Recently, my 5-year-old son and 3-year-old daughter have been enjoying a special addition to our nightly bedtime routine. Thanks to their Grandma, we have a jumbo-sized canister of gourmet jelly beans…Jelly Bellies to be exact. Just before we do our Bible time and prayers, the kids ask Daddy to tell them a “jelly bean story,” which is just like any ol’ bedtime story except that the objects in the story present opportunities to slowly dole out jelly beans. For instance, the characters in the story might have a sudden thirst for root beer, which results in each child receiving a root beer flavored jelly bean. Likewise the characters might climb an orange tree, presenting the perfect juncture to pass out, you guessed it, orange jelly beans.

The first time we did a jelly bean story, I remember watching their little faces light up at every unexpected story and flavor twist. I savored the challenge of telling the story in a way that would keep them in rapt attention, never knowing when the next jelly bean would be handed out.

However, something changed after many weeks of jelly bean stories. The creativity and cohesiveness of my story-telling took a nose dive. You see, I was slowly starting to view the jelly bean story as a simple means of getting the bedtime routine kicked off so that I could get them quickly to bed. I would dispense the jelly beans in a slipshot manner, no longer taking the time to look for something delightful in the reaction of my children to a good story. Whether the story had any particular charm or flow made little difference to me after a long day. I think they’ve caught onto me, but at some base level, jelly beans are still an acceptable tradeoff.

Strangely enough, it took a conversation this week about books with my mother-in-law (their Grandma) to make me aware of my storytelling atrophy. She was recounting how some friends recommended a popular Christian work of fiction, saying “You just have to read it!” To her dismay, she found the book to be tedious with characters that could only be described as “one-dimensional”.

I responded by sharing my theory that Christians sometimes have an unhealthy view of the arts as merely a vehicle for a gospel presentation; rejecting the pursuit of beauty or truth as a sufficient justification for creative work. In a word, it’s utilitarianism. Then it hit me. That’s exactly what I was doing with the jelly bean story by cheaply slapping together a story with the “required elements” (a.k.a. jelly beans) without regard for the drama or quality of the story. The humor of this realization was not lost on me, the guy who is always quick to notice the lackluster nature of much of what currently passes as “Christian” music or books, yet who had unwittingly assumed that same mentality in my storytelling.

In further consideration, it occurred to me that this tendency rears its ugly head in more places than just the arts. Though Jesus Christ, in his person and his story, should provoke infinite wonder, we somehow manage to reduce our thoughts about him to mere catch phrases. It’s as if we were offered the greatest feast ever cooked, yet could only manage to describe it as “pretty good” or “nice”. It happens as a parent speaks to a child, as an artist speaks to an audience, and even as a pastor preaches to a congregation.

Writer and playwright Dorothy Sayers (1893-1957) wrote brilliantly about the irony of making Christ’s story dull in her essay “The Greatest Drama Ever Staged”:

This is the dogma we find so dull—this terrifying drama of which God is the victim and hero. If this is dull, then what, in Heaven’s name, is worthy to be called exciting? The people who [crucified] Christ, …to do them justice, [never] accused him of being a bore—on the contrary, they thought him too dynamic to be safe. It has been left for later generations to muffle up that shattering personality and surround him with an atmosphere of tedium. We have very efficiently pared the claws of the Lion of Judah, certified him “meek and mild,” and recommended him as a fitting household pet for pale [clergy] and pious old ladies. To those who knew him, however, he in no way suggests a milk-and-water person; they objected to him as a dangerous firebrand.

Speaking later of the person of Jesus Christ, his incarnation, and his dying in the place of guilty sinners, Sayers notes:

Now, we may call that doctrine exhilarating, or we may call it devastating; we may call it revelation, or we may call it rubbish; but if we call it dull, then words have no meaning at all. That God should play the tyrant over man is a dismal story of unrelieved oppression; that man should play the tyrant over man is the usual dreary record of human futility; but that man should play the tyrant over God, find him a better man than himself, is an astonishing drama indeed. Any journalist, hearing of it for the first time, would recognize it as news; those who did hear it for the first time actually called it news, and good news at that; though we are likely to forget that the word Gospel ever meant anything so sensational.

I trust that Sayers’ words challenge the reader as much as they do me. They help me to think on the great drama of the gospel and the wonder of Christ that should be shared with others. That’s a tall order (to say the least) but merely retelling his story with worn-out slogans or religious-sounding words isn’t enough. Doing so would either give a dull impression of my God or send the message that I have a low view of my audience’s capacity to take in the story. No, such blandness would treat the audience like toddlers who are satisfied with a sugar buzz instead of the captivating story they deserve.

• Read Dorothy Sayers’ works including Creed or Chaos? Why Christians Must Choose Either Dogma or Disaster (Or, Why It Really Does Matter What You Believe)
• Read Imagine: A Vision for Christians in the Arts by Steve Turner
• Read A Better Way: Rediscovering the Drama of God-Centered Worship by Michael Horton
• Munch some Jelly Belly jelly beans (except for the nasty coffee-flavored ones)
• Listen to the White Horse Inn
• Do not forward this post to the American Dental Association

I was flipping through the channels the other day while exercising and came across a talk show. I’m really not sure which one it is and as far as I’m concerned, most of them are basically interchangeable. Regardless, they were talking about how angels are involved in our daily lives and how we should even consider praying to them because they are so infinitely more wise than us they are and how much more powerful. This thinking is all-too common and it is quite unbiblical. Consider Hebrews 2:14-18:

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted

Or, consider 1 Peter 1:10-12:

Concerning this salvation, the prophets who prophesied about the grace that was to be yours searched and inquired carefully, inquiring what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories. It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you, in the things that have now been announced to you through those who preached the good news to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, things into which angels long to look.

Think about what’s being said here, God does not help the angels the way He does people and our salvation in Christ has been something into which angels themselves even long to look. Oh, if only our talk-show hosts would read their Bibles. If only we would read our Bibles. If only we would understand the glory of salvation the way angels long to do.

• Read The Incomparable Christ by John Stott

We are quick to play down Jesus’ words, especially when they seem unrealistic (which they often do). He often confronts us with the ideal of living in complete faith and dependence on God, something we fall quite short of attaining. Today’s statement deals with prayer, something many, if not most of us struggle deeply with. We feel disconnected, ineffective and distracted during prayer and thus we feel guilty rather than encouraged. The confidence of Jesus’ words leaves us wondering: “what if He really meant it?”

And Jesus answered them, “Truly, I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ it will happen. And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith” (Matthew 21:21-22).

• Read Jesus and the Gospels by Craig Blomberg
• Read Jesus the Messiah by Robert Stein
• Read Synopsis of the Four Gospels (English Only) by Kurt Aland

We had quite a storm late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. Those of you who have experience Texas thunderstorms have an idea of what it was like. I have never heard thunder so loud. I am convinced that I saw lightning twice hit near our home. Flashes of eye-piercing brightness illuminated the roaring night. It was both beautiful and awe-inspiring; unless you’re a dog or a two-year old.

Our dog’s name is Baxter. He is a pure-bred Golden Retriever. Weighing in at close to 90 pounds, he’s no small dog. He’s quite loyal, gentle with our children and protective of family. All that to say, he’s a great dog. Except in storms. He is scared to death of thunderstorms. He shivers, he tries to get on the bed, he follows you around the house. In other words, he’s a big sissy when it comes to storms.

Baxter would whine and walk around in circles, occasionally trying to get onto the bed unless I reached down and firmly let him know that I was there. That calmed him down a bit and reminded him that he was safe. It doesn’t make trying to sleep through storms any easier or very comfortable because after a bit, my arm starts to fall asleep from being held out over the side of the dog to constantly remind him of my presence. As soon as I move or try to readjust my arm, the dog is up again trying to jump onto the bed in a near panic.

Carson, my two-year old son has essentially the same reaction to loud storms though its understandable for a two-year old little boy. He ended up in our bed some time during the storm and his method of coping was to scoot right up beside me so that at least his feet were touching me at all times. If I shifted or rolled over, he scooted closer, needing the reassurance of my presence. So I had the dog trying to get onto the bed on one side and my son scooting me ever closer to the edge of the bed on the other. It wasn’t the most comfortable night’s sleep.

Though it wasn’t a restful night, it was refreshing. It reminded me that “the name of the Lord is a strong tower” to which I can run to and be safe (Proverbs 18:10). It reminded me that when I am afraid, I should put my trust in God (Psalm 56:3). That storm helped me understand how James can say “Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you” (James 4:8). When the thunder shook the windows and my son or even the dog would press against me in fear, I didn’t recoil, I didn’t remove myself, I pressed closer, knowing that they were afraid, they were dependent, they were relying on my for security and a sense of safety, imperfect though it was.

As the storm raged, I marveled at how God often uses the turmoil in our lives to bring about peace. We all know Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God” but we don’t always remember the context. Psalm 46:1-3 sets the stage:

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling

God is not telling the Psalmist to engage in a “Christianized” transcendental meditation, trying to block out everything else, He is telling the Psalmist to rest in God, even as the earth itself seems to be giving way around Him. Notice that the comfort the Psalmist receives in perhaps the best-known of all the psalms happens “in the valley of the shadow of death” (Psalm 23). Apparently, the still waters and green pastures were in the valley itself.

God often uses life’s storms to bring our theology to life. Do we trust Him? He will give us opportunity to demonstrate it. Do we find comfort, strength and security in Him? He will soon bring circumstances our way that reveal whether or not we do. Sometimes we just need to be reminded that God is near (Psalm 75:1) and He is our refuge (Ruth 2:12). Unless we understand this, we will never consider our trials with joy (James 1:2).

To see similar sentiments expressed better, watch this from Rob Bell:

• Read The Knowledge of the Holy by A.W. Tozer
• Read Knowing God by J.I. Packer

For some time now I’ve had an ongoing but irregular series in which I simply present the statements of Jesus asking the question “What if He really meant it?” So often we approach Jesus’ words as though they were mere slogans, as if He didn’t really mean what He said, maybe He just said it for shock value? But what if He did mean it? What difference would it make in your life?

Today’s consideration comes from Matthew 6:25-34:

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.

What if He really meant it? Does your life exude rest in God?

• Read Jesus and the Gospels by Craig Blomberg
• Read Jesus the Messiah by Robert Stein
• Read Synopsis of the Four Gospels (English Only) by Kurt Aland

I’m a city-boy. I know that comes as no surprise to most of you. That means that I know very little about agriculture. My grandparents always had a garden and I remember helping as a little boy. I’m not sure you can call regular yardwork and gardening “agriculture” (probably not), but that’s about the extent of my dealing with the ground, the seasons and their bounty. But I do know that the process requires lots of sunlight, lots of water and rich soil. I remember that from watching my seeds grow in a clear plastic cup in grade school!

We’ve been making our way through Genesis on Sunday mornings and we’re coming through chapter 42 now, when Joseph’s brothers are sent by Jacob to purchase grain, unsuspectingly from their long-lost (or so they thought) brother, Joseph. Chapter 41 provides the narrative of Pharaoh’s dreams and verses 25-32 provide Joseph’s divinely inspired interpretation. More than just the narration of dreams and their interpretation, this section is a bold declaration of God’s sovereignty over the “gods” of Egypt.

Pharaoh himself was considered to be the incarnation of Ra, the sun god. He could neither interpret his own dreams or prevent what was coming. Pharaoh called upon his “wise men and magicians” who were most likely devotees of the god Thot, the Egyptian god of wisdom. He could neither interpret the dreams or prevent what was coming. The Egyptians attributed the flow of the Nile itself and the sustenance it provided to itself be the product of gods who could also not prevent what was coming. And notice, it is God who brings both the seven years of plenty and the seven years of famine.

Chapter 42 picks up, having passed over the seven years of plenty, somewhere in the seven years of famine. I find that extremely interesting. Why pass over the seven years of plenty? Well, think for a moment about your own life. Particularly your spiritual life. More particularly, think upon the times of your greatest spiritual growth. Though we can’t say this as a rule, chances are, your times of deepest spiritual growth occurred in times of dark, famine, drought, suffering or something of the like. I know mine have.

I find it interesting that God often works in such ways in our lives that there is nothing else to do but attribute it to Him and praise Him, even for the “uncomfortable” blessings.

• Read A Path Through Suffering: Discovering the Relationship Between God’s Mercy and Our Pain by Elisabeth Elliot
• Read Suffering and the Sovereignty of God by Justin Taylor and John Piper

By Adam Groza

The Times London once invited several prominent authors to write a response to the question “What’s wrong with the world.” Christian author G. K. Chesterton submitted the following:

Dear Sirs,

I am.

Sincerely yours,

G. K. Chesterton

Chesterton echoes Paul: “Sin is the problem and I am the chief sinner”. Not what the editors were expecting. Self-deprecating humor is socially acceptable because it’s taken with the general understanding that we really don’t think we are bad people. Only for the sake of laughs to we expose (and usually exaggerate) our foibles.

But Chesterton isn’t joking, and he isn’t exaggerating. He is making a statement about human depravity, but in a way which makes us uncomfortable. We usually don’t mind affirming human sinfulness, but it is far more uncomfortable to acknowledge my sinfulness, that I am a willing rebel against the God of the universe and deserving of His wrath.

Think about it. How would you answer this question: What is wrong with the world? My first reaction would be sin, but not my own sin. I tend to see my own faults after I have railed against others. Once I have exhausted the reserves of frustration with other people’s evils I add as an afterthought, “Well, I’m a sinner too.”

But Chesterton voices the Christian confession. Not that sin is a problem in general, but that my sin is causes pain and suffering in the world and negatively affects my family, workplace, church, etc. The Christian identifies with both sinners and saints: Simul justus et peccator.

Accepting our role as willing participant in cosmic rebellion allows us to see in ourselves no good thing and in Christ all beauty and righteousness. There are essentially two ways of dealing with the tragedy of sin and pain. We can follow Oscar Wilde, who advocated (as Robert Herrick wrote) that we gather rosebuds while there is time: Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die. Or we can take up our cross, confess our sins, and follow the Master into the kingdom. But in order to take up the cross of discipleship, we must make a stunning confession:

I am wrong with the world.

• Read G.K. Chesterton