Search & Ye Shall Find...

“ And did the Countenance Divine,/Shine forth upon our clouded hills?/And was Jerusalem builded here,/Among these dark Satanic Mills? ”  W ell does the Bible describe us as sheep . And not as sheep only, but sheep who are prone to wonder—to wonder from Him who made us, saved us, and loves us most. The hymn, Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing, acutely diagnoses our fickle hearts: “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God I love; Here’s my heart; O take and seal it; Seal it for Thy courts above.” I don ’t know about you, but I feel it. I sense the weight of my fickle heart each and every day, ever prone to wander—O!, for even when my heart burns hottest for Him, I must admit that my affection for the Lord is not worthy of His name. I ache for that day, as I’m sure you do, when I will worship Him as He deserves. What ’s especially interesting about the moniker of ‘sheep’ is that the name applies well to Christians both before and after they come to know the Lord. The Apostle Peter seems to be indicating this very reality when he says in 1 Peter 2:25, “For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.” Indeed, before the Lord made us His own we were all “straying like sheep,” but as believers, we have now returned to Him who is the Good Shepherd. Though in both cases—before we knew Christ the Shepherd and afterwards—sheep we yet remain. Far be it from anyone to say that God lacks a sense of humor, for He knew precisely what He was communicating when labeling us as sheep. For though they are cute, docile, and fuzzy little creatures, sheep are nonetheless exceedingly stupid—just as we all are anytime we entertain even the slightest sin. Make no mistake: to sin is the stupidest thing we can possibly do. And yet, for as exceedingly stupid as sin is, it is also exceedingly deceptive. To lie and deceive is the nature of sin: just as it is at the very heart of Satan, the father of lies, to breathe falsehood and wreak destruction wherever he finds himself. While the stupidity of sin can take on many forms, I think the clearest way to describe it is simply this: sin is anything that the human heart desires above God Himself. That is, all sin can in some way or another be categorized as a form of idolatry—desiring or delighting in something, anything, more than the Lord. Not all sin we commit has to do with the flesh or the hands or the lips or our possessions; but all sin does have to do with the human heart. “The heart,” as John Piper recently put it during his eulogy for John MacArthur, “is a valuing organ.” As the innermost part of our inner man, the heart is that spiritual organ with which we give honor and worship to those things we most value. Every decision we make is an act of the will,—a choice made deep within the heart—whether it be for righteousness or wickedness. For God and His good pleasure, or against it. When we sin, we cannot say of ourselves that in the moment of our disobedience we wanted to please God above all things but ultimately fell short. No, no, let us be honest with ourselves and with the Lord: when we sin, we do so because, in that moment, we wanted to do it. And because we wanted to sin, we did. When our affections are rightly ordered, God alone reigns on the throne of our hearts and every decision, affection, and thought flows from this proper ordering of things. And when we sin, we betray a tragic misalignment in our hearts between that which is and that which ought to be. The reality that sin is ultimately a heart issue is one of the crucial distinctions Jesus made when speaking with the Pharisees— “ Hear and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but what comes out of the mouth; this defiles a person ” (Matthew 15:10-11). What makes the sin of idolatry especially cunning is that it is not relegated only to that which we would call ‘bad.’ You can commit the sin of idolatry both with things that God loves and with things God hates. Doubtless this grim reality prompted John Calvin in saying, “Man’s nature, so to speak, is a perpetual factory of idols.” The natural man is utterly boundless in his ability to make a god out of whatever lies before him. Effortlessly twisting anything and everything in God’s good design for his own selfish purposes. Truly, as Calvin put it, the heart of man is an idol factory. Whenever I think of Calvin’s words—“idol factories”—my mind is drawn to the poem Jerusalem by Romantic writer William Blake. Railing against the predations of the Industrial Revolution, particularly the victimization of young children as chimney sweepers, Blake penned these words: “ And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here, Among these dark Satanic Mills? ” During the Industrial Revolution, shadowy smokestacks loomed over the expanding horizon where white clouds and farmland once painted the land. These Blake called “Satanic Mills”—the factories of industry that served as the epicenter for every manner of abuse, greed, and, quite literally, idolatry over material gain and profit. Indeed, “idol factories.” On this side of eternity, we walk among these same dark Satanic Mills; among endless perversions and distractions that are vying for our attention with the sole purpose of drawing our hearts away from Him, our First Love. For even after the Lord wakes us from our cold, dead slumber and gives us both new life and a new heart, we must ever be on guard against the deceitfulness of idolatry. For indeed, sometimes it is the very best of things that we can make into an idol; giving weight and worship to the creature and created rather than to the Creator. The desire for rest and leisure can become an idol just as, on the opposite side of the spectrum, work and sheer busyness can consume all our thoughts and priorities in the other direction. The freedom afforded by singleness can be an idol, just as a selfish desire for marriage can be an idol; the fear of having children can become an idol as readily as children themselves can become idols, and so on. Unfortunately, nothing is off limits. The longer I walk with the Lord, the more I’ve come to distrust my own heart and its uncanny ability to attach itself to even the very best of things the Lord has given me over and against fellowship with God Himself. And sometimes, if you’re anything like me, the Spirit convicts you of an idol in your life, and upon turning from it you steer too rigorously in the other direction where, there also, lies an idol in waiting. The path is indeed narrow! The Christian life isn’t a matter of simply ‘doing this’ and ‘not doing that,’ but rather it is all a matter of the heart. The Lord would have us thoroughly converted , with the entirety of our person, both inwards and outwards, in complete submission to Him. This begins and ends in the heart. I was reminded how subtle idolatry can be only this past week as I was reading through the book of 2 Kings. Throughout the history of Judah and Israel, her kings were described at the end of their lives in only one of two ways: “And he did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, according to all that his fathers had done,” or, “And he did what was right in the eyes of the LORD and walked in all the way of David his father.” Unfortunately, though unsurprisingly, most of her kings were of the former characterization—that is, wicked. There were, however, some kings who did a number of ‘good’ things only to fall short gravely in those areas which were most important. For example, there were a few kings who tried to fix the temple and direct some form of worship towards the true and Living God—only to preserve the high places in Israel where demonic worship of other gods took place. These kings foolishly attempted to weave together devotion to the LORD with devotion to demons, forgetting altogether that light cannot have fellowship with darkness, that, “You shall not bow down to them or serve them, for I the LORD your God am a jealous God” (Exodus 20:5). Then in 2 Kings 18, we are introduced to Hezekiah, one of the most godly and well-spoken of kings in the entire history of Judah. He was a righteous man after the heart of his father David, who himself was described as a man after the very heart of God. Hezekiah’s devotion to the Lord was such that there arose no other king in Judah like him after his passing—except, that is, for the Lord Jesus Christ of whom Hezekiah was a dim, fleeting shadow, an echo. Hezekiah’s tolerance for idolatry among the people, in line with that of the Lord’s, was utterly nonexistent: he removed the high places of demonic worship, he broke down pillars and tributes to the false gods of the nations, and most interestingly, it’s written that Hezekiah “broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the people of Israel had made offerings to it” (2 Kings 18:4). The rampant idolatry among the people prior to Hezekiah’s reign was such that, in complete forgetfulness of God’s past faithfulness, they began to worship that which was only meant to serve as a mere symbol of the Lord’s mercy. They mistook the symbol for the substance. The idolatry of the people was so great that, upon seeing this dusty relic from generations ago hid in a corner of the Temple somewhere, they didn’t so much as think twice before sacrificing to it—“What’s that over there?” one man asked another, to which his friend responded, “Not sure... do you suppose we should worship it just in case?” “But of course, ” replied the first. Rather than the bronze serpent saving all those who looked upon it (see Numbers 21:6-9), the people were instead consumed as they gave it undue honor. A dreadful reversal took place on account of their sin. What was meant to commemorate the goodness and steadfast love of the Lord towards the people of Israel during their time in the wilderness became corrupted and warped. The bronze serpent—in the hands of the serpent , the Devil—became twisted from its original purpose; reflecting the image of man on its shiny, bronze surface rather than pointing beyond itself to the everlasting God. That, my friends, is idolatry. Not only the mere act of bowing down to that which is a dumb and deaf idol,—which is, of course, still sin—but the wicked leaps in willful decision making within the human heart that lead to such an act. The physical act of worshipping an idol was brought forth by the initial, embryonic spiritual act of lending weight to that which is not the Living God. For, in many respects, that is what idolatry is all about: giving the weight of your heart’s posture towards anything other than the Lord. Therein lies the obvious deception with the Roman Catholic idea of ‘veneration.’ “No, no, no, you misunderstand,” they say, “we don’t worship Mary and the saints, we venerate them. We don’t worship relics and icons, we venerate  them.” I suspect Hezekiah would think differently. The obvious question is again one of weight: in that moment of so-called veneration, wherein lies the center of gravity? That is, where is the attention centered? Is it upon the Lord or upon created things? Indeed, never underestimate the proclivity of the human heart to turn even good things bad. Tony Reinke goes on to say, “And as Luther discovered in the text of Scripture, the golden calf was fashioned with a stylus, a ‘graving tool’ originally meant to write truth about God, but instead used to shape a golden lie (Exodus 32:4).” We’ve now come to the end of what I realize is a rather heavy and challenging article. However, my utmost intention has not been to discourage, but rather to convict and encourage. Indeed, on this matter I write to myself as much to any of you. And if you do find yourself pricked by these words, then praise the Lord: His Spirit is at work. In pleading that we turn from idolatry, His desire is not to dampen our joy, but to increase it. God knows that false gods and dumb idols cannot possibly satisfy our souls. That is why He commands us to repent of any and all sin—for His glory and for our eternal good. Thus, be careful and watchful lest you rob God of any honor due Him; and by consequence, rob yourself of that joy which is best. And as ever when we sin, the Lord stands by ready to cleanse and forgive completely those who draw near to Him in humility and repentance. Though we all stray like sheep and grieve Him when we entertain lesser joys, Jesus yet remains the Good Shepherd. For He is the One who journeys out into the howling abyss among the Satanic Mills in search of the one sheep who has gone astray—truly, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep... I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of My hand” (John 10:11-28). Photo by The Cleveland Museum of Art, Unsplash Author’s Note: If you were encouraged by this article, I would recommend reading a post I wrote recently for The Gospel Coalition Canada, titled Thoroughly Converted. In many ways, it serves as a helpful companion piece to this article. 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“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” —William Shakespeare, Hamlet -I- “T his court, over which I am sovereign and Queen, finds you charged, Sir Gabriel the Knight, of the most heinous crimes against this land and her people. How do you plead?” The voice of Queen Morgan, resolute and sharp, rippled across the room with an unnatural power. Behind her, within the shadow of her throne, sat King Arthur with a hollow look—Gabriel would later recall that he looked like a corpse. With as much courage as he could muster, Gabriel stood tall and strong before the Queen. Around the scene of the trial were the people of Camelot: multitudes of court officials and priests feigning regal religiosity, as well as knights, ladies, and every manner of citizenry, all gathered throughout the far reaches of the throne room. Though they were not alone, Gabriel felt alone; he knew in his heart that his response was directed towards Morgan and her only, and so towards her he steadied his gaze and began to speak. “As I have said, Queen Morgan, before you and all those gathered here, I am no villain. I am a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table, a herald of truth, justice, and chivalry—not this beast that you accuse me of being.” His words came out sure and true, like an arrow, but Morgan caught the tremble gathering upon his lips. Gabriel had known the Queen since he was a little boy, and though she was much older than he, she somehow looked the same as she did then. In the gloomy, early morning light of the throne room, she appeared as strong, determined, and beautiful as ever before—though, he did not recognize her now. She was changed somehow; sharper and crueler, as though her very gaze could cut him. For just a moment, a thought passed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it should the Queen read it in his eyes. She looks like a serpent, he thought— one that is ready to strike . Sir Gabriel lowered his gaze. No one could see it, perhaps no one wished to see it, but at Gabriel’s words a fire lit up within the eyes of Queen Morgan. She stirred in her seat for a moment—as if coiling to then pounce—before speaking again with a regained smile: “My dear Gabriel, I have known you since your youth. I know that you are no beast—surely we gathered here see you and know you as a man . Not just any man, but a man of this court, a great man who sits at the Table of my husband, the King.” With this last word Morgan motioned her head in the direction of Arthur, as though to acknowledge him, however slightly. Arthur withdrew dimly from the shadow of Queen Morgan, and in the pale light of the room he looked flush and ghastly, as though his spirit was filled with unnamable sorrows. He then withdrew, and the darkness consumed him as it had before. Directing her attention once more towards Gabriel, Morgan began to say softly, though coldly, “ But , the blood of this once young and beautiful woman has cried out to us from the ground, and in her shrill cries we have heard one name only: your own . You were seen fleeing upon the road that night, as though Death himself pursued you; covered in dirt, disheveled, unkept, with scratches on your face and arms from the desperate fingers of this dear girl as she begged for her life, and then you were captured at the scene the very next morning—yet you now have the audacity to deny these proofs?” “My Queen,” broke in Gabriel with a start, “I have sworn before this court and our Lord that she, the one you call Desiree, came to my house under the cover of night as though she were in dire need. No sooner did I open my door was it revealed that her intentions were unbecoming both to her and to myself. Though in the moment it was most unclear—for there was a fog about me, in my very mind as it were. It was difficult to understand then, and difficult to explain fully now. She tried to… tempt me… my Queen, of which I have already said. When it became terribly clear that she was in no need of help, I fled from her, but she grabbed me and began to insist, to beg… to bear into my skin with her very nails! We fell to the earth and though I escaped, it was only just. She had such strength for so young a woman…” Here Gabriel paused for a moment, as though he were remembering a most dreadful dream. When he began again, his eyes wandered down to the earth in sorrowful and fearful reflection as his account went on. “I fled to my horse and rode as swiftly as Joseph would have me do and that was all! When I returned in the morning after a night of restless sleep and wandering—and the most terrible dreams—I came upon a greater horror in the light of day: the doors of my home splintered, and the body of Desiree strewn across my quarters. Before I had opportunity to fall to my knees and weep, knights of the Round Table—my own brothers!—came to apprehend me upon the very sight. ‘What is the meaning of this!?’ I cried out to my brother Lancelot, to which he uttered, as though under a spell and either unwilling or unable to look me in my eyes, ‘The twin sins of man, you villain! As though it were not vile enough that you should rob this young soul of her innocence, you robbed her of life also!’” From across the room where he stood watching in the shadow of Arthur’s throne, Lancelot shifted his weight and steadied his fiery gaze upon Gabriel. A darkness passed over Gabriel, as though the mere memory of these events had within themselves the power to crush his soul anew. After a moment, gazing ahead blankly and at no one in particular, he went on: “If I had known what was to become of her… all torn to pieces as she was… I never would have left her given the hour was late, and the shadows were already growing long. But I swear, my Queen, I never laid a hand on her! It was doubtless some men from the countryside that, seeing my home apparently deserted, came upon her after I left in search of gold or coins. Or perhaps it was some dark creature that crept from a hole in the mountains! Men have been whispering more and more of late, of dark and terrible beasts… ancient creatures from Noah’s time taking on the appearance of men and young women; changelings from a bygone age, stealing little children from their beds under the shadow of night and tempting men before devouring them. Some of my knights have even seen these devils, which they have called fairi—” “Enough!” cried Queen Morgan, and suddenly the mouth of the Knight shut. “You are dear to my heart and to the heart of my husband, Sir Gabriel, but your insolence in this matter has unsettled even my mind. The act is clear to this court: your hands are stained with scarlet sin, your very vision so blinded by bloodshed and your heart so devoured by lust that you can no longer walk straight the path of a knight. Your guilt has already been determined—this trial is but a courtesy to your fading memory as a member of the Table. If this case were to concern any other, perhaps even any other knight, I would have had your very soul in my hands many moons ago. It is your past righteousness, and nothing more, that has stayed my hand from spilling your life upon the earth this very hour.” A dreadful silence filled the room, and a sudden despair rushed upon the soul of the Knight such as he had never known. Sir Gabriel was a virtuous man, rivaling even the faith and honor of King Arthur, but in this very moment, the moment of his bleakest heartache and trial, his faith wavered. Gabriel gathered himself for a moment, breathed deeply, and in those seconds of quiet reflection a simple, quiet prayer rose from his soul, “Lord, have mercy…” After a moment, she went on. “You know I have jurisdiction in this land over every maiden that is defiled and sinned against, as that poor creature Desiree was: your life is in my hands, for the King cannot speak in such cases. However, far be it from the lips of any to say that the mercy of Queen Morgan falls short of her justice and virtue. Your salvation, Sir Gabriel, now lies in your ability to answer a simple riddle; not a riddle only, but a path forward for men like you who have so marred the image of our  Lord with their actions.” Though her voice was mighty, like the rushing of a great wind in a hall even so large as Arthur’s, Morgan’s speech faltered slightly, almost imperceptibly, at the words ‘image of our Lord.’ Her lips betrayed a tremble, not of sorrow or grief—but of disgust. As though the very words were bile in her mouth. As Queen Morgan stood, the rest of the court arose also, casting long shadows like daggers upon the small form of Gabriel as he stood in their midst. She had now arrived at her verdict. “In one year hence, Sir Gabriel, you shall stand before this same court and before the judgment of Queen Morgan with an answer to this question: ‘What thing is it that women most desire?’ If your answer sings true, then your soul is yours. If not, then I shall exercise every iota of the dominion and power and cruelty that the Lord has given into my hands to spill your soul upon the dust of this earth, just as you have done to a fair maiden of my land. Now be gone.” -II- A deep sigh overwhelmed the soul of Gabriel. His life, his joy, his very faith, seemed a distant memory—a memory of a memory. Outside the walls of Camelot, under the dying light of the Lord’s Day, the Knight sat upon the back of his horse with all his worldly possessions alongside him: some humble clothes, a few gold coins, food for his journey, and a worn, tattered copy of the Scriptures. As though to rid himself of a great weight, Gabriel dismounted his steed, Scriptures in hand, and fell to the earth in prayer. The words of the Knight began falling like tears from his trembling lips: “Oh Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner. Thou knowest my heart and my deeds, and I trust that You, the righteous Judge of all the earth, will not lead me astray. If You are with me, be Thou a lamp to my feet and my guide, deliver me from this trial! Nonetheless, let not my will but Thy will be done. I commit my very life into Your hands. Amen.” Gabriel’s book of Scriptures lay on the earth open before him. No sooner upon finishing his prayers did a soft wind sweep across the glen where he knelt, stirring the pages of his book. The pages of the Scriptures danced in the wind for a moment before settling on a passage that Gabriel had often leaned on in times of great distress, of which this time was chief: “There hath no temptation taken hold of you but such as is common to man. But God is faithful; He will not suffer you to be tempted beyond that which ye are able to bear, but with the temptation will also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.” “But Lord,” cried out Gabriel to the night sky, “how am I to know that you are indeed with me?” At this petition, the wind gathered again and began to stir the pages of Scripture once more before coming to rest on another passage: “And lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” “O Lord, this burden is too heavy to bear. Will you truly be with me?” said the Knight, softly and with his gaze lowered, as though he were aware of his foolish presumption in posing such a question. For a moment the valley in which Gabriel knelt stood calm and still. Then the wind swooned a final time, stirring the pages yet again before coming to an end once and for all. Gabriel picked up the Scriptures and held the words close to his face so as to make them out in the darkness. As his sight adjusted, the final response of the Lord was made clear: “O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, ‘Why hast thou made me thus?’” Though the soul of the Knight was at first overwhelmed with fear, the dread did not tarry. Indeed, a warmth seemed to pass over him and within him at that very hour—a peace that surpassed his every understanding and reason. With that, Gabriel arose from the earth and his spirits rose with him. Scriptures in hand, he mounted his horse and made his way into the depths of the wilderness beyond Camelot. -III- W hat is a year? Is it not but vapor? For an insect, a year is a lifetime, or perhaps many lifetimes; but to a man, a year is as sand falling through his hand, quickly passing, and then gone. The year moved quickly against Gabriel; the fall harvest of his departure was swiftly followed by a cold, dark winter that was filled with many wanderings and wonderings. The cruelty of winter was broken by the dawn of spring, with its sweet showers and tender flowers, giving way to a summer of unforgiving and unrelenting heat that devoured the land. Though the long year stretched before Gabriel like a vast, unending road, the days themselves were equally unforgiving to the Knight. As season gave way to season, Gabriel journeyed among mountain crags and walked upon many seashores and forest paths in search of an answer to Queen Morgan’s riddle. Sir Gabriel rubbed shoulders with every variety of folk and creature over the course of the Queen’s year. Some were kind and others unkind, and some utterly vile, yet all of them ignorant of an answer to the riddle that could satisfy Gabriel— and the Queen. Upon leaving the city’s walls in the cool of autumn, Gabriel first sought answers among his own kind from the villages of men just beyond the grandeur of Camelot. “What do women desire most, you ask?” cried the peasant men and women of the village. “Why, they want gold and riches above all else! Enough to swim in!” answered the villagers in an uproar of laughter. The gaze of the Knight pierced through their hearts: the exceeding poverty of the villagers for many long generations had hardened them towards all earthly good except for a desire over gold and riches. They had room left for little else in their shallow hearts. And so, Gabriel went away sorrowful, both at the greed of men and at a riddle left unanswered. Indeed, each creature on earth and under the earth had a different word with which to answer Gabriel, each according to its kind. The Elves, lovers of fine things and ancient ways, answered that women, especially Elvish women, desired most to be clad in fine fabrics and to rejoice in the pleasure of the arts. The Dwarves, a hard people cut from the rock of the earth, claimed that women—not only Dwarvish women, but indeed all women, they insisted—desired most to serve their husbands all their days and nothing more (except, perhaps, for the occasional kind word and helping hand from their husbands now and again, according to some Dwarvish women who pulled Gabriel aside in secret as he left their stone halls and deep abodes). So on and so forth through the days and weeks of Gabriel’s sojourn. The trees said that women desired most the refreshment of the spring rain and the heat of the summer sun; the centaurs, a lusty race, assured the Knight that women desired above all else a good mate; and the orcs, well, Gabriel thought it best to avoid their race entirely, for he wasn’t entirely convinced that such a race even had the luxury of male and female. As the curtain of summer was being drawn from the world, the cool of fall began to settle with velvet shadows across the land once again. However, as the days began to draw closer and closer to the year’s end, Gabriel began to catch a tune in the air. At first the faint tune was nearly imperceptible, as though the mysterious song rode upon the wind itself—but a melody of some sort it most certainly was. The song, which at the beginning could hardly be distinguished from the babbling of a brook or the echo of leaves in the wind, began to draw him to itself. Wherever he was, whether breaking bread with fellow travelers on the road or deep in prayer under an ancient oak as night fell, the song persisted—though it seemed only Gabriel could hear its tune. It was as though the song was drawing him to some sure and definite end. Indeed, each day it grew stronger, louder, and clearer. Even in his dreams Gabriel could find no respite, for as the song grew bolder, so too did his dreams grow more horrific. The melody was filled with a beautiful, though haunting, dreadfulness. Not since the night he fled his own home from Desiree all those months ago did Gabriel ever experience such terror as he did in these dreams. One night while sleeping in a shallow cave opening, the song intertwined so deeply with his dreams that he could no longer tell whither stood the division between his world and that dark netherworld of dreams. Upon waking from this same dream, Gabriel found himself embraced by a cool, gray dawn. Just beyond the valley lay a pond, clear as crystal, upon which the newly risen sun was spreading its golden fingers. In his thirst, Gabriel gathered himself and walked towards the pond for refreshment. However, a strange thought entered his mind just then— Whence cometh this pond? Indeed, to his best recollection, it was not there when he fell asleep. What further struck Gabriel was that the song which had haunted him for weeks suddenly seemed to still in his ears. Not because it had ceased, thought Gabriel, but because he finally reached its source. Gabriel felt as though he had been wandering an empty castle all these weeks trying to locate the music of a harp; and upon walking into the musician’s room, the harpist eased their playing and looked plainly at him, beckoning him closer. Such was Gabriel’s feeling as he, as though outside of himself, approached the pond. As he began to wade into the cool waters, a voice could be heard somewhere deep within the tune, now billowing around his ears— “What is it, dear Knight, that women most desire? Come, come and see.” At these words, a great heaviness seemed to press upon him. He could feel a hand, small and almost feminine, but hard as iron, gripping his hair from behind and pushing him downwards into the depths of the pond. -IV- “W here am I!” screamed Gabriel in terror when he became aware of his surroundings. He could not be certain, but he appeared to be on his knees, kneeling not on the bottom of the pond but on the surface of the water itself, only upside down. It was as though the world had been turned over entirely, though Gabriel was aware that he was not, exactly , underwater. “What enchantment is this...?” stammered the Knight as he gazed around. Above him and off to the distance he saw the sandy bed of the pond stretch for miles as it receded into deep shadow, with weeds dangling like chandeliers catching the sunlight coming from beneath him. Before him—though she was not there only a moment before—stood the form of a beautiful woman, clothed in light. “Dear Knight, how do you like my singing? You traveled far to find the source of my song—now that you see me, what say you?” said Desiree softly, her words entangled in some dreadful melody. “But… it cannot be… Desiree?” uttered Gabriel as though under a spell. Desiree then withdrew from him slightly, as if startled, at which point a sharp voice pierced the space around them, seemingly from every direction: “O Knight, a year has passed and so here we are. Have you answered my riddle?” Arising from the surface of the pond before Gabriel’s very eyes arose none other than Queen Morgan herself, arrayed in an otherworldly light. “O foolish Gabriel, you have journeyed so long and far, and to what end? What is it, dear one, that women most desire?” Morgan now stood before him with Desiree sitting around her knees, both robed in a pale-green luminescence. Clothed in such light, the pair in front of him seemed almost ethereal. What ever these fell creatures were, they came not from the world of flesh and bone. Fairies , thought Gabriel— the scourge of Camelot is revealed at last . Fear and fog overwhelmed him. Gabriel, kneeling with his head bowed in utter disbelief and agony, dismissed Queen Morgan’s question entirely, and instead asked, “ Who  is this sorceress before me? How is it that she lives?” His head was bowed low. Like a blade, a smile drew slowly across Morgan’s face. She looked down to the creature at her feet. “Ah, this is Faye, my daughter—do you not recognize her? She came to you a year ago, only, in a different body. You dismissed her rudely, O chivalrous Gabriel. When my beloved daughter fled to me that night a year ago, filled with sorrow and tears, my motherly heart stirred for her—and it burned hot against you. Is the Princess of the Wood too small a trinket for a man such as thou? A knight of that fool King Arthur and his accursed Round Table!” Stooping down to him, Morgan lifted his head and spoke into, what seemed to Gabriel, his very soul: “You broke her heart, all so you could keep the flimsiest of holds on your precious virtue. What did that virtue cost you? Your life, and the life of that poor creature we tore up in Faye’s stead. Why could you not simply submit ? Your precious Arthur did so easily enough and has been doing so for generations.” Gabriel shook his head violently, as though in deep dismay. “No, no, no... it cannot be. Arthur is the greatest among us, surely he could not—.” “Could not what? ” interjected Queen Morgan with a wicked thrill in her voice, as though her dark pleasure in spewing such a revelation could scarcely be contained. “Could not succumb to the forked tongue of smooth words and the poison of a touch smoother still? He was a young man when I came to him first—such prey, such ease. And who, simple Gabriel, do you suppose offered your name for Faye when my plan was in its infancy? Do not think so highly of your precious King Arthur. He betrayed you.” “You liar! You witch —you mean to take the throne?” murmured Gabriel, as though fighting back a great slumber that was overtaking him. The fog of mind that so nearly arrested him a year ago when Faye sought to seduce him seemed to be bearing its claws deeply into him now. Indeed, if it were not for his rage at the hot sting of Arthur’s betrayal, he would have faded long before. “ Take the throne? You poor fool. I intend to keep the throne. It has belonged to my kind for hundreds of years, long before this land was ever called Camelot; and soon, it shall be Faye’s also. That is why she came to you: to secure your bloodline, and if only you would allow her, to romance your heart also. But now we must pursue another way—one of twisted bone and bloodshed and shadow.” As though she were a beast encircling her prey, Queen Morgan arose from before him and began walking around the softly rippled surface of the pond. “I am old, Gabriel, very old. The time is now soon approaching when I will give the throne of Camelot to my daughter. Even my own sorcery, deep as it is, can only keep this people in a lulled stupor for so long—as I have said, I am very old, though few can sense it. That is why we must act swiftly in securing this marriage. What you may lack in royal heritage is made up in this people’s love for your person. The people do love you, Gabriel; little do they know how much you will now suffer for their loyal affection. Indeed, it had to be you—no other knight would suffice.” Morgan paused where she stood, and a cruel countenance flashed across her features before her voice thundered: “Thus says Morgan, Queen of the Fair Folke: What do women desire most, Sir Gabriel? We desire to have utter sovereignty over our husbands; to rule over them with absolute dominion, to bind them with matchless mastery, just as I have your precious Arthur and countless others long before his kind ever came to this wood. You see, that is what you knights and Christians do not understand, that is true power—to wield mastery over a world for hundreds of years. The very name of fairies once haunted these lands; by man’s folly in forgetting our race, I have had freedom to pull a thick veil over entire generations of men. And with Faye ruling in my stead, my work will surely continue for many long years—hidden deep within the shadows of Camelot.” In that moment, like an arrow drawn by a strength far beyond his own, a bright thought pierced the gloom of Gabriel’s mind. In the darkness of his fear and sorrow, a still, strong voice drew up from his memory words he had only just read the evening before: “ Fear them not therefore: for there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; and hid, that shall not be known. What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops. And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. ” The words rushed through his mind, devouring his fears as they did so. Enough! , concluded Gabriel. Her blasphemies have been endured for far too long! He stirred from his place and began to rise slowly, the fear slipping from him like an old, forgotten dream. Meeting Morgan’s gaze for the first time, he thus spoke: “You sound almost like him— the serpent . Scarcely could you hide your forked tongue behind your teeth as you spewed your venom. His words were lies long ago in the Garden and they remain lies here below in this abyss. What do you fairy beasts know about women? I have known you all my years, Morgan, and honored you as Queen for the whole of them, yet only now am I beginning to see you for who you are, for what you are: you are no woman. How could you ever know what the true daughters of Eve want most? You are dark spawn of the Fair Folke, a bent spirit of the abyss—a remnant of a lost race! When Arthur’s fathers came to this wood long ago they drove your kind back into the void; the Round Table will do it again.” A soft hiss escaped from the lips of Queen Morgan. Even as she poised herself to make a response, much as a serpent wreaths before it strikes, Gabriel kept his course such that her black words were stopped still in her throat. “Silence! You have gone on long enough— now , you will hear what I have to say. You sent me away to answer a riddle—What is it that women most desire? — and in my cowardice I went about this task, allowing my fears to rule me. Travelling far and wide, over and under the hills, I made a fool of myself.” Gabriel shook his head in quiet disbelief, as with a dawning clarity settling upon his mind. Indeed, as he spoke it seemed as though his words were directed as much to himself as they were to Queen Morgan. “ What is it that women most desire? This is no riddle. There is nothing here to untangle save that which you and your master have sought to twist from the very beginning. As sons and daughters of Adam, as men and women, we have been made in His likeness. We bear the Lord’s image upon us, just as our first parents, and cannot rid ourselves of it. We have fallen and grown old, indeed, but He is making all things new, such that no matter how bent or foolish or happy we may find ourselves in this world, our true and deepest desires ever remain out of reach so long as we deny Him and that lofty purpose for which we were made.” “And what might that end be?” she snarled. Gabriel now stood fully, having never seemed taller. “To know Him. To enjoy unbroken and holy fellowship with Him forever—or have you not heard? For this reason He came: that is why your master’s head remains crushed and bruised to this very hour. The Second Adam has drawn all men and women to Himself that our deepest desire may finally and fully be secured in Him who loved us and gave Himself for us upon that tree long ago. Indeed, you are quite wrong. The deepest desire of women is not to rule over their husbands any more than it is the chief desire of men to cower under the cruel thumb of their wives. As His redeemed image bearers, we now joyfully submit to Him, our true Husband, and find rest for our weary souls—men and women both, for He has united the two in Himself. I know not whose image you were made in, Morgan, or for what purposes you were brought into this world—but whatever good may have come from you was forfeited long ago. As for Faye, she will never have my love. She will never have my life. Now be gone, I have no more to say to you. ” Queen Morgan let out a soft laugh such that she, for only a moment, seemed almost human again—as Gabriel once remembered her. “And you sound just like him—Arthur, I mean. Look unto his own life for direction, Sir Gabriel, for that is where your path leads. Neither your men nor women—nor your King!—understand what is best for them. All this talk of love and submission among the sons and daughters of Adam, and to what end? I... I will show them all a better way! When we release you from this place you will journey back home, for the year is now full. You shall present my answer before me and my court, and I assure you it will suffice. Then, you will be free for a season. In due time this black mark upon your person will be forgotten—I will see to that—and my daughter, my Faye, will come to you. You will not deny her. You will assume the throne after Arthur dies, which shall soon come to pass, and the two of you will reign in my stead. Though be warned, my shadow is long, and it will be upon you as long as I allow your little life to drag on.” With renewed courage that was yet mingled with a profound sense of his own weakness, Gabriel uttered but a single word: “Never.” “My dear Gabriel, shall we put your precious chivalry to the test? You doubtless know—for you made mention of it that day in court before I stopped you from speaking further—there is a deep shadow upon the land: young shepherd men found devoured in their own fields yet their sheep remain untouched; babes plucked from their beds in the dark of night and replaced with abominations ; knights committing unspeakable acts with creatures they believe to be women, only to go missing days later. There is a world around you fools that goes about unseen, moving through the earth and directing the very earth itself alongside the ways of men. O Knight, you say that you love your people. With a single word, a mere breathe, with the slightest gesture of my hand I can evoke dark imaginings upon this land and her people as their thought has not yet conjured up. Will you not protect them now in their hour of greatest need by binding yourself to your enemy for only a short lifetime? What is your life? Does not your precious Scripture say, ‘ Life is but a vapor, ’ hmm? You will love my daughter, and you two will reign. And when the time comes for your reign to end, you too will die and be gathered to the place of your fathers and, like them, you will find rest at the Lord’s side—and I shall continue my work here below just as He continues His above.” In the thick fog of his lingering bewilderment, weaved together as it now was with a slowly renewing courage, even Gabriel recognized that Morgan ’s tirade was ebbing to a close. With strengthening resolve, he answered her not a word more and fixed his flaming eyes on her own. Morgan shrunk back. She then stood up tall and erect and thrust him to his knees again, her fair form casting a long shadow upon Gabriel as he knelt before her on the underside of the pond’s glassy surface. Thinking herself victorious, for she had in her long life known little else, Queen Morgan began speaking once more for what she supposed to be the last word in the matter—“Now... be gone.” At the Queen ’s utterance of “ be gone, ” spoken so softly and with such trepidation that it seemed possible the words were not said at all, her eyes were drawn downwards—or rather, upwards, towards the surface of the pond beneath her feet. Indeed, the words had hardly left her forked tongue when another shadow swiftly overtook her own from above, dispelling the darkness that her form had cast upon Gabriel only a moment earlier. Though, to call it a shadow was not quite right—for there was no darkness in it that could be found. Gabriel, who had at this point returned to his knees, began to feel a great warmth gather around the surface of the water where he knelt. As the light beneath him—above him—grew, Gabriel became aware of the fact that it was no mere light—as though the sun were simply rising, for it had already done so—but that the source of the brightness seemed to belong to some large presence which, as his eyes adjusted to its brilliance, began to take on the form of a man. Whether the mysterious being drew closer or its light grew greater, Gabriel could not tell. All he could sense was that the dreary darkness all about him which had so clung to the underside of the pond was now fading away, as though retreating, fleeing even , from the source of this light. All the while, the light above remained utterly still and utterly silent. Suddenly a cry rang out from in front of Gabriel: “No! No!” lamented Morgan as she and Faye hastily withdrew from the surface of the pond. Fear and trembling overtook their faces, then the dread caught hold of the Queen ’s voice also as she desperately fled further and further from the light as it poured into the world around them. In this moment it became clear to Gabriel that Morgan’s cries were most certainly directed towards some presence within the light—whatever It may be, however, he did not know. Yet despite her howling petitions, the light—the It —made no response. “What have you to do with us?! It is not yet time! IT IS NOT YET TIME!... ” Morgan wailed as her and Faye fled deeper into the supposed safety that the dark maw of the pond’s bottom provided. Though its glory poured forth, so much so that Gabriel had to shield his face, it uttered no words to the now fleeing fairies. Nonetheless, the Queen of the fairies and her spawn continued their cursing—with trembling upon their lips—as they made their descent into the abyss below. In a few short moments, the bottomless darkness consumed their once fair form from Gabriel’s sight. As the stain of their wicked presence began to be washed away by the light, Gabriel realized that he was afraid once more—only, it was a different sort of fear. As Gabriel knelt, caught as he was betwixt the great light pulsating above and the deep darkness below, the thought came to him then for the first time in his life that there was a certain dreadfulness to goodness—a haunting quality about it. That pure goodness is perhaps the most dreadful thing in all the world to that which is sheer badness—to that which is pure evil, as Queen Morgan and her daughter most surely were . Even as these thoughts entered his heart, a large, bright hand broke the surface of the water and drew him up from the land of the Fair Folke—from that place which Gabriel would later call, rather simply, Fairyland . -V- W hen Gabriel came to himself, he found that he was lying in the shallow valley where he had camped only the night before. Gabriel turned around to look behind him, and though he was surely wet, he found no pond in sight. Before him was burning a small, charcoal fire. As Gabriel drew closer to the warmth of the fire so as to dry himself, the form of a man standing not far from him became clear—though he could not be overly certain whether it truly was a man he saw. The figure, tending gently to Gabriel ’s horse, had his back turned to him. “Those wretches gave your poor companion here quite the fright when they dragged you away into that abyss,” said the mysterious figure. His voice—for he was most certainly a he —was deep and rich, and held within itself a certain gentleness. Gabriel did not recognize the stranger’s voice, and yet there was a deep familiarity to it; as though he had been waiting to hear such a voice all his life. “But lo,” the stranger went on, “he found his way back to me—the best of friends never wander far. This is a fine horse, Master Gabriel, and I was pleased to share some time with him while you and those devils made conversation. Doubtless you would have had me come for you sooner than I did, but you see, this fire needed to be ready for when you were up again. And besides, He thought it best that you and that fairy Queen go on speaking until the very end.” At these last words, Gabriel assured himself that though he was in the presence of a he, he could now be certain of his suspicions that he was not in the presence of the He. Though the light coming from the stranger receded somewhat from what it had been, there was still a glory about him; yet, Gabriel determined it was a distinctly creaturely glory, set apart and mighty as he was. That same fear from only moments before remained settled upon Gabriel in the presence of this stranger, though now it felt less like dread and more as a warmth of some kind. Perhaps , thought Gabriel, the dread of goodness feels heaviest when in the presence of that which is evil— which turned out to be a rather weightless thing indeed , he concluded, remembering the fairies as they fled before the stranger like kites caught up in a great, howling wind. Gabriel also concluded that, whatever this creature standing before him with his back turned may be, he was certain it was no man. “Who are you?... The pond, where has it gone?” muttered Gabriel softly as he sat warming himself by the fire. “Never mind any of that, Master Gabriel. You best look away now,” said the being by his horse as he turned round to face Gabriel. It was as though the sun had suddenly risen before him, leaving Gabriel with little choice but to thrust his head down into his knees as the being gently made his way over to where the Knight sat at the foot of the fire. “For one thing,” the being went on, seemingly unphased by the effect he had on Gabriel, “I am glad to see that you are beginning to work out who I may be—and most important, Who I am not. Dreadfully wearisome having always to lift folks from their knees. It may not seem like it now, Gabriel, but you and I are far more akin than you may presently realize. We even share a name; though, you will be given a new one by and by.” Looking down at his own two feet and shielding his eyes, Gabriel could hear the being across from him sit down opposite, stirring the fire with some branch as he did so. After a moment, he spoke again. “We haven’t much time, Master Gabriel, for soon I must be far from here on other business. But while I tarry, ask that which is burdening your heart.” With his head still bowed low, a deep breath escaped from the Knight before he spoke: “ Why? I simply do not understand it all. Why allow such death and heartache to come upon this land... upon that poor woman they tore and butchered those many days ago? To come upon the souls of Camelot? The Table... my brothers... my King —O, my Arthur! How could he deliver me up to that evil creature. I am but a man, what does the Lord expect of me? What can one man do in the midst of such ancient hate as Queen Morgan? What is my life when stood against the evil she has wrought unchecked and unbalanced for all these many years?” The voice across from him rumbled in reply. “That creature , Queen Morgan as she is known in Camelot, is called by another, older name in the abyss of Fairyland—Morgan le Fae . Rightly you called her a fairy beast, for she is their Queen. Her race has been a stench upon the Earth since before the days of Noah. Many are their forms and more still their names— fairies , changelings, bent ones, the Fae. In Camelot, they are presently known as the Fair Folke—though there be nothing fair about them. The Flood banished many of their kind, but the strongest and vilest among them remained; this was allowed for a season, but the doom of their final judgment swiftly approaches. Of this doom Morgan is always aware, and the dreadful thought of it ever fills her dark mind. What you must know, Gabriel, is that Morgan is a twisted mistress of the evil one. And if even he be on a tight leash, one can only laugh when pondering her limits.” The voice paused briefly. Perhaps it was only the crackling of the fire, but Gabriel was nearly certain that a soft chuckle could be heard across from him. The laugh, if a laugh it was, had a light, contagious nature to it. Gabriel too felt like laughing. Such was the warmth welling up within his heart. “Pay her no mind,” he continued, “her sickness upon this land and upon Arthur is drawing to a close. And concerning your dear Arthur—had it never occurred to you that the King knew just precisely what he was doing in giving you up to the Queen? That of all his knights, he knew you, Sir Gabriel, to be the most worthy of them all? He believed you the most godly and least likely to be devoured by lust and corruption. Had it been Lancelot, he would have been ground to a powder by Morgan’s schemes, and the King knew this keenly. Though he be a shell of who he once was, the man Arthur is still roused now and again. Arthur trusted you, Gabriel—and it would seem his trust was not entirely misplaced. In leaving this burden to you, Arthur had hope that you would return again to rouse him and your brothers, even Lancelot. Only have courage, and be not so swift to believe all the lies that Morgan le Fae breathed about Arthur. She learned the art well from her dark and bent master.” As the stranger’s words trickled deep into his heart, Gabriel felt a weight lifting from him. “But all this death—and what of today? What good purposes might come from such dreadful torment? Surely Morgan le Fae is not slain, or defeated, but only fled for a short season.” “My dear Gabriel, like all men you are swift to think in terms of mere days and years. Do not the stars still shine brightly in the heavens though a cloud passes by here below? The purpose of today—and indeed, the past year—was to draw the spider from her cave. To bring her form out into the open where she could no longer rely on the darkness to spin her webs and spew her venom. Though not always, there are times when defeating evil truly is a simple matter of exposing it. Once in the open air, the Light will accomplish the rest. Have no fear of her, for she is as a passing cloud.” Gabriel, still looking down, could hear the angel rising from his seat by the fireside. He then took a few steps until it seemed as though he were now right beside Gabriel. Whether in this moment Gabriel felt the warmth of the fire at his side or the otherworldly warmth of the angel, he could not tell. In either case, a deep comfort drew over him. The kind of comfort—thought Gabriel prior to this very moment—that was reserved for mothers with their children, or between childhood friends who, after a long season apart, reunite over a good meal. “As for what you are to do—yours, Gabriel, is not to ascertain times and seasons, nor to change them. These have already been set by the One both you and I serve. Nor is yours to even understand. Ours is to trust and obey; His is to work out for good. Even now a great shadow is lifting far to the East in Wittenberg, in the land of Germany, with our friend the monk. Then, the Lord intends to move into your country and continue His work. His labour here today has prepared the land, ushering in a change that shall be felt throughout time. Our Master has at last set His gaze towards Camelot—towards your King Arthur and his Table, and towards you, Sir Gabriel.” With his head still between his knees on account of the great light, Gabriel could feel the strong embrace of the angel as he placed his large hand on the Knight’s shoulder, bidding him farewell. “Now, be on your way, my dear friend, and go strengthen your brothers. You and I will meet again in due time, after all has been set right.” A moment later, Gabriel could feel the embrace on his shoulder no more. “Gabriel,” the voice said softly from somewhere above him, “hold out your hand.” As he did so, a book was gently enfolded into his grip—his tattered Scriptures, dry and whole, untouched by his descent into the pond. “It was in your breast pocket, ever by your side. He was ever by your side, and ever will be. Just as He said so.” When Gabriel opened his eyes again, he was all alone save for his horse who was grazing lightly some feet away at the edge of the wood. He looked down at the Bible left in his hands. Before departing, the angel had opened it to about the halfway mark. Gabriel, reading the words on the page, mouthing them silently as he did so, began to smile. After a few moments longer spent by the side of the fire in deep thought, Gabriel arose, saddled his horse, and began his journey home. “B e still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.” — T he End—

“ Just as you do not know the path of the wind and how bones are formed in the womb of the pregnant woman, so you do not know the work of God who works all things ” (Ecclesiastes 11:5). I love donuts. My wife, less so. Indeed, her giving me a hard time about junk food has been a long-running gag in our marriage. So you can only imagine my delight—and suspicion?—when she came home from work toting a box of donuts from Tim Horton s (if the reference is lost on my American friends, think Dunkin’ Donuts only slightly better quality— slightly ). As is our custom when either Elaina or I arrive home from work, the two of us loitered in the kitchen for a short time as we caught up on the events of our day. Admittedly, my attention darted somewhat between our conversation and the box of donuts sitting unopened on our kitchen counter. “Why did you get these again?” I asked as she disappeared into the adjoining room. My reason for asking this question was threefold. First, it was so unlike my wife to bring home junk food without a definite reason (that’s what I’m known for). Second, we had our weekly Bible study later that evening—but last I checked, we weren’t on snack for that week and a mere half dozen donuts were surely not enough for our group. And thirdly, most importantly, I simply wanted to eat a donut. Past experiences, however, have since given me pause before simply digging into snacks without asking what, or who, they are for. I understand this is a common flaw among husbands. As Elaina made some muffled reply to my question from the other room, I opened the box that rested on the counter. I don’t quite remember exactly what happened next, but I do know that any excitement I had for donuts quickly deepened into a joy far deeper and more rich. In that moment, fleeting as it was, a warmth was kindled within my heart that I have no doubt will endure for the rest of my days: And then there were three... Baby Budimlic on the way! And then there were three. As the joy settled, I turned around to Elaina who stood in the kitchen— “Are you surprised?” she asked, smiling. Surprised? Yes. Overjoyed? Absolutely . However, d espite Elaina and I sitting on this news for a few weeks now, there is a very real sense in which it still doesn’t feel real. In the midst of this great joy there remains an uncertain, unknown quality about it. A foreignness to this particular joy. As overwhelming as this news is in the best possible way,—the gift of a new life, a gift from the hands of God Himself—it is all yet to truly sink in. Everything has changed; but for the time being, most of life remains unchanged . And at the same time, becoming parents, becoming a father—though we are both in the very infancy of this new journey—is already the most natural joy in all the world. I am still overwhelmed at the sheer goodness of it all. Overwhelmed at the sheer goodness of our God from whom all blessings flow: “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17). The best way I’ve come to describe my heart over the past few weeks is to picture it—my heart, that is—as a lake. Now, imagine as though the good news of a child on the way were a small stone being skipped upon that same lake. In this picture, the Lord is the One skipping the stone, the stone itself is our little one, my heart the lake, and the joy being the ripples caused by the stone. And as the initial freshness of the excitement begins to ebb—as though it were widening wrinkles on a calm, watery surface moving outwards—there is a deeper, richer, realer joy that takes hold as the little stone—our little one—begins to sink beneath the surface of the lake, nestling themselves deeper and deeper into the vast waters of mine and Elaina’s heart. And speaking of hearts, Elaina recently had her first ultrasound. Seeing our child for the first time—and watching the rapid beating of their little heart—has left an indelible mark on my soul. How it is that someone with a heart so small could so quickly and effortlessly fill the entirety of our own hearts? Though I could go on and on, I think I ’ll keep this short because, quite frankly, I am still in a state of joyful shock! However, isn’t that how these sorts of things so often go? The deeper the joy, the fewer the words. Indeed, this is one of those moments in a long series of moments that have migrated far beyond the use of words entirely. Well, moved beyond my words, that is. As I’ve been pondering this news for the past few weeks, turning it over and again in my heart, the words of Psalm 139 have become a well-worn path that I have walked upon many times. And so, I will leave you with His words rather than my own—to God be all the glory! “ For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. ” —Psalm 139:13-16 Photo by Rohit Varma, Unsplash

If you were pressed to keep one book of the Bible at the expense of all the others, which book would you choose? Would you opt for the lyrical heights and emotional depths of the Psalms? Or might you lean more towards the theological riches found within Romans or Hebrews? An interesting question, is it not? While all of God’s word is just that, His word, it nonetheless remains true that some books reveal more about Him than others. We know more about God and His character after having read Ephesians than if we only ever had access to Genesis. And as such, some books endear themselves to us more than the rest. For example, the gruesome butchery of animal sacrifices and painstaking precision of law in Leviticus is of the utmost importance in our understanding of God’s holiness. However, the need for atonement in light of God’s righteousness as revealed in Leviticus is made only the clearer when stood up against a book like Hebrews. Both Leviticus and Hebrews are equally the word of the Lord, but Hebrews represents the fullness of God’s revelation through Jesus Christ and His finished work on the cross, and in that way, I find it only reasonable that we gravitate more towards the final word on the matter—a reality that Leviticus dimly, though still accurately, points to. So while we should make it a regular practice of reading through the entirety of God’s revelation to us in the Bible, I do not think it wrong by any means to admit that some books hold a particular sway over our heart. And if I had to live out the rest of my days with only one book from God’s word, I for my part would pick the Gospel of John. Indeed, the Lord walks mightily among the pages of John’s Gospel. “In the rustling grass” of those 21 chapters, “I hear Him pass, He speaks to me everywhere.” And if I were further pressed to pick only a few chapters from the Gospel of John at the exclusion of the rest, my heart would have to settle on chapters 13 through 17. It is there that the heart of the Lord burns hottest and where the aroma of home is most present. And among chapters 13 through 17, I have always felt a particular affection in my heart for chapter 14. Augustine once said that the “Holy Scriptures are our letters from home.” In no place do I feel this statement to be more true throughout all the Bible than in John 14. Indeed, how could any of our hearts not grow weary with homesickness upon reading our Lord’s words when He says, “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (John 14:1-3). As a man who tends to be more quiet and reserved in nature, I’ve never been the kind of person who found their home in large crowds. For this reason, my thoughts about Heaven and what it might be like would sometimes distress me back when I was a young Christian—all those crowds of people, you see. My heart has always been most full of joy in those settings which are more intimate: long, peaceful walks throughout the countryside with my wife, deep conversations with a close friend or two over some well made coffee, or sharing a good meal with family. When I consider Heaven now, however, I can’t help but think that it will be a more natural, perfect continuation of these very kinds of moments. To say that Heaven will be all singing and commotion and the unending bustling of fellowship seems at odds with many our very real and very good experiences here below, tainted by the Fall as these experiences may still be. Indeed, this notion of constant busyness seems to go against the very life that our Lord lived while He was here below. Jesus did far more than just sing and meditate; and yet at the same time all He ever did was engage in obedient worship of the Father. His very life was worship; it was bread to Him. And sometimes that worship took the form of simply withdrawing from the crowds to be alone with His Father. In considering our time here below and how it might translate into that age to come, we must, of course, take into account the nature of sin and what it means to live in a world that is fallen. Sin warps not just our actions, but all of nature around us, every relationship we enjoy, and even our very way of thinking about these things as we try to understand them. All traces of the Fall will all be done away with when the Lord returns, but until then we must admit that our thinking on this matter of eternal life is somewhat faulty. All our lives we’ve been immersed in a fallen creation, so much so that even our highest thoughts of Heaven have a thick layer of unredeemed thinking settled upon them like dust on a bookshelf. And yet there persists this unspoken, deep quality within the more quiet moments of life. A quality that, though subtle, seems to speak with clarity and force to some key dimension of that new reality which is to come once we awake in Heaven from this long sleep. While there will be worship unending in Heaven, we would be shortsighted to think of worship solely in terms of singing, praise, and verse in a corporate setting. In 1 Corinthians 10:31, Paul instructs us to do all things—whether eating, drinking, working, or whatever else we find ourselves doing, whether alone or with believers—as unto the glory of God. It makes little sense that this would somehow cease or be lessened upon our arrival in Heaven. Heaven is described as a place of rest and refuge after the Christian ’s battle with sin, suffering, and death. The writer of Hebrews puts it this way: “So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from His ” (4:9-10). When I consider John 14, Jesus’s words only seem to reinforce my suspicions— and deepest longings —about the nature of Heaven. Indeed, there will be rest from sin and death, for these former things have all passed away, but there will also be the profoundest sense of rest and peace we have ever known because we will have finally made it home at long last. And not just a home , but our home . A home carved out in the very heart of things by the One who made us and paid the highest price imaginable for our salvation. And it is not just a home that the Lord has waiting for us, but a room made for us in particular. There is staggering depth to the sheer intimacy hidden in Jesus’s words when He says there are not only many rooms in the house His Father, but a room made, prepared, and fashioned for us individually—“ If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? ” For you, believer. C.S. Lewis unpacks this glorious reality beautifully when he writes, “But God will look to every soul like its first love because He is its first love. Your place in Heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it—made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.” I am thankful that the Lord wrote us letters from home. Love letters that are intended to comfort and keep us as His beloved children until that day when He comes back for each and every one of those who love Him. Until then, fasten your heart on Him and on that unique place He has, with His own hands, prepared for you individually. “ Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved His appearing ” (2 Timothy 4:8) . Photo by Alice Triquet, Unsplash Author’s Note: If you were encouraged by this article, I cannot recommend highly enough this video by Gavin Ortlund, titled “You Should WANT Christianity To Be True.” Gavin’s work has blessed me tremendously in recent months, so much so that this particular video of his set my heart on writing the piece you just finished.

Several years ago, a young man from a church neighboring my own was given a severe cancer diagnosis seemingly overnight. Though the cancer was detected early and swiftly acted upon by doctors, the disease was spreading rapidly nonetheless—a terminal diagnosis seemed imminent. I did not know this young man particularly well, and given he lived a ways away from where I did, it seemed likely that I would not have opportunity to speak to him in-person. However, I thought it good to extend some form of encouragement to this young man if I could, however simple. And simple my encouragement was. In the end, I merely wrote a short letter and passed it along to the young man through a mutual friend of ours. Indeed, I acknowledged the simplicity of my gesture in the letter itself. However, having lost my own father to cancer just the year prior, I had come to realize the weight even the simplest of words could carry, particularly in the form of letters from dear friends. Indeed, to this very day one particular hand-written letter stands out from among the rest. In it, a dear sister wisely observed that there would soon come a day when the messages, phone calls, and consolations began to die down. In the midst of grief, there is a unique kind of loneliness that can so easily begin to take hold—even when among friends and family, and much more so when one is alone. But, as she went on to write, her hope was that this letter would serve as an enduring reminder—even as our home grew steadily more silent—that our family was loved and cared for by many. These many years later, she scarcely could have known how true her words were, and how deeply they encouraged me both then and in the months that followed. In my letter to this young man, I provided an illustration of sorts. I straightaway made clear that my words, in and of themselves, were nothing special. However, I went on to write that perhaps my words could be, temporary and fleeting as they were, as cups of cold water to his weary soul. By drawing from the wellspring of God ’ s word and His precious promises, it was my hope that the little words I offered to my brother in Christ would serve as refreshment and encouragement, strengthening him sufficiently so that he could go to and from the well on his own strength in due time. If I could not bring him to the well, nor the well to him, then it was my heart ’ s intent to bring that cold, living water his way cup by cup. You see, brothers and sisters, that is the very essence of encouragement. I did not offer to that young man anything he did not already know: I just pointed him back to the well from which those cold cups of water flowed. We are not the well, we are not that fountainhead of living water—only the Lord God is capable of such lasting refreshment. And yet, in His great wisdom God has delegated to us the incredible privilege of pointing other weary travellers to the source of our own refreshment. True encouragement, even in its minutest form, be it a kind word or cup of cold water, is mighty enough to change the course of another ’ s life. When we give another soul a cup of cold water, our aim should be to strengthen them enough that, cup by cup, they find their joy and zeal yet again in the Lord Himself: “Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body” (Proverbs 16:24). What a joy to be used by the Lord in such a way. At times, only a cup or two is needed for the weary soul to realize that they were leaning against the well the whole time. Truly, how many good things in this world may have gone undone entirely had it not been for a word fitly and kindly spoken at just the right moment. By encouraging a weary soul, may it be our desire in and through our encouragement that the Lord would increase, and that we would decrease. Let every cup of cold water we give, as with all we do, be done unto the Lord, from whom we will be richly rewarded: “And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward” (Matthew 10:42). I did not see that young man in-person for quite some time. And when I did, he was entirely free from cancer. Though we had only spoken a handful of times, he sought me out at a church event one Sunday and thanked me for my letter. With a glowing smile on his face, he told me that it was the encouraging words of the body of Christ, of which my letter was but a drop, that pointed him back time and again to the love and faithfulness of Christ Himself. Well, well, well—is it any surprise that the wellspring of His word should work so? Dear brother and sister, is there someone in your life that can use a cup of cold water today? Photo by Amritanshu Sikdar, Unsplash

Writing can be a rather thankless job. Now, lest you hasten off to make any sour conclusions, allow me to elaborate. Make no mistake: I do not write for applause or praise. I write, first and foremost, as unto the Lord. I feel as though I was made to write; to write about Him and for Him. There is something in me that has to get out onto the page, and it is my utmost hope that every iota I write abounds for His eternal glory and pleasure. Secondly, I write, quite simply, because I love to write. I love to write, and I love to write about the One who made me, saved me, and loves me. Eric Liddell, the Olympic sprinter and Christian missionary whose story is documented in the Oscar-winning film Chariots of Fire , once famously said, "God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure." God made me a writer. And when I write, I feel His pleasure. And yet, sometimes I do not feel His pleasure. Sometimes, I do not feel pleasure of any kind when I write. Complicating this issue is the occasional dark thought that every writer must at some point contend with: "Does anyone even read this stuff?" As writers, we write, rewrite, edit, rewrite, and re-edit, seemingly endlessly, all in an effort to perfect our craft and maximize the value and enjoyment that readers glean from our words. A lot of effort and time goes into even a simple piece of writing, with much of this effort going entirely unseen (save by the Lord). As Christian writers, or Christian workers of any kind, we do all this work and more for the glory of our Lord and King, for He is worthy. He is worth the effort, the time, the extra research, and the scrutiny over every jot and tittle. If a Christian writer has their head fastened on tightly, they'll be content with a potentially smaller audience, seeking rather to dig deeply than spread themselves too thin in constant pursuit of a larger platform and audience. An audience of One is sufficient - for it is unto the One that we write. Indeed, we must realize that as Christians - writers, welders, and housewives alike - we are to do all things with excellence as unto the Lord: "Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ" (Colossians 3:23-24). Nonetheless, we are still human and it is only human to admit our need for encouragement from time to time. I said earlier that I do not write for the praise of this world; that I write because I love to write and that I write for Him who gave me the gift, ability, and desire to write. While that may be true, it is not the whole truth, because I also write for each and every one of you, my dear readers. All the same, I do not write for your praise , rather I aim to write for your good . My chief aim in each and every word I write is that His fame and glory would be fanned and magnified and that your good would be multiplied. Indeed, that is often how I end my prayers before I dive into another writing project: "Lord, may my words abound for your glory and for the utmost good of those who would read them." And because I write in large part for the good and encouragement of my readers, I love to hear from you, my readers, when a particular word or post is used by the Lord to bless and encourage you. It may be a simple email, text, or comment on your end, but it is a cup of cold water to my soul, an answered prayer that is beyond the realm of words entirely. Indeed, I suspect I would have ceased writing long ago had it not been for the warm words of encouragement that I got along the way from my readers. Truly, how many good things in this world may have gone undone entirely had it not been for a word fitly and kindly spoken at just the right moment. You know who you are, and from the very bottom of my heart, thank you. Several years ago, a young man from my church was given a severe cancer diagnosis. Though the cancer was detected early and swiftly acted upon by doctors, the disease was spreading rapidly nonetheless - a terminal diagnosis seemed imminent. I did not know this young man particularly well, and given he lived a ways away from where I did, it seemed likely that I would not have opportunity to speak to him in-person. However, I thought it prudent to extend some form of encouragement to this young man, however simple. And simple my encouragement was, for in the end I only wrote a short letter and passed it along to the young man through a mutual friend of ours. Indeed, I acknowledged the simplicity of my gesture in the letter itself. In this letter, I provided an illustration of sorts. I straightaway made clear that my words, in and of themselves, were nothing special. However, I went on to write that perhaps my words could be, temporary and fleeting as they were, as cups of cold water to his weary soul. By drawing from the wellspring of God's Word and His precious promises, it was my hope that the little words I offered to my brother in Christ would serve as refreshment and encouragement, strengthening him sufficiently so that he could go to and from the well on his own strength in due time. If I could not bring him to the well, nor the well to him, then it was my heart's intent to bring that cold, living water his way, cup by cup. You see, brothers and sisters, that is the very essence of encouragement itself. I did not offer to that young man anything that he did not already know, I just pointed him back to the well from which those cold cups of water flowed. We are not the well, we are not that fountainhead of living water - only the Lord Jesus Christ is. "Truly, how many good things in this world may have gone undone entirely had it not been for a word fitly and kindly spoken at just the right moment." True encouragement, even in its minutest form, be it a kind word or cup of cold water, is mighty enough to change the course of another's life. When we give another soul a cup of cold water, our aim should be to strengthen them enough that, cup by cup, they find their joy and zeal yet again in the Lord Himself: "Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body" (Proverbs 16:24). What a joy to be used by the Lord in such a way. At times, only a cup or two is needed for the weary soul to realize that they were leaning against the well the whole time. By encouraging a weary soul, may it be our desire in and through our encouragement that the Lord would increase, and that we would decrease. Let every cup of cold water we give, as with all we do, be done unto the Lord, from whom we will be richly rewarded: "And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward" (Matthew 10:42). I did not see that young man in-person for quite some time. And when I did, he was entirely free from cancer. Though we had only spoken a handful of times, he sought me out at a church event one Sunday and thanked me for my letter. With a glowing smile on his face, he told me that it was the encouraging words of the body of Christ, of which my letter was but a drop, that pointed him back time and again to the love and faithfulness of Christ Himself. Dear brother and sister, is there someone in your life that can use a cup of cold water today? Photo by Sylvester Sabo, Unsplash Author’s Note: In an effort to write with integrity and as unto the Lord, it is important to stress that, though these events are in fact true, I do not always recall the exact words used in specific conversations. As much as I’m able, I strive to remain faithful to the event in question, capturing the ‘intent’ of the conversation when my memory fails with respect to exact words.

Upon becoming a Christian, I was immediately arrested in soul by one reality above all others: the exceeding beauty and loveliness of the Lord Jesus Christ. Suddenly, it all—and by all, I mean all, everything—made complete and utter sense. He was the scarlet thread that bound all other beauty within Himself: “ For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things ” (Romans 11:36). The universe at once became infinitely more familiar to me. In the very same moment, however, the cosmos took upon itself a deeper mystery, a haunting beauty that was wholly other— indeed, a holy otherness. I began to see the world around me not as a random assortment of rocks, trees, skies, and seas, but as a staggeringly beautiful manifestation of material glory clothed in the resplendent, infinite, and transcendent robes of Him who made all things. Every echo of glory I savored in the night sky, each whisper of mystery and beauty I caught in the tune of a song or in the setting of the sun, now pointed back to Him with thunderous applause. However, I did not come upon this revelation on my own. While I was but a sapling in Christ, He led me under the boughs of far sturdier, older trees than myself. Men who had long since been employed in His service; solid oaks in His pasture that were planted by Him many years before I was born, nurtured by His tender hand, bearing fruit in and out of season for His glory and the good of others. I tasted the loveliness of Christ first and foremost in His Word, and then through the words of other men: C.S. Lewis, Jonathan Edwards, C.H. Spurgeon, A.W. Tozer, Paul Washer, and John Piper, to name but a few, though the list could go on lengthily. These men taught me to see and savour the glory of the Lord Jesus Christ. These men taught me that Christ ’ s command in Matthew 10:37—to love Him more than mother and father, sister and brother, more than wife and life itself—is not a burdensome crucible to be coldly obeyed, but rather a great sweetness to be embraced and cherished. Indeed, it is the very purpose for which we were made and saved. When the Holy Spirit opens your eyes to the exceeding beauty and worth of the Lord, the One to whom all good things point, then suddenly the things of this world begin to grow strangely, strangely dim by comparison. Our heart then cries out alongside the aches and groans of the psalmist when he declared, “Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (Psalm 73: 25-26). The soul thirsty for Christ ’ s glory looks around at the great realm of nature and finds his heart wanting. The mighty seas and rolling hills are no longer enough . The Christian ’ s soul has been widened, deepened, so much so that only his Creator can now fill this vast expanse. “ Behold, heaven and the highest heaven cannot contain you ” (1 Kings 8:27), and how much less so the things of earth! How much less so the heart of man! And yet, glory of glories, mystery of mysteries, “‘ Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man ’” (Revelation 21:3). Mother and father, sister and brother, the sweetest of children and the most beautiful of spouses cannot compare with the beauty of the Lord; nor can they, nor should they. These were not made to bear such a task. To love the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength, to glorify Him and enjoy Him forever, is the end for which we were all made. Jonathan Edwards understood this reality well: “The enjoyment of God is the only happiness with which our souls can be satisfied. To go to heaven, fully to enjoy God, is infinitely better than the most pleasant accommodations here. . . . [These] are but shadows; but God is the substance. These are but scattered beams; but God is the sun. These are but streams; but God is the ocean.”  To feast on the beauty of Jesus, to inquire about His temple and rest among the folds of His robe, that is what we were made for. The beauty we find in one another are but droplets that trickle from the Ocean, streams and shadows apart from Him. All beauty, goodness, comfort, kindness, humor, joy, peace, and love that we catch but a glimpse of in one another is a ray that leaps from the Son Himself. I am of the firm conviction that one cannot love a good thing too much. As C.S. Lewis once wrote in his most famous essay, The Weight of Glory , “It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.” The Lord does not mean to deprive us of any good thing. He is our highest good, our chief end, and He will not allow us to compromise or settle with lesser things. To love anything more than Him, whether it be sex, spouse, or your own family, is to dishonor all these good things, yourself, and above all, it robs the Lord of glory that belongs to Him only. We cannot properly love others or the good things of this life if we seek to enjoy them outside of the Lord. Whether you like it or not, He has made us in such a way that lasting satisfaction simply cannot be secured apart from Him—we were not meant to properly function outside of communion and fellowship with our God. But when our affections are properly arranged wherein God is seated upon the throne of our hearts, a marvelous reordering of things begins to take place. The Lord commands that we love Him more, not that we love others less . Just as a rising tide lifts all ships, so does an ever-increasing and ever-deepening love for Christ increase and deepen all other affections. As our hearts are poured out in love and worship of an infinite Savior, we become better equipped to love those finite beings all around us—our mothers, fathers, siblings, and families. In this way, we secure a lasting, eternal happiness for ourselves by directing every iota of our soul ’ s affection towards Him, while in the same moment bringing everything and everyone along with us before Him to worship. The Lord Jesus Christ is the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. He is A to Z, East to West, the Sun and the Son Himself, the Ocean from whom all truth proceeds, containing within Himself all things good, holy, and beautiful. He is worthy, and He is beautiful: fear Him, obey Him, love Him, worship Him. “And He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:17).

The enemy have driven the British and French armies to the sea. Trapped at Dunkirk, they await their fate. Hoping for deliverance. For a miracle. —Opening credits, Dunkirk Only a veteran of the Great War could have penned The Chronicles of Narnia. Indeed, every chapter is so thoroughly dripping with the dreaded echoes and shadows of war that the parallels between the two worlds—our own and Narnia ’s —become inescapable. None other than a soldier who sloshed around in the muddy trenches with his own two feet and folded at the thunder of artillery fire himself could have realized such a reality. This is in part what makes the world of Narnia all the more enduring, right up to our present day many decades later. I do not think it a coincidence that the two most successful and influential fantasy series of all time, Narnia and The Lord of the Rings, just so happened to be written by former World War I soldiers—C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, respectively. One gets the sense that the mechanized horrors of the Great War awoke these men to the ever more horrific cosmic battle that we as image-bearers are engaged in each and every day with the forces of invisible, spiritual darkness. The Chronicles of Narnia serves as news from the frontlines, warning of the true battle at hand. During the Great War, both Lewis and Tolkien were upon the very threshold during some of humanity ’s blackest hours. In this way, there is a sense in which their respective novels function as letters written from the frontlines that they intended for delivery back home. Back home where peace and beauty still maintained a foothold amidst the gathering shadow of war. A growing shadow that these two men contended with and wanted to warn those back home about lest they should drift off into a lulled complacency: As our Lord Himself said, “And what I say to you I say to all: ‘Stay awake’” (Mark 13:37). During seasons of war, it was not uncommon for opposing sides to berate one another, and sometimes even their own people, with wartime propaganda. This most often took the form of pamphlets that either propagandized the people through cartoonish caricatures of their enemy or outright derision that was intended for the enemy themselves. In the opening scene of Christopher Nolan’s excellent World War II film, Dunkirk, this tactic is hauntingly demonstrated as thousands of Nazi leaflets fall from the sky upon lone British forces in Dunkirk, France where they remained stranded. “We Surround You: Surrender + Survive!” Like Lewis and Tolkien after him, Charles Spurgeon likewise well understood the nature of the spiritual war raging around us. A war of cosmic proportions between a great darkness that is increasingly losing ground to Christ, the Great Light, and His Kingdom; but a war that rages on nonetheless until He returns. Indeed, well before he became the man we today recognize as “The Prince of Preachers”, Charles Spurgeon was a mere mortal like you or I. In fact, Spurgeon never grew beyond being a mere mortal; he was simply an ordinary instrument in the hands of an extraordinary Savior. In a biography about Spurgeon, the author writes that “Spurgeon was never able to keep his joy and the basic message of the Gospel to himself. It spilled out of him naturally... There was nothing too small or trivial; he only wanted to do God’s will. The Lord began him small, found him faithful, and in a stunningly short time, brought him to great things.” However, before a good deal of what you or I may call “great things” were accomplished through Spurgeon, he joyfully consigned himself over to the ‘little’ tasks that God had for him. Shortly after his conversion to Christ, Spurgeon himself said that he “could scarcely content [himself] even for five minutes without trying to do something for Christ.” One of the chief ‘little’ efforts that Spurgeon undertook in his early days as a Christian was the proliferous distribution of Gospel tracts. Like wartime propaganda pamphlets falling from the sky, Spurgeon saw to it that everyone he rubbed shoulders with—and especially those whom he never met—knew the good news of salvation through King Jesus. Leaving Gospel tracts everywhere he went was one way Spurgeon accomplished this task. In the midst of this war for souls, Spurgeon’s countless Gospel leaflets filled the streets of England, declaring the good news: “SURRENDER & LIVE! The Battle is Won! Repent and Believe the Gospel for the Forgiveness of Sins: The Lord is Coming Back—Soon!” As Spurgeon famously said, “If sinners be damned, at least let them leap to Hell over our dead bodies. And if they perish, let them perish with our arms wrapped about their knees, imploring them to stay. If Hell must be filled, let it be filled in the teeth of our exertions, and let not one go unwarned and unprayed for.” He goes on to say, “The very first service which my youthful heart rendered to Christ was the placing of tracts in envelopes, and then sealing them up, that I might send them. I might have done nothing for Christ if I had not been encouraged by finding myself able to do a little. Then I sought to do something more, and from that something more, I do not doubt that many servants of God have been led on to higher and nobler labours for their Lord, because they began to serve Him in the right spirit and manner.” Whether the Lord has us serving on the frontlines or back home in relative safety, rest assured that He has work for you to do. Because our Lord is at work, we must also be at work; ever busying ourselves with the tasks of the Kingdom, whether the labour be little or much. For remember: This is wartime, and standing around idle simply will not do. Yet even amidst the gloom of the gathering shadow, all is not lost. For in the thickest of tempests, as sin and Satan swirl about, the Lord is ever upon His throne—unphased and unbothered. Even the Devil himself is still God’s Devil, and on a leash at that. And because Jesus sits enthroned as King of kings and Lord of lords, the news of His return is ever upon the lips of His people. And indeed, the news is trembling among spittle and chattering teeth in the conversations of His enemies also: “ Even the demons believe—and shudder! ” (James 2:19). As Christians, we are armed with the greatest news possible: Not only is the King coming back, but the King died for the sins of the ungodly. He loves you and died for you, and asks only that you repent and believe the Gospel . The King of the cosmos died for His rebellious subjects so that, by His gracious and sovereign choice through faith, they would no longer remain enemies or subjects, but become sons and daughters of the living God. The war is real, Hell is real; but thanks be to God, we have victory through our Lord, Captain, and Savior, Jesus Christ. Lay hold of this glorious truth through faith and then busy yourself in His joyful employment, spreading this news far and wide as though it were printed upon wartime leaflets. For remember, we are indeed at war, but there is a rumor circulating from the frontlines: “They say Aslan is on the move—perhaps has already landed.” Author’s Note: Several months ago I penned a short Gospel tract that you can access through the link below. I welcome you to share it, whether in print or digitally, with those whom the Lord has put on your heart. Or, as I often do, simply print off several copies and leave one or two wherever you might find yourself throughout the day—for as you know, the Lord often works in small and unexpected ways.

—A Great Savior For Our Great Need— “When evening came, [Jesus] was there alone, but the boat by this time was a long way from the land, beaten by the waves, for the wind was against them. And in the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea. But when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, ‘It is a ghost!’ and they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.’ And Peter answered Him, ‘Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.’ He said, ‘Come.’ So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, ‘Lord, save me.’ Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, ‘O you of little faith, why did you doubt?’ And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshipped Him, saying, ‘Truly you are the Son of God.’”   —Matthew 14:23-33   The Gospel is the Good News of Jesus Christ; it is the very backbone of all that Christians believe and the sum and substance of all that the Bible preaches. Every religion and man-made philosophy under the sun instructs mankind on how we are to work our way to God; Christianity tells the story of how Jesus, God Himself, came to us in human flesh. Jesus Christ died for our sins on a Roman cross 2,000 years ago and prepared the way of salvation for all who call upon Him and believe in His name alone for justification. Perhaps you’ve never heard the Gospel before, or what I’m saying to you is completely foreign from what you thought Christianity was all about, so here is a quick summary of the Good News about Jesus Christ:   God is good and we are not (Romans 3:10); God is morally perfect and cannot even look  at sin, much less be in the presence of sinning humans. The Bible makes clear that everyone—you, me, and every human that’s ever lived, except Jesus—has sinned against this holy and good God. What is sin? It is a hatred of God and His laws; it is to prefer anything over true worship, heartfelt obedience, and loving fellowship with the One who made us—all murder, adultery, theft, lying, and hate stems from a human heart that does not want to submit to and obey God. And because we are not good, we rightly deserve death and justice from the hands of a perfect and holy God, just as a judge would rightly punish a criminal in a court of law (Romans 6:23a). But God, being rich in mercy and steadfast love (Ephesians 2:4), sent His one and only Son to die for sinners (John 3:16), such that all who despair of themselves and their empty deeds, repent by turning from their sin, and believe that Jesus Christ died for them will not perish by eternal judgement in Hell, but have eternal life and unending joy in the presence of God Himself in Heaven—forever (Romans 6:23b).   In the account of Jesus walking on the water towards His wind and wave-beaten disciples, we see a clear image of the Gospel. The roaring crescendo of rain, wind, and waves is howling all about the disciples, and they are gripped by an otherworldly fear—little do they know that the One with them, the One going about the storm unseen and unphased, is to be feared above all. Out from the doom and darkness of the raging deluge came the Lord, “who alone stretched out the heavens and trampled the waves of the sea” (Job 9:8). The disciples, adrift in their fear and unbelief, could not see Him whose “footprints were unseen” through the great waters (Psalm 77:19). In the midst of near destruction, it took only the soft cry of Peter—“Lord, save me”—to stir the Lord to action. There was no delay or deliberation on the part of the Lord; within an instant, as the words were upon Peter’s very lips, “Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, ‘O you of little faith, why did you doubt?’” (Matthew 14:31). My dear friend, let not the long years and many troubles of this life cloud your sight so as to forget this simple truth: the God who made you loves you. His hand and His heart are ever extended out towards those who call upon Him for forgiveness from their sins, ready to draw them in and guide them towards home where all winds and waves will have finally ceased—“For everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13). We have a most tender and immediate Savior. Great is our need, but greater still the great Savior to serve our need! Because God is good and just, sin must be punished. On the cross as Jesus died, He was punished by God the Father on our behalf: “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you have been healed. For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls” (1 Peter 2:24-25). By putting your faith in Jesus alone for salvation—not your understanding, church attendance, moral deeds, or good intentions—you are then united to Him, so much so that when God looks at you, He now sees the righteousness of Jesus His Son. Your sin and guilt are taken away in Jesus Christ when you put your trust in Him; through Christ, we are adopted into the family of God Himself, given the family name, and granted unending fellowship with Him now and in the world to come. If you do not know the Lord Jesus Christ, you need only to recognize your great need for salvation from the just punishment for your sin and to recognize His great ability and desire to save. It took only the soft cry of Peter, “Lord, save me”, to stir the Lord to action. It is the Lord’s great desire to forgive you, to cleanse you from all your sins—past, present, and future—so that you can be with Him in Heaven forever. Indeed, this is why Jesus, God in human form, came to earth all those years ago—to seek and to save that which was lost. If you hear His voice calling you this day, call upon Him in response, for Jesus Himself said, “All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and whoever comes to Me I will never cast out”  (John 6:37).   “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” —Matthew 11:28-29 Photo by Patrick Fore, Unsplash Author’s Note: I warmly welcome and encourage you to share this Gospel tract with others. Indeed, that’s the very purpose for which I wrote it. It’s formatted so that at 12-point font it will neatly fill a single page, double sided. I like to carry a handful of print copies in my car so that I can leave a few here and there throughout my day, trusting that the Lord will do the rest.

“‘ This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me ’” (Matthew 15:8b). Over the last few years, humanity has ushered in a grave new world with the advent of Artificial Intelligence. A grave new world of increasing darkness and deception, all the while clothing its dark members in palatable shades of grey and muted tones of white as they issue from places of deep shadow; sometimes growing so bold as to masquerade as messengers of light. In the words of Jurassic Park ’s Dr. Ian Malcolm , “ Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn ’ t stop to think if they should. ” Several weeks ago, a sermon by Paul Washer appeared on my YouTube feed titled “Sins that Husbands and Wives Commit Daily.” Now, for anyone who is familiar with Paul Washer, this seems like the type of sermon he very well may preach—and so, I thought little of it and simply kept scrolling. However, it was only a few days later that another sermon graced my suggestion feed on YouTube, this one supposedly by John MacArthur. And the title of the sermon? You guessed it: “Sins that Husbands and Wives Commit Daily.” With such a unique title, there seemed little chance that both Washer and MacArthur just so happened to preach on the very exact subject with the very same title within the very same week. One—or both—of these sermons was likely fake. Out of curiosity, I clicked on the ‘MacArthur sermon’ and the video opened to a screen with a still, fairly dated, picture of MacArthur. A few seconds later the sermon began and captions filled the screen as MacArthur’s signature voice boomed through the video. But, was it MacArthur’s voice? It certainly sounded like him at first. There was, however, an almost imperceptible change in his voice that struck me. The voice in the video spoke with a tone and cadence that was not unlike the John MacArthur I knew and grew up with, but with more time the voice seemed too clean, too polished, one might even say it was robotic—that is, not quite human at all. Perhaps these twin sermons— “Sins that Husbands and Wives Commit Daily”—were generated by Artificial Intelligence (A.I.), or perhaps not. It almost doesn’t matter. In my mind, the chief issue is that the seed of doubt was planted in my mind about the authenticity of these videos nonetheless. So, whether or not they were real, I skipped them both for fear that they were fake, having nothing to do with the real Washer and MacArthur. With the advent of A.I., and the many questions and dilemmas that such technologies pose, these types of doubts are becoming more and more frequent with respect to items found online. In the case of the ‘MacArthur sermon,’ the series of events that I noted above fell into place such that I passed judgement on the video as being A.I. generated. The suspect title, the inhuman voice, the still screen, coupled with the lack of any video of MacArthur himself all lent support to my suspicion and screamed Artificial Intelligence. (A brief aside: with the exponential rate of development of A.I., the presence of video for some piece of text may no longer be an indicator of its truthfulness). However, there remains the possibility that the sermon was authentic. Indeed, I could have missed out on an insightful, thought-provoking sermon, all owing to the shadow cast over much of the internet by Artificial Intelligence. And therein lies so much of the trouble: not only must we now be weary of any spurious claims we see, read, and hear on the internet, but there is the added temptation to now second-guess everything online because of how convincing, deceptive, and ubiquitous this technology is. But the rot goes deeper still. As a teacher, A.I. concerns me. As a writer, A.I. frustrates me. But as a Christian, A.I. disturbs me. It disturbs me because of the way in which it has infiltrated the church and the pulpit seemingly overnight. Tell me, what possible function does a predominantly left-leaning, largely atheistic, inhuman, idea-generating machine have in Christ’s church? What role can such a technology take up except to displace the hard work, thinking, and study of God’s people? And worse still, attempt to displace the presence of the Holy Spirit Himself? The tools of Christ’s Kingdom are not the tools of this world. There may be a degree of overlap—the Lord can and does use all things for His good and glorious purposes—but we would do well as the church to not confuse one for the other. Now, I am no luddite. I am happy to grant that A.I. does indeed serve many useful functions—such as in the fields of medicine, engineering, and even in education within reason, and many other disciplines, though all of these are not without some consequences and human fallout. With that being said, to then draw A.I. into the church to prepare sermons, conduct Biblical research, write songs or prayers, or to develop programs and content, is an entirely different matter—and a disturbing one at that. Woe to those who sacrifice discipline and reliance upon the Spirit of God for the sake of mere pragmatism and convenience! It is no small thing to outsource your study of God’s word to a machine. When people sit under your preaching, or listen to your podcast, or spend precious time reading your blog, they do so with the expectation that you, in faithfully exercising the gifts you’ve been entrusted with, are going to bring God’s truth to them in some way. You, led by the Spirit, not a program. If you cannot do that, then I dare say you have no business handling God’s word to begin with. As the Psalmist says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God” (Psalm 20:7). Since when did the men and women of God place their trust in the tools of men rather than in the God whom they serve? If we place our trust in the exciting new developments of technology to do the Lord’s work, and encourage others to do likewise, then we are little more than electric shepherds feeding electric sheep. I understand the temptation to cut corners and be lazy; trust me, I really do. As creatures in a fallen world, we are constantly engaged in a complicated relationship with work, even with work that we love. On the one hand, work can be hard; reading, writing, studying, editing, re-editing, it takes up a lot of time and effort, resources we could doubtless use elsewhere to do more reading, writing, studying, and editing for the Kingdom. However, if we view work merely as a means to an end or gauge our successes solely by the quantity of our efforts rather than the quality of them, then I fear we may have missed the point of work altogether. Work is hard and laborious, enjoyable as it may sometimes be, in order to point us to our limitations and in turn to point us back to the Lord, who does not grow weary or faint. We can only accomplish so much in a day because, well, at the end of that same day and everyday we are just men, not God. Indeed, sacrificing product on the altar of productivity is a grave issue, made all the more tempting by the efficiency offered to us by technology such as Artificial Intelligence. I read an article recently where the author went on to say that he had a call with a woman who felt God was leading her to write a book. However, he went on to write, there were a few hiccups: not only did the woman admit she was not a writer, but that she did not like writing at all, that she found it to be a rather taxing and drawn-out affair. Given this was the case, this woman was proposing writing a book relying almost exclusively on ChatGPT and other generative programs. My dear brothers and sisters, whatever your work may be, this ought not to be the case. Christ desires you and your heart, indeed, your whole being—not the empty words of a machine that are not and cannot be filled with His Holy Spirit. “‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me’”  (Matthew 15:8b). Work is hard; writing is hard. To do anything well takes a great deal of discipline, cultivated over years of practice, in order to produce something worthwhile for the glory of Christ and for the good of others. But there is such joy in work also. God-given joy and purpose that we forfeit when we outsource our calling to the many machines and programs that stand by ready and poised to do our work for us. And yet, like any of you, I would rather read ten mediocre articles or books written by a dear brother or sister in Christ than slog through even an iota of eloquent A.I. sludge. There is a real sense in which to be made in the image of God, to be human, is also to work; so work well and as unto the Lord. “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Corinthians 12:9). Photo by Frankie Mish, Unsplash

A fairly common question among Christians goes 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. By contrast, 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 was 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). 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: Seeing as how my wife has no personal testimony to speak of—once again, I jest (I get the sense that this joke has officially gone too far)—, perhaps you would like to read my account of how I came to Christ just over a decade ago. Simply click the button below, titled “A Word Fitly Spoken.”

“ For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them ” (Ephesians 2:10). In the wake of Charlie Kirk ’s assassination, I’ve seen many people over the past month—particularly young men of about my age—strive to take up the banner of “I am Charlie Kirk.” Indeed, perhaps you’ve even seen crowds of folks on social media wearing shirts that say this very thing, “I am Charlie Kirk” or “We are Charlie Kirk.” These people have attempted—for the most part sincerely, so far as I can gather—to pick up Charlie’s microphone where he left it in order to promote truth, justice, and Christianity in their own lives and in their own little ways. Only, there will never be another Charlie Kirk. Not in quite the same way, that is. While I truly believe that the “I am Charlie Kirk” effect is an overall net positive for social media and the world beyond it, we should ever be aware that there will only ever be one Charlie Kirk—and that’s a good thing. God does not and need not repeat Himself. Charlie ran his race well and faithfully, and though his life was short, we cannot as Christians who trust in a sovereign God say that his life was cut short or too short , for the Lord determined Charlie’s days long before he was born, just as He has ours. We would do well not to question His wisdom. So, what are we to do? In C.S. Lewis’s Perelandra, just as Ransom’s battle with the Un-man enters its final stages, he remarks that, “Darkness fell upon the waves as suddenly as if it had been poured out of a bottle.” I love the weight that is carried within that imagery; the sheer immediacy and violent onslaught of the encroaching darkness is nigh palpable. Perhaps such a turn of phrase feels weightier than it otherwise would have because we too, like Ransom, can sense the thickening of the gathering darkness all about us. Charlie’s senseless murder—and the gleeful response of his opponents—was yet another grim evidence of that. Yet there is great hope: for the Light continues to shine in the darkness and the darkness will never overcome it (John 1:5). When the days around us grow evil and dark, it is our duty not to despair but rather to call upon the Lord and ask of Him what work He has for us while we yet tarry here below. Seeing as how I’ve already quoted Lewis, it seems only fair to borrow from Tolkien as well. Early on in The Fellowship of the Ring, Frodo and Gandalf discuss the burden of having to see to the One Ring’s destruction. “I wish it need not have happened in my time,” says Frodo, at which point the wizard responds: “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” Death has dealt some heavy blows this year. It seemed as though the weight of John MacArthur ’s passing was just beginning to lift when Charlie got assassinated, only to be swiftly followed by the Lord calling Voddie Baucham home as well. It is in moments such as these—when my understanding is little and my sight dim—that I worship our Lord anew, for He is in complete control and knows what He is doing. There will never be another Charlie Kirk, just as there will never be another John MacArthur or Voddie Baucham. Those seats are already taken at the Wedding Feast, place card and all. Let us draw inspiration from these faithful men, absolutely, while at the same time not obfuscating the task God has set out before us. “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” My dear friend, what will you do with the time and gifts the Lord has given you? To start a podcast or speaking tour like Charlie is beside the point; to go to seminary, pastor a church, or begin a school like MacArthur or Voddie should not be your chief aim either. Rather, aim for faithfulness where the Lord has placed you. That very well may mean that you begin—or faithfully continue—any of the pursuits just listed, but not necessarily. Even if faithfulness in your little part of the world looks similar to the race that Charlie or MacArthur or Voddie ran, I doubt it will look identical. When Moses stood before the glory of the Lord in the burning bush, he persisted in listing half-hearted excuses for why he could not do the task God was calling him to. Finally, out from the all-consuming inferno of His glory, the Lord asked Moses, “What is that in your hand?” Moses looked down and responded, “A staff.” Most of us know what happens next: as a sign, God commands Moses to throw his staff onto the ground and upon doing so the staff transforms into a serpent. However, what was the initial response of Moses? Upon the staff’s transformation into a serpent, we read that “Moses ran from it” (Exodus 4:3). God then commands Moses to stretch out his hand and pick up the serpent from the tail, at which point it once again became a wooden staff. This was to ensure “that they may believe that the LORD, the God of their fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has appeared to you” (Exodus 4:5). My dear brother and sister, do not run from that which God has placed in your hand. For, He intends that you use it faithfully for His glory and for the good of all those around you. No one can take the unique place of men like Charlie Kirk, John MacArthur, and Voddie Baucham. God does not expect that we duplicate their race. We can replicate their faithfulness, but never duplicate it. They were Kingdom originals. God does, however, command that we be faithful with those gifts, talents, and opportunities He has afforded to us as stewards. Draw inspiration and courage from faithful men who finished well,—“ Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ ” (1 Corinthians 11:1)—and then look at what God has placed in your hand. To pick up his microphone and wield the banner of “I am Charlie Kirk” is fine and well, but it is infinitely greater still to take up the cross of Christ in those places where He has entrusted you, armed with the glorious truth of His Gospel, to joyfully and sacrificially serve a dark and dying world. The task may seem impossible, and it often is; that is why we must draw our courage from the Lord. The lot given to Moses by God was a gargantuan one, made possible only by the sure promise of the Lord that He would do the work through Moses, His chosen instrument. Those whom God calls, He also equips for the work. Draw courage also from His word. In Ephesians 2, we read that “ we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them ” (Ephesians 2:10). God has prepared the good works to be done by His people long ago in eternity past, we need only be faithful and walk in them. And so, my friends, I ask again: What have you in your hand? Do not run from it; rather, ask God how He intends for you to use it. Photo by Michael Barth, Unsplash