You Never Come Back the Same

My little boy made a new friend in Hershey, PA today. This little girl--about five months older than my boy--was wheeled up in her stronger by her mom.

There was a very sweet exchange by the two little ones as they both squealed and reached for each other. Alongside of that moment, my wife began to talk with the little girl's mother.

In the middle of the conversation, I overheard "My husband is in Afghanistan and will hopefully be back by the end of the year." My heart dropped. This poor woman is bearing a burden that few others will ever have to bear. I saw my wife in her and wanted to weep.

As my wife spoke with this woman, I spent time talking with another couple. He was deployed with me. She tried to hold down the fort with a good number of kids as well as cope with the onset of extreme fibromyalgia. He was only allowed to come home with my group because she was in such dire need of his help.

In their six years of marriage, he has been gone for three with the military for three. They spoke every day during the first two deployments and she cried the whole time. This past deployment, they only talked about the phone every couple of weeks. Other than that, it was just the occasional email and letter. This created the emotional distance this wife needed. I will likely do the same for my wife if ever I am called away again.

People often extol the virtues of the modern technological age for soldiers, enabling them to contact home every day. But what if home doesn't want to be contacted? What if it shouldn't? Do we really want to draw our loved ones into the lifestyle of a soldier at war?

This deployment may have been more tame for my Army buddy, but as his wife noted today, he still came back different--just as he has every other time. They were at Goodwill recently and a kid ran by my buddy and brushed against him. My buddy immediately grabbed at his hip, and what he thought would be his weapon.

I tell soldiers from my unit that I broke down and wept the first time I was back in the pulpit on a Sunday morning, and they do not show the least bit of surprise.

Tonight, this couple reminded me that no matter what your experience out there, you never come back the same. I recently spoke with the wife of another buddy who is still out there, and her concern was just that--he'll come back different.

But as jarring as the examples are, and as hard as the pain can be to bear, different does not mean worse. The first two adjectives this wife used tonight to describe her husband after these three deployments: older and wiser. The brokenness of the world will always weigh upon the soldier; it need not crush him.

One of the changes brought about in soldiers during war is a desperate love and compassion for their own. That is what tore at my heart tonight with that mother. Spouses suffer worse than soldiers. She is one of us, and she needs us. In the same way, I told my soldier buddy that Dana Lyon might join the Ragnar Relay team. He wants to join and told me that if she comes, and needs anything--anything at all--let him know. She is one of us, and she needs us.

As the bonds of community in society as a whole break down, there are bonds that will never sever--the bonds of brothers and sisters, soldiers and spouses, who have been through war and will never be the same. May that always prove true, and may the change always be for the better.

A Letter From a Veteran

"Coming back from war sucks. The whole time you're gone, all you can think about is how great it's going to be, what a relief it will be when you finally get home again. After all, war is awful. There's this intense boredom of the spirit-crushing hurry-up-and-wait cycle the military seems bent on putting you through nearly constantly. It's maddening. Sure, there are glorious and thrilling moments of war too, but mostly it sucks.

But as much as war sucks, peace is a huge disappointment. For the duration of your deployment, you've had no choice but to rearrange your priorities. Just as there are no atheists in foxholes, the only things you have time to care about when you're at war are the most intense and urgent issues of life and death and mastering your fear. There simply is no emotional energy left for anything else, and you learn to stop caring about the mundane details of life. Unfortunately, a return to peace is a return to all those things that you've just spent a year learning don't matter.

The result is that peace is completely unsatisfying and empty. That realization sucks even more than anything else, and it's tempting to think that perhaps a return to war might be better, forgetting that war is at least as equally empty and unsatisfying.

And that's how it happens. That's how going to war robs you of happiness in a way that seems pretty much permanent. And everyone says, "Aren't you glad to be back?" The truth is, no, I'm not glad to be back. I have no idea how to be at peace. I have no idea how to find satisfaction in things that don't matter to me anymore. And I feel guilty for not caring about them, because everyone else thinks they're so important.

I remember when my grandfather had to finally quit smoking because he had lung cancer. I remember my mother asking him cheerfully, "Are you feeling great now that you've given up smoking?" She was expecting him to be all excited about how healthy he was feeling, since smoking is so hard on your body. I'll never forget what he said.

"No," he said angrily, "it sucks. All I want is a cigarette, but if I manage to sneak one, I can barely smoke it because it chokes me and I cough uncontrollably." He then proceeded to talk about all the side effects quitting had on his body in agonizing detail.

But what was striking about it was my sense that he felt his life was ruined. He was left miserable and unhappy, unsatisfied with life and completely powerless to do anything about it.

In so many myriad ways, going to war does that exact same thing to you. War is toxic, not just because of how it affects you at the time, but how it affects you for the rest of your life. Everyone who goes to war has PTSD. All of us do, to one degree or another. This is permanent. There is no cure. It can only be accepted and managed, but not cured. I've been away from war for almost 11 years now. I still have nightmares. I still sleep with a nightlight.

But I have, by the grace of God, learned to care about the mundane details of life. After all, without them, there is nothing left. But I do have to force myself to be deliberate about caring about the little things. After all, the big things are composed of lots of little things.

It has been helpful to realize that actually, the little things have a greater impact than the big things, contrary to popular belief. Every parent wants to be a good parent, for example. But being a good parent is simply a matter of being diligent moment by moment. There is nothing grand about it, no one big thing you can do to be a good father. A good father is simply one who is consistently good to his children in the tiny little mundane details of parenting. And yet, very little has a bigger impact in the world than fathers.

After war, it's hard to see any meaning in changing a poopy diaper. And yet, amazingly, it turns out that lovingly and gently caring for our children is the most meaningful thing we could ever engage in. It is far more meaningful than wars among powers that come and go...

I am fully and utterly convinced that God puts us in these hopeless, unsatisfying situations so that we are forced to come to one conclusion: there is no hope in this life; our hope must be fully on Christ. Only then can the eschaton shine its rays of hope into our dark and broken world."

Grass is Greener Syndrome

When someone breaks out the cliche, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence," we know exactly what they mean. We know it on a logical level--people tend to envy what they don't have, and on a personal level--we are never quite satisfied with where we are in life.

The danger of this mentality is that we will become so deceived that we will leave behind what is mundane and wonderful for what it exciting and inevitably disappointing. A wife will leave her unimaginative husband of twenty years for an exciting journey of freedom--one that will leave her heart empty from unsatisfying romantic rendezvous, unpaid bills, and a general sense of having lost everything meaningful. A husband may try to break out of his perceived professional hamster wheel by quitting and become a professional fighter (and loser) in the UFC.

The problem with the cliche mentioned above is that it doesn't tell us why the grass is always greener. It is not simply that we are never satisfied with our patch of grass, or that we are always envious of another. The problem is that we are focused on the grass.

Grass is Greener Syndrome--GiG Syndrome--is the condition by which one looks to their circumstances for their sense of value and meaning.

And if we are honest with ourselves, we all have GiG Syndrome. For some reason (sin), we all are terribly interested--obsessed even--with our patch of grass. Is it any surprise then that we desire another patch? Why would that seem foolish to us when we are already spending our day watch the grass like a bunch of sheep?

God's servant, James, wrote that we must "Count in all joy...when (we) face trials of various kinds" (1:2) Why? Because we realize, as Christians, that reigning over this patch of grass is a God who tests us and grows us and conforms us more into the image of His Son (vv 3-4). We do not look to the grass, but to the God who grows the grass and set us upon our patch.

The double-minded man (v8), on the other hand, is blown and tossed by the waves of his circumstances. In other words, by doubting the hand of God in his affairs, he goes from patch to patch, eating and not being satisfied. That is how much of us spend our lives--driven to and fro, like Nebuchadnezzar, the mighty and foolish king, celebrating our awesomeness while feeding from the grass like fools.

The Christian, knowing his own sinful nature, realizes that he is tempted by the grass, as foolish as that is. Thus, he prays for wisdom (v5) to see the grass for what it is--a bunch of grass--and worship the Lord who was never blown and tossed by the waves, but walked upon them and rules over them for the sake of His people.

My friends, you may feel that your life is disappointing or unsatisfying due to certain circumstances, but you are wrong. The disappointment does not come from the circumstances, but from your heart. You are eating grass, or longing for new grass, with the assumption that grass can make you full. It will not. Ultimately, it will make you feel foolish.

It is only Christ who can make you content in all circumstances (Phil. 4). Only in lifting our eyes from the grass to the skies, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God, will we find our lives hidden with Christ in God, and know that Christ, who is our life, will one day appear--and us with Him--in glory (Col. 3).

We all have GiG Syndrome. The first step toward recovery is admitting our problem.

"My name is Steve, and I have the GiG."

The second step is admitting that we need help.

"I cannot get my mind off the grass. I need Someone to lift my eyes toward Heaven. I need Jesus."

The Grace of Suffering

My wife and I have a similar chink in our armor right now--reminders of the deployment.

I enjoyed one of my happiest moments since returning when, earlier today, Dana Lyon responded to the several Facebook messages I had sent to her. I never expected her to respond. But she did. She expressed her gratitude for the prayers and encouragement, and was interested in coming out here to run in the Ragnar Relay in honor of her husband (per my invitation).

I was joyous to the point of tears, but the joy mingled with sorrow and the tears have remained in the corners of my eyes the whole evening. I was made raw again. So was my wife. I remember that two months of trying to heal from a deployment is slightly less than the time that Dana has been grieving the loss of her best friend. My wife remembers that she lost, and will never regain, the joy of being parents for the first time.

My sweet wife wonders if her tears are an indication that she is in trouble. I told her than it is our strongest indication that hope abounds.

Before I left, I expressed my concern that our marriage was too professionally oriented. It was a good marriage, but it carried with it the seeds of an unsatisfying future. I felt this reality most within myself. I was a tightly-sealed package. I played a part for the amusement of others and for my own preservation. It felt like our Lord was in the periphery of our marriage, another box to be checked in the category "Not Work Related."

I can feel again! I am a mess, but I can feel again. I have not felt this undone since the pain of my childhood, and for the first time since my childhood, I can feel again! In my present suffering, I can not only look to the future glory that awaits, but I realize anew that like Pinocchio, I am a real boy. God has so crushed my heart that I finally feel at the end of myself. I believe my wife is in a similar place, but the wounds are so much deeper, the struggle so much greater, that it is hard for her to see it. May God grant her tender heart that measure of grace.

Again, I confess that I am a mess. My struggle with sin has never been more pronounced. But amidst the cresting and ebbing of the waves, I can pass my hand through the water and taste the salt in my mouth. My suffering is a clear indication of God's present, abounding grace. I am Naomi, awaking to the reality that my God has been for me this entire time (Ruth 1-2; Romans 8:31).

In the past, I avoided the intangible things that didn't pay immediate dividends for my ministerial role. I labored in those tasks that were listed under my job description. I was more eager to meet someone if they might possibly attend my church.

My wife and I have probably spent time with more people in the past week than we did in a given month before I left. I might expect that we would resent this fact--these people are interfering with our work! But time and again, we have been reduced to tears as we hear what is going on in peoples' hearts. Like the Irish friend in Malawi whose salvation I so desperately desired, we truly want to see our unbelieving friends know the grace of Jesus, and that our believing friends might come to enjoy it more.

Perhaps I will awaken from this post-midnight post tomorrow and regret what I have typed just now. But I don't think so. I hope not. Bearing the burdens of years of indifference and a callous heart, there is nothing I want more than for all this to be true. To go from slumbering at Jesus' side to being awakened and called to His side--what a thought!

If I Had to Send My Kid to a Christian College...

Where would it be?

In my mind, a Christian college (CC) would have this fundamental purpose: To consecrate knowledge to the glory of God and equip individuals to winsomely do the same.

In other words, a successful CC would not fall into the gutters of infidelity and vapidity that lie on either side of this purposeful road. Many of our historic Ivy Leagues traded in their Christian roots for greater, perceived academic relevance long ago. Many contemporary CCs are quickly moving in that direction, especially the Dutch Reformed block in the Midwest.

At the same time, there are a good many CCs, like Christian high schools, that either nurse the same intellectual wounds a public schools, just with Bible verse band-aids, or embrace an anti-intellectualism that makes faith subjective, knowledge unnecessary, and experience primary.

The following is my list of "Runner-ups," followed by the school where I would send my kid to college if he decided he had to go to a CC.

Runner-up: Liberty University. They have a robust and incredibly broad academic program, enabling any student to get the content that should come with their degree. It seems that that they've also moderated their fundamentalist persona with regard to theology and politics, which allows for greater freedom (say, to be Reformed) and the ability to stand apart from the crowd crying for the restoration of a mythical Christian America. Its online education program is also likely the best in the country (hugely popular in the military). At the same time, you will still be pigeon-holed if you get a degree from Liberty. If someone knows of Liberty, and they are not a Christian, Republican, or from the South, then they may very well hold a negative view of Liberty and you as a result.

Runner-up: Covenant College. This school is tied to one of the healthier denominations in the country (the PCA), cares about worldview, and has been tied to some reputable names in the academy. I would imagine that the spiritual infrastructure is such that it would make the school the most conducive of all those mentioned to encourage young believers in their growth in grace. While that is great, I believe that to be a subordinate aim in the life of a college (see above) and believe it be the proper prerogative of the Church. I have also received reports over the years from trusted friends at the school that there is a growing emphasis on cultural transformation, which always puts me on guard, due to my experience at Calvin.

Runner-up: Wheaton College. The school with the reputation as the "evangelical Harvard" would likely not have made this list a few years ago. An emphasis on continued relevance seemed to diminish the fidelity of the school, and combined with the rise of anti-intellectualism in general, there seemed to be little to stand in the way of a slide toward heterodoxy. Enter Phil Ryken as president. He is one of the better preachers and standard-bearers of biblical Reformed orthodoxy today. By God's grace, if any president can arrest Wheaton's decline, it is this one.

My choice: Grove City College. This college has historically stood alongside Wheaton as a model of theological fidelity and academic rigor. Its campus even bears the ivy so familiar to the Northeast and its towering institutions (though, they too, are now much diminished). It is reputed to have once suffered a decline in theological decline that was arrested and reversed. Now it boasts an array of top-notch evangelical scholars have earned a place at the larger table of academic scholarship, not through theological compromise, but through a robust defense of orthodox Christianity. I also think the Bible and theology faculty members are second to none, and largely seminary-caliber.

Of course, this is all a subjective exercise that will naturally rely of assumptions and impressions alongside the occasional fact. The Christian student faces a more important decision than where to go to college. He must decide how he will go to college. A coherent, confessional worldview is much easier to attain and employ earlier in life than foisting it upon a shoddy foundation later in life. Growth in grace requires attending to the means of grace (Word, sacraments, and prayer) in the Church and individual discipline (Word and prayer) in one's personal life.

And for me, these considerations make attending a CC much less important. If I were a prospective college student again, I would find the prospect of applying an already developed Christian worldview in the broader academy to be an exciting prospect. I would also find the best possible Church in the area, and find older believers there to help mentor me in the exciting task of consecration in the "secular" environment. But again, that's just me...

A Small Special Election and Its Significance

(These political analyses are given, not in my ministerial role, but simply to indulge my personal love for politics. Still, considering the venue, I seek to be objective and non-partisan, to whatever extent that is possible.)

While most of the country wasn't looking, and most political pundits were looking closely, a special election for a House seat in Florida was held yesterday, with a Republican beating a Democrat 49% to 47%, with another 5% going toward a libertarian. The Republican's key advantages in the race came with its history over the last 50 years as a Republican seat, and the general strong disapproval of Obamacare. The Democrat's key advantages came with her notoriety (she ran for governor in 2010), the current lean of the district--twice voting for President Obama, and her enormous, financial war chest (she ended up outspending the Republican by about a million dollars).

In a neutral year, based on the partisan lean of the district, the Democrat should win by a couple of points. Throw in the quality of the candidates, and the Dem should probably have won by 4-5%. The additional money reinforces that assumption. Both my favorite elections analyst and another, non-partisan elections guru make this point.

But the Republican ran against Obamacare, while the Democrat ran on a "Don't repeal it--fix it" platform and criticized the Rep's approach as extreme. The public sided with the Rep.

Politico, a left-of-center DC publication, wonders, through the Republican victor, whether this has implications for the mid-term elections in 2014. The analysts in the articles above would rightly counter not to read too much into one remote House race which attracted millions of extra dollars.

The election largely reinforces what most pundits and analysts already knew--it is not a neutral environment out there right now. People don't like either party, but they're particularly mad about Obamacare, to the extent that a Dem +2 (percent) district will vote for a Rep +2. Whether or not this will turn into a wave a la 2010 is yet to be seen, and shouldn't be assumed from this race.

As the large electoral picture is shaping up, if the election was held today (and Republicans had not shot themselves in the foot with a foolish political move or poor candidates), the Republican would easily maintain their control of the House--either losing or picking up a couple of seats, but nothing overwhelming in either direction.

The Senate, which is the key battleground, would probably provide better-than-even odds of a Republican takeover, which will require a net pickup of six seats. There are four Democratic seats that are already leaning Republican, and another three "toss-ups" that are tilting ever-so-slightly in the Republican direction. The Republicans are better-than-even money to take at least two of those three seats (NC, LA, and AK), and thus, the Senate.

Meanwhile, Republicans are also running neck-and-neck for other seats in Colorado, Michigan, Iowa, and New Hampshire if Scott Brown runs. Several other seats, including Virginia, are not out of the picture as well. If a wave develops, then Republicans could win 8-12 seats.

Looking longer term, the extra couple of seats would be very important for Republicans come 2016, when their victors in the 2010 wave become exposed in states like Illinois, Wisconsin, and New Hampshire. There is a very good chance that--again, all things neutral--they will lose several Senate seats in 2016. Let the games begin!

Three Books That Changed Me

(Aside from the Bible, of course, which would be too easy.)

Spiritually-speaking, I had a tough go of it in my years at Calvin College. I had a wonderful crew of friends, plenty of churches in the area, and many opportunities to serve--especially in dorm ministries. But I was not ready for the theological buzz saw that was the Religion Department.

I was a shallow, evangelical Christian. I loved the Lord, knew the basics of the Gospel, and knew how important prayer and time in His Word were for my spiritual sustenance and growth. When I left for Calvin, I was hoping they would mature my growth (as if they were the Church) in preparation for a career in elected politics.

The Religion Department quickly disabused me of that notion. In my first semester, my Religion professor did not teach me how to understand Scripture better (which would seem the point of a Bible course), but how and why it was flawed. He marked one of my classmates down for quoting John Calvin often in her paper, because she was not thinking "liberally enough."

Later on, I was told by Religion professors that modern doctrine of biblical "inerrancy" (which asserts that the Bible, in its original autographs, is without error in all that it speaks to) is "intellectually dishonest" and "biblically indefensible." I carry those terms with me now because they were so startling at the time. I was so shallow that I couldn't defend God's Word, but I knew God's power in His Word through personal experience, and couldn't believe what they were saying.

After graduating Calvin, when I finally became Reformed, I was irate at the teaching I received in that department. These teachings regarding the Bible could either be considered liberal or neo-orthodox, depending on the professor, but both schools of thought are decidedly outside of mainstream evangelicalism as was as outside of the historical stream of Reformed theology. Any cursory reading of John Calvin's view of Scripture shows him very much believing in the full authority and perfections of God's Word.

In addition, these Religion professors were not fair to their opponents nor gracious toward their students who struggled with what they were teaching. They presented the concept of inerrancy as historically novel, though the substance of the doctrine can be traced through the history of the Church back to the Scriptures themselves. They marginalized the doctrine and its adherents, categorizing them as the theological-equivalents of rednecks, though virtually every orthodox Protestant denomination holds to inerrancy, including all of the Reformed denominations, minus theirs. And they created straw man arguments that they could easily blow over.

I remember one friend coming to me with the assertion that if I believed in inerrancy, than I believe in "dictation," which basically asserts that the Holy Spirit disregarded the humanity of the human authors and spoon fed them each word. That claim was an incredible leap of logic, but I didn't know that at the time. So I retreated into my enclave of experience: "I don't think that's true, but I'd rather believe in dictation than believe that God has not fully inspired His Word."

All that background is provided to show the importance of the three books that changed me, and the professor who gave them to me. A rogue, undercover, Reformed Baptist professor began seeking out students who had not been totally waylaid by the Religion department in order to encourage them and rebuild their trust in the Scriptures. We rotated each week between going through a book and spending time in prayer. He also had us to his home for meals. I would mention his name, but outspoken orthodoxy is not necessarily rewarded at Calvin. The three books:

1) Biblical Authority: A Critique of the Rogers-McKim Proposal by John Woodbridge. This book is fairly heady reading--not one to cozy up to a fire with--but it had the intellectual heft that a number of disoriented college students needed. The author was a professor at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Chicago and a former editor of Christianity Today. In the book, he goes toe to toe with the claims of the Fuller Theological Seminary professors who sought to make the reduced authority claim of Scripture more appealing to evangelicals. Much of the book is defensive in nature--it shows that the Reformers did indeed hold to the substance of inerrancy, and that the claims they made about the doctrine were largely straw men.

2) Christianity and Liberalism by J. Gresham Machen. This later became my favorite book, and Machen, my greatest hero not named "Jesus." The main thrust of this book is that (theological) liberalism is not merely one branch of Christianity, but is an entirely separate religion. Its adherents claim to have "faith" in "Jesus" and to desire "salvation," but they have re-defined each of these terms (deceptively). Faith means "admiration," and by "Jesus," they mean a moral man--not the God-man, and salvation is a social utopia built of human goodness. The main value of this book to me and my friends at the time was that it showed the sharp contrast between orthodoxy and heresy, and also showed us the theological roots of the modern attack on Scripture.

3) The Great Evangelical Disaster by Francis Schaeffer. Machen's book became the rallying cry for orthodox Protestants in the 1930s; Schaeffer's book surveyed the wreckage of the liberal onslaught by the 1980s. While I would distance myself from some of his connections between the theological controversies and cultural decline, his stress on the importance of trusting God to speak Truth was of the utmost importance. While inerrancy is only one piece of an orthodox view of Scripture (along with its inspiration, necessity, authority, perspicuity (clarity), and sufficiency), every biblical doctrine is undergirded by the confidence that God speaks truth. Schaeffer also planted the seeds of compassion in hearts moving toward the "cage phase," and reminded us that a diminished theology leads to a diminished heart. It is tragic to look upon shipwrecked faith.

So I was put on a more solid footing to defend and expound the Word through which God breathed new life into me, and radically redirect my plans from elected politics to seminary and the ministry. With Calvin, I realized anew that if I find fault with God's Word, the fault is in me, not in His Word.

My heart is deceptive and vulnerable to temptation, but God, who birthed me through the Word of Truth, does not change (James 1). Therefore, I am not consumed (Mal. 3). All Scripture is God-breathed, and alone will make me wise unto salvation and equip me for every good work (2 Tim. 3:15-17). And it is the very power of God, so that I can rejoice in the chains of my own weakness. For the Word of God is not chained (2 Tim. 1). Amen and amen.

A Quick Note on the "Young, Restless, and Reformed"

(Update: Before I get any comments to this fact, I acknowledge that my quick note turned into a fairly lengthy note. I am a preacher at heart after all.)

Tim Challies posted a timeline today that explain (imperfectly, he admits) the resurgence of Calvinism in the present day.

This timeline will most certainly provoke a variety of opinions on both the strengths and weakness of the YRR movement. My friend, Dr. Brian Lee, pastor of this wonderful church plant in DC, writes the following:

"As if we needed any more proof that the "Young, Restless, and Reformed" movement of "New Calvinism" is neither calvinist, nor reformed, nor churchly/ecclesiastical in any senses of those words, here's a timeline explaining its origins... THAT BEGINS IN 1986!!!

Qualify this thought-experiment however you like, but starting a timeline claiming to explain a movement of the church in 1986 strikes me as preposterous. It says a lot about not only the author, but the audience, that would expect it to be explanatory in any more than a Rorschach sense."

Brian's critique of the starting point of this timeline is dead-on. Much of the YRR movement, despite its perceived appreciation for the ancient Church, the Reformation, and the Puritans, seems to lack a sense of the historical continuity that imbued each of these periods of time and gave rise to the movement today. I would argue, for example, that in God's providence (much issue that qualifier) there would be no YRR movement today if small, embattled denominations like the Orthodox Presbyterian Church, Christian Reformed Church--now the United Reformed Churches, and the Presbyterian Church in America didn't preserve and pass down the historic, biblical faith.

Likewise, every stage or Reformed (biblical) theology throughout Church history has consciously viewed itself as receiving and passing along that "faith once and for all entrusted to the saints" (Jude 1:3). Even the chart above concedes this point without recognizing it. The books authored by R.C. Sproul and John Stott were merely a continuation of a long line of popular and profitable works by each of those gentlemen. And R.C. Sproul, for example, was heavily influenced by Westminster Theological Seminary, which was the seminary stronghold of Reformed orthodoxy in the 20th century.

That said, I disagree with Brian and my delightfully provocative former professor (found at this wonderful blog) regarding the lack of theological consistency in the YRR movement. Sure, someone like a John Piper may not be consistent on an issue like baptism, but he certainly shows a great deal of reverence for the rest of the Westminster Confession of Faith. And certain figures, like Tim Keller and Kevin DeYoung, are explicitly confessional (even if they hold some positions regarding cultural engagement that we may disagree with). We certainly can't question R.C. Sproul's bonafides, and he could probably be credited as the unintentional brains of this movement.

I have noticed a surging tide of Reformed theology in the Army chaplaincy. When I first came in, the name I was hearing--more than Piper or Driscoll--was Sproul. Know which name and program I hear the most now? Michael Horton and White Horse Inn. Dr. Horton is a professor at Westminster Seminary California, and WHI is the program that he hosts. Brian and I both attended WSC, and my provocative professor (R. Scott Clark) is Horton's colleague. Even Horton, who I occasionally have a bit of a theological man-crush on, sometimes doubts the YRR movement.

This is not to say that the movement does not have flaws. I (largely) love Mark Driscoll's preaching. He doesn't pull punches and will preach for an hour on the propitiation of God's wrath by Christ's righteousness--pretty awesome stuff. I do not like his "burn it all down" approach toward brothers and sisters that he disagrees with. Nor am I happy at all with the cult of personality that surrounds men like Driscoll, Piper, and Keller. They are sinners. They could go off the deep end. That is a practical reason why I love the connectionalism and accountability of Presbyterian church polity.

The YRR movement clearly lacks a great deal of maturity and historical perspective, but the rise of the movement, to me, is clearly a source of joy. They cannot continually read Sproul and Horton without imbibing a more comprehensive Reformed worldview. These authors do not only write about the sovereignty of God or predestination.

This is a movement that Reformed confessionalists should joyfully engage. We are the older brothers. Many of these brothers are young and hungry (witness the proliferation of White Horse Inn discussion groups amongst Reformed Baptists). Let's feed them.

There is a danger that some of these people might be running so fast away from shallow theologies that Reformed theology proves but a trip wire as they cascade down into the abyss of Roman Catholicism or Eastern Orthodoxy. Let's catch them.

By God's grace, they are broadening the sphere within which the doctrines of grace are receiving a hearing. Let's help them sharpen these doctrines and the worldview of which they're a part along the way. In turn, they will bring to us anew the vitality that comes from those who have discovered and fallen in love with the doctrines of grace and the Christ who holds them all together.

When Wisdom Becomes Perverted

I had a friend once ask me to pray for his strength amidst temptation. He and his girlfriend were vulnerable to violating their self-imposed boundaries regarding sex before marriage. I refused.

I refused because this friend kept putting himself in situations where he was vulnerable to temptation. If a man constantly invites his girlfriend back to his room to hang out, or decides to move in with her on a non-sexual basis in order to save on rent, he is being a fool. (I did pray for this friend's wisdom, and told him so.)

God not only gives us strength amidst temptation, He gives us wisdom to avoid temptation. My wife (fiancee at the time) and I made a conscious decision to avoid hanging out in private places until we were married. There was simply no need to give ourselves room to be tempted in that way.

When one forsakes God's wisdom, he is often proven a fool.

I do not say this out of judgment, but out of painful personal experience. I went out with a girl in high school who had very different boundaries from me. She started pushing me past the line of my convictions, and had a willing heart to work with (James 1). Even though we had conversations in which she promised to respect my boundaries, I decided to break up with her.

I did not need respected boundaries, I needed shared boundaries. I knew that her willingness to push past the line would be further encouragement for me to do the same. I was a teenager, which meant that my heart was really just a massive factory of hormones! Her willingness made me more willing. And as soon as my boundaries crumbled before that willingness, I knew her respect for those boundaries would crumble as well.

So I broke up with her in the McDonalds drive-thru (admittedly, a very weak move, but I was really craving my McDs). I knew that the reasons why I broke up with her would quickly get out-- again, it was high school! To protect her, I put the burden of responsibility on myself. I broke up with her because "I didn't trust myself with her." It was true. I didn't trust myself with any willing girl in a private place. I was acutely aware of my sinful nature and my age.

But my attempts to protect the gal left me defenseless. People (by which I mean lots of girls) became mean and nasty toward me--telling me how cruel I was to break up with a girl because I couldn't restrain myself. And why couldn't I restrain myself? I was clearly a pervert! Thus, in trying to protect this girl's reputation, I lost my own.

But the logic behind that last sentiment is what drove this post today. If you're a guy who saved yourself for marriage, like me (by the grace of God!), or who wants to avoid opportunities to lust, you've likely been labeled a pervert. You avoid looking in the windows of Victoria's Secret, or you turn away during a nudity scene in a movie. The guys laugh at you. The ladies think you're a pervert because you obviously can't control yourself, and thus avoid anything risque.

Apparently, to avoid the label of "pervert," you should salivate after plastic models in lingerie and pictures in magazines, enjoy raunchy scenes in movies, and ogle girls at the beach.

Wisdom has become perverted. Apparently, you should take responsibility for your sexuality by exposing yourself to temptation, but not indulging in it. Because sexuality is at the core of who you are--so says the grand traditions of our forefathers from the ancient era of the 1960's and the sexual revolution. But don't take responsibility for your sinful nature and seek to deny your primal desires in favor of virtue, because psychology has determined that sin and guilt are merely a social construct, and the physical sciences have determined that you are fundamentally primal and animalistic--especially you men.

And since postmodernism is a fundamentally irrational philosophy, we can label the lust-averse as "perverts" and not bat an eye. The logically ludicrous is enlivened with pretty little lilies of experience and made to look lovely.

But this all comes back to you and me, dear reader. Asinine accusations do not excuse us from our responsibility to be wise. We seek wisdom--ultimately from God, the fount of wisdom--because we are realistic about our fallen nature. We do not naturally love God or our neighbor. Instead, we twist our neighbor into an idol of our own making and exploitative use, and offer that up as a middle finger to the God who created us for true life and true love (Romans 1). Even when we are benevolent, our every kind thought, word, and act is shadowed by vanity.

So we seek wisdom from Christ, who is our wisdom (1 Corinthians 1). Not only does He give us the wisdom to discern what is evil or unwise and guide us in paths of righteousness for His name's sake (Psalm 23), He embodied perfect wisdom in our place. He knew to resist the devil and rest upon the Lord when Satan was obvious in his ploys (Luke 4) and when He was subtle (Luke 22:39-46). He saw sin for what it was and was Himself without sin (Hebrews 4), and perfectly submitted Himself to the will of God in the most unimaginable and difficult of circumstances (Luke 22:39-46).

And He now gives His wisdom to us. Yes, it is still corrupted by our sinful nature, but we are being re-made in His image with every passing day (Eph. 4:24; Col. 3:10) and He works in us to will and work according to His good pleasure (Phil. 2). The battle rages, but the victory is assured (1 Cor. 15; Rev. 19).

Do not seek to solely arm yourself with strength against Satan and against temptation, because you are still a sinner and your heart often works against you (James 1). In other words, you are not Jesus. By assuming you can casually march out to do battle in the wilderness, let alone win that battle, you (and me) are being arrogant.

By God's grace, you can truly love God and your neighbor--if you are in Christ--because He first loved you. You can vainly try to prove your strength and impress the world, or you can meekly show forth God's strength in your weakness (2 Cor. 12) and place before the watching eyes of the world the Christ who became weak for sinners like you and me (1 Tim. 1:15-17).

What will it be? We're ready to take your order.

What Not to Say to Your Pastor...

Preaching is a precious, privileged task, in which the preacher has the honor of bringing God's Word of Truth to God's people.

It is also a perilous task. While the preacher prayerfully struggles to find His identity in Christ, Satan is at work to tempt him with opposite temptations--so that he is never safe. One temptation is to say "That was horrible. I don't deserve to preach. I just make a mess of God's Word." Another is to say "That was wonderful. Wow, you're a good preacher. Perhaps you should start a blog."

In either case, Satan is working to lure the pastor away from His identity and confidence in Christ.

Sometimes, God's people serve as angelic messengers, reflecting God's Word back to the preacher through kind, substantive thoughts afterward. Sometimes, with even unintentional cruelty or flattery, they demoralize or puff up the preacher.

Here are a few things I would suggest you avoid saying to your pastor after a sermon:

1) Have you ever listened to one of Tim Keller's sermons. You really should.

2) Did you ever notice that you say "um" a lot? Pay attention to that next time.

3) My favorite part was that illustration you gave.

4) So I was thinking about why my sister won't talk to me while you were preaching, and this is the conclusion I came to...

And to surprise a few of you...

5) Good message, pastor!

The reason why that last one--the most common and one I used to say quite a bit--is not a good one to use is because a sermon has nothing to do with the preacher, but with God addressing His people through His Word.

Whenever God's Word is proclaimed, it is God who should get the praise and the glory. And while the preacher's presentation of the Word might ebb and flow week to week, the Word itself never changes (like He who speaks it) and its powerful is never diminished.

In addition, knowing that there is a little Satan sitting on either shoulder of the pastor--one stoking his pride and another exciting his fears--a comment that explicitly praises the pastor lends more opportunity for Satan to gain a foothold.

Instead, if you are moved by God's Word or grateful to the pastor's labors and care for God's Word and people, then thank the pastor simply for bringing God's Word to His people. Express gratitude to God for His faithfulness and how He manifests His strength in weakness.

And if you want to additionally bless your pastor, be specific in relating how God's Word resonated in your heart. Such comments become like echos, bringing to the pastor the same Word that God cast forth through him. The pastor will likely be encouraged with the irrefutable evidence that God is using a sinner like Him to bless His people. He will also be directed back to the cross himself, and avoid the Tempter's snares.