It is Proverbs in action. Every grandparent can do something similar. The destination may not be New York. It may be a fishing trip, working together in a garden, building a birdhouse, baking bread, repairing an old engine, or simply sitting on a porch talking as the evening grows dark. The setting matters less than the relationship. Wisdom is passed from one life to another. The Hebrew word translated wisdom is chokmah . It is a wonderfully rich word. We often think of wisdom as intellectual ability, but the Hebrews thought much more broadly. A skilled craftsman could possess chokmah . The artisans who designed the High Priest’s garments were said to have been filled with the “spirit of wisdom.” Their wisdom was displayed not through speeches or books but through the work of their hands. Among the ancient Jews, manual labor was deeply respected. In fact, tradition says that when a famous rabbi entered a room, people would rise in honor. Craftsmen, however, were not expected to stop their work because faithful labor itself was considered honorable. That insight has stayed with me. Wisdom is not confined to classrooms. It is found in workshops. In kitchens. On farms in the fields. In hospitals. Around dinner tables. In faithful marriages. It is learned by watching someone patiently repair what is broken, comfort the hurting, keep a promise, or quietly do the next right thing. Christianity inherited this wonderfully practical understanding of wisdom. The goal has never been merely to produce educated people. It has been to produce people who know how to live. Perhaps that is why Solomon speaks so often to “my son.” He knows that books alone cannot shape a life. Wisdom must be seen before it can be understood. It must be lived before it can be taught. And when it is faithfully passed from one generation to the next, its influence extends far beyond anything we can measure. That may be one of God’s greatest gifts to those of us who have grown older. We cannot relive our youth. But we can help prepare someone else for theirs. Previous Home Next

< Back The Love of God: Part I Reflections on Psalm 19 "The Heavens Declare the Glory of God" Some passages of Scripture seem to gather the whole of God’s revelation into a few unforgettable verses. Psalm 19 is one of them. We do not know when David wrote this magnificent psalm. We are not told what event prompted his meditation or how old he was at the time. I doubt he was still the shepherd boy who watched over his father’s sheep beneath the stars of Bethlehem. More likely he was already king, carrying the burdens of leadership that few could understand. This psalm does not read like a spontaneous song. It is carefully crafted, thoughtful, and deeply reflective. David looks outward at the created world and inward at his own heart. As his eyes are lifted toward the heavens, his soul is drawn into honest self-examination. If I could preach the finest sermon of my life, it would still fall short of the beauty and depth of Psalm 19. David accomplishes in fourteen verses what many books never achieve. He contemplates the majesty of creation, delights in the perfection of God’s law, and finally lays bare the hidden struggles of his own soul before his Creator. These three movements belong together. The heavens reveal God’s glory. The law reveals God’s character. The human heart reveals our need for grace. David recognizes that he alone, among God’s earthly creation, possesses the freedom either to live in harmony with God’s purposes or to resist them. The heavens never rebel against their Creator. The sun never refuses to rise. The stars never wander from their appointed courses. God’s law is likewise perfect and dependable. But the human heart is another matter. It is capable of both worship and rebellion, obedience and stubbornness. It is no wonder that David concludes his meditation with one of the most beautiful prayers in all of Scripture: “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” As we journey through this remarkable psalm, I hope David’s prayer becomes our own. The psalm opens with words familiar to almost every believer: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” David hears no audible voice, yet creation speaks. Day after day the heavens proclaim their message. Night after night they reveal knowledge. They utter no words, yet every culture, every language, and every generation hears their testimony. The message is universal. Wherever human beings lift their eyes toward the heavens, they encounter evidence that they are not alone in the universe. David’s attention is especially drawn to the sun. He imagines the heavens as a great tent prepared for its daily journey. Each dawn the sun emerges like a joyful bridegroom leaving his wedding chamber, eager for the day ahead. By evening it resembles a victorious athlete completing a long race, tired perhaps, but triumphant. Its warmth reaches everyone. No one escapes its light. Theologians call this general revelation . General revelation is God’s witness to every human being through creation itself. No matter where people live or when they have lived, they have been surrounded by evidence of God’s eternal power and divine nature. As Paul later wrote, “Since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities…have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made.” Creation tells us that God exists. It tells us something of His power, wisdom, and majesty. But creation alone cannot tell us who God is. For that we need what theologians call special revelation —God’s self-disclosure through Scripture and ultimately through Jesus Christ. Today, discussions about creation often become unnecessarily polarized. One group insists that science has disproved God. Another reacts by treating scientific discovery with suspicion. Neither response serves thoughtful Christians well. Our children and grandchildren are growing up in a world where astronomy, genetics, and physics raise fascinating questions. They deserve more than simplistic answers. Christianity has never feared honest investigation because all truth ultimately belongs to God. In fact, these are extraordinary days for anyone fascinated by the heavens. The Hubble Space Telescope transformed our understanding of the universe. For the first time, humanity saw galaxies of breathtaking beauty far beyond anything previous generations imagined. Then came the James Webb Space Telescope, allowing astronomers to look even farther into the past, observing some of the earliest galaxies ever detected. Scientists estimate distances through methods such as stellar parallax and the constant speed of light. The sunlight warming our faces today actually left the sun about eight minutes ago. The light from distant galaxies may have begun its journey millions—even billions—of years before reaching our eyes. In a very real sense, when we gaze into the night sky, we are looking backward through time. I find that astonishing. Rather than diminishing my faith, discoveries like these deepen it. Every new image returned from space seems only to magnify the grandeur of creation. The farther we look, the larger the universe becomes—and the greater our sense of wonder. Connie and I recently watched a documentary in which an astrophysicist, a philosopher, and a journalist discussed the origin of the universe. They explored the Big Bang Theory and wrestled with the question every scientist eventually encounters. What existed before the beginning? The answers became increasingly tentative. There had to be something. But what? Scientists have developed remarkable theories describing the earliest moments of the universe, yet they continue to acknowledge an unavoidable mystery. Physics can trace events back to astonishingly small fractions of a second after the beginning, but it cannot explain why there is something rather than nothing. Science is wonderfully equipped to investigate how the universe behaves. It is much less equipped to answer why there is a universe at all. David begins precisely where science reaches its limits. He looks into the heavens and immediately recognizes not merely a universe, but its Creator. The heavens do not simply exist. They declare. They proclaim. They testify. And every clear night, if we are willing to listen, they still do. Previous Home Next

< Back A Christian Worldview, Part I We all see the world through a lens. Whether we realize it or not, each of us carries assumptions about what is true, what gives life meaning, what is worth sacrificing for, and where history is headed. These assumptions shape how we understand the news, treat our neighbors, spend our money, raise our families, and face the future. Together, they form what is commonly called a worldview. A Christian worldview begins with the conviction that God created the world, Jesus Christ is Lord, and the Bible reveals truth about God, humanity, and our purpose. It is more than a set of beliefs. It is a way of seeing reality and living faithfully within it. While a Christian worldview shapes every area of life, it can be summarized in three essential commitments: truth, love, and hope. Truth Truth matters because reality matters. In a world filled with competing voices, Christians are called to pursue truth—not merely as an argument to win, but as a way of life. A Christian worldview calls us to honesty, integrity, humility, and a willingness to learn. Because God is the author of truth, Christians need not fear facts, questions, discoveries, or difficult realities. Truth begins with God, but it extends into every area of life. It influences how we understand ourselves, our communities, our world, and our responsibilities within it. Christian faith is not an escape from reality; it is a commitment to engage reality honestly and faithfully. Love Jesus taught that the greatest commandment was to love God and to love our neighbors. For that reason, a Christian worldview is deeply concerned with human flourishing. Every person bears the image of God and therefore possesses inherent dignity and worth. This includes the people who live next door, the people who disagree with us, the poor, the vulnerable, the refugee, the immigrant, and the stranger. Love is not sentimentality. It is a commitment to seek the good of others. During my years working in humanitarian ministry, I learned a lesson that appeared consistently across cultures and continents. One of the most reliable indicators of a community’s well-being was the well-being of mothers. When mothers were healthy, children were more likely to thrive. When mothers struggled, children often struggled as well. That observation led to deeper questions. Was there access to clean water and shelter from the natural elements? Was sanitation adequate? Was food available and affordable? Were families able to earn a living? Was agriculture productive? Were communities stable and safe? Those questions led to the obviously realization that people do not live in isolation. We live in families, neighborhoods, and communities. Individual flourishing is tied to community flourishing. Human thriving is interconnected. This truth became especially clear in places recovering from natural disasters. When an earthquake destroys a community, the roads, schools, water systems, farms, homes, and businesses that sustain life are affected for everyone. Communities either recover together or struggle together. Christians cannot love their neighbors while ignoring the conditions that shape their neighbors’ lives. A Christian worldview is therefore concerned with the flourishing of all people because all people bear the image of God. While Christians are called to proclaim the gospel, they are also called to seek the good of the communities in which they live and serve. Love of neighbor extends beyond words to practical acts of compassion, justice, service, and stewardship. Hope A Christian worldview is also marked by hope. Across much of the world, birthrates are falling. Economists, demographers, and social analysts point to many causes, including urbanization, education, economic pressures, and changing cultural expectations. These factors matter. Yet the trend also raises a deeper question: What happens when people lose confidence in the future? To welcome a child into the world is, in some sense, an act of hope. It is a declaration that the future matters. It is a willingness to invest in a generation we may never fully see. The Christian faith has always been a faith of hope. Not because circumstances are easy, but because God remains faithful. Christians believe that history is moving toward God’s purposes, that Christ is at work in the world, and that our labor in the Lord is not in vain. This hope enables us to plant trees whose shade we may never enjoy, serve people we may never meet, and invest in future generations we may never know. It gives us confidence to face difficult realities without despair and uncertain futures without fear. Building on the Rock This is the vision behind Good News for Our Time. The purpose of this website is not simply to comment on current events, promote books, or share devotional reflections. It is to help Christians understand both God’s Word and God’s world. Here you will find resources for spiritual growth, reflections on contemporary issues, opportunities to serve others, and encouragement to live faithfully in a changing age. The challenges of our time are real. But so is the gospel. Jesus concluded the Sermon on the Mount with the story of two builders. One built upon rock and the other upon sand. Both experienced storms. Only one foundation endured. The question facing every generation is the same: Upon what foundation will we build our lives and communities. The world offers many answers. Christ offers the Rock. Let us build upon Him. This is why Christians can tell the truth without fear, love their neighbors without hesitation, serve the vulnerable without despair, and invest in the future with confidence. Jesus Christ is still changing the world. Christian World View Part II Previous Home Next