Search & Ye Shall Find...

B laise Pascal was a Renaissance man —among other things, he was a philosopher, mathematician, physicist, and theologian. Today, however, he is remembered best as the author of a philosophical argument simply called, “Pascal’s Wager.” Maybe you’ve heard of it? While not a fully developed proof for the existence of God,—not in the formal, philosophical sense, that is—“Pascal’s Wager” is nonetheless just that—a wager. Indeed, “Pascal’s Wager” is less a strict argument for the existence of God and more an argument for why, even in the midst of uncertainty, belief in God is an infinitely better bet than the alternative. Nor is “Pascal’s Wager” an argument for the God of the Bible, per se, but rather an interesting thought experiment for the existence of a God in general. It goes a little something like this. To believe in God and live a life in accordance with what you believe to be His will (denying self, suffering for righteousness ’ sake, giving generously, loving God and others above yourself) is an infinitely safe wager because of the infinite stakes involved, even if you should die only to discover that God does not exist. Indeed, you will have lost nothing in the end, for nothing is what you will slip into. At the very worst, you will have lived a life more joyful and fulfilling than most, albeit one that does not ultimately count for anything in the grand scheme of a rapidly expanding and woefully disinterested material universe. However, should God exist, your “wager” or “bet” on His existence will be of eternal and infinite value. God will have been proven to be true and your faith will not have been in vain—infinitely far from it! On the other hand, one can live a life of fleeting pleasure under the assumption that God does not exist, and if they are correct, they will have lived a life of comfort and experience no eternal consequences for this kind of life because, just like everyone else both good and bad, they will simply slip off into the void, completely and utterly unnoticed. However, should God exist, the unbeliever who lived selfishly and wickedly (or apathetically) will have made the infinite gamble, and as such, suffer infinite loss under eternal judgement in Hell for denying their Creator and spurning His lordship, love, and grace. Once again, “Pascal’s Wager” is not an airtight philosophical argument for the existence of the God of the Bible, nor was it ever intended to be. It is, nonetheless, a starting place, particularly for unbelievers, wherein one can “count the cost” of their respective worldviews and deeply-seated beliefs in light of eternity. “Count the cost,” Pascal says, “and weigh in the scales between infinite loss and infinite gain, or else not an iota of either.” A powerful proposition. I, however, would like to introduce to you another wager, one that I find far more compelling— The Watchmaker’s Wager. The story goes that a woman once approached George Whitefield after one of his sermons and said something to the tune of, “Now, I enjoy your sermons as much as the next person, but why must you always keep on saying, ‘Ye must be born again!’?” Without skipping a beat, Whitefield looked the woman in the eyes and thundered: “Because ye must be born again!” Like countless Christians throughout history, Whitefield rightly believed and preached that spiritual regeneration—being born again by the power of the Holy Spirit—was at the beating heart of the Gospel. In the words of our Lord, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3). Apart from the new birth, a man or woman cannot even see the Kingdom of God resounding all around them, let alone enter into it. If the Spirit has not done this work in a person’s heart, all their seemingly good works and outward religiosity are nothing but lipstick applied to a pig—and a dead one at that. Outside of Christ, we were all dead men walking; our greatest need wasn’t more self-esteem or motivation or even religion—we needed to be raised from the dead. We needed a new heart. Such was the dreadful state of each and every one of us before God gave us new life and washed us with the precious blood of His Son. Whitefield understood this truth well, and so did my father. This would explain why, well over a decade ago now, he came home from work one evening and relayed an interaction he had with an elderly customer of his—an interaction that went on to change more lives than one. My father was a watchmaker by trade. It was a dying trade appreciated and patronized primarily by those who had already done most of the living they were going to do here below. Perhaps these elderly customers of my father’s, now that they too were advanced in years, admired the workmanship of timepieces, harkening them back to a simpler time when aesthetics and function went hand in hand; or, perhaps, they simply had a timepiece in their possession that needed fixing and my father was the only one nearby who could make heads or tails of the work that was required. Who knows. Whatever the case, one such customer strolled into my father ’s cramped little shop the day of this particular interaction. Later that evening when my father relayed the conversation, he simply said that he and an older gentleman got to talking about Christianity and the Gospel. My father had asked if the customer was a Christian, to which the man replied, “Yes, I’ve been going to church my whole life.” At this point in the story, I like to imagine that my father adopted a similar posture to Whitefield’s when he responded with, “But have you been born again? ” I can almost see my father’s eyes looking out over the rim of his glasses as they slipped down his nose somewhat, his forehead inclined forward, allowing the question to sit in the stillness for a moment (he adopted this posture with me many times, particularly when waiting for my response to something he asked). If there was anything more to the conversation between my father and this man, I wasn’t aware of it at the time—except that the man seemed to indicate that my father had given him a good deal to think over before his next visit. Not long after this encounter, my father was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. And not long after that, he went home to be with the One whom he loved very much; home to the embrace of the Savior who loved him far, far more. The sheer swiftness of my father’s cancer was a shock to us all, perhaps to him most of all—and yet, his faith remained true and strong to the very end. Indeed, because my father had been born twice, he needed only to die once when the time came for it. Shortly after his funeral, my mother said that a woman who knew our dad was going to stop by with a meal she had made. In the moment, I must have missed what exactly the connection was—something about her father or father-in-law and how he was a customer of Tata ’s. What I do remember is that my mother had asked if she would stay for dinner with us and that the meal she made was delicious . After we ate, the two made conversation in the kitchen while my sisters and I congregated in the living room. That evening was nearly a decade ago—and until only recently, it had faded from all memory. Indeed, in a world governed by a sovereign God, there really are no such things as coincidences. Last summer I had the opportunity to serve at my church’s Vacation Bible School for the week. I was running the “Science and Memory Verse” section (my background is in English Literature and Law, so this was naturally a good fit for me). After one of my sessions I got to talking with another helper who I’d seen around church throughout the week. She and I exchanged names and, not entirely to my surprise, she recognized the last name Budimlic (I come from a rather large extended family, with something like 75+ first-cousins alone, 11 of which hail from a single family). Almost anytime someone recognizes my last name, whether be it at church, through work, or an old school teacher on the first day of the semester, my reply is usually the same at this point in my life: “No, no, I’m from the other , smaller Budimlic family—those are my cousins.” However, a handful of my older cousins weren’t the only Budimlics that this woman recognized. After some back and forth, and upon discovering that my father was indeed a watchmaker (not many of those around), the pieces began to fall into place for both of us—“I think that my grandfather was a customer of your dad’s,” she said. “Actually, your dad played a part in my grandfather coming to faith.” The more she and I talked, the more it became clear that the mysterious watchmaker who talked to her grandfather about the Lord all those years ago was none other than my father. Suddenly, conversations and details from long ago, seemingly a lifetime ago, began to draw into sharp focus. Throughout these many memories, hitherto entirely unconnected in my mind,—my father sharing the Gospel with an elderly customer, the unknown woman who came by for dinner after his funeral—was a single question that seemed to thread together the entire tapestry of events: “Have you been born again? ” A few days later the woman I met at VBS sent me a message confirming that it was indeed her mother who came by to our home with a meal shortly after my father passed. And, it was indeed her grandfather, the father-in-law of the woman who brought the meal, who visited a humble watchmaker many years ago with a broken timepiece, ultimately leaving with far more than he bargained for. The woman with the meal, as she’s come to be called here, wrote these words detailing how her father-in-law came to faith—or, as she puts it, his “second birthday.” Here is the underside of the tapestry, the side of the story my father, John, never knew about until, perhaps, only recently: “ On Wednesday evening, February 1st, 2012, Terry had had a most interesting telephone conversation with his father. Dad had taken an old watch to a clock repair man in downtown Kitchener who is a real believer, and John had opened the back of the watch and shown Dad what was broken and what it would cost to fix. Then he had noticed the only other Ferguson who was a customer of his was Danielle. We had had some very good conversations about the Lord ’ s things in times past, and John asked Dad if he knew me. When Dad said he sure did, and that I was his daughter-in-law, they had a little more in common and then John asked Dad if he were a Christian. Dad emphatically replied, ‘ I sure am! I ’ ve gone to church all my life. ’ Then John asked Dad if he was born again. Just as strongly, Dad said, ‘ No! I've only been born once. ’ Then John asked Dad, ‘ If you were to die tonight, would you go to Heaven? ’ Dad could only say, ‘ I hope so. ’ Dad relayed this conversation to Terry on Wednesday night. We prayed about how to respond to Dad ’ s inquiries about what this all could mean. On Saturday afternoon, Terry called his parents to see if we could go over. They were home and so we went with our Bibles and concordance under our arms. After some general conversation, Terry asked his Dad about the conversation with the watchmaker. Then he suggested we look at some verses in the Word of God. Now Dad already believed Jesus is the Son of God and that the Bible is the Word of God, a good starting place. So, when Terry showed him John 3:1-21-36 and we read those verses about the interchange between the Lord and Nicodemus, Dad was really listening. We also found verses that speak of being saved by faith not works, and that the works of an unsaved person are as filthy rags to a holy God. We found the verse in Jeremiah (17:9) about the human heart and how it cannot be trusted. It became clear that Dad had never understood these words before and that the Holy Spirit had prepared his heart to hear them. We were there for most of the afternoon, and Dad did not want us to leave, but we left before their suppertime at the retirement home. Before we left, I invited them to come for lunch after church the next day, as I had made a big pot of fish chowder. Having spent a sleepless night, Dad got right to the point, saying he had never understood about the need of being born again before and that he had always thought of himself as a righteous man until recently. Terry assured him that if he wanted to get right with God, he could pray right then and there, confessing his sins to God and thanking the Lord Jesus for taking the punishment for his sins and that God would assuredly do His part in causing him to be born again. Dad said he was really ready for this and he prayed a most beautiful and sincere prayer of repentance and faith in the Person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ. What joy in Heaven and on Earth in our living room! Terry feels very, very thankful to have had the privilege of leading his father to the foot of the cross of Calvary and it has been a big encouragement to him. We are so thankful to now know we will see Dad in Heaven. The bill for the watch repair was going to be $150.00, and Dad ended up bringing the watch home as it was. Instead, he came to the waters and bought wine and milk without money and without price! (Isaiah 55:1). ” It shouldn ’t be a surprise to any believer that God delights to work out extraordinary ends through even the most ordinary of means. Indeed, so often our Gospel witness is exceedingly weak and we ourselves weaker still. But God. He is exceedingly capable and eager to show Himself strong through our weaknesses and ordinary acts of faithful obedience. Sometimes God makes clear to us the fruits of our labor; oftentimes, however, He does not. Not completely, at least; not here, not now. But of this we can be certain: any act of loving, faithful obedience unto the Lord here below will echo in eternity, no matter how seemingly small, unseen, or insignificant. In God ’s universe, there are no private moments and no unseen acts of love. In the meantime, God is the One who waters and gives the increase. It is our duty to trust and obey, leaving the harvest to His capable hands. He is the Lord of the harvest—some will sow while others reap, building on the foundations set down by others, but God provides any and all blessing to our efforts. Indeed, we never know what will come about because of our ordinary acts of faithfulness—be it a kind, passing word, a whispered prayer, or even a simple question. Indeed, Pascal had his wager, my father had his— “Have you been born again?   If you were to die tonight, would you go to Heaven? ” “ The clock of life is wound but once, And no man has the power To tell just when the hands will stop At late or early hour. To lose one ’ s wealth is sad indeed, To lose one ’ s health is more, To lose one ’ s soul is such a loss That no man can restore. The present only is our own, So live, love, toil with a will, Place no faith in ‘ Tomorrow, ’ For the Clock may then be still. ” —Robert H. Smith, The Clock of Life Photo by Mukund Shyam, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? 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A s a teacher,—and an English teacher at that—it would seem as though I have something of a moral obligation to read the book before I watch the movie. Unlike my wife, whose parents made it a rule that she and her brother had to read the source material before watching any given adaptation, no such rule existed in my household growing up. To my own shame, despite being a lifelong fan of The Lord of the Rings, I must admit that I only just read through the entire trilogy this past Christmas. And so, when Andy Weir’s debut novel, The Martian , was being made into a film by director Ridley Scott (known for classics like Gladiator , a personal favorite) back in 2015, I made sure to read the novel before enjoying the film in theaters—a practice I ’ve attempted to maintain ever since . Both the novel and the film, in my opinion, were excellent. This being the case, I, for some mysterious reason, neglected to keep tabs on Andy Weir’s writing career in the years that followed. Weir’s meteoric rise to popularity as an author is actually a really interesting and inspiring story—from teenage self-proclaimed nerd, to software engineer, to part-time blogger, to the author of a best-selling novel which, in the very same week that it landed a publisher, was also picked up by one of Hollywood’s most esteemed directors. But, I thought, perhaps the success of The Martian , as enjoyable as it may have been, was more of a fluke for Weir than anything else. Maybe he was just a one-trick pony—surely he couldn’t capture lightning in a bottle twice? To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even know the book Project Hail Mary existed until I saw the trailer a few months back for the newly-released film adaptation. To my pleasant surprise, it looked rather intriguing—something of a blend between Interstellar and Arrival (another two of my favorite films). And, being the good teacher I am, I purchased the book (which I had only heard great things about) in order to read it before my wife and I went to see the movie in theaters this past week. And in case you missed the buzz online, the film adaptation is being widely hailed as one of the all-time great science-fiction films ever made, garnering rave reviews from seemingly everyone, ranging from The Daily Wire ’s Matt Walsh to The Gospel Coalition to Scottish YouTube reviewer The Critical Drinker . Expectations were high, to say the least. And, having now finished both the novel and the film—I can see why. With Project Hail Mary,  Weir’s third novel, he not only captured lightning in a bottle for a second time—he obliterated the bottle entirely, leaving nothing but molten glass in the resulting crater. The novel exceeded my expectations, so much so that I devoured its nearly 500 pages in only a handful of sittings. I watched the film a few days ago, and I must admit that I’m having trouble getting the story out of my mind—for all the very best of reasons. It was a breath of fresh air in so many ways, bringing life and light and warmth to an entertainment industry that has been in a steady decline for decades. While my intention here will be to review Project Hail Mary as a whole , my primary focus will be on the novel—though, given how faithful and excellent an adaptation the film was, I will touch on it throughout. Lastly, this review may function less like a formal review and more like a reflection—a rev-flection, if you like. Project Hail Mary Much like Andy Weir’s first outing in The Martian , Project Hail Mary is an example of what ’s called ‘hard science fiction.’ Hard science fiction is a subgenre within science fiction, “ characterized by a strong emphasis on scientific accuracy, technical detail, and the logical extrapolation of established natural sciences like physics, chemistry, and astronomy . ” As an astronomy and overall science nut, Weir enjoys putting his characters into high orbits with even higher stakes, forcing them to use their wits and scientific acumen to get out of tight situations. However, at no point is all the science and math just a gimmick, nor is it ever at the expense of the story—in fact, science is almost a character itself in the novel. And yet, through it all, at the beating heart of Project Hail Mary is an incredibly warm and human story; a tale beaming with hope and humor, full of grace, courage, love, sacrifice, and above all, friendship . The central mystery of Project Hail Mary  is that the Sun is growing more and more dim. A strange space-faring microbial, dubbed ‘ astrophage ,’ has infected not only Earth’s star, but countless other neighboring stars—that is, all but one . If the threat is left unchecked, all life on Earth, and any other worlds, will perish in only a few short generations alongside their respective stars. In an effort to investigate this lone, uninfected star, global powers rally to construct the Hail Mary , the first interstellar spaceship of its kind. The ship is designed to take a select group of highly-trained scientists and engineers lightyears from Earth to the uninfected solar system where, hopefully, answers can be found. The novel ’s protagonist, Dr. Ryland Grace (played by Ryan Gosling in the film), is sent aboard the Hail Mary with two others as they embark on history ’s loneliest expedition. Their task is to investigate why the lone star has not been infected, with hopes of solving the cosmic mystery and sending their findings back to Earth before it ’s too late. Like a Hail Mary play in American Football, the ship and crew of the Hail Mary  serve as humanity’s desperate, last-ditch effort to save the species before time runs out. Only, upon awakening from his induced coma years later, Dr. Grace finds that his two crewmates have died in their sleep at some point along the journey—leaving him alone in a strange solar system lightyears away from home to solve humanity’s overwhelming existential threat. Only— is he alone? Ryan Gosling as Dr. Ryland Grace in the film adaptation of Project Hail Mary Full of Grace To my knowledge, Andy Weir isn ’t a professing Christian—in fact, I largely doubt that he is one. Nonetheless, Project Hail Mary, both the novel and its motion-picture counterpart, is absolutely brimming with religious themes. Take, for instance, the not-so-subtle fact that the ship’s name is the Hail Mary , and that it’s only occupant is named Grace—thus, Hail Mary full of Grace. The Biblical themes go much further, however. Though his worldview is most likely a naturalistic one, Weir asks interesting questions throughout the novel about life and what makes it worth living. Whereas the logical conclusions of his espoused naturalistic worldview are pessimistic and nihilistic, Weir is, oddly enough, the furthest from either in his approach to storytelling. Just like The Martian, Weir places a high premium on human life throughout Project Hail Mary. The Imago Dei (the image of God upon our souls) is hard to shake off. Indeed, Project Hail Mary is full of grace. It was refreshing to see several genuine and sincere references to God throughout the story—both in the novel and in the film. This is somewhat surprising for several reasons, not least of which because most of the characters in the story are purely naturalistic in their presuppositions about life and the nature of the universe—as is typically the case in many science-fiction stories. In my opinion, however, Project Hail Mary is not your typical science-fiction story. Consider this comment from the book, made by a hopeful scientist to Dr. Grace explaining why, in light of what very well may be the end of the world, he remains optimistic: “Do you believe in God? I know it’s a personal question. I do. And I think He was pretty awesome to make relativity a thing, don’t you? The faster you go, the less time you experience. It’s like He’s inviting us to explore the universe, you know?... It’s like... the coolest thing ever! Again, God’s just handing us the future! ” While this little conversation is cut from the film, it’s equivalent communicates a similar truth: “Do you believe in God?” Dr. Grace asks, to which the director of the Hail Mary project replies, “Yes. It’s better than the alternative. ” Despite the existential threat looming over the galaxy, each and every page of the novel is awash with warmth, hope, humor, and love—so much so that I found myself smiling ear to ear on more than one occasion and chuckling aloud on several others. Unlike other science-fiction stories,—even those of which I am a fan, such as Dune or Interstellar —at no point do the existential stakes of Grace’s situation become dreadfully overbearing. There is always a glimmer of hope and happiness woven into the chaos, almost as though a sovereign hand were gracefully directing all roads to some joyful end. Among other things, Project Hail Mary is a very smart, very touching, very optimistic, and very funny book (and movie). However, at the very heart of Project Hail Mary there is not so much a story about science or evolution or even survival, but one of friendship. Without venturing too much into spoiler territory, I’ll simply say that the emotional weight of the story is found in the unexpected relationship that slowly blossoms between Grace and Rocky, a benevolent alien whom Grace befriends near the beginning of his journey. Like Grace, Rocky is also on a mission from his home-world to determine why their own star is dying, hoping to find answers in the same unaffected solar system that the Hail Mary was sent to. In no time, a sweet friendship evolves as the pair work to solve the mystery together, drawing on the expertise and experiences from not only two completely different lives, but two utterly different worlds— “ Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow ” (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10). Over the course of the story, this Biblical truth is borne out time and time again as Grace and Rocky put their lives on the line for one another—and by extension, for those back home as well. John Beeson, in his brief reflection on Project Hail Mary,  encapsulates this point well when he emphasizes the friendship between Grace and Rocky as the bedrock of the film’s narrative: “One of the most compelling aspects of [ Project Hail Mary ] is how friendship transforms Grace. When we first meet him, he isn’t the stereotypical hero. He’s not naturally courageous. He’s not particularly self-sacrificial. In fact, part of his backstory reveals that when confronted with a moment requiring bravery, he failed. That’s what makes his eventual heroism so powerful. Grace becomes courageous not because he suddenly discovers some hidden reservoir of bravery, but because friendship draws it out of him.” An unexpected friendship A Story Told With a Christian Accent Andy Weir gets friendship absolutely right—and it’s not because of anything remotely to do with the naturalism or evolution espoused by many characters throughout the novel. Indeed, Project Hail Mary speaks with a distinctly Christian accent on the topics of love and friendship in ways that evolutionary biology can only lisp  and blabber about incomprehensibly. In a purely naturalistic worldview, no such things as love, grace, courage, or friendship exist. These are owing to, and only possible within, a Christian worldview. Clumps of cells cannot befriend one another. And yet, despite the naturalistic worldview held by many characters within the story, love, grace, courage, and friendship nonetheless permeate every story thread of Project Hail Mary. It would seem that Weir’s characters aren’t nearly as consistent with their worldviews as they ought to be, just as many scientists, academics, and self-proclaimed ‘intellectuals’ in our world fail to live out the nihilistic conclusions of their own belief systems. Stories like Project Hail Mary impact us at a deep level and stir our innermost affections because they are seeking to unfold to us that which is good, true, and beautiful—a phrase I ’ve come to appreciate a lot these days . Because humans are made in the image of the One true God, we make and relate to stories that are reflective of this ultimate reality. We strive to tell good stories and—to borrow a phrase from Rocky— “Amaze, amaze, amaze” one another because we stand amazed with the very best story of them all: Christ Himself. Goodness and truth and beauty have infinitely more authority than mere authorial intent. This is why we as Christians can enjoy those books and movies not even penned by believers, as is the case with Project Hail Mary , because these tales are nonetheless communicating something genuinely beautiful to us. Whether it’s the warm characters and emotional plot points of the novel, or the stirring soundtrack of the film, coupled with its mesmerizing cinematography, there is a peculiar kind of artistic beauty present throughout the story that can only be possible because of who God is and because of the many wonderful truths that make up His universe. Never underestimate art ’s ability to become a vehicle for the good, the true, and the beautiful—for many a Gospel truths have been communicated therein, however silently or imperceptibly. As C.S. Lewis said, God has laid traps for the unbeliever all throughout the created world, ensnaring them with His love and beauty no matter where they might find themselves. Indeed, for a piece of Christian art to be truly beautiful, it need not have Christians in it or even name the name of Christ. Filling it with those good things Christ has made is often testimony enough of His beauty. As Martin Luther once said, “The Christian shoemaker does his duty not by putting little crosses on the shoes, but by making good shoes, because God is interested in good craftsmanship.” If art of any kind is well-crafted, having been executed with grace and precision, all the while seeking to communicate something true well beyond itself, then there will be some good to be found in it. This is why art, particularly Christian art, is of such importance—be it poetry, novels, paintings, or film. Truth has a way of prevailing in even the unlikeliest of places; such as in the sweet relationship between a formerly cowardly scientist and his unlikely friend, a rocky alien named Rocky . Their sweet friendship, though fictional, points us towards the very best of human friendships, which are in and of themselves but fleeting glimpses of our best and dearest Friend who loved us and gave Himself for us. Floating masses of atoms and star-dust simply don’t become friends or sacrifice for one another, let alone give their lives for millions of others whom they’ve never met—this is antithetical to all the core tenets of evolutionary biology. Such love, however, is at the beating heart of the Gospel. Evolution says that life depends on the “Survival of the fittest”—in stark opposition, the Gospel says that life, life everlasting, depends on the Fittest giving His life for the survival and salvation of those who are weakest: “ Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends ” (John 15:13). For these reasons, and many more, I cannot recommend Project Hail Mary —the novel and the film—highly enough. It accomplishes with seeming ease what only the very best kind of art can do—that is, to “Amaze, amaze, amaze!” Images captured by cinematographer Greig Fraser , Project Hail Mary, distributed by Amazon MGM Studios Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my   Patreon Page .

H ave you ever found yourself lost in a sunset? In the dying light of an evening long ago, across an ocean of time and circumstances, I caught a glimpse of something that I will never forget. What I saw—the beauty that my heart tasted in that moment—was less the thing in and of itself than it was the thing beyond the thing . What I saw was a sunset: sharp, grey spires of pines clothed with golden light; and as the horizon leveled, a rich amber, like fire, erupting from the velvet shadows just beyond the nearest hills. I had seen many sunsets up until this point, but something stirred in me on that particular evening. What I tasted in that moment—the ache my soul experienced—filled me with a sense of nostalgia. It was as though I became an onlooker into things that were not to be seen by mortal eyes, while feeling strangely familiar and at home all the same. Truly, something restless stirred in my soul that evening; a deep and profound sense of longing awoke that is yet to be put to rest. Indeed, I have been trying to open that curtain again and again ever since that night. An Ode to Sunsets There are moments, perhaps only fleeting slivers of a moment, in which one catches the tune of something far-off and distant. We hear this tune in the dancing of golden sunlight upon autumn leaves, or the crescendo of beauty that lies in the clouds at sunset; a sight so rich in beauty, so tangible, that you feel you could almost walk over the nearest hill and round the next bend directly into those halls of glory beyond the clouds themselves. As if, for only a moment, the curtain is pulled back ever so slightly on every longing and ache of the human soul: the doors of eternity themselves having been thrown wide open for a moment in time. As though you were chasing an otherworldly song through an endless corridor, unsatisfied until your hands finally and fully rested on the source of the music. And then, before we know it, the music fades and the curtain is drawn once more, leaving us back in our own world once again. In these moments there arises a longing; a near maddening, romantic arousal within one’s soul; a faint whisper and soft suggestion that this world is not our home after all—indeed, how can it be? When C.S. Lewis spoke of the wood beyond the world, —this feeling, this sense of nostalgia—he had this mysteriously evasive quality of aching and longing in mind: “the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.” In his monumental essay The Weight of Glory, Lewis expands further on this ache: “Apparently, then, our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honour beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache.” ...And Childhood While no one has had a perfect childhood, many of us had a good childhood—even a great one. I, for my part, had a great childhood. Indeed, the joys and comforts of my own upbringing have shaped me and my understanding of the world in ways beyond count. And when I consider my own childhood, there seems to me no other way to describe it than as one long, continuous sunset. Perhaps this feeling is just that, a feeling ; a rose-colored, nostalgia-tinged caricature of my early years. But, on the other hand, perhaps not. Perhaps this nostalgia of mine is not romanticism run amok, but instead the “ truest index of my upbringing, ” to borrow words from Lewis. Indeed, sorrows and imperfections aside, I feel like this characterization is most true to the heart of what my childhood actually was. As though every moment and memory of my youth is clothed in the warm light of a setting sun—Sunday evenings baking bread over a charcoal fire with my father and sister; going on family walks through the wood of this world with our dogs; large family gatherings at my uncle ’s home; and maybe most potently, Sunday evening song services at our local church. From the first to the last, all these dear childhood memories are touched with a golden hue, casting shadows far beyond themselves to a reality far greater, realer, and more beautiful. Though, I feel as though Sunday evening song services occupy a place unto themselves. I am by no means a competent singer (in fact, I was gently ‘released’ from junior choir several years early for this very reason—a story for another time, I’m afraid). Nonetheless, I love to sing; I love to sing unto the Lord; and above all, I love to sing unto my Savior with my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Growing up, there was one hymn in particular that we typically saved for last on Sunday evenings, simply titled “Sunset.” Some years later, I often find myself singing the first verse now and again: “When shadows grow long in the evening, When birds wing their way back home, I get a heavenly feeling; It’s sunset and I’m going home. God paints the clouds in the evening sky, To show me the way to the palace on high, And stars mark the pathway lest my feet should roam,   It’s sunset and I’m going home.” That Old Ache I fully realize that not everyone had a great childhood, or even a good one. While there is a difference between good and great, I sense that the gulf existing between good and bad is far wider and more treacherous. Perhaps your childhood is marked not by the the light of a setting sun, but rather by storm clouds, sleet, and many dark nights. Though in either case, that old ache yet persists, does it not? Doubtless we sensed it from early childhood, no matter our circumstances. Some weight in our souls, a longing without name; a cry within the howling infinite of our innermost-being that testified to the truth that God “has put eternity into man ’s heart ” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Without Him, our souls remained utterly restless. And when the Lord saved us, did we not finally taste and see the One to whom all the sunset-shadows kept pointing? All of life is as the setting of the sun—a gradual closing of the curtain as night falls upon this age. A groaning of all creation itself in anticipation of a new, unending day: “ But according to His promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells ” (1 Peter 3:13) . When the shadows begin to grow long in the evening sky, do not despair. If you are the Lord ’ s, this world was never your home to begin with: “ For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God ” (Colossians 3:3) . Rather, follow these shadows and longings to the feet of Him who is the remedy for every ache in our hearts. For in a short time the sun will set on each of our lives, and with joy we will say to ourselves, “I ’ve got a heavenly feeling; the way has been long and hard, but now it’s sunset and I’m finally going home.” And when we at long last see Him for the first time and hear those words,— “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Master”—every ache shall then be healed and every longing satisfied. On that day, we will at last step into the light to which our lifelong nostalgia only dimly pointed—we’ll finally be home. Photo by Andrey Svistunov, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my   Patreon Page .

W ith another Easter just around the bend, there seems no better time than the present to have a much-needed—though, heretofore much-neglected—conversation about The Chosen. For the few of you who may be unaware, The Chosen is a wildly popular, multi-season television show chronicling the life of Jesus and His disciples produced by Angel Studios. While the emphasis of my article will be on this particular series, many of my thoughts here, Lord willing, are readily applicable to the wider conversation regarding depictions of Christ, whether these representations be visual, material, or even mental. One need only take a cursory glance at the title of this article to venture a guess as to where my convictions land on the topic. Indeed, over the course of this post my aim is to outline why I do not, and will not, watch The Chosen . I will unpack my position across five points, addressing each item in turn, with the weight of my conviction resting on the prohibitions outlined in the second commandment. When I say “my position,” be aware that I’m not speaking from an island. While this is indeed the conviction I hold to, church history itself attests to a long-held, robust theology rejecting the use of images to represent God, whether for worship or otherwise—a view reaffirmed and explicated during the Reformation. I do not write these words lightly. Rather, I am attempting to communicate very real and pressing concerns about The Chosen with as much humility, sobriety of mind, and Biblical fidelity as I am able. What you are about to read has been born out of much prayer, several years of careful, ongoing reflection, and a close consideration of what men far godlier than myself have said on this topic throughout church history. I am keenly  aware that some of my readers, many close friends and family among them, will disagree with me on this issue—perhaps even rather vehemently. So be it. However, amidst our disagreements, let us remain gracious and charitable, seeking to honor others above ourselves (Romans 12:10) and in so doing, honor Christ above all. 1.) Stolen Glory: The Prohibitions of the Second Commandment The weight of my conviction against any representations of Christ, in The Chosen or otherwise, rests in the second of the ten commandments. Many of my other issues with The Chosen , serious as they may be, are more or less downstream from this chief concern: namely, ascribing an image of any kind to the Lord God. However, before we concern ourselves with the second commandment, we must first familiarize ourselves with the first commandment. Indeed, in order to properly understand and obey the second, we must understand that which comes before it—context is king. When God gives the Ten Commandments to Moses on Mount Sinai, He begins by reminding Moses, and by extension the people of Israel, of who He is and what He has done. Thundering out from the darkness and smoke and fire of the mountain, the voice of the Lord proclaims: “I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery” (Exodus 20:2). It was the LORD who delivered His people, not the feckless, impotent lowercase-g gods of Egypt. In fact, by delivering the people of Israel from the hands of Pharoah through many plagues and signs—plagues that directly rebuked the demonic assortment of sun, water, and fertility gods of Egypt—Yahweh put these other gods to open shame and judgement. After this sobering reminder, God issues the first of His ten commandments, the command upon which all the others find their footing: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). Some Bible translations use the language of “besides me” instead of “before me,” though in either case the effect is the same: No other gods are to be brought into the holy, all-consuming presence of the one true God. Commentaries on Exodus 20:3, such as Benson’s or Barnes’, will often translate “before me” as literally “before my face.” The language being employed here is spatial, having to do with nearness or proximity to someone—in this case, no other gods or idols are to be worshipped ahead of, behind, above, below, before, beside, or in the infinitely distant expanse even approaching Yahweh. Because the one true God is omnipresent, there is nothing in all of creation that is not immediately “before Him,” that is, in His direct and holy presence. Now that we ’ve established what the first commandment instructs , and thoroughly eliminated even the notion of worshipping any other gods besides Yahweh, we can move on to what the Lord commands concerning the worship of Himself. That being said, what does the second commandment actually say? In Exodus 20:4-5, we read: “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the Lord your God am a jealous God.” To say that this commandment merely condemns the idolatrous worship of foreign gods would miss the point almost entirely, particularly in light of the very first commandment: “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). If the second commandment only prohibits the worship of “other gods,” then it would substantially be no different from the first commandment. The first commandment has already eliminated all other gods. The worship of whom, then, are the images referred to in the second commandment being used? They must include God, since the first commandment makes clear that He and He alone is to be worshipped. Therefore, we can confidently say that the first commandment has to do with the who of our worship (the one true God), while the second commandment has to do with the how of our worship ( sans images). We are to worship the living God, Yahweh, and we are to worship Him in the way He has commanded and permitted. Looking at the second commandment, then, it becomes clear that God forbids the use of images in worship—such a violation constitutes idolatry . To quote Charles Hodge, “idolatry consists not only in the worship of false gods, but also in the worship of the true God by images.” 1 This interpretation is not novel. The prohibition against images of God goes back far further than the Reformation, than Saint Augustine, predating the early church fathers and even the Apostles themselves, going all the way to the foot of Mount Sinai itself. In Deuteronomy 4:15-16, Moses warns the people, saying, “ Therefore watch yourselves very carefully. Since you saw no form on the day that the LORD spoke to you at Horeb out of the midst of the fire, beware lest you act corruptly by making a carved image for yourselves, in the form of any figure. ” John Calvin, writing directly about the second commandment in his Institutes of the Christian Religion , says, “By these words [Moses] curbs any licentious attempt we might make to represent [God] by a visible shape.” 2 The natural man is utterly boundless in his ability to make a god out of whatever lies before him. Truly, as Calvin once put it, the heart of man is a perpetual idol factory—even when it comes to worship of the one true God. God knows, with an infinite, intimate awareness, that we as His image-bearers are also ardent, rebellious image-makers—both with respect to other gods and, unfortunately, with the true God as well. Because each and every idol of the heart is directly “before Him,” actively diminishing His glory and decaying the souls of those who worship such falsehood, it is then no wonder why God is so jealous to guard His holy name in these first two commandments. To worship “ the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God ” (1 Timothy 1:17) with images of any kind, no matter how glorious or seemingly elevated, is to rob Him of His matchless glory. Even ancient pagans understood this to be the case. Saint Augustine, quoting the Roman scholar Varro, remarks rightly that, “Those who first introduced images of the gods both took away fear and brought in error. ” 3  If this can be said of pagan gods, who are no gods at all, then how much more so does it apply to our worship of the one true God? Worshipping God with the use of objects and images is at the beating heart of what the second commandment strictly and clearly prohibits . It is sin. By ascribing an image to any Persons of the Trinity, regardless how lofty these images may seem to us, we are in effect saying to God, “Yes, Lord, I know you are invisible, immortal, and infinite, far beyond all creaturely understanding, but I think ____ will represent you well enough—it just helps me understand you better, you see.” If God is invisible, then we dare not diminish His glory with those things we make, carve, or imagine, though in our own minds these depictions might very well stretch our imaginative capabilities. God, being infinite and invisible, is not to be subjected to portrayal with “images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and creeping things,” (Romans 1:23). Rather, “ God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:24). The highest creature that man can possibly conceive of is himself—man. In our thinking of God, the holy angels, and even Satan, there is a distinct creatureliness, or humanness, to our imaginings. This is less offensive when it comes to beings other than God because they are, like all created things, at the end of the day still creatures— no matter how glorious . By contrast, God, as Creator, is the furthest possible Being from a mere creature. In large part, this is what it means for God to be holy (Isaiah 6). However, we sin against the Lord when we routinely make this error of attributing to Him human qualities, even if our intentions are ‘noble.’ The images we make of God, be they molten or mental, inevitably follow this pattern of making God in the image of man. This error ought to terrify us. Man was made in the image of God, not the other way around; we dare not make the grave mistake of assuming that Almighty God is made in our image. Hence why God in the second commandment prohibits the use of images in our worship, whether they be “images resembling mortal man” (Romans 1:23) or any such things found “in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth” (Exodus 20:4-5). This list is, among other things, thoroughly  exhaustive. God, having made His abode in “heaven above,” rules out and strictly prohibits the practice of fashioning any image from that realm where He rules as King—Himself included. Consider what the Westminster Larger Catechism has to say: “ Question : What are the sins forbidden in the second commandment? Answer : The sins forbidden in the second commandment are, all devising, counseling, commanding, using, and anywise approving, any religious worship not instated by God himself; tolerating a false religion; the making any representation of God, of all or of any of the three persons, either inwardly in our mind, or outwardly in any kind of image or likeness of any creature whatsoever .” Images of God rob Him of the glory due Him, and rob us of the true knowledge of God that He means for us to learn from His word. This is precisely why images depicting God have always been prohibited—Biblically, throughout church history, and in the Reformed tradition. J.I. Packer writes “that the glory of God and the spiritual well-being of humans are both directly bound up with [the second commandment].” 4 Taking up this line, John Calvin writes how, when we lower Almighty God to the level of any image or representation, “His glory is defiled, and His truth corrupted by the lie, whenever He is set before our eyes in a visible form... His majesty is adulterated, and He is figured to be other than He is.” 5 When we violate the second commandment, we are provoking the jealousy of a holy God who is beyond all comparison—holy, holy, holy, infinitely above even the most elevated creature—and robbing ourselves of the true knowledge of God that can only be found in His word. “The mind that takes up with images,” writes Packer, “is a mind that has not yet learned to love and attend to God’s Word.” 6 2.) A Tale of Two Christs? The Jesus of Scripture & the Jesus of “The Chosen” When it comes to images and depictions of God the Son, however, the second commandment is almost always completely disregarded. In most cases, those in favor of representing Jesus—whether it be in books, on film, in statures, or otherwise—argue that because God the Son took on human flesh in the Incarnation, we then have permission from God to depict Him as a human—as a man. I think this argument has several crucial flaws. First, let ’s get the obvious out of the way: Jesus, truly God, took on a truly human body in the Incarnation. The historical person of Jesus Christ, God the Son, stepped out of eternity and took on flesh (John 1:14). Indeed, at this very moment, the Lord Jesus Christ reigns and rules over all of reality as the God-Man, being truly God and truly man. Jesus had and has a human body. The Incarnation of the Son was not a one-time event, as though Jesus ’ life as a man concluded once His earthly ministry and atoning death were accomplished—no, for He reigns now and forever more in His glorious, resurrected body as the Lamb who was slain for the sins of the world, bearing upon His human body for all eternity those wounds by which we were healed. Jesus ’ humanity is what allowed Him to be the all-sufficient sacrifice for the sin of humanity back then, and it is His humanity which now enables Him to be our intercessor and high priest in Heaven. However—therein lies the crux of the issue: it is the historical person of Jesus Christ of Nazareth who was born of a virgin birth, who lived a sinless life, who died an atoning death for the sins of His people, and who rose again to taste death no more, now making intercession for the saints at the right hand of the Father. It is the singular, utterly unique Incarnation of God the Son that we as Christians both look back to and ache forward towards. The Jesus of the Bible and the Jesus with whom we will be in Heaven are one and the same—a Jesus vastly, infinitely greater than any depictions of Him. And because we do not know what Jesus looks like, anytime we commit ‘a Jesus ’ to some kind of image, we are dealing with another Jesus. And anytime we are dealing with another Jesus, we are dealing with no Jesus at all. When Jesus ’ disciples walked with Him here below, they walked, talked, and ate with the real Jesus. And when they were writing the Gospels, I am quite confident that the disciples would have regularly called to mind their many memories of Jesus—the color of His hair, the shape of His chin, the way His beard grew in, the hue of His eyes, the way He breathed, the sound of His voice. In writing 1 John, the apostle practically admits as much: “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—the life was made manifest, and we have seen it, and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us—that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ” (1 John 1:1-3). Because John and the other disciples knew Jesus while He was on Earth, their ability to picture Him mentally was unique to their appointment as Jesus’ apostles—a uniqueness that was their own, a privilege no other generation since can claim. And yet, consider that they did not make any attempt to describe Jesus physically to us in the Gospels. If what He looked like was so important for our faith and worship on this side of eternity, this seems like a massive oversight. Rather, the writers of the New Testament rightly put forward that “ faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ ” (Romans 10:17), and that “ we walk by faith, not by sight ” (2 Corinthians 5:7). Indeed, Jesus says: “ Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed ” (John 20:29). We as believers see the Word of God, Jesus, through the eyes of faith as we read the word of God, the Bible. One day we will see Him face to face—just not yet. When we picture Jesus, whether mentally or in a television show like The Chosen, we are not remembering Him as the disciples would have, but imagining Him. And to imagine God, to imagine and put to form any Person of the Trinity, is to violate the second commandment. Like water off a duck’s back, we see no issue with putting an image to the person of Christ, God the Son, simply because He took on flesh—this error is less obvious, say, than committing the Father or the Holy Spirit to some sort of physical form. My contention—and indeed the majority view held historically, both during the Reformation and throughout church history, not to mention the Bible’s view—is that the same rule ought apply to all Divine Persons of the Trinity. To create an image of any Member of the Godhead is to commit idolatry. Simply because the tradition of icons and images of Christ goes back into the far reaches of church history is no argument in favor of its Biblical authenticity or approval before God. Just because a practice is old doesn’t make it true. Something is true not by virtue of it merely being old, but by virtue of it being Biblical and in line with God’s revealed word. A tradition can be very old and at the same time very wrong. If anything, it might only signal that the rot goes down far deeper than otherwise suspected. Look no further than the New Testament churches at Corinth or Galatia who, though they were established by the Apostle Paul himself, yet still fell into grave error in his lifetime and were in need of his stern, though loving, correction. In everything, may we in humility allow the voice of Scripture to shape our convictions, rather than permitting our feelings or preferences to interpret God ’s word for us.  It is far better to submit and obey—with trembling—than play fast and loose with the word of God to the end that His eternal truth might fit neatly into our own thinking or traditions. 3.) When the Screen Becomes Scripture: Is the Bible Truly Sufficient? With something like The Chosen, or indeed with any depictions of Christ, folks are often swift to claim that, while these are in fact images of God, they are not produced with the intent of aiding in worship. In this way, or so the claim goes, the second commandment is not violated. Rather, depictions of Christ in The Chosen or otherwise are a means by which the truths of the Gospel are proliferated—the images are not for worship, but for outreach and evangelism. This same line was toed way back in the early 2000s when Mel Gibson ’s The Passion of the Christ debuted. “Surely no one would be foolish enough to mistake an actor playing Jesus in a show for the real Jesus,” they say. “Perhaps,” I might respond, “but perhaps not.” Maybe the real error is not mistaking an actor for Jesus, but ignoring the commandment of God in the first place out of a misplaced sense of Gospel pragmatism. We are never justified in breaking one of God’s commands with the hope that, just maybe, we might be better equipped to obey Him in another one of His commands at some point further down the road. Woe to those who nullify the word of God in the name of pragmatism! Furthermore, I would not attribute foolishness to the one who confuses an image of Jesus for the real Jesus—confusion, yes, but not necessarily foolishness. If an image is not meant to represent the reality, then might I ask what purpose such an image possesses? We are, among other things, visual creatures. As humans, we form images in our minds based off of those things we’ve seen in the real world: I can think of a tree or a sunset in my mind because I’ve seen both of these with my own two eyes. However, no one alive today has seen the living Christ, and so we have no business imagining Him. To do so would only diminish His true and unimaginable glory. The disciples could picture Jesus in their minds, provided they were indeed remembering Him correctly, because they were remembering Him as God perfectly chose to reveal Him—as the man Jesus Christ of Nazareth. It was not an image they had in their minds, but the real Jesus; this was unique to their personal relationship with the incarnate Son, and could not be applied to the Godhead generally. And yet, though they saw the Lord daily for years, even gazing upon His glorified form, the emphasis of the Apostles remains clear in their teaching to us: “ we walk by faith, not by sight ” (2 Corinthians 5:7). The Apostles realized that it was not their memory of Jesus that saved or sanctified them, but the living Jesus who did so; the same Jesus who rules as King of kings and Lord of lords over all, the same Jesus who the Holy Spirit reveals through the Scriptures to this very day, just as He did in the days of the Apostles. If someone is exposed to an image of ‘ Jesus ’ repeatedly, time and time again, on something like The Chosen or via a painting they have in their bedroom , might we not also expect when that same person prays by their bedside that it is Jesus the actor they see in their mind’s eye? God has revealed Himself through His Son; not through images of His Son. If you think I am being hyperbolic, consider that Jonathan Roumie, the actor who plays Jesus in The Chosen, has had no shortage of fans approach him and ask that he pray for them because of the close association these viewers hold between him and the Lord. Even more troubling, other fans of the show admit that they see Roumie’s face when they pray to the Lord or read their Bibles, confessing little issue with it. This is only to be expected when images of any kind are introduced into our worship of the Triune God. God knows best who He is, and as such, He also knows best how we are to worship Him—for our own good and for His glory. In his seminal work, Knowing God, J.I. Packer expands upon the dangers of disregarding the Biblically-ordained means God has clearly outlined for worship in favor of our own preferences. In Chapter four, “The Only True God,” Packer writes: “Psychologically, it is certain that if you habitually focus your thoughts on an image or picture of the One to whom you are going to pray, you will come to think of him, and pray to him, as the image represents him. Thus you will in this sense ‘bow down’ and ‘worship’ your image.” I think that a similar phenomenon occurs when we begin to confuse the screen for Scripture. We not only replace the real Jesus with a counterfeit, but we get turned around in our understanding of what the Bible actually says as well. I have heard of Bible studies that go through the night quiet as a mausoleum only to erupt with enthusiasm the moment The Chosen gets brought up. No such excitement was on display for the word of God, but no shortage of conversation then began to center around a television show of all things. Indeed, even in some of my conversations with other believers I ’ve quoted Scripture on a particular topic only for them to reply with, “Okay, yes, but this is what Jesus says about that in The Chosen... ” To put holy Scripture to the screen isn ’t the same as developing an adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, where the producers and writers have creative license to do as they please (though, I’d argue that Tolkien’s work deserves proper respect as well). A great danger in thinking about the word of God as though it were any old book is that, in time, we will surely forget where Scripture ends and the screen, or the adaptation, begins, and vice versa. Just this past Christmas I read through The Lord of the Rings trilogy and, because of my great familiarity with the Peter Jackson films, found myself anticipating scenes and events that never came to pass. Indeed, these scenes were entirely absent in Tolkien’s original work, despite being very much present in The Lord of the Rings story as I knew it and remembered it from the films I grew up on. And in some cases I came to realize that lines from the book which were originally delivered by Gandalf or Aragorn were in fact swapped or given to entirely different characters in the films—this is all part of the adaptation process, you see. My fear is that a similar confusion can, will, and indeed has come to pass with many viewers of The Chosen, particularly among those who never knew their Bibles very well to begin with. Indeed, for some viewers, the Bible, Christ, and Gospel presented to them in the show is all they ’ve ever known. Accretion by accretion, though the changes seemed slight and innocent enough at first, even ‘Christian’ viewers may soon find they actually have no concept of what the Bible truly says, or who their Savior really is, if they are not first rooted firmly in the revealed word of God.   Salvation belongs to the Lord, not to studio executives and producers who are cosplaying the Bible. Does The Chosen result in more folks reading their Bibles and coming to Christ? Perhaps—and if so, praise God for His kindness. However, I am convinced this is in spite of the show and not directly because of it. Never underestimate God ’s uncanny ability to deal straight blows with crooked sticks. 4.) No Other Jesus, No Other Gospel: Additions, Subtractions, & Contradictions The word of God is perfect, supplying believers with all things “ that pertain to life and godliness ” (1 Peter 1:3). In 2 Timothy 3:16-17, Paul goes on to say that all “ Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work .” And in these last days, says the author of Hebrews, God “has spoken to us by His Son” (Hebrews 1:2). The Bible is inerrant and it is infallible; it is both without error and beyond error. The word of God is not , however, a comprehensive encyclopedia on all things under the sun—nor was it ever supposed to be. The written word of God reveals the Word of God—the Lord Jesus Christ, who has supplied all things necessary for our salvation in Himself. When the writers of the New Testament were penning their Gospel accounts and epistles, ever under the guiding hand of the Holy Spirit, their intentions were to reveal those things that were necessary , not necessarily exhaustive. There are many mysteries, especially pertaining to the life of Christ, that the Bible simply stays silent on. We might not understand this, but we must accept it. And so, in order to produce a multi-season show about the life of Jesus and His disciples, as is the case with The Chosen, some creative liberties must be taken—to say the very least. When you are attempting to stretch a Gospel account of a few thousand words into dozens of hours of television, across multiple seasons, how could this not be the case? The Gospels tell us much about Jesus, but not everything we would like to know. At the end of John’s Gospel, the author says all the books in the world would not have room enough to contain everything that Jesus did during His earthly ministry. The Chosen, by virtue of its very existence, seeks to fill in some of these gaps with what can only politely be called speculation. In my opinion, the show can only ever rise to the level of historical fiction, or else outright fan-fiction, and in many cases boldfaced lies. By expanding upon the Biblical source material, one will inevitably only end up with a Frankensteinian-narrative composed of disparate parts, ultimately straying from what we actually read in the Gospels. Does this not cause you to tremble? Again, we aren ’t talking about an adaptation of The Lord of the Rings here—this is the holy word of the Living God. It is a fearful thing to portray Christ as someone who He is not, and another thing altogether to put words into His mouth that He never spoke. This is a direct violation of the first, second, and third commandments (Exodus 20:3-7). When it comes to the preservation of the Gospel and the overall fidelity of God’s word, the Lord does not mince words when it comes to His opponents. Speaking about those who profane the Gospel with falsehood, Paul says in Galatians 1:8, “ But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed. ” The Bible itself ends with this haunting warning: “I warn everyone who hears the words of the prophecy of this book: if anyone adds to them, God will add to him the plagues described in this book, and if anyone takes away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God will take away his share in the tree of life and in the holy city, which are described in this book” (Revelation 22:18-19). In The Chosen, we see additions, substitutions, and outright contradictions of Scripture in abundance. Having not seen the show, some of my examples may be vague, but these items are nonetheless drawn from scenes that transpire throughout the series. Firstly, though generally, consider that any word not directly attributed to Jesus or His disciples by the authors of the Bible, yet spoken in the show, is an exercise in speculative fiction and indeed falsehood. More specifically, consider also that there is a point in the series when Jesus asks for help from one of His disciples in writing the Sermon on the Mount—the most famous sermon ever preached in history was, by the show ’s own admission, not authored by Jesus Himself . On another occasion, Jesus pleads with Judas to be faithful to Him; suggesting that the Lord did not know, flying in the face of what Scripture says, that one of His disciples would indeed betray Him. Did Jesus not know how to preach? Could He, the Word incarnate, not competently divide the word on His own? Did Jesus not know that Judas, one whom He had not chosen, would betray Him as prophesied in accordance with Scripture? The Bible indicates, in no uncertain terms, the complete opposite to be the case about Jesus and His ministry. To quote the Lord Himself, “Scripture cannot  be broken” (John 10:35). Doubtless there are many other instances in The Chosen we could investigate, though time would fail me to outline them all—but, in my mind, any one of these examples on their own are reason enough to refrain from the show. 5.) A Little Leaven... Unhealthy & Unholy Alliances Such interpretative liberties can only be expected, indeed inevitable, when a show like The Chosen is produced under an unhealthy, unholy alliance of Evangelicals, Catholics, and dare I say it, Mormons as well. B y committing anything from Scripture to screen, you are invariably committing some act of interpretation. That is, even if you are only relegating yourself to filming a single scene from the Gospel of Mark, using only the words provided in said Gospel, you are nonetheless undertaking the task of interpreting that specific scene through a particular lens: the way the actor delivers the line, their tone of voice, the emotion present in their eyes, the response or lack of response from the person they are speaking to, the positioning of bodies, body language, mannerisms, so on and so forth. These interpretative concerns begin to multiply tenfold when extra-Biblical accounts are then thrown into the mix—entirely fictional accounts upon which The Chosen is premised. God gave us a book, not a movie; a book which He means for us to understand and obey as we read with illuminated eyes and heart, growing in the knowledge of Christ as His Holy Spirit leads. To commit these historical scenes to the screen is to lock oneself into a specific interpretation; an interpretation which, in this case, is heavily influenced by groups and denominations that undermine or outright reject the true and saving Gospel of our Lord. There is no such thing as an unbiased interpretation. This is particularly true when groups contrary to the true Gospel are involved, such as Catholics and Mormons, the latter of which deny the deity of Christ, the Trinity, and essentially everything else central and precious to the Christian faith—I ask, what fellowship does light have with darkness? What business does a demonic religion like Mormonism have with Christ and the Gospel other than to repent and turn to Him for forgiveness? The Mormon scandal aside, viewers of the show would be hard-pressed to deny the explicitly Roman Catholic influence that producers and actors have had on The Chosen ’s production . Some of the changes made to The Chosen are, admittedly, small and minor changes. They are, however, changes all the same that are now passed along by the producers of the show as being in accordance with the word of God. Furthermore, there are now significant financial incentives on the side of the producers to continue pumping out new seasons of The Chosen— thus opening the door for even more additions, substitutions, contradictions, and brand-expansions. Unfortunately, I’ve even heard Christians say something to this very end: “I sure hope they keep making new seasons of The Chosen  so that more people can come to Christ.” My friends, The Chosen has not, cannot, and will not save anyone. Salvation belongs to the Lord and is communicated through the preaching of His word— “ faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ ” (Romans 10:17) . Just last year I saw a book at a major retailer titled, The Chosen: I Have Called You By Name , which is a novelization of the show’s first season. Maybe I’m missing something... but wouldn’t it be fair to expect that the novelization of a television show claiming to be true to the Bible simply be, you know, the Bible itself? This is not a bug of the show, but a feature throughout. Rather than directing viewers of the The Chosen back to the Bible, there seems instead to be a subtle—though in this case very explicit—campaign to preach a brand and not Christ. How else can such a product be interpretated? The fact remains that all changes to holy Scripture, whether minor accretions or major alterations, are an abomination to the Lord and represent the peddling of a different Gospel and a different Christ—not that there is a different Christ or different Gospel, only false variations of each. To soften Christ, to strip Him of His divine glory and holiness, is to present a false Savior and a false Gospel to the world. What does Scripture have to say on that matter?—“ But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach to you a gospel contrary to the one we preached to you, let him be accursed ” (Galatians 1:8). This warning becomes particularly sobering when you consider that Mormonism itself began with ‘an angel of light’ proclaiming a ‘new gospel’ to the cult’s founder, Joseph Smith. None Other Some Concluding Thoughts The temptation to watch a well-produced show like The Chosen  is real. If I had to guess, many viewers turn to shows like The Chosen  out of a deep, genuine yearning to see Jesus; an ache I understand very well. I get it: I want to see Him too, more than anything— just not like that. I want to see Him as He is: infinitely more beautiful and glorious than my greatest expectation, far greater than any image or television show can possibly guess. Like David, the heartfelt prayer of every Christian should be: “ One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in His temple ” (Psalm 27:4). To see God face to face and enjoy communion with Him as He truly is amounts to the sum and substance of all that we as believers ache and long for. This is what’s called ‘the Beatific Vision’—“ Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God ” (Matthew 5:8). This is the very hope John points us to: “ Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when He appears we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is ” (1 John 3:2). J.R.R. Tolkien, speaking through the lips of Gandalf on that joy soon to come, put it this way: “ Many folk like to know beforehand what is to be set on the table; but those who have laboured to prepare the feast like to keep their secret; for wonder makes the words of praise louder. ” Indeed, “ wonder makes the words of praise louder. ” I am thoroughly convinced that we grieve the heart of God when we commit His matchless name to an image of any kind. How our impatience must sadden Him. Soon, we shall see Him face to face and feast on His beauty forever, and it will be better beyond all our cruel imaginings—in the meantime, He calls us to patience and faithfulness as we await this great hope. Let us not, as C.S. Lewis writes, be content with mudpies in a slum when infinite joy is promised us in the real Christ—indeed, we are far too easily pleased. We dare not shortchange ourselves of this hope with anything or anyone else save the true Christ Himself, for there is none other like Him. Photo by Renato, Unsplash Author’s Note: I am indebted to J.I. Packer’s book, Knowing God, and the wisdom contained therein, particularly in chapter four, “The Only True God.” Furthermore, John Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion was supremely helpful, with the entirety of Chapter 11 of Book 1 focusing on the issue of idolatry and image-making. Additional References: Charles Hodge, the quote is taken from Knowing God, cited originally by J.I. Packer in chapter four, “The Only True God” (pg. 44). John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion  (Book 1, Chapter 11, Section 1, pg. 93). John Calvin in Institutes of the Christian Religion citing Saint Augustine, himself quoting the Roman scholar Varro (Book 1, Chapter 11, Section 6, pg. 98). J.I. Packer in Knowing God, chapter four, “The Only True God” (pg. 45). J.I. Packer quoting John Calvin in Knowing God, chapter four, “The Only True God” (pg. 45). J.I. Packer in Knowing God, chapter four, “The Only True God” (pg. 49). Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my   Patreon Page .

A fairly common question among Christians goes something like this: “When were you saved?” When well-meaning folks ask this question, they are typically just trying to get to know you better. If we as Christians make the claim that our relationship with the Lord is the most important thing about us,—which it is—then such a question seems completely understandable. Indeed, it is only logical. As a married man, a question I often get asked by people I’ve just met—after they ask, of course, “Are you married?”—is the question of how long my wife and I have been married. And then, naturally, “Do you have any kids yet?” The point being, should not a similar question apply to our relationship with the King of kings? When we’re talking to someone we don’t know very well, we ask these sorts of questions all the time. We inquire of them, “What do you do for work?” or “Are you married?” or “How many kids do you have?”, and the like. When a believer asks another believer “When were you saved?”, what they are asking is when that individual came to know the Lord—that is, when did they place their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ for salvation and the forgiveness of their sins? A simple question for some; not so straightforward for others. Indeed, I’ve known a handful of believers for whom this question—and more importantly, the lack of a clear answer to it—has caused no shortage of angst and doubt, with some even struggling with the assurance of their salvation for a season because of it. A running joke between my wife and I is that she was, much like John the Baptist, saved in the womb (see Luke 2:41). When we first began dating, her and I shared our testimonies with one another and it immediately became clear that our respective journeys to the Lord were as unique and diverse as her and I were from one another. For my part, I could just about pinpoint not only the year I was saved, but the very hour. Such was the starkness of my journey from darkness into light—from death into life. Should not a dead man recall the moment he began breathing fresh, clean air for the first time? Or a blind man recount clearly the hour he first began to see the world around him? Perhaps. Though, perhaps not if his sight were to come to him ever so gradually over time. Contrasted with myself, my wife could not put her finger on the “when” of when she came to know Christ as Lord and Savior. For her, it always seemed there was never a time in her life that she did not have a saving relationship with God. There was, of course, a distinct moment in time when the Spirit of God moved in her little heart, making her both alive and aware of her sin, and a distinct moment in which she called out to the Lord for forgiveness. This sequence of events occurs for all believers; though in her case, it simply happened long ago when she was young and she has forgotten the exact moment it occurred. Thus, my wife feels as though she has known the Lord for as long as she can remember—hence my jest that, coupled with her profound spiritual maturity, she must have been “saved in the womb.” However, the most important factor in both our stories is not the when of our salvation but the who and the how of it . It is fine and well—vital even—to share your personal testimony. Just be sure that your understanding of the Gospel and the assurance of salvation that stems from it rests not in some personal experience you can point back to, but rather that your hope rests in Christ and in Him alone. When we as believers emphasize any part of our salvation other than the finished work of the Lord Jesus Christ (the who ) who died on the cross as a propitiation for our sins (the how ), we run the risk of losing sight of the Gospel’s depth and beauty. And, to my earlier point, we begin to flirt with doubts and fears in our inner man when we dare move the focus off of Christ’s finished work and onto any part of ourselves: whether this be our works, our religious experiences, or our feelings. If we fail to understand clearly the Gospel in our own hearts and then proceed to communicate the Gospel poorly to others, it is then that we struggle with our assurance and even foist similar fears upon others, particularly those who are new to the faith. When faith becomes entangled with feelings it produces fertile ground for all sorts of deadly doubts to grow. Brothers and sisters, feelings are just feelings: what does the word of God say? Facts don’t care about your feelings; but feelings, if properly ordered, will surely care about your facts. Particularly if those facts are rooted in the Biblical and historical veracity of Jesus’s sinless life, atoning death, bodily resurrection, and glorious ascension. Cling to those truths you find in Scripture, and I assure you that your feelings will align themselves in due time. We are saved from eternal judgement and united to the Lord Jesus Christ not because we feel that we are, but because we factually, in the Heavenly realms, truly are saved, justified, and united to Him. We are made right with God not because we can pinpoint the hour He saved us, but because He did save us when He made us alive with Christ and gave us the sense to call out to Him in faith—a faith that continues on to this very hour by His grace, feeble as it may seem at times. We are saved because, 2,000 years ago, God Himself died for us on a Roman cross. The finality and security of our salvation is found on a hill far away as Jesus breathed His final words—“It is finished” (John 19:30)—and died the death we should have died as punishment for our sins. God is the Author and the Finisher of our salvation; He initiates it, He finishes it. When the veil of the temple that divided sinful humanity from God was torn, it was torn by His own hands from top to bottom in our direction (Mark 15:38). It. Is. Finished. Oh!, wash yourselves in this glorious truth: “For by a single offering He has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified” (Hebrews 10:14). Christ ’s finished work on the cross is what we look forward to at Christmas, what we celebrate at Easter, and what we daily look back to in our everyday walk with the Lord, all the while looking ahead to the certain hope of the New Heavens and the New Earth as the ultimate fulfillment of God ’s exceedingly great and precious promises in Christ Jesus who was, is, and forever shall be our Savior. The story goes that someone once asked the influential Swiss Reformed theologian Karl Barth the very question we began with: “When were you saved?” Barth considered the question for a moment before replying, “I was saved at about 3 o’clock on a Friday afternoon, on a hill outside of Jerusalem in 33 A.D.” Indeed, Mr. Barth—weren’t we all? “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Galatians 6:14). Photo by Liana S., Unsplash Author’s Note: Speaking of the question, “When were you saved?” , perhaps you would like to read the account of how I came to Christ just over a decade ago. Simply click the button below, titled “A Word Fitly Spoken”: Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my   Patreon Page .

“ It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings ” (Proverbs 25:2). D o you believe in aliens ? Perhaps “believe” is too strong a word. Let’s try phrasing the question another way: Do you think that aliens exist? For many generations, mankind has looked above to the myriad of stars beyond those dark corridors of the cosmos for an answer to the question, “Are we alone in the universe?” As Christians, we know that the answer to this question is an emphatic no. We know this both because of the angelic realm and, of infinitely greater importance, because of our Creator—“ God intended that [we] would seek Him and perhaps reach out for Him and find Him, though He is not far from each one of us ” (Acts 17:27). Paul goes on to say that not only is God near us, but that “ In Him we live and move and have our being ” (17:28). We are not alone. The God of all glory, whom the heavens themselves are at a loss to contain, is far nearer to you and I than is our next breath, closer still than the very atoms which make up our substance. And yet, the dust on this particular question refuses to settle no matter how many lives of men may flit by—“Are we alone in the universe? Are there other  creatures—other non-human intelligences beyond mankind—out there in the vast unknown?” What follows are some of my loosely-held thoughts on the matter of other worlds and the— potential —intelligent life that may inhabit these worlds. Again—these thoughts are held with a loose grip, and I admit that I may well be quite wrong. Nonetheless, it’s fun to speculate in a healthy, non-dogmatic way on these things all the same. I’m not striving to make the positive case for aliens here (namely, that they most certainly exist), but rather attempting to gently displace the negative case—namely, that they cannot exist in a Biblical cosmology. I am of the conviction that Scripture leaves the door wide open for such possibilities, as well as many other wonders beyond all imaging. Wondering or Wandering? However, before we can begin any reasonable conversation about aliens and those of other worlds , we must first consider the two chief ways in which God has revealed Himself to us: special revelation (God’s word, the Bible) and general revelation (God’s world, such as nature and the cosmos). By laying this brief foundation, my hope is that it will inform some of my thoughts later on—particularly when things get, well, strange . One of the great strengths of systematic theology, and Reformed doctrine more broadly, rests in it ’s ability to methodically synthesize the entirety of God’s word into categories which can then be applied to life in God’s world. By knowing what’s in His word, we can then live faithfully in His world—that simple. This strength, however, can also tend towards a significant point of weakness for believers when it becomes misapplied to certain topics, particularly those topics shrouded in profound mystery. Indeed, what do we do with those things God’s word has not spoken on? How do we appreciate the mysteries of this world without putting them, and God Himself, into a neat little box of our own design? I love  systematic theology. It is supremely helpful, useful, and thorough, but it’s not all-encompassing. The purpose of any systematic theology is to give us a comprehensive overview of the Bible, not  an answer to every question ever posed by man. God can answer these and many more of our questions. Systematic theology, by contrast, cannot answer all our questions, nor was it ever meant to—just as science cannot possibly answer all our questions about God, for this is not and never has been the purpose of science (though it can shed light on a few of our questions). While not inherent to the Reformed tradition, systematic theology nonetheless—because of its strict adherence to the Bible as the perfectly true word of the Lord—often goes hand in hand with the Reformed tradition, and rightly so. However, let us at the same time recognize that systematic theology, like all tools, works best when it is applied to a specific task. The task of systematic theology is to faithfully synthesize God’s word, the Bible, by organizing its teachings into logical categories, effectively answering the question(s), “What does the entirety of the Bible have to say on the topic of ______?” However, even the entirety of the Bible leaves many questions and topics entirely untouched. The chief purpose of the written word of God is to reveal the living Word of God—the Lord Jesus Christ, who has supplied all things necessary for our salvation in Himself. When the writers of the Old and New Testaments were penning their historical accounts, poems, and epistles, ever under the guiding hand of the Holy Spirit, their intentions were to reveal those things that were necessary , not necessarily exhaustive.   Sometimes, however, we become so fixated on the various categories we’ve erected that we can scarcely see or think beyond them. Rather than allowing the word of God to determine the limits of our understanding on a matter—as is indeed the chief purpose of systematic theology—we can so very quickly find that we’ve boxed ourselves, and the Lord God, into a mess of theological and mental gymnastics that He never intended for us. This is deeply unfortunate. Among other things, I truly believe that God means for us to be curious about the universe He has made,—ever interpreting the world through the lens of His word—such that our discoveries unveil more and more about who He is, bringing Him greater glory. For remember, the word of God, like all true things, is meant to lead us to God Himself—not to become an end unto itself apart from Him. God is a Person to be loved and communed with, not a set of facts and figures to be mapped out in books and charts. He is a relational, creative, and infinitely intelligent Being, one with whom we in Christ shall forever enjoy fellowship with. And yet, we humans love systems. And systems are good, mind you, especially systems that seek to explain God’s revelation to us—provided they fulfill their intended purposes. But if we’re not vigilant and suddenly begin applying tools to tasks they aren’t cut out for, we may find ourselves taking down fences where we need not and erecting them where we ought not. The word of God is many things. Indeed, it is the very best of things, telling of things to come better still. The word of God is not , however, a comprehensive encyclopedia on all things under the sun—nor was it ever supposed to be. In the Bible we will find all things pertaining to life and godliness, but not all things pertaining to calculus or marine biology. As such, no systematic theology can ever answer each and every one of our burning questions about life and the nature of the universe, let alone the spiritual realm —not even the Bible can do that  comprehensively, only God can and perhaps one day He will. For now, however, we must rest content with those things which He has revealed . However, in the process let us not also  rule out entirely those things which the Bible does not also rule out—be it aliens or otherwise. When Galileo was crushed under the thumb of the Roman Catholic church in the 1600s for promoting his theory of heliocentrism (the theory that the Earth orbits the Sun), he was held in derision and violently persecuted not  because he contradicted Scripture, but because he threatened an established narrative. Likewise, the fact of the matter is that the Bible simply does not speak directly to the matter of other intelligent races in the universe. Thus, we should be careful in our approach, wondering on the truth of God rather than wandering from it—all the while being cognizant of the reality that God delights in our curiosity, creativity, and imagination: “ It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings ” (Proverbs 25:2). Christianity is Roomy (And, It ’s Stranger Than Fiction) There are many mysteries, especially pertaining to the life of Christ, that the Bible simply stays silent on. We might not understand this, but we must accept it. Likewise, simply because the word of God does not speak explicitly on dinosaurs, aliens, quantum mechanics, or the age of the archangel Gabriel, that does not mean we are prohibited from exercising some righteous and godly speculation in that direction—provided, of course, that our conclusions are held by hands willing to let them go should we be proven wrong, and that our curiosity itself does not contradict what the word of God makes clear . If, for example, the Bible explicitly stated that “The heavens are as empty of life as is the space that contains them,” then we simply must cease our speculation on the matter. We would have to—God has spoken definitively . However, the Bible does not say that; and, there is nothing in the Bible that would preclude or rule out such a possibility. We can joyfully affirm on the one hand that humanity and planet Earth are at the center of redemptive history (as the Bible has revealed), while at the same time giving room to the possibility that there may be other inhabited worlds far beyond our own. Indeed, this possibility seems more likely in a Biblical world view than not. Staunch materialism cannot even account for life on this planet, let alone life on any others. By contrast, the infinitely creative God of the Bible, from whom all life springs forth, gives life and being to whom He wills—who, then, can possibly even begin to estimate the work of His hands or the edges of His glory? Without saying to much here, it would appear that the seemingly infinite level of detail and diversity in nature, not to mention the almost infinite and ever-expanding size of the cosmos, coupled with the creative nature of God, lends itself well to the possibility that there might well be other intelligent species out there amongst the stars. There is absolutely nothing in Christianity that would disallow this reality. This was a point made by, of all people, the great Charles Spurgeon. In his 1873 sermon, “Christ’s Ambassadors,” he says: “It may be that every starry world teems with myriads of intelligent inhabitants; it is much more likely that it should be so than that it should not be so, seeing that God is not in the habit of creating anything in vain, and we can scarcely imagine that he has made all those mighty orbs to circle around his throne without suitable inhabitants to render due homage to him.” Sometimes, the truth is stranger than fiction. As Gavin Ortlund is fond of saying, Christianity is capacious —that is, it ’ s incredibly roomy and spacious. Because Christianity is true, it can contain within itself many, many things—indeed all things, even strange things. We need not fear adding new true things to the mix, even truly weird things, because at no point will these “new things” ever undermine or contradict the foundational truth claims of Scripture: namely, the existence of God and the bodily resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ. That God exists, that He created everything from nothing, and that He became a man who died for the sins of His people in their place, is a reality of infinitely greater awe and mystery than anything else the universe or imagination itself can throw at us. The Bible is unfathomably resilient and spacious. Resilient, because it is true; spacious, because its truth claims do not and cannot conflict with anything we see in nature. General revelation (God’s world) will never be in contradiction of special revelation (God’s word), and vice versa. Provided something is true, it’ll fit neatly into Christianity—it simply must, no matter how strange or unfathomable it may seem to us . To say that aliens must  exist simply because the created universe is so vast beyond all human comprehension is indeed an argument for extra-terrestrial life, but not necessarily an airtight one, nor is it the primary argument I am making here. God can, and does, create big and incredibly detailed things for the sole purpose of displaying to His creatures that He can do such things and they cannot. The universe need not house other creatures beyond ourselves in order to serve its intended purpose—which is the same purpose of all things: to glorify God. However, like Spurgeon, I think the emphasis in this discussion is on God’s creative and life-giving impulses as Creator, coupled with the size of the universe. Thus, leaving the door open for alien life both because of the vastness of space and because of who He is.   If the Bible speaks much on a thing, then we should find confidence to speak much also. If little be said, then we would be wise to keep our speculations tethered, particularly on primary matters pertaining to salvation. However, I do think that God delights in our wonder and speculation, provided it is ever anchored to His word and revelation and in keeping with those things that are good, true, and beautiful. For what is science, after all, but the faithful exercise and expansion of humanity’s dominion mandate over the created order given to us by God in the beginning? On those things which Scripture has spoken finally and definitively on, having closed the door entirely, we should rest content; and on those matters which God has left the door ajar, purposely perhaps, might we not knock? Those of Other Worlds So, I ask again: Do you think aliens exist? Before venturing much further, perhaps some clarifications are in order. In our present day, words like “ aliens ” or “extra-terrestrials” carry a lot of cultural and ideological baggage, eliciting images of little green men or all manner of horrors from science-fiction movies. When I ask the question, “Do you think aliens exist?”, I am not referring to anything from the realm of science-fiction, online conspiracy theories, or Reddit forums. Nor, for that matter, am I even thinking of the many so-called, albeit incredibly poorly filmed, “UFO” sightings that now plague the internet—in my opinion, these are either hoaxes or demonic, though likely a blend of both (a conversation for another time, perhaps). So what, then, am I referring to when I’m talking about aliens ? Simply put: How should I know?—they’re alien , completely foreign to us should they even exist. And should these beings exist, I suspect they are far, far from Earth, so much so that no one in human history has ever rubbed shoulders with them. What I and Spurgeon and many other Christians throughout history mean when we broach the topic of aliens is simply that: an alien, unknown, hitherto undiscovered race of potentially intelligent, potentially unfallen, non-human beings somewhere out there in the vast sea of stars seeded by the One true God. In another sermon, “Jesus Admired in Them That Believe,” Spurgeon goes on to say, “We do not know what other races of innocent creatures there may be, but I think it is no stretch of imagination to believe that, as this world is only one speck in the creation of God, there may be millions of other races in the countless worlds around us, and all these may be invited to behold the wonders of redeeming love as manifested in the saints in the day of the Lord. I seem to see these unfallen intelligences encompassing the saints as a cloud of witnesses, and in rapt vision beholding in them the love and grace of the redeeming Lord.” For my part, I believe that non-human intelligences exist in our material universe . Could I be wrong? Most certainly. Am I wrong? No idea. In any case, folks on either side of this speculative fence should readily confess that, should aliens exist, they most surely exist for the glory and good pleasure of God; and if not, well, then we really have no real business asking why not. But, if other non-human intelligences exist, here are some of my thoughts and considerations. Since the beginning, mankind has known of at least two other types of intelligent beings that operate in the universe beyond ourselves: God, the Being from whom all other beings find their being; and lesser, created spirits such as angels, demons, and their more elusive counterparts belonging to that invisible realm, such as the seraphim and cherubim. With respect to the latter (the seraphim and cherubim), I find it utterly enthralling that the Bible simply introduces these magnificent creatures, almost in passing, without ever feeling the need to explain them any further—are they a type of angel? Are they merely a different rank of angel? Or, are they a different species of spiritual creature altogether? The Bible gives no answer. Thus, right from the outset we must admit that Christianity already and explicitly allows for the existence of extra-terrestrials (that is, non-human intelligences, beings outside of Earth who are not of this realm) in the form of angels and demons (at the very least). This being the case, why might there not be other intelligent races out there? If so, here are a few things we might comfortably say about these races, in addition to several questions that are interesting to consider: If intelligent non-human races exist somewhere in the vast cosmos, we must say that, though they may be intelligent and potentially given to reason, they are nonetheless non-human and therefore, not image-bearers of God: In this way, they would fall under a similar, though distinct, category of creature as angels and demons: intelligent, reasonable, morally-culpable, non-human beings However, are these other races indeed morally-culpable? That is, are they responsible for their actions before God or are they, much like creatures in the animal kingdom, driven by instinct as opposed to reason? Are these creatures fallen? Or, are they in a state of innocence, as Spurgeon supposed? Does the curse extend to the very far reaches of the universe, or is it localized to our world because of our sin? If they are fallen, are they fallen morally, much like mankind and many spirits within the angelic realm? Or, are they only fallen physically, suffering under the curse of creation much like the animals and nature itself more broadly? This is only speculation, and I have no evidence for this, but my suspicion is that any such alien races would be benevolent (well-intentioned, kind, non-evil) creatures, albeit fallen just as animals are fallen and cursed in a myriad of ways by God because of the Fall My conviction is that Scripture affirms a universal Fall: Namely, the curse enacted by God in Genesis in response to sin has spread to every corner of this universe strictly because mankind was to exercise dominion across the entirety of the cosmos—as goes mankind, so goes the created order over which we were to exercise dominion As such, the Fall has infected all of reality—photons of light, subatomic particles, plant life, animals, and yes, even potential alien races However, Scripture also makes abundantly clear that all of creation eagerly awaits the New Heavens and the New Earth : “ For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God ” (Romans 8:19) I do not think we, or anyone else throughout human history, have ever seen a being from an alien race—though, in the New Heavens and the New Earth, I suspect we shall: In this way, should any “ alien, ” “extra-terrestrial,” or “UFO” sightings be “genuine,” I suspect these experiences are demonic and malevolent in nature, not alien However, who knows—should Christ tarry long enough, perhaps I ’ll be proven wrong and maybe we will indeed see a good deal of things we never expected! And lastly, should aliens exist, we must joyfully concede that they most surely exist for the glory and pleasure of God That Age to Come In Isaiah 9:7, God speaks of the coming Messiah ’s reign in this way: “ Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end. ” There is more going on here in the Messiah ’s future Kingdom than mere territorial acquisition and longevity. I think that Randy Alcorn ’s interpretation in correct, wherein he rightly notes that the emphasis of Isaiah 9:7 is on the word increase . Drawing from an excerpt in his book Heaven, Randy explains: “ Christ’s government of the New Earth and the new universe will be ever-expanding. ”  Here are a few more passages from Alcorn on the topic of aliens and that age to come, selected from chapter 22 of his book, Heaven : “ It may be that Christ’s government will always increase because he will continually create new worlds to govern (and, perhaps, new creatures to inhabit those new worlds). Or perhaps it will always increase because the new universe, though still finite, may be so vast that what Christ creates in a moment will never be exhaustively known by finite beings. From what we know of our current universe, with billions of galaxies containing millions of billions of stars and untold planets, this is certainly possible. The restoration of the current universe alone will provide unimaginable territories for us to explore and establish dominion over to God’s glory... If Christ expands his rule by creating new worlds, whom will he send to govern them on his behalf? His redeemed people. Some may rule over towns, some cities, some planets, some solar systems or galaxies. Sound far-fetched? Not if we understand both Scripture and science. Consider how our current universe is constantly expanding. Each moment, the celestial geography dramatically increases. As old stars burn out, new stars are being born. Is God their creator? Yes. Suppose the new heavens also expand, creating new geography in space and ever increasing the size of God’s Kingdom. Will he fill that empty space with new creation? Will he dispatch exploratory and governing expeditions to these worlds, where his glory will be seen in new and magnificent creations? The proper question is not, Why would God create new worlds? That’s obvious. God is by nature a creator and ruler. He is glorified by what he creates and rules. He delights to delegate authority and dominion to his children to rule his creation on his behalf. ‘ Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end. ’ Is there anything in Scripture—anything we know about God—that would preclude him from expanding his creation and delegating authority to his children to rule over it? I can’t think of anything. Can you?” The picture painted by Alcorn is one that seems to fit well with the many images we ’re presented with in Scripture: “ if we endure, we will also reign with Him ” (2 Timothy 2:12), “ His master said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master’ ” (Matthew 25:23), and “ What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him ” (1 Corinthians 2:9). Thus, Christ ’s finished work on the cross—indeed, the Gospel—is by no means limited only to our atonement. Rather, the Gospel has eternal, cosmic significance wherein the Lord is drawing all things nigh unto Himself—chief among them being the heavens and the earth and all those things found in them, of which redeemed mankind is the firstfruits (Romans 8:18-25). These are some wondrously happy, immensely weighty thoughts to consider about the future awaiting those whose lives are hid in Christ Jesus. Indeed, our greatest expectations and wildest imaginings will all fall short of the reality He has prepared from before the foundations of the world. O, Lord!—even so come! Just imagine it—stepping upon that eternal plain for the first time, free forever from the weight of sin and death, walking into a great cloud of many countless witnesses,—some of whom you expected to see, others whom you thought were lost beyond hope, and a myriad of others, perhaps many belonging to other worlds entirely, creatures beyond all thought. And then you see Him, the One for whom your soul has ached and longed after these many years, never to be parted from Him so long as the endless ages of eternity roll. Not only will we see Him, but we shall see Him as He is—and be like Him! O, the thought! Who can bear such a weight of glory? Not only will we be forever with the Lord,—though there be no life greater, sweeter, more lovely or joyful—but we will reign with Him, spreading the fragrant aroma of His beauty and holiness abroad to every infinite inch of that home which He has prepared for us. In a letter to his dying daughter, George MacDonald put it far better than I ever could: “ I do live expecting great things in the life that is ripening for me and all mine—when we shall have all the universe for our own, and be good merry helpful children in the great house of our father. Then, darling, you and I and all will have grand liberty wherewith Christ makes free— opening his hand to send us out like white doves to range the universe. ” Photo by NASA, Unsplash Author’s Note: If you’re further interested in this topic, here are a few articles and a video that I found helpful and encouraging as I prepared to write this piece: “ Spurgeon’s Surprising View on Aliens ,” by J.A. Medders, PhD; “ Is It Possible That in the Ages to Come We Will Travel to Other Planets and Encounter Alien Beings? ” by Randy Alcorn; and lastly, a fun video by Gavin Ortlund titled, “ If Aliens Exist, Does Christianity Collapse? ” Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my   Patreon Page .

“Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.” —Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Theologian ’s Tale T his article marks my hundredth post on Iotas in Eternity . While one-hundred posts may not seem like very much when stood up against other writers whose output seems limitless, both quantitatively and qualitatively, it feels like a milestone for me all the same. Indeed, when taking my average word count per post into account, there ’s anywhere between two or three entire books of material amassed across this site—more or less. And whether by pure happenstance or some unexplainable itch in my own heart, it seems only fitting that the subject of my hundredth post be the two men who largely inspired my writing to begin with. You needn ’t be a longtime reader of my work to get the sense that I have a great admiration for C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien—the authors of The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings , respectively. In ways beyond count, these two literary titans cast their imaginations across the span of my childhood; ever enchanting ordinary schoolyards and woodlands with some mysterious beauty that I may have missed entirely had it not been for their gentle direction. While they were alive, Lewis and Tolkien ran in the same literary circles and, more importantly, were good friends. The two men were such good friends, in fact, that Lewis credited his friendship with Tolkien as being instrumental in his eventual coming to know Christ—a friendship in itself that came to be yet far, far more influential for both Lewis and the reading world that followed after him. Like many of you, I too am a beneficiary of Lewis and Tolkien ’s dear friendship—and their respective friendships with Christ Himself. In my own heart I have even come to consider these men as close friends of my own. Apart from their influence, I have little doubt that my childhood would have lacked some necessary enchantment, and my present work as a writer some much-needed childlike simplicity. In a very real way, you are what you read. In his excellent article on this same subject, “ You Become What You Read ,” Clinton Manley considers how reading—whether the material be good, bad, or outright ugly—shapes you as an individual: “ We’ve all heard, ‘ You are what you eat, ’ the principle being that your diet determines what you become. The same holds true for your reading intake. Like the plate, the page shapes us. If you imagine each book like a meal and each article a light snack, what you consume and digest day in and day out, over years and decades, molds your character. ” In his book, An Experiment in Criticism , C.S. Lewis himself considers how, “Those of us who have been true readers all our life seldom fully realise the enormous extension of our being which we owe to authors. We realise it best when we talk with an unliterary friend [i.e., a person with poor reading habits]. He may be full of goodness and good sense but he inhabits a tiny world. In it, we should be suffocated.” We are what we read. In like fashion, we become friends with those authors whose work we read regularly. True and honest writing is a terribly intimate business. In a writer ’s endeavor to write those things which are sincerely good, true, and beautiful, they must first throw open the window to their soul so that their well-worn thoughts on a matter can pour out—and equally as vital, so that their readers can peer in. J ust recently I had the joy of sitting down over coffee with a man whose work I ’ve been reading for many years. And at some point along the way, he began reading my work as well. Though up until this point we had never met, I felt as though I knew this man through his writing—and, I can only hope that the sentiment was shared on the other side of the screen. In many ways, both seen and unseen, I have found myself and my writing shaped by the godly thinking, living, and writing of this man. Because his written work always strives to be good, true, and beautiful, ever shaped by his friendship with Christ, I have not only learned from this man, but learned about this man—so much so that, when we finally met, there was a sense in which we, to some degree, already knew each other. A shared union with Christ tends to have that effect. Indeed, a loving, omnipresent God who unites all things in Himself will often make the world feel a much smaller place than it might otherwise seem. It should be no great surprise that I never met either C.S. Lewis or J.R.R. Tolkien (I was born in 1998, mind you). And yet, in another way,—a very real way that is not at all silly or contrived— I have met them . Each and every time I crack open one of their books, there is a degree to which these men are right beside me, conversing with me. The integral part of an author’s life and inner-man lives on in their work. In the same article, Manley thoughtfully considers how authors speak to their readers through the books they’ve written: “ First, we must realize that though we often read by ourselves, we never read alone. When you open up a book, you sit down with an author. The book is fundamentally a technology of conversation ; it fosters the meeting of minds across time and space. The written word captures something of the author and, when read, conjures him. ” Through their written works, I—alongside countless others—have not only had the privilege of knowing Lewis and Tolkien as individuals and as writers, but as friends also. As readers, we have stepped into their friendship. Because men are not individuals unto themselves,—as though they were mere islands—but are rather products of the many relationships they ’ve been shaped by, we who have read and been shaped by Lewis and Tolkien have truly been shaped by Lewis and Tolkien. There’s no telling what one of them would have been—or not been—without the other’s friendship. In his book The Four Loves, Lewis writes, “ In each of my friends there is something that only some other friend can fully bring out. By myself I am not large enough to call the whole man into activity. ” I like to think that Lewis drew out the best in Tolkien, and Tolkien the best in Lewis, even as they both continue to draw out through their writing the very best in each of us. Their friendship, like their work, has outlived their mortal span and become threaded into our own lives, homes, conversations, and friendships. Like ships passing in the night, separated by an ocean of stars and time, any friendship I (or anyone) might have enjoyed with Lewis and Tolkien here below and in person has slipped through the cracks of time and space and circumstance, missing one another by only a few short decades. Lewis, Tolkien, and I never had the opportunity to meet at a pub somewhere just the three of us; but, one day, meet we shall. For though our ships may have passed in the night, we are sailing towards a common harbor and will meet there face to face in due time. Photo by Johannes Plenio, Unsplash Author’s Note: Much of my work as a writer, whether implicitly or explicitly, owes a debt to Lewis and Tolkien. Here are, in no particular order, some of the pieces that have been most inspired by these two men (simply click the title and it will open to the appropriate article): “ The Healing of That Old Ache: An Ode to Sunsets & Childhood ” “ News From the Frontlines: Aslan is on the Move ” “ Letters From Home ” “ Sad, But Not Unhappy: Fighting for Joy Alongside John MacArthur & Treebeard ” “ Things Which No Tongue Has Yet Spoken ” Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my   Patreon Page .

T he Bible is many things. It is the world’s best-selling book, year after year, with no signs of waning popularity despite what culture would have us believe; it is a historical document, chronicling the creation, rebellion, and redemption of the human race; the Bible is also a book of prophecy, outlining not only that which was, but that which will surely come to pass; and, the Bible is a love letter, penned across generations and continents to an adopted people in Christ who, one day, will no longer be separated by either time or distance. The word of God is also the world’s greatest hymn book, penned by Him who is reality ’s foremost author, poet, artist, mathematician, and musician all rolled into one . From Genesis to the Psalms to Revelation, all of holy Scripture serves as creation’s hymnal with a single, solitary focus: Him, the Lord God Almighty. Every word in the Bible—each jot, tittle, and iota, every minute stroke of the pen—sings of the glory of God alongside the gathered voices of the stars, trees, and roaring seas. The Bible is a Him book, a Him hymnal, a Him-nal—that is, it’s all about Him. In every word of holy Scripture we should strive to see the living Word, the Lord Jesus Christ — “ In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him was not any thing made that was made ” (John 1:1-3). The Lord Jesus, the living Word of God made flesh (John 1:14), was the Father ’s agent in creation from the beginning, the very Word of God who spoke light and life and order into a chaotic, primordial universe in Genesis 1: “Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days He has spoken to us by His Son, whom He appointed the heir of all things, through whom also He created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of His nature, and He upholds the universe by the word of His power” (Hebrews 1:1-3).  If we are to understand God’s word at all, we must follow every syllable back to the feet of the Word Himself. Indeed, casting His shadow over each word, proverb, prophecy, and story in the Bible is the Word: Jesus was there in the beginning, bringing light to darkness; Jesus was the one prophesied of in the Garden, the seed of the woman who would crush the head of the serpent; Jesus was the one who shut the door of the ark behind Noah, securing the remnant from whom He would ultimately be born as Messiah; Jesus was the ram caught in the thickets when Abraham went to sacrifice his son Isaac, foreshadowing the sacrifice of God’s own Son on that very hill centuries later—only, this Father’s hand would not be stayed as Abraham’s was. It’s all about Him. Is it any wonder, then, that on the road to Emmaus the risen Christ, “ beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself ” (Luke 24:27). The Lord Jesus Christ is the interpretive key to understanding everything in the Bible—the Him hymnal. It is from this Christ-centered vantagepoint of understanding—growing in the knowledge of both the word of God and the world of God—that we can then worship Him appropriately. The words of the Bible testify to God’s steadfast love and faithfulness, unveiling His marvelous gift of salvation in Christ across a fallen cosmos in what is history’s mightiest song. Indeed, the Bible instructs us as His image-bearers in the knowledge of God so that we may then raise our voices in the conscious, joyful praise of Him with the rest of creation. The works of His hands—the howling black holes, lion cubs, and subatomic particles—need no reminder of who God is or that He is worthy of praise: we are the ones who have forgotten. Of creation it is said that, “ Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge ” (Psalm 19:2)—can the same be said of you and I? We would do well to listen thoughtfully to creation ’s song and, after having matured in our understanding, add in our own verse of praise. When we read the Bible, the Spirit of God instructs us in the knowledge of Him to the end that we may then respond with praise—with hymns, songs, prayers, and meditations of the heart that are pleasing in His sight. As the psalmist says, “ Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O LORD, my rock and my redeemer ” (Psalm 19:14). Our meditations, and the words and songs that will eventually accompany these thoughts, flow from a heart that has been saturated in and renewed by the word of God. The Psalms in particular are too precious to be read only. These words must be sung, whether vocally, in prayer, or as that tune which echoes in your own heart as the day passes by. Let the words of God Himself fill your mind such that they trickle down into your soul like a steady stream, resonating within and without that you are indeed a child of the Father, numbered among His precious little ones in Christ and filled with His Spirit. Preach and sing these truths to yourself morning and evening, renewing your mind with the words of the Word, always “addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart” (Ephesians 5:19). Throughout history, the Psalms have not only served as the Church’s hymnal, but as a book of prayer as well. Whether in seasons of want or fullness, wandering or wondering, joy or sorrow, the Psalms have given voice to countless saints along every leg of their earthly pilgrimage. Millions upon millions of voices have found refuge and utterance in the Psalms, fashioning a mighty cathedral of God’s people throughout the ages, crying and singing and praying God’s own words back to Him in worship and joyful expectation. Indeed, there are no examples given us in all the world that are better suited for personal and corporate prayer than the Psalms. These words comprise the very treasury of King David himself, and, far more importantly, the very words the Word Himself turned to in His hour of greatest agony. On the cross the Lord drew from the Psalms as He cried out to the Father, “ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? ” (Psalm 22:1). If Jesus Himself turned to the Psalms for utterance, surely we can do the same for any and all of our own life’s troubles. In the Gospels, the Lord Jesus provides us with yet another pattern of prayer, aptly called ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’ The Lord’s Prayer appears twice in the Gospels, once in Matthew 6:9-13 and again in the Gospel of Luke, 11:2-4. While these two prayers are very similar, they are in fact slightly different, despite both being titled as ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’ Matthew’s prayer is taken from the Sermon on the Mount and is the longer of the two, while Luke’s account is slightly shorter and recorded as being from an entirely separate occasion. How might we reconcile these variations? Dr. John Neufeld thoughtfully observed that the differences between the two versions of The Lord’s Prayer, slight as they may be, should be a source of great joy and liberty for Christians. These differences in length and content demonstrate the reality that—in line with God’s desire for the type of prayer that pleases Him—there exists a certain flexibility within the structure He has given to us. Like the Psalms, we can insert our own words, burdens, and desires into the structure of Jesus’ prayer, while at no point straying from God’s intended will for how we are to address Him. The Lord’s Prayer is how we ought to pray, Jesus teaches, not necessarily what we must pray word-for-word anytime we speak to our Father. In adopting the words from His very own hymnal, the Bible, we cry out to Him in prayer and praise through our union with the living Word, as His Spirit gives us utterance. Prayer then, like creation and redemption, is a trinitarian work wherein we are drawn into the life of the Divine, addressing Him in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody to the Lord with our hearts and lips and lives. Photo by Birmingham Museums Trust, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my  Patreon Page .

“From generation to generation it shall lie waste; none shall pass through it forever and ever” (Isaiah 34:10). W hether I ’m driving to church, work, the gym, or our weekly Bible study, the first leg of my route always remains the same. It is along this portion of my daily commute that I pass—several times a day at the very least—what is without a doubt the largest house I have ever seen. Only, this particular house can scarcely be called a proper house at all . What purpose does a house serve? At its most foundational level, what even is a house? Among other things, a house should at the very least house someone—that is, it should provide shelter for those who reside within its four walls (though this house had far more than just four of them). Despite all its grandeur and material excesses, this specific house could not even perform its most basic function of providing shelter. For you see, this house, though large and adorned with all the trappings of extravagant wealth, stands unfinished. When construction first began on this house it immediately arrested my attention—in part because of its sheer scale, and because I was somewhat confined to tracking its progress day by day as I drove past. What was once a bare and dusty lot soon became crowded with all manner of tradesmen and machines, each adding their collective sweat and labor to what seemed an impressive project, to say the least. Almost overnight it was as though the foundations were laid, the framing complete, and the roofing finished, with the smaller, more ornate details soon to be underway in the coming weeks. One day, however, construction simply ceased. Suddenly and without warning, this lot which was once buzzing with productivity and promise became a desolate, dilapidated haunt for buzzards and tumbleweeds, not unlike a Western ghost town. Where signs with the names of contractors once stood on the driveway there were now gates and barricades; piles of unused stone and wood haphazardly covered at the last minute with tarps now littered the front lawn where men of industry used to busy themselves. Were the tarps so carelessly strewn across these tools and materials because the men suspected they would soon be back to work? Where the light and warmth of domestic life would have gleamed amber and gold upon completion , now only black, glassless windows peered outwards, gaping like the open mouths of long-dead corpses towards any onlookers. If this house—this mere structure, this skeletal blot defiling the skyline—provided shelter for anything, it was for the howling wind and creatures of the night. No family lived here, this was no house— “ From generation to generation it shall lie waste; none shall pass through it forever and ever... Thorns shall grow over its strongholds, nettles and thistles in its fortresses. It shall be the haunt of jackals, an abode for ostriches ” (Isaiah 34:10-13).  Why did the work cease? How could a labor that began so well only then end so embarrassingly—so tragically? We can only venture a guess. At some dreadful point along the construction process, priorities must have shifted or else the money ran dry. Someone neglected to properly count the cost before setting out and, upon realizing their fatal flaw, judged that it was better to abandon the work altogether than see it through to the end. Whether large or small, have you ever seen a house left unfinished, or a labor excitedly begun only to fizzle into apathy and ruin? Have you ever witnessed a soul make a profession of faith in Christ only for them, in time, to turn both their hands and gaze away from the plow? Surely we have all known such individuals and mourn their reckless choice with no shortage of tears. Many efforts and commitments have begun in the name of the Lord, only to be abandoned partway through—rendering them incomplete, desolate, and utterly useless in the end. In some way, shape, or form, a cost along the way was not properly calculated, or perhaps the cost was never determined from the outset. Whether the work began in might or weakness, splendor or simplicity, in either case the effort was deserted. There came a point when the cost of following Christ simply became too expensive, too steep, and then the effort was forsaken. The lingering ruins can scarcely testify whether the project began in majesty or modesty, for unfinished ruins they yet remain—forsaken, desolate, any former glory undiscernible. The resolve to build the house, to bear the good fruit, was rooted not in the strength and lovingkindness of God but in the weakness of man: “ Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain ” (Psalm 127:1). Unless a complete and utter renovation of the heart takes place,—unless the Lord breathes new life into a dead sinner—any and all exterior work is as the whitewashing of a tomb (Matthew 23:27). Many are called, but few are chosen (Matthew 22:14). Many run the race, but the crown of life is reserved only for those who finish and finish well: “ Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it ” (1 Corinthians 9:24). Have you counted the cost of following Christ? The cost is great, He will demand everything of you: “For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish’” (Luke 14:28-30). Faithful allegiance to the Lord must run deeper than any other commitment, affection, or familial bond. The person who loves child, spouse, mother, father, or even his own life more than Jesus cannot be His disciple (Luke 14:26). The cost is great, but so is He: “ So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple ” (Luke 14:33), and “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62). The cost of discipleship is steep because the price of our salvation was far, far steeper still—the Father sent His own Son to satisfy our infinite debt to God by having Jesus die in our place. The cost of discipleship is great because God is great—so count the cost, Jesus says. We lose nothing of eternal value when we relinquish all for Jesus ’ name. He asks that we weigh the cost not because we have something to lose by following Him, but because we have everything to gain by following Him. When we place our faith in Christ, we stand to gain everything ; and if we reject Him, we stand to lose everything , even those things we think we have, our soul chief among them—that much is certain. And those things we do sacrifice in this life will be returned to us one-hundred fold, He promises; and, in that age to come, we will receive from His very own hands life eternal (Mark 10:29-31). Slavery to Christ, our perfect Master, is as freedom to those who are under His care. The cost of faithfulness to Christ is great, but it is not comparable to the cost paid on the cross where He purchased you: “ looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God ” (Hebrews 12:2). Jesus counted the cost—have you? Photo by Rocco Dipoppa, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. If you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. And, if you’re looking for a way to support my work financially, you can do so via my Patreon Page .

B eginnings are such delicate things. Now and again, I know exactly how I want to begin an article, right down to the very order of the words themselves. At a gut level, some words and phrases just seem right in certain cases—as though they were always meant to be . And other times, I won ’t so much as even start a piece for days or weeks—or years!—because I am at a complete loss as to how I can properly open it. And in case you haven’t already guessed it: I did not know how to begin this article. Despite having made several notes for this piece over the better part of the past year,—a jot here, an appropriate Scripture reference there—I remained at an utter loss on not only how to begin it, but at how best to bind together my scattered thoughts on something as ubiquitous and yet staggeringly complex as humor —much less holy humor . (Sorry, my fellow Canadians, as I’ve deferred to the American spelling of humor —forgive me!). I think the hesitancy on my part to actually begin writing on this topic largely rests in the fact that, though we all know, almost instinctively, what humor is, it is actually quite difficult to define it clearly. We can describe things that are or are not humorous easily enough, while never actually putting our finger on why some things are very clearly funny and others are not. So, as I said only a moment ago, I did not know how to begin this article. “Maybe I just need to get up, stretch my legs, and make a fresh coffee,” I thought to myself. I had today off, and so my wife suggested that I drive her in to work so she wouldn’t have to make the lengthy commute on her own. As a Biblical counselor, Elaina does the vast majority of her work from home but will drive in once a month for her office’s monthly staff meeting. It’s a far drive, and day by day she grows increasingly more pregnant—so, it seemed as good of an excuse as any to spend the day together. No complaints here. All that to say, I am not in my normal writing space today, tucked away as I am in the office of one of her co-workers. As I was looking out the window waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, I observed a curious sight. Some twenty feet away from me, in broad daylight, a large raccoon was teetering and tottering along the top of the chain-link fence that surrounded the property. Between the fence line and the detached garage running parallel to it was a narrow laneway of about three feet in width. Swaying back and forth on the fence like some drunken pirate, the raccoon finally arrived at the end of the fence and then attempted to climb onto the garage’s roof. Whether this was his first time attempting such a thing or if this was a regular occurrence, I know not. Going about casually with the dim-witted confidence only a raccoon could muster, the animal narrowed his focus as he leapt across the narrow laneway and grasped onto the eavestrough of the garage on the other side. To my disbelief, the raccoon was now swinging completely suspended in open air with nothing below him but a short drop and a sudden stop, not unlike Indiana Jones or Nathan Drake. Almost without effort, the raccoon then lifted his sizeable bulk from this suspended state—his little feet swirling below him uselessly—and then proceeded to dottle upon the roof lazily before, to my surprise, squeezing that same bulk of his into a small opening he discovered that lead into the garage. It would appear this particular raccoon was well-accustomed to breaking and entering. It’s only fitting, then, that he looked the part of a burglar or bandit, as all raccoons do. All through this ordeal, entirely unbeknownst to the raccoon, I stood beaming with a smile on my face only a stone’s throw away. Caught between joy and laughter and another sensation approaching a warmth of some kind, though hard to isolate on its own, I found myself quietly thanking God for this little moment, seemingly curated for my own eyes and entertainment alone. It would appear, I thought, that the Lord had an idea for how I should start this piece. Then, as though stirred from a pleasant dream, the coffee maker beeped and I left the window to grab my cup and, well, I’ve been here ever since. Have you ever stopped to consider what makes something truly funny? What, for example, makes my encounter with the raccoon humorous? If you were to analyze the situation and break it up into its constituent parts—a fat raccoon, a narrow fence, an equally narrow laneway, a jump of supposed bravery or foolishness between said narrow fence and narrow laneway, the dangling of pink little feet, an act of breaking-and-entering—you might be hard pressed to isolate exactly what about this story makes it funny . Think about it. At a gut level, without anyone ever having to tell us so, we know such a story to be incredibly humorous despite the fact that no one was there to experience it save myself. Doubtless a smile drew across your face as you were reading—or, at least, I hope so! But why was it, and such stories like it, funny? Why do we find anything humorous at all? In the grand scheme of things, in a world bent out of shape by the Fall, what’s so entertaining about a fat ol’ raccoon practicing gymnastics out in the cold? Not everyone is funny, but everyone can appreciate a good laugh. Indeed, if you ask me, I truly believe that humor is one of God’s sweetest gifts to His creatures. Indeed, even if we aren’t funny, we all love to laugh. There is something very good, very human, and very right about sharing in a good, hard laugh with those whom you love— “ A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones ” (Proverbs 17:22). The Fall may have twisted and warped humor, as it has with many other good things, but it has by no means eradicated or taken it from us—at worst, sin has only diminished humor. Much like how sin has tampered with sex or food or entertainment, all of which are good gifts from God, so too has sin soiled much of what passes for humor in this world. Humor is not a product of the Fall. Only wicked, crude, and rotten humor is: “ Let there be no filthiness nor foolish talk nor crude joking, which are out of place, but instead let there be thanksgiving ” (Ephesians 5:4). Like all of the Christian’s speech, our humor and joking ought to be seasoned with salt and light: “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear” (Ephesians 4:29). True humor is from the Lord. For remember, evil cannot create anything: it has only the capacity to corrupt. For all of Satan’s twisted genius, he yet still remains a fool: a proud, despicable, unhappy fool who is utterly incapable of producing anything approaching humor, joy, or laughter. And in his foolish pride, Satan seeks not to make, but to destroy. Everything evil does is a pale, warped imitation of that which is good; of that which the Lord God has made. As it is with all good things,—whether it be nature, humor, or even fat raccoons—one day the corrupting effects of sin will be done away with entirely by Christ and we shall then see and taste all good things as God originally intended them. Indeed, we as God’s people ought to daily groan inwardly for the redemption of all that which has been tarnished by the Fall. We have established that humor is not only not evil, but that it is good—very good, holy even. Some of the dearest folks in all the world to me also happen to be some of the funniest . Thus, if the Lord be the very dearest to us, why then can we not also expect Him to be the most humorous? We were made in the image of a God who laughs (Psalm 2:4). God made humor: it belongs to Him. And because God is holy, every attribute of His is also holy. His love is holy love, His wrath is holy wrath, and His humor is holy humor. God’s boundless holiness adorns all His other attributes in a transcendent, beautiful otherness that is far above and infinitely removed from the attributes of the creatures He has made. God is, without question, the holiest, happiest, and most humorous Person in all of existence. There is no one funnier than God. Because holy humor is so closely bound to that which is pure, true, and quite simply good , we can then comfortably say that sarcasm, cynicism, and flippancy are not only lesser forms of humor, but hardly authentic varieties of humor at all. This type of joking is so often far from holy : it is typically predicated on untruths, and often thrives at the expense of another. Individuals who are truly funny—in a good, pure, and righteous kind of way—also tend to be among those who are the warmest and most joyful. They know when and how to take things seriously, without taking themselves too seriously. Truly funny people are humble, but not self-deprecating; witty, but not cruel towards others. We all know the type, I’m sure. Maybe we are the type; and if so, be sure to steward this gift of humor well for the Lord ’s glory and the sheer joy of others. Perhaps we aren’t the type to be witty or humorous. But, hopefully we all know what it’s like to be the source of at least one great, boisterous roar of laughter—even if it be only once or twice in our lives. Though, hopefully more often than that! Indeed, for as good as it is to laugh, there is a joy sweeter still in making others laugh: “ It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). The very fact that we love to laugh and that laughing is best done in the presence of others reveals humor’s obvious relation to community. Indeed, things are always funnier in community. Case in point: Have you ever tried to watch a funny movie on your own? The audience (or lack thereof) can either make or break the experience of humor. And, as soon as we see or hear about something we deem to be hilarious, what is so often our first course of action? You guessed it: we want to share it with others. Indeed, it’s as though the joy is incomplete or lacking some crucial element until we have brought in others to share in the joy with us. Thus, humor is not only tied closely to community, but it seems as though it is also inseparable from joy and happiness as well. And as far as definitions of humor go, I for my part could scarcely do much better than this: True humor is a joyful expression of that which is good, pure, happy, holy, and true being communicated in some form of playfulness, whether it be physical, linguistic, or otherwise. But again, we all know funny  when we see it. Nonetheless, hopefully my definition is helpful. Life here below in a fallen, sinful world is hard . So often our tears flow from hearts swelling with sorrow rather than laughing. The Lord understands this reality well, and offers us supreme comfort such as only He can provide: “ Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh ” (Luke 6:21). As we anticipate the age to come, I am fully convinced that the bedrock of our joy in Heaven will be our sweet, joyful fellowship with God Himself. And I have all the confidence in the world that much of this joy will be the direct result of God’s own infinitely overflowing joy as it bursts forth from Him who is the supremely holy, happy, humorous Being. God made humor, it belongs to Him: the very best laughs and joys trickle down from Him and cascade back upon us. There is no one funnier than God—a truth of which we will become joyfully aware as the endless ages roll. Image by Simon Infanger, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. And if you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading.

“ For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea ” (Habakkuk 2:14). N o sooner had I learned that my wife and I were expecting a son, than did another revelation flit across my mind: “I’m having a boy... I’m having a son!— Hmm, I really need to get back into shape .” It’s difficult to explain, but for some strange reason this was one of the earliest thoughts that crossed my mind upon discovering that my wife and I were having a baby boy—a son. It wasn’t so much that I was grossly out of shape or living an unhealthy lifestyle at the time, though one can always be in better shape. Rather, there seemed to flash before me in that moment an echo from my own childhood. There I was, a small boy, and then suddenly the image of my father took form before me: he was not very tall or overly muscular, never was, but he was strong— for much of my boyhood, no one seemed stronger than my father. “That,” I thought, “is the way I want my son to see me.” I’m confident there must be a female—or motherly—equivalent to this revelation of mine, though I won’t venture to guess what it may be. Nonetheless, something about the fact that I now knew I was a father to a son motivated me to begin working out again, at least in thought at this point. It was an almost instantaneous conviction. Though, I’m sure I would have had a similar response if we were expecting a daughter—only, perhaps, for slightly different reasons. If Elaina and I were expecting a baby girl, I suspect I’d feel motivated to get back into shape so as to ensure I can protect her. As the eldest brother of three younger sisters, some old habits are hard to shake, particularly when it concerns the girls and women in my family. But, because I’m having a son, I now feel a burden upon myself to demonstrate to him, much as I’m able, how a man ought to protect those around him—spiritually and relationally above all, but also physically . And, perhaps somewhat selfishly, I want to ensure I can whip my son in as many sports as possible for as long as possible. Indeed, one can never be too young to cultivate ‘old man strength’—that rare quality accompanying fatherhood that enables dads, without so much as having stretched in decades, to outmatch the saplings around them in whatever sport, workout, or labor the latter finds themselves presently engaged in. It seemed by pure happenstance, then, that I found myself catching up with a family friend on the afternoon of our son ’s gender reveal party (though, of course, he was just ‘baby’ until only moments before—hence the gender reveal dimension of the party). As this woman and I were catching up, I asked how her son was doing. He and I worked together a few years back, and though our correspondence ran somewhat thin since then, we yet remained friends—friends in the way only men tend to be friends , with often a year or so, or more, between our chats. In response to my question, she mentioned that her son had taken up swimming at a gym not far from where Elaina and I live. I grew up swimming quite regularly and so was delighted to hear there was a gym nearby that also happened to have a pool. Both my sister and I swam competitively in our teens, and I’ve been itching to get back into the water for years—only, facilities with pools are often far, far more expensive than your typical gym. Much to my surprise, this location worked out to be about the same price on a monthly basis as the gym where my current membership was gathering dust. I began swimming again a few days later. As it often is with getting back into any old habit, particularly one that is physical, I was immediately struck with another revelation— “Wow, I had no idea I was this out of shape.” What a curious phrase: “out of shape.” What shape would the Lord have us be, I wonder? All that to say, I didn’t feel particularly shapely or aerodynamic my first day back in the pool, but I stuck to it. To say that I have felt like a fish out of water these past few years seems a fitting comparison given the context. It was hard work, but I loved getting back into the pool. The many years of my training flooded back into my body in short order. Almost immediately after my first few laps,—as the world grew silent and still beneath the unbroken surface of the water, the distance passing by—my mind turned to those now famous words by Olympian Eric Liddell: “When I run, I feel His pleasure.” I know exactly what Liddell meant. For the longest time, I had always applied those words of his to that particular joy I feel when I write for the Lord. But now, though I remain an unremarkable swimmer by most accounts, I have been reminded once again of a different sort of joy, a variety I haven’t experienced in years. A joy borne out not by words, ideas, or literature, but by sweat and steam and the still, glassy surface anticipating my next stroke as I stretch and flex and ache and breathe for His glory. In my own way, I am beginning again to feel what Liddell must have felt each time he ran— “When I swim, I feel His pleasure.” I used to workout a lot as a teenager, perhaps too much. Indeed, I was not yet a Christian and it was more than likely that physical fitness was an idol in my life. Upon becoming a follower of Christ, I continued to stay in shape but, if I ’m being quite honest, there was a sort of guilt that now stalked me anytime I took to the gym. Looking back on those years, I’ve come to realize a few errors about both my thinking and my living. Firstly, I more than certainly had a poor theology of the body. And second, this unbiblical understanding of mine was only bolstered by the nagging conviction that Christ’s Second Coming was due at almost any time. Why bother staying in shape if the world was about to end? I wish I were joking because, as a young Christian, I thoroughly believed this. But that wasn’t all. Growing up in a church that preached from the King James Version, Paul’s words from 1 Timothy 4:8 frequently rattled about my head: “ For bodily exercise profiteth little: but godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come .” In the grand scheme of things, yes, “ bodily exercise profiteth little, ” but that does not mean it is of no value. I fear that is how many Christians choose to read this passage, substituting little with not at all . Notice, however, that Paul says exercise has some value; he did not say exercise has no value. It profits little, perhaps, but there is yet profit to be found says Paul. Thus, we cannot so easily discount it’s value in our lives. Our physical fitness becomes an issue when it is elevated above our spiritual fitness. Like anything in life, exercise can readily become an idol in our hearts if at any point it becomes an object of affection above God Himself, or even above the many good and godly responsibilities that God has stewarded to us. Like writing, exercise can become an idol if I obsess over it to the degree that my other tasks at home, work, or in my family are grossly neglected. And, even if Christ was due on history’s doorstep tomorrow morning, why should that rule out our doing some good today, however fleeting? I once heard a story where Martin Luther was asked what he would do if the world were to end the very next day. Luther responded, “I would plant an apple tree today.” However, back to our bodies. The physical is good; God made the physical. God likes stuff. He filled His universe to the brim with physical, material stuff , of which our fleshly bodies—composed of bones and muscles and tendons and skin—are a part. The Apostle Paul’s words in 1 Timothy 4:8 must then be understood in light of the overall testimony of Scripture. Consider two other passages penned by Paul on the importance of the body. From a general perspective, everything we do as believers must be conducted with joy Coram Deo —that’s Latin for “Before the face of God.” This is drawn from many Biblical passages, not least of which is 1 Corinthians 10:31: “ So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. ” Everything in life is on the table when it comes to living for the glory of God, provided it is not sin or prohibited in His Word—whether it be planting apple trees, working out, or writing. Because God is everywhere, we are then ever in His presence. We should therefore ever be busy about those things which pertain to His good pleasure. Downstream—or rather, upstream —from 1 Corinthians 10:31, we find these well-known words only a few chapters earlier in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20: “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body.” God does nothing out of necessity, as though He is in need of anything or ever moved to do a thing contrary to His will. God did not walk in the cool of the day with our first parents in the Garden because He had to, or because He was lonely; God did not need to condescend to Israel and dwell amongst them in the Tabernacle, and then afterwards in the Temple. Our God, the One true God,— “ the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God ” (1 Timothy 1:17)— is not a God who dwells in houses and temples built by human hands, as though these are able to contain Him. He is infinite beyond all measure; the heavens themselves cannot contain Him. And yet, beyond all expectation and imagination, we as those in Christ are called the temple of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). In the New Heavens and the New Earth, “ the dwelling place of God is with man ” (Revelation 21:3) not because man is anything special, but because God loves us and has redeemed us for Himself. Inside and out, we are, in the entirety of our essence, both physically and spiritually, His possession, having been purchased with the precious blood of God Himself. Therefore Paul writes, “ So glorify God in your body.” We must, then, be about the business of tending to the temple of our bodies where God Himself resides. We do this not because we want to eke out a few more years on this planet for our own purposes by chasing the latest health craze, nor do we tend to our bodies for the allure of the world and watching eyes: we tend to the temple of our bodies because God Himself is its holy resident. And because God is present, the place must be tended, well-kept, swept, ordered, and altogether holy even as He is holy. As R.C. Sproul once said, “We are prone to stuffing and stretching the temple of the Holy Spirit. ” This ought not be the case. Indeed, “ bodily exercise profiteth little ” in comparison to the weight of glory prepared for those who cultivate spiritual maturity; but the fact remains that you very well might be far less capable to bear spiritual fruit consistently if your physical body is neglected to the point of atrophy and decay. The Lord numbers our days, but those days might be far fewer should we steward them foolishly. The Christian walk is not a sprint, but a marathon. The steadfast and faithful life requires of us endurance that is spiritual as well as physical. If we are to be faithful disciples of Christ for the long haul, then let us ensure the bodies He gave us are healthy and up to the task for the work He’s given. For my part, I intend to steward my body well until I am unable to do otherwise. I want to glorify God in all my physical efforts to the far greater end of being able to work energetically and enthusiastically in His Kingdom on those spiritual matters He’s stewarded to me, whether they be in my family, writing, church, workplace, or beyond. I want to glorify God now as I swim or walk or lift heavy things with the hope that I can still do those things, and far better things, with my own son in the years and decades to come, if the Lord wills. Of course  age, injury, devastating circumstances, and illness take their toll on our bodies. This is, after all, a fallen world and our bodies feel the curse deeply—some bodies more than others. I do not mean to bind anyone’s conscience on this issue, for I realize personal factors abound that may inhibit regular exercise; or even regular movement, for that matter. I do, however, want to offer encouragement and hope such as I’m able. Encouragement, because God has indeed given us good, physical bodies that He intends for our regular use unto His glory—so do not feel guilty as you exercise, “ glorify God in your body.” And hope, because we have a perfect body and a perfect world awaiting us in the New Heavens and the New Earth. This hope penetrates the brokenness of both body and world that we so regularly rub shoulders with in this life. In that place, we won’t be able to go anywhere without seeing some new, previously unfathomable, dimension of God’s glory and goodness and beauty. I firmly believe we will take part in this glory to some degree, clothed as we shall be, body and soul, with immortality, holiness, and perfection, even as Christ is: “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when He appears we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is” (1 John 3:2). There are times when I have caught a fleeting glimpse of it as I swim — of that glory to come, of our resurrection bodies and the realm they shall forever inhabit. I’m underwater, and then suddenly the world around me grows altogether dim and quiet. I glide suspended between those two worlds divided only by a shimmering veil of blue swirls and pale lights, like a loose sheet drawn across the sky. Then, in the moments between these moments,—as though the image is thrust upon me—my mind begins to think on that world to come, where “ the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the LORD as the waters cover the sea ” (Habakkuk 2:14). Photo by Matt Hardy, Unsplash Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. And if you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading.

“ Dreams feel real while we ’ re in them. It ’ s only when we wake up that we realize something was actually strange. ” T ime . Christopher Nolan’s 2010 film, Inception,  much like Nolan himself, is deeply concerned with time . Indeed, the final montage in the film is scored to a haunting song titled “ Time ” by Hans Zimmer, and this is not without purpose. Many of Nolan’s films— Memento, Inception, Interstellar, Dunkirk, Tenet —are chiefly interested in telling stories that deal with time in an unconventional manner. According to Mieke Bal in Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative, “a fabula is a series of logically and chronologically related events” (159). In other words, a fabula is the raw, chronological data contained within a story. Throughout Inception, Nolan weaves together time and narrative, intertwining the two, to demonstrate how they intersect in the telling of a story. In many ways, Nolan’s approach to filmmaking and storytelling plays fast and loose with this definition of Bal’s, often resulting in thought-provoking and unique cinematic endeavors that take many creative liberties with how audiences interpret time and chronology. In this way, Nolan’s film, Inception, serves a twofold purpose: firstly, it is a master stroke of cinematic entertainment while, secondly, also serving as a visible representation of how narrative works. Indeed, concerned as Nolan may be with the innerworkings of time in Inception, he is far more interested in story —namely, how do we as people interpret and experience story ? What do stories mean and how do they work? How do time and narrative impact one another? To answer these questions well is no small task for image-bearers: “ [God] has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end ” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Because Nolan is made in the image of God,—though he is not a Christian—he has a sort of transcendent curiosity embedded deeply within him. As is the case with many of his films, Inception dares to ask some imposing questions of reality, questions that are quite obviously important to Nolan himself— “ It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out ” (Proverbs 25:2). Indeed, if Interstellar is to be considered Nolan’s treatise on the subject of time, then Inception should rightly be considered his final word on story. By employing the film’s central premises regarding dreams and time, Nolan is able to divide his story into multiple levels of narration, giving a greater idea of how this narratological framework looks when visibly displayed and how it relates to time itself, all the while maintaining the audience’s utmost interest. However, before journeying further, it is imperative that some context is given regarding the film’s plot and the various premises at play within it so that the narratological concepts can be better observed and understood. In the world of Inception, technology has progressed insofar that people can enter the dream world and experience it as though it were a physical dimension. Taste, pain, death, and love—all of these can be experienced in the dream world as though they were taking place in reality itself. However, because mental constructs can now be physically represented through the dream technology as though they were physical, this means that mental assets such as secrets, memories, and desires can likewise be stolen. In Inception, this kind of mental theft is called “extraction” (00:03:20). The film’s protagonist, Dom Cobb, specializes in this type of dream theft. Very early on in the film the audience is introduced to extraction’s twin concept, called “inception.” With inception, ideas are not stolen, they are implanted—something Cobb says is extremely difficult to do, almost impossible (00:19:30). However, when a billionaire energy mogul makes him an offer he cannot refuse to plant a corrosive idea in a rival businessman’s mind, Cobb accepts, and he and his team begin planning for the reverse-heist (00:20:30). In this reverse-heist, Cobb and his team enter into the dream realm with the man they are planning to plant an idea in, and in order to make this idea seem “genuine”, they must not only hone the idea down to its simplest form but layer the idea in multiple dreams within dreams (00:50:30). Or, for the sake of narratology, stories within stories.  Each dream, or level, is presented as its own reality, taking place within the larger frame of narrative, but serving its own individual purpose, nonetheless. Nolan’s direction and clever writing make wise use of common knowledge regarding dreams to explore not only the human mind, but narrative itself. Inception ’s unique concept provides the perfect canvas upon which narrative embedding—or narrative levels—can be explored, understood, and visibly demonstrated. Indeed, each dream is treated as a story within a story, or a narrative within other narratives, each with its own location, conflict, and narrative arc. Furthermore, these dream sequences fit within the definition of narrative embedding because each dream is not only self-contained, but contained within the dream proceeding it, given that in order to enter into one dream one must first be present in the dream before it. This lines up well with Bal’s definition of fabula, or story, as something that is both logical and chronological (159), given that the dreams (narrative levels) operate on a basis of forward motion and reason. The relationship between the primary narrative and the embedded narratives in Inception is represented in the following diagram: In Inception,  as outlined in the diagram, there are five main levels of narration, or dreams, that one must be concerned with. Like most narratives that explore narrative embedding, there is the frame/main narrative as represented by A , this being the core reality that all the other stories and narratives are contained within. Bal puts the concept this way: “the narrative text constitutes a whole in which, from the narrator’s text, other texts are embedded” (51). In this case, the core reality, or “real world”, of Inception can be considered the narrator’s text, while all the other “texts”, or dreams, are those which are embedded. In Inception, given it is a film, the frame narrative serves as the main diegesis (the primary story), and it occupies most of the runtime of the film (roughly an hour and five minutes), whereas the other narrative levels comprise the other half of the film. In the above diagram, the frame narrative is contained within a thick, bolded line, which is meant to indicate that nothing can enter or exit the primary diegesis. Perhaps I can illustrate with a thoroughly Christian example. Imagine that the thick, bolded line in the diagram represents the boundaries of reality as established by the Lord God: everything that is true and factual—Heaven and Hell, our world and all others, and every being that God has made—exists and is contained within this border that God has prescribed. There is nothing outside of reality proper, not even God—He is reality, the very nucleus of it. Anything beyond Him and the thick, bolded line He’s drawn around His world is complete and utter nothingness. Similar to the example of Bal’s wherein he makes note of Arabian Nights, Inception can also be considered a frame narrative in that there are multiple stories occurring within the main fabula itself (52). These embedded narratives are represented in the diagram as B, C, D, and E . However, unlike the example of Arabian Nights, the additional levels of narrative within Inception profoundly impact the overarching course of the primary narrative, so much so that the embedded narratives cannot be divorced from the primary narrative without losing the substance of the entire film. As Bal puts it, “the apparently loose relationship between primary and embedded text is relevant to the development of the primary fabula” (53). Beyond the primary narrative in Inception, Cobb and his team enter four additional levels of embedded narrative, all of which occur within the dream world. Within this dream world, there is the rain-slicked city scape, followed by the hotel vista, then the snowy hospital facility, concluding with Limbo ( Inception 01:04:00-02:12:00). What makes Inception such a compelling example of narrative embedding is that all these realities are entangled and contingent upon the primary fabula itself (the frame narrative, reality ), while also standing apart as their own narratives, despite at no point ceasing to exist within the all-encompassing frame provided by the primary narrative. As aforementioned, the primary frame narrative comprises about half of the film’s runtime, and it is during this time that the heist is planned and the main characters are established, with the focalization being upon Cobb himself. Significant time is committed to explaining the “rules” of the world and taking pains to demonstrate how dreams operate in order to make sense of things when the other narratives, or dreams, are introduced. However, once the other narratives are embedded, though there is frequent jumping between them, there is not a return to the frame narrative until the very end of the film once all the additional narratives have been collapsed. Hence why the embedded narrative frame of B is represented by a solid, although thinner, line, drawing to mind the fact that once the audience enters the second level , they do not leave until after all the other dreams have ended, thus returning to the primary narrative. At a point in the film, Cobb remarks that “downwards is the only way forwards” ( Inception 01:10:30). That is, in order to progress further in the story, one must progress further within the story. To grasp the full depth of the primary narrative, one must first experience all levels of narration. As the audience progresses further within the embedded narratives, there is frequent jumping back and forth between B, C, D, and E , but as aforementioned, all these embedded narratives are contained within the structure of B . However, because there are seemingly loose boundaries between the embedded narratives, their narrative frames are represented as having a thin and dotted line, indicating that there is indeed passage between them once entered. Not only is Inception concerned with narrative levels and how this can be demonstrably explained via the use of dreams, but the film, and Nolan, is very interested in time as well. Cobb explains that the human brain functions at a much higher rate while asleep when compared to wakefulness, resulting in a disparity between how long a dream feels and how long it actually occurs for in the real world ( Inception 00:28:30). In the film, the real world to dream time ratio is about 20:1; five minutes in the dream world is roughly one hour in the real world ( Inception 00:28:45). This introduces the idea of fabula time as opposed to time span in the context of embedded narratives. Now, what makes this concept of fabula time vs. the span of time passed even more interesting is that this ratio is compounded as one descends into a secondary dream level, and even more so when one enters a third dream level, and so on. Namely, the fabula time as opposed to the time span varies depending on which level of narration one finds themselves in. In the film, Cobb and his team enter the first level of dreams during a ten-hour plane flight, resulting in one week of dream time at level one ( B ), six months at dream two ( C ), ten years at dream three ( D ), and potentially limitless time once they reach Limbo ( E ) ( Inception 01:09:30-01:10:45). If one considers the length of time presented by the final narrative level, Limbo, this means that the time span over which the film occurs is well over one hundred years, despite all of it taking place in the real world over only several hours. In this way, Nolan toys with not only the narratological concept of embedded narratives, but with how time itself works within those individual narratives.             In the film Inception,  director Christopher Nolan succeeds to not only produce an exceptionally entertaining film, both thematically and technically, but also manages to put rather complex narratological concepts to film in a clear and digestible manner. Rather than exploring embedded narratives as mere narration within a larger diegesis, the film demonstrates the concept of frame narratives via the use of dreams within dreams. Through the exploration of Mieke Bal’s definitions of what narrative and narrative embedding is, one is able to then apply these concepts to the narrative structure of Inception in remarkably complex ways. Indeed, when one considers how well these concepts map onto Inception, it is tempting to ask why Bal neglected to include the film as an example in his book, Narratology. And, more pressing still, the question must be asked of Nolan as to why—in light of his very obvious and very serious fascination with time, science, and the stories that bind them together—he hasn’t yet fixed his gaze and faith on Him who is the Author of all? “ It is the glory of God to conceal things, but the glory of kings is to search things out. ” —Proverbs 25:2 Photo by Lu Quang Do, Unsplash Author’s Note: This is a slightly edited version of a paper I originally wrote for a class focused on narrative theory during the second year of my undergrad. While it may be somewhat different from the kind of writing I usually produce here, I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless—particularly if you’re as interested in the art of storytelling as I am (and, of course, in anything produced by Christopher Nolan). All truth is God’s truth, and all stories are but a thread in the much larger story that He is weaving, of which you and I, and even Christopher Nolan, are a part. Would you enjoy reading more of my work? Subscribe by simply scrolling to the bottom of this page and entering your email. All future articles, essays, and short stories will be sent directly to the address provided. However, be sure to check your ‘Junk’ or ‘Spam’ folder and mark me as a trusted contact should my posts fail to appear in your email. And if you’ve been encouraged by my writing, I’d be humbled if you shared my work with others who may also benefit from reading. References: Bal, Mieke. Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative. Fourth Ed., University of Toronto Press, 2017. Inception. Directed by Christopher Nolan, Warner Bros., 2010.