Guilty By Association

Have you ever noticed how we tend to lump people into particular groups? It’s not a problem on its own and it’s helpful in some cases. But there is this tendency to lump people into a particular group and then fail to notice that not all in that group fit the group. Not all men are pigs. Not all women are vain. Not all white people are racist. Not all black people hate white people. Broad, sweeping examples, but it’s huge and problematic.

Here are some examples. Consider relationships.

• “All marriages are boring.”
• “All men are emotionally unavailable.”
• “All women are too emotional.”
• “Every married couple eventually falls out of love.”
• “All teenagers rebel against their parents.”

Think about generations.

• “Boomers hate change.”
• “Millennials are entitled.”
• “Gen Z can't communicate face-to-face.”
• “Young people don't want to work.”
• “Old people don't understand technology.”

A big area is religion.

• “All Christians are hypocrites.”
• “All atheists hate God.”
• “Religious people are anti-science.”
• “Churches only care about money.”
• “All Evangelicals only believe what they do because of they're upbringing.”
• “Everyone who goes to church is a good person.”

Or consider work and success.

• “Rich people are greedy.”
• “Poor people are lazy.”
• “All politicians are corrupt.”
• “Business owners only care about profit.”
• “Anyone can succeed if they work hard enough.”

Out of the Air Force, I took a job as an electronics technician. On my first day, one of my new coworkers greeted me with, “I hope you’re not one of those ‘born again’ Christian types.” Strange greeting, right? I asked why.

“Oh, you know, Christians are known for the Crusades. They kill in Jesus’s name.”

I thought that was strange reasoning. So, I offered a parallel to see what he said.

“You’re married, right? She loves you? Good. So, one day I show up to work, pull out a gun, point it at you, and say, ‘I’m going to kill you.’ You say, ‘Whoa! What for??’ I say, ‘Your wife told me to.’ Now, your wife loves you and you know she’d never say that, so you call me on it. Why can you see that, based on what you know about your wife, she’d never tell someone to kill you, but if someone says, ‘I’m killing in Jesus’s name,’ you can’t see that, based on what we know about Jesus, He’d never say that?”

You see, he lumped me together with the Crusaders who called themselves “Christians” and perpetrated killing and war in the name of Christ when Christ never would have made such a command. To this coworker, all Christians are homicidal—guilty by association.

It’s a sinister lie in general. Not every American is an “ugly American.” Not every Calvinist is “restless and Reformed.” And so on.

There are reasons for groups and collections like this. They aren’t, by definition, evil. They’re even biblical (think “Jews” and “Gentiles,” for instance). I’m not suggesting they’re bad on their own. But we should always remember that people are individuals, designed by God to be individual and distinct. No two alike. We can categorize some things about people, but when it becomes a judgment, we should be very careful not to assign everyone in the group the same judgment. Individuals are made in the image of God and ought to be regarded with respect, not haphazardly judged guilty by association.

The Truth About The Truth

Megan Woods' song The Truth has resonated with many believers because it addresses something Christians desperately need in an age of confusion and self-condemnation: our identity in Christ. Much of what she says is rooted in biblical truth. Believers really are children of God through faith in Christ (John 1:12; Rom 8:15-17). We really are loved by God (1 John 4:9-10). We really do belong to Him rather than to the lies of the world, the flesh, and the devil (1 Cor 6:19-20; Rom 14:8). For those reasons, I can appreciate the heart of the song.

At the same time, songs, like sermons, should be weighed against Scripture. What is emotionally encouraging is not always the same thing as what is biblically precise.

The line, "I am my Father's child," is wonderfully true for those who have been adopted through Christ. Scripture goes so far as to say, "See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God" (1 John 3:1). This is not a truth we earned. It is a truth granted by grace. Likewise, the declaration that we are "truly loved by a God who's good when I'm not good enough" points in the right direction. God's goodness does not fluctuate with our performance. While Scripture would speak more in terms of our sinfulness than our inadequacy (Romans 3:10-23), the essential point remains: our hope rests in God's character, not our own.

Where I begin to struggle is with some of the language that reflects a more therapeutic view of Christianity than a biblical one. For example, the song says, "I make Him proud and I make Him smile." Certainly God delights in His people. Zephaniah 3:17 says He rejoices over them with singing, and Psalm 149:4 says that the Lord takes pleasure in His people. Yet the New Testament consistently centers God's pleasure on His Son. At Jesus' baptism, the Father declared, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased" (Matt 3:17). We might be able to claim that we please Him at times, but by no means can we affirm that He's pleased with us all the time. And any delight God has in us is ultimately because we are united to Christ. The emphasis of the gospel is not that God is impressed with me. It is that God is pleased with His Son and graciously accepts me in Him.

The line that concerns me most is, "He looks at me and wouldn't change a thing." That sentiment may feel comforting, but it is difficult to reconcile with the Bible's doctrine of sanctification. Scripture repeatedly teaches that God intends to change many things about me. He predestined believers "to be conformed to the image of his Son" (Rom 8:29). He is transforming us "from one degree of glory to another" (2 Cor 3:18). He disciplines His children precisely because He loves them and desires their holiness (Heb 12:6-11). God's love is not demonstrated by leaving us as we are. It is demonstrated by refusing to abandon us to what we are. God, loving us, would definitely change things—making us better, more like Him, more fulfilled, better equipped. God isn’t confused by our modern, “Love means you embrace everything about the loved one.” God loves us enough to want better for us … and then does it in us.

One of the great paradoxes of the gospel is that God fully accepts those who come to Him through Christ while simultaneously committing Himself to their transformation. He justifies the ungodly, but He does not glorify them overnight. The Christian life is a lifelong process of being made into what we are not yet. To say that God "wouldn't change a thing" may capture a feeling of acceptance, but biblically speaking it misses the reality that God loves us enough to change everything that sin has corrupted.

This reflects a larger trend in modern Christian music. Many songs emphasize affirmation, acceptance, and self-worth, often because those are the struggles people feel most deeply today. Scripture certainly addresses those concerns, but it does so within the larger framework of redemption. The biblical message is not simply, "God loves you just the way you are." The biblical message is, "God loved you while you were still a sinner" (Rom 5:8), justified you through Christ, and is now conforming you to the image of Christ.

So I would say that The Truth contains much that is true and encouraging. It reminds believers that they are loved, adopted, and secure in God's grace. Yet some of its language softens the biblical reality that Christians are both accepted and transformed. The gospel is actually richer than mere affirmation. God does not look at me and conclude that nothing needs changing. He looks at me through the righteousness of Christ, loves me completely, and then patiently begins changing everything that doesn't yet reflect His Son.

That, to me, is the fuller truth of who we are in Christ.

Sinless Perfection?

When I read 1 John 3:9, it appears to argue for sinless perfection. The King James says, “Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin; for His seed remaineth in him: and he cannot sin, because he is born of God.” That sounds a lot like sinless perfection. "Doth not commit sin."

I don't think John is teaching that Christians become sinlessly perfect after conversion. That interpretation would create a direct contradiction with statements John makes elsewhere in the same letter. Earlier he writes, "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves" (1 John 1:8), and he goes on to assure believers that "if anyone sins, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous" (1 John 2:1). Clearly, John recognizes that genuine believers still struggle with sin.

The key to understanding 1 John 3:9 is found in the language John uses and the broader context of the passage. The verse says, "No one born of God makes a practice of sinning" (ESV), while other translations render it, "does not continue to sin" (NIV) or "does not practice sin" (NASB). These translations seek to capture the idea of ongoing, habitual, unrepentant sin rather than an isolated act of disobedience. John is not describing occasional failures but a settled pattern of life.

Throughout 1 John 3:4-10, John contrasts two fundamentally different ways of living. One life is characterized by righteousness, obedience, and repentance when sin occurs. The other is characterized by ongoing rebellion against God. His concern is not whether a person has ever sinned, but whether sin has become the defining mark of that person's life.

John explains this by saying that God's "seed" remains in the believer (1 John 3:9). Whether this refers to the Holy Spirit, the Word of God, or the new life imparted through regeneration, the point is that God has implanted something within His children that changes them. Because they have been born of God, they can no longer be at peace with sin as a way of life. They may stumble, and at times they may fall seriously, but they cannot comfortably remain in sin without conviction and the call to repentance.

For that reason, when John says that the one born of God "cannot sin," I understand him to mean that a believer cannot continue indefinitely in a lifestyle of sin that is unchallenged and unrepented. The new birth creates a fundamental incompatibility between the believer's new nature and a life dominated by sin. Christians are not sinless, but they are no longer characterized by sin.

In other words, 1 John 3:9 is not teaching perfectionism. It is teaching transformation. The evidence of new birth is not that a believer never sins, but that the overall direction of his life has changed. Sin is no longer his master, his identity, or his pattern of life. As Paul similarly writes, believers have become "slaves of righteousness" rather than slaves of sin (Rom 6:17-18). The person born of God still fights sin, but he no longer lives comfortably under its rule.

When Words Don't Speak

One of the challenges in reading older Christian writers, and even the Bible itself, is that many familiar words no longer mean what they once did. We assume we're understanding a statement because we recognize the words, but often we're importing modern definitions into ideas that were built on very different assumptions.

Take the statement, "Jesus is the friend of sinners" (Matt 11:19; Luke 7:34). Today, a friend is often understood as someone who embraces, affirms, and supports us no matter what we do. Historically, however, a friend was someone committed to our good, even when that required correction, warning, or uncomfortable truth. Scripture says, "Faithful are the wounds of a friend" (Pro 27:6). A true friend was not merely agreeable. He was loyal enough to seek what was best for us. Under that definition, Jesus being the friend of sinners does not mean He affirmed their sin. It means He sought their good.

Or consider the phrase, "There is power in the name of Jesus." Peter healed a crippled man "in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth" (Acts 3:6), and believers are told to do everything "in the name of the Lord Jesus" (Col 3:17). Modern ears sometimes hear this as though power resides in the pronunciation of a particular word or in the repetition of a formula. In Scripture, however, a person's name often represents his character, authority, and identity. David came against Goliath "in the name of the LORD" (1 Sam 17:45), meaning under God's authority and as God's representative. The power is not in the letters J-E-S-U-S. The power is in the Person whom that name represents.

The statement, "God loves you," suffers from a similar problem. Love today is commonly understood as a warm feeling of affection arising from the attractiveness of its object. Yet Scripture says God demonstrated His love for us "while we were still sinners" (Rom 5:8) and loved us even when we were "dead in trespasses and sins" (Eph 2:1-5). Biblical love is not primarily a reaction to loveliness. It is a commitment to seek another's good. God's love was not caused by our worthiness. It is displayed in His determination to redeem the unworthy.

Many other biblical expressions are affected by the same kind of drift. "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom" (Pro 9:10) sounds to modern ears like terror or dread, but throughout Scripture it carries the idea of reverence, awe, and humble submission before God. Likewise, when Paul tells the Philippian jailer, "Believe in the Lord Jesus" (Acts 16:31), he is not merely asking for intellectual agreement. The biblical idea includes trust, reliance, and allegiance.

The word "repent" has undergone a similar shift. Today it is often reduced to feeling sorry for wrongdoing. Yet when Jesus began His public ministry by saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matt 4:17), He was calling people not merely to regret but to turn. Repentance is a change of mind that produces a change of direction.

Even words that seem straightforward have changed in meaning. Biblical "hope" is not wishful thinking. Paul speaks of "the hope laid up for you in heaven" (Col 1:5), and the author of Hebrews describes hope as "a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul" (Heb 6:19). Biblical hope is not uncertainty but confident expectation based on God's promises.

The same is true of the "heart." Modern people think of the heart primarily as the seat of emotion. Yet Scripture speaks of believing with the heart (Rom 10:10), reasoning in the heart (Mark 2:6-8), and storing truth in the heart (Psa 119:11). For biblical writers, the heart referred to the inner person as a whole, including mind, will, desires, and affections.

The Beatitudes provide another example. "Blessed are the meek" (Matt 5:5) can sound to modern readers like "Blessed are the timid" or "Blessed are the weak." Yet Moses, one of the strongest leaders in Scripture, is described as very meek (Num 12:3). Historically, meekness was understood as strength under control, power submitted to God rather than used for self-exaltation.

Perhaps nowhere is the confusion greater than with the idea of judgment. When many people hear Jesus say, "Judge not, that you be not judged" (Matt 7:1), they assume He prohibited moral evaluation altogether. Yet only a few verses later He instructs His followers to recognize false prophets by their fruits (Matt 7:15-20). Elsewhere He says, "Judge with righteous judgment" (John 7:24). The prohibition was not against discernment but against hypocritical and self-righteous condemnation.

What makes all of this important is that many of these older meanings were rooted in objective realities, duties, character, authority, and acts of the will. Modern usage often shifts the focus toward feelings, preferences, affirmation, and subjective experience. As a result, we can read a sentence written two hundred years ago, or two thousand years ago, and completely misunderstand it while thinking we understand it perfectly.

Sometimes the hardest part of understanding an old text is not translating the language. It is translating the meanings that the words once carried. We think we are disagreeing with what earlier Christians believed when often we are only disagreeing with meanings they never intended in the first place. Before rejecting an old doctrine, it is worth asking whether the doctrine has changed at all, or whether the words through which we hear it have simply drifted away from the meanings they once bore.

Songs That Speak

When Paul tells us in Colossians 3:16 to let the word of Christ dwell in us richly by “teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs,” he is not envisioning a worship service built on emotional uplift alone. He is describing music that carries weight—songs that instruct the mind, correct the heart, and anchor the church in the truths of Scripture. And when you look across the history of Christian hymnody, you find that many of the great hymns were written precisely for this purpose.

Take Holy, Holy, Holy. This is not a song designed merely to make us feel reverent; it is a Trinitarian confession. Every stanza is catechesis. It teaches us who God is—eternal, almighty, perfectly holy—and it admonishes us by reminding us that all creation bows before Him. Singing it is an act of theological formation.

Or consider How Firm a Foundation. This hymn is almost a sung sermon. It takes the promises of Scripture and places them directly into the mouth of God: “Fear not, I am with thee.” The hymn teaches us to trust the sufficiency of God’s Word and admonishes us to stand firm when trials come. It is not about how we feel in the moment; it is about what God has said, and therefore what we must believe.

Rock of Ages does the same. Toplady wasn’t trying to create a sentimental moment; he was teaching the doctrine of justification by grace alone. The hymn confronts us with our inability—“nothing in my hand I bring”—and admonishes us to cling to Christ alone for salvation. It is theology set to melody.

Luther’s A Mighty Fortress Is Our God is another example. It teaches the reality of spiritual warfare, the power of God’s Word, and the certainty of Christ’s victory. It admonishes us not to fear the enemy, because “one little word shall fell him.” This is not emotionalism; it is formation.

Even a hymn like Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise serves as a theological corrective. It teaches the attributes of God—His invisibility, His immortality, His wisdom—and admonishes us to remember that He is not like us. It pulls our worship upward, away from sentiment and toward the majesty of the God who dwells in unapproachable light.

And in our own day, In Christ Alone stands out precisely because it teaches. It walks us through the incarnation, the cross, the resurrection, and the believer’s assurance. It admonishes us to stand in Christ alone, not in our feelings or circumstances. It is a modern hymn that actually fulfills Paul’s command.

These songs do what Paul requires: they teach us what is true, and they admonish us to live in light of that truth. They give the church a vocabulary of faith that is richer, deeper, and more durable than the language of mere experience. They help the word of Christ dwell richly—not thinly, not sentimentally, but richly—in the gathered people of God.

News Weakly - 10/10/2026

In the Balance
Israeli forces hit Gaza City again, killing five Palestinians. Apparently unprovoked. At least, that’s what the media wants us to believe. The fact that Hamas is not a State army, but civilian, and that Israel keeps shooting down rocket attacks and defending their people, and that Israel is losing less people than Hamas … and, of course, that it’s Israel, the hated people … means that the media gives them the nod and only points fingers at Israel. But I’m sure the media thinks it’s “balanced reporting” … as if they’d know balanced reporting if they saw it.

Making America Grate Again
An American Marine was arrested for murder in Okinawa. The Japanese are outraged. The military ceased operations to address the issue. It’s not good. In fact, from 1955 when a sergeant killed a five-year-old Japanese girl to a gang rape of a 12-year-old girl by three U.S. servicemen in 1995 through a constant stream of crimes committed by American military personnel in Okinawa and elsewhere, there have been too many times that our military has assaulted the American reputation rather than enhanced it. The modern decline of morality in America in general is not contributing positively to that problem abroad.

Bravely Fighting Thin Air
Ethiopian forces recaptured Mekelle after the withdrawal of the Tigray People's Liberation Front. I remember the joke about the high school football team that took on the Blunderfolk team … not the brightest bulbs in the box. The high school team was ahead 64 to nothing and walked off the field in disgust. Three plays later, the Blunderfolk team scored. This story about the mighty Ethiopian forces taking Mekelle sounds the same, doesn’t it? They recaptured it soon after the defenders left?

Still Crazy
A 15-year-old girl stabbed eight people at a school in Istanbul, Turkey. A young girl of 10 died from her wounds. Deemed a “mass stabbing” by the media, Turkey was not so foolish as to try to ban knives. Instead, they’re seeking to ban 15-year-old girls. That’s closer to the real problem, right? (I mean people, not weapons.)

Another ICE Man
ICE has an image problem ... they look bad. This time an undercover ICE agent shot a man in New York City for “not complying with lawful orders.” It doesn’t take a law expert to understand you’re not supposed to shoot someone for failing to comply … unless it’s a dictatorship and you’re authorized to shoot for any reason. In a normal government, you're allowed to shoot if there’s a threat to yourself or others. “Failure to comply” is not a threat in itself. Of course, the media felt the need to overblow the story. They’re outraged that the shooting was with the man’s 5-year-old child in the car … because having a child in the car is grounds for allowing crime without response? And they downplayed the fact that the victim of the shooting had gang connections and prior convictions and arrests. These do not excuse the shooting; they simply point out that the media isn’t playing on an even field.

More Fake News Than You Need
In keeping with his normal overblown ego, President Trump issued an executive order making hurricanes illegal. And the world is grateful. On the terrorism front, experts fear that terrorist activity (actual story) in Minneapolis could very possibly spread to America next. Do we need a border wall in Minneapolis? Finally, liberals this week around the country commemorated the anniversary of October 8, the day Israel attacked Gaza completely unprovoked. “Progressives gathered to hold moments of silence for those killed on the first day of Israel's stunning attack on the peaceful Palestinians living in Gaza.” Kind of brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it? I mean … at how close that is to being possibly true.

Must be true; I read it on the internet.

God's Unique Math - Two Become One

Marriage, as Scripture presents it, is never a mere human arrangement. Paul calls it a “mystery,” something rooted in creation and meant to echo the union between Christ and His church (Eph 5:31–32). When I look at the biblical witness, I see that this mystery is not confined to covenant vows or legal recognition; it reaches all the way into the physical union of husband and wife. The act of becoming “one flesh” (Gen 2:24) is not simply a poetic flourish—it is a real joining, something God Himself forges.

Jesus makes this clear when He answers the Pharisees’ question about divorce. He doesn’t appeal to sentiment or social custom. He goes straight back to Genesis and says, “What God has joined together, let no man separate” (Matt 19:6). He is not talking about a marriage “made in heaven” in the casual way we sometimes speak of it. He is talking about the mysterious union that God Himself creates when a man and woman become one flesh. Humans may enter the covenant, but God performs the joining.

Paul picks up the same thread when he warns the Corinthians about sexual immorality. His argument is startlingly direct: sexual union creates a real bond. “Do you not know that he who is joined to a prostitute becomes one body with her?” he asks, quoting Genesis again: “The two shall become one flesh” (1 Cor 6:16). Paul’s point is unmistakable—sexual union is never casual, never merely physical. It is inherently unitive. It forges a bond because God designed it to do so. And because believers are “one spirit” with Christ (1 Cor 6:17), misusing the one flesh union distorts the very image of our union with Him.

This is where the mystery deepens. The one flesh union of husband and wife is not only a personal and physical reality; it is a theological one. It is meant to represent Christ and the church—the covenantal, faithful, fruitful union between the Bridegroom and His bride (Eph 5:25–27). Sexual union, then, is the embodied sign of that covenant. It is the physical expression of a spiritual reality, the seal of a relationship God Himself ordains.

Scripture consistently treats sexual union as whole person giving—a joining of lives, loyalties, and futures. Genesis describes leaving, cleaving, and becoming one flesh (Gen 2:24). Paul says the husband’s body belongs to the wife and the wife’s to the husband (1 Cor 7:3–4). Hebrews declares that marriage is honorable and the marriage bed undefiled (Heb 13:4). All of this underscores the same truth: sexual union is covenantal, holy, and exclusive. It is the act that consummates and renews the covenant of marriage.

And because it is covenantal, it carries spiritual weight. It is not simply a symbol of personal union; it is the bodily mode of personal union. And personal union, in turn, is the relational mode of the greater mystery—Christ united to His people. The structure is consistent: Christ and the church as the archetype, husband and wife as the image, and sexual union as the embodied sign of that image.

So when Scripture speaks of marriage, it speaks of something far deeper than human convention. It speaks of a union God creates, a union that is both physical and spiritual, a union that images the gospel itself. The one flesh bond is not incidental to marriage; it is central. It is part of the mystery—the way the covenant is expressed, sealed, and lived. And in that mystery, we glimpse the greater reality: Christ giving Himself for His bride, and the church united to Him in faithful love.

Consider, then, the practical ramifications. How does adultery work in this scenario? It can't if sexual union is a real union of God's design. How does divorce make any sense in this version of marriage? Jesus said it didn't. What does it mean in regards to how we treat each other? Paul said we should love our spouse as we love ourselves because our spouse is part of ourselves. How do we handle disputes, problems, disappointments, joys, triumphs—all of life? Not as separate individuals, but as ... one. A mystical union produced by God and performed by our sexual union and a picture of Christ and the church. This is a much more serious version of sex and marriage than most of us realize.

The Command We Just Don't Get

There is a kind of stillness God commands that is not the stillness of inactivity, but the stillness of surrender. When Scripture says, “Be still, and know that I am God” (Psa 46:10), it is not asking me to freeze; it is asking me to stop pretending I am the one holding the universe together. It is a rebuke to my restless attempts to manage outcomes, fix people, and anticipate every possible threat. Stillness is the confession that God is God—and I am not.

The psalm itself is written in the middle of chaos. Nations rage. Kingdoms totter. The earth gives way. The mountains fall into the sea. In other words, the very things that make me anxious are the backdrop for God’s command. He does not wait for calm to tell me to be still. He speaks stillness into the storm. And He does it because stillness is not the product of peaceful circumstances; it is the fruit of believing that God is our refuge and strength, “a very present help in trouble” (Psa 46:1).

Stillness is also the posture of faith in moments when God fights for His people. When Israel stood pinned between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea, Moses said, “The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still” (Exo 14:14). Stillness here is not resignation—it is expectation. It is the quiet stance of someone who knows that deliverance is not achieved by frantic human effort but by divine intervention. God parts seas for those who stop thrashing long enough to watch Him work.

And stillness has a way of exposing what I truly believe. When I am still before God, my fears rise to the surface, my idols lose their shine, and my self reliance is revealed for what it is—thin, fragile, and exhausting. Yet in that same stillness, God’s character becomes clearer. His sovereignty steadies me. His faithfulness anchors me. His presence comforts me. Stillness becomes the place where my soul remembers that God has never once panicked, never once been late, never once been overwhelmed.

To “be still” is to let God be God in the places where I am tempted to take over. It is to quiet the inner noise long enough to hear the steady voice of the Shepherd who leads, protects, and restores. It is to stand in the middle of life’s upheaval with the confidence that the One who spoke galaxies into existence is the same One who speaks peace into my heart.

Stillness is not the absence of movement; it is the presence of trust. It is the settled conviction that the God who reigns over the nations also reigns over my circumstances. And when I obey His call to be still, I find that the world may shake—but my soul does not.

More on Fear

In a follow-up to that last post, there’s another part worth examining. Remember the story (Mark 4:35-41). They’re heading across the Sea of Galilee and run into a big storm. Storms can kill on the Sea of Galilee to this day. The disciples, seasoned fishermen among them, are scared. And they discover Jesus—the one they often refer to as “Master”—asleep in the back of the boat. They ask the scathing question, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” I say “scathing” not just because it’s highly critical of Jesus, but because the fact that they ask it reflects horribly on themselves. Jesus awoke, rebuked the wind, and asked, “Why are you so afraid?” When the wind stopped at His command, they “became very much afraid.”

That’s the story. There’s something here I’d like to examine. It’s telling that they asked such a question. “Do you not care?” How could they ask it? But Jesus doesn’t address that. He addresses the storm. And then, He asks why they were so afraid. Is that a problem? Is fear an issue? Is it wrong to be afraid?

Some argue it isn’t wrong, but that leaves us implying Jesus was wrong to call them out for it. There are some who argue it is wrong to be afraid. But Scripture repeatedly warns of the danger of having no fear of God. The author of Hebrews says, "It is a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (Heb 10:31). The psalmist wrote, “The fear of YHWH is the beginning of wisdom” (Psa 111:10). The ominous accusation against humans is, “There is no fear of God before their eyes” (Rom 3:18). Fear is good and right in its proper place.

So, being afraid in a storm that could potentially kill you is not the proper place? Apparently not. Why? Jesus doesn’t leave the question unanswered. “Have you still no faith?” (Mark 4:40). Ah! There is the problem. These men were disciples of the Messiah, the Son of God. They’ve seen Him work. They’ve heard His promises. Their faith should have informed them that, despite the circumstances, there was nothing to fear.

How about you? Do you experience fear when it is necessary? Fear of God, vigilance against sin (Php 2:12), fear of judgment (Heb 4:1)—that kind of thing. But circumstances? We’re told to “count it all joy when you encounter various trials” (James 1:2). We’re promised that Jesus will never leave us (Heb 13:5). We don’t have to fear what everyone else fears.

How about you? Do your fears reflect faith or the lack of it?

What We Have to Fear

In Mark 4, Jesus sets out with His disciples on the Sea of Galilee. He falls asleep in the storm and they’re scared. They actually ask Him, “Don’t you care?” Imagine that? Asking the Son of God if He cares. He stands up and speaks and the storm is calmed. “Why were you afraid?” He asks. And in Mark 4:41, after Jesus calms the wind and sea, the disciples are actually more afraid than they were during the storm:

"And they became very much afraid and said to one another, 'Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey Him?'"

The storm threatened their lives. But the realization that they were sharing a boat with One who commands creation itself shook them to the core.

This pattern occurs throughout Scripture. People often think that if God visibly appeared, the dominant response would be comfort. Yet the biblical record repeatedly shows that a direct encounter with God's holiness, majesty, or power produces fear, awe, and sometimes terror.

In Isaiah 6, the prophet sees the Lord seated on His throne while seraphim cry, "Holy, Holy, Holy."

Isaiah's reaction is not excitement but dread: "Woe is me, for I am ruined!"

Confronted with God's holiness, Isaiah immediately becomes aware of his own sinfulness.

When God speaks from the bush, Moses responds with reverence and fear: "Then Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God."

Even before receiving his commission, Moses understands that he stands on holy ground.

When God descends on Sinai with thunder, lightning, fire, smoke, and trumpet blasts, the people are terrified.

They tell Moses: "Speak to us yourself and we will listen; but let not God speak to us, or we will die."

The people recognize that they are encountering the living God, not merely witnessing a spectacular event.

In Daniel 10, Daniel sees a glorious heavenly being.

His strength disappears: "No strength was left in me, for my natural color turned to a deathly pallor."

He falls trembling and must be strengthened before he can stand.

This is especially similar to Mark 4. After Jesus fills the nets in Luke 5, Peter does not celebrate the fishing success. Instead: "Go away from me Lord, for I am a sinful man!"

Peter realizes that he is standing before someone far greater than a prophet or rabbi.

At the Transfiguration when Jesus' glory is unveiled and the Father's voice speaks from heaven: "They fell face down to the ground and were terrified."

The revelation of Christ's true majesty produces fear.

The resurrection narratives repeatedly combine joy and fear.

Mark says the women fled the tomb trembling and astonished. The angelic announcement was good news, but the encounter was overwhelming.

In Revelation 1, John sees the glorified Christ.

This is the same John who reclined next to Jesus at the Last Supper. Yet when he sees Christ in unveiled glory: "When I saw Him, I fell at His feet like a dead man."

Even intimate familiarity with Jesus does not remove the impact of seeing His glory revealed.

What is fascinating is that the fear is rarely the fear of impending judgment alone. It is often the fear that comes from suddenly realizing who is present.

R.C. Sproul used to distinguish between being afraid of something dangerous and being overwhelmed by something infinitely greater than yourself. Scripture portrays God as both loving and approachable, yet also utterly transcendent and holy.

The disciples in Mark 4 illustrate this perfectly. During the storm, they feared the power of nature. After the storm, they feared the One who controlled nature. The sea was dangerous. Jesus was sovereign.

That is why the text says they were "very afraid." The storm raised the question, "Will we survive?" The miracle raised the deeper question, "Who is this?"

And that question echoes throughout Scripture. The closer people come to a genuine revelation of God, the more they are overwhelmed by His holiness, majesty, power, and otherness. Fear is not the opposite of faith here. Rather, it is often the beginning of true worship.

In fact, the progression in Mark 4 is almost a miniature picture of discipleship: first we fear our circumstances, then we discover that the One in the boat is far more powerful than the circumstances, and finally we are left in awe of Him. That deeper fear of the Lord gradually displaces our fear of everything else.

Premises, Premises

The word, “premise,” comes from the Latin, “praemissa,” meaning simply “the thing that goes before.” Simply, and yet, significantly. A premise is a proposition supposed or proved prior as a basis of argument or inference. It is a presupposition. And it is important. You see, if you start from a solid base, you can draw solid conclusions, but we all know how that whole “house built on sand” thing (Matt 7:24-27) goes. Not good.

Every person approaches Scripture with presuppositions. We do not come to the text as neutral observers, but as fallen creatures shaped by our culture, experiences, traditions, desires, and beliefs. The question is not whether we have premises, but whether those premises are true and whether they are derived from Scripture itself. Many misunderstandings of God's Word arise not because the text is unclear, but because we bring faulty assumptions to it.

One of the most common errors is the assumption that the Bible exists primarily to make us happy. If personal fulfillment becomes the controlling premise, then passages concerning suffering, self-denial, repentance, holiness, and perseverance will inevitably be misunderstood. Scripture certainly speaks of joy, but it places God's glory and our conformity to Christ above our temporary comfort. When happiness becomes the lens through which we read the Bible, suffering is often viewed as a sign of failure rather than one of God's tools for sanctification.

Another common premise is that modern culture possesses the authority to determine right and wrong. When cultural values become the standard, Scripture is no longer allowed to speak with authority over human behavior. Instead, biblical teachings must be reshaped and reinterpreted to fit the spirit of the age. Yet throughout history, God's Word has stood in judgment over every culture. The Bible does not conform itself to society; rather, society is called to conform itself to God's revealed truth.

Some approach Scripture with the belief that God exists primarily to fulfill their personal dreams and ambitions. This assumption reverses the biblical order. Scripture teaches that God is sovereign, and we are His creatures. We exist for His purposes, not He for ours. When this premise is forgotten, biblical promises are often transformed into guarantees of health, success, prosperity, or personal achievement that the text never intended.

A particularly dangerous premise is the belief that human beings are fundamentally good. If man is assumed to be basically righteous, then the Bible's teaching concerning sin appears excessive and the gospel becomes little more than self-improvement. Scripture, however, presents a far different picture. Humanity is fallen, separated from God, and incapable of saving itself. Only when we understand the depth of our sin do we appreciate the greatness of God's grace.

Many interpretive mistakes also arise from the assumption that every passage is addressed directly to the individual reader. While all Scripture is profitable for believers, not every command, promise, or circumstance was originally directed to us. Sound interpretation requires understanding what a text meant to its original audience before determining how it applies to believers today. When historical context is ignored, promises made to Israel, kings, prophets, or apostles are often misapplied.

Another obstacle to proper interpretation is the tendency to approach Scripture through a rigid theological system rather than allowing Scripture itself to shape theology. While theological systems can help organize biblical truth, they become problematic when they control the interpretation of difficult passages. A faithful student of Scripture must always be willing to allow God's Word to correct his conclusions.

Modern readers are also influenced by the widespread assumption that a text means whatever it means to an individual reader. This view places meaning in the eye of the beholder rather than in the inspired intention of the author. Yet biblical interpretation is not an exercise in personal creativity. The goal is to discover what God intended to communicate through the human authors He inspired.

Another faulty premise is that the Old Testament is largely irrelevant because Christians live under the New Testament. Such thinking ignores the fact that Jesus and the apostles continually appealed to the Old Testament as authoritative Scripture. The New Testament does not replace the Old Testament; it fulfills and explains it. The story of redemption cannot be understood apart from the foundation that the Old Testament provides.

The book of Job exposes another common assumption: that all suffering is the direct result of personal sin. Job's friends relentlessly defended this premise, yet God ultimately condemned their counsel. Scripture teaches that suffering can result from many causes, including living in a fallen world, God's sanctifying work, testing, persecution, or purposes known only to Him.

Perhaps the most pervasive error of all is the assumption that the Bible is primarily about us. Modern readers often place themselves at the center of every narrative and ask, "What does this say about me?" before asking, "What does this reveal about God?" In reality, Scripture is first and foremost the revelation of God, His character, His purposes, and His redemptive work in Christ. We find our place in the story only after we understand that the story belongs to Him.

Ultimately, every interpretation rests on a foundation of presuppositions. Good interpretation begins by examining those presuppositions in the light of Scripture. Many disagreements about biblical meaning are not really disagreements about individual verses, but disagreements about the assumptions brought to those verses. The safest approach is to begin where Scripture itself begins: God is holy and sovereign, mankind is sinful, Christ is sufficient, and God's Word is authoritative. When those foundational premises govern our thinking, we are far less likely to impose our ideas upon the text and far more likely to hear what God has actually said.

James on Faith

James 2:14-26 is a famous passage about faith and works. Many assume it is James contradicting Paul, a logical impossibility if the Bible is breathed out by God (2 Tim 3:16-17). But that assumption comes from failing to read what James is discussing, and by reading into it other passages and ideas.

James tells us from the start what his topic is. “What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works? Can that faith save him?” (James 2:14). He’s not talking about “saved by works.” It’s just not there. He’s talking, without a doubt, about “saved by faith.” So what is he talking about?

To illustrate his point, he uses an example. “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace, be warmed and filled,’ without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” (James 2:15-16). James is not talking about saved by works. He’s not suggesting that taking care of people saves you. He’s not even suggesting we take care of the less fortunate. He’s saying, “If you say one thing but don’t act on it, ‘what good is that?’” He’s not talking about works that save, but faith that acts.

“So also faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead” (James 2:17). That is James’ point. Genuine, living faith definitely produces works. If it does not, it is dead faith, good for nothing.

He says this in multiple ways and we often miss it. He points out that works demonstrate faith and not vice versa (James 2:18). He points out that demons believe and are scared—the works that demonstrate they believe (James 2:19).

Finally, he points to Abraham. This is the part that confuses so many, but if you’re tracking him it only makes sense. “Abraham was justified by works” (James 2:21). “There, see? Justified by works.” Stop. Keep in mind the aim. “Faith produces evidence. Works demonstrate faith.” That’s what James is saying. He uses the word “justified” in the sense of “proven right” like Jesus did in describing wisdom as “justified” by her children (Luke 7:35). Abraham’s faith was proven to be genuine, real, living—by his works.

What about you? Is your faith demonstrated by a change in your life? Does your faith cause you to be different? If not, you might have dead faith, and that can't be a good thing.

News Weakly - 9/3/2026

Knife Control
In Slovakia a student attacked several people at a school—a mass stabbing. One woman was killed, another injured, and child was injured. The nation is demanding an immediate ban on knives. Oh … wait … that’s not right. Why do people demand that guns get banned but other instruments of murder get ignored?

Another Crisis Averted
The U.S. Senate passed the Protect College Sports Act. The bill helps enforce a cap on how much teams can pay their athletes, limits athletes to transferring no more than one time without penalty, and other vitally important issues. Because solving real problems for this nation just doesn’t rise to the level of their attention and actually fixing things isn’t in their job description, I guess.

Mission Accomplished
After more than 20 years of American troop presence in Iraq, the troops have withdrawn. The pull-out was instigated by the Biden administration and carried out by the Trump administration. Iraqis celebrated, but I don’t think anyone celebrated more than Iran whose goal it is to eliminate American troops in the Middle East. Iraqis plan to secure the country on their own as allies of both the U.S. and Tehran … like that could actually happen.

Mystery Solved
Now we know why Russia is having so much trouble taking Ukraine. In an incident this week, a Russian Su-35 shot down a Russian helicopter in a friendly fire incident, killing everyone on the helicopter. Apparently Russian weapons systems are effective … against Russian weapons systems. Russia is now seeking Su-35 control for the nation.

Peace at Any Price
Russian President Putin is promising to use every weapon available up to and including nuclear weapons to defend its territory. It’s the least you would expect from the peace-loving Russian president who only wants to get along with everyone.

Your Best Source for Fake News
After recent terrorist attacks, the FBI has assembled an elite team of investigators to see if these attacks might be linked to a common ideology. One theory is a lot of terrorists watched Friends, so maybe they’re on to something. In other news, Trump realized his gambit to change the Gulf of Mexico to the Gulf of America and Lake Ontario to Lake America was the solution to his latest dilemma. In order to win in the midterms, all he has to do is rename Democrats to Republicans and Republicans will win. Genius!! And, just for fun, because I remember these things, there’s the story of the 8-year-old Sunday School kid who showed up all excited, only to face severe disappointment when he discovered “Sword Drills” weren’t quite what they sounded like.

Must be true; I read it on the internet.

His Purpose in Our Pain

It’s a common theme in Christian music and Christian conversation. Life is tough. Things aren’t going how we want them to. We’re suffering and we don’t want to. Where is God?

Of course, the answer to that question varies. We might give up and say He’s not around, He doesn’t care, He’s not willing to answer. Or we might comfort one another: “Hang in there. He’ll get you through.” And a broad range of options in between.

The Bible is not silent on the subject. he Bible teaches that suffering exists because sin entered the world (Rom 8:22) and will, one day, be ended. Jesus specifically taught that suffering is not always the product of individual sin (John 9:1-3; Luke 13:1-5), though it is ultimately connected to the presence of sin in the fallen world.

And we know that He’s always there (Psa 23:4; Psa 46:1).

But at this point the Bible deviates from our normal “I’m not going to make it” or “I’ll hang on dearly until He rescues me” positions. James says to “Count it all joy” when we suffer (James 1:2-4). Paul says we can “rejoice in our sufferings” (Rom 5:3-5). Peter says our suffering identifies us with Christ (1 Peter 4:13; 2:21). Paul says in the worst of our suffering we are “more than conquerors” (Rom 8:35-37). God uses everything, including suffering, to shape us into His image (Rom 8:28-29).

Suddenly, both “I’m not going to make it” and “I’ll just hang on as long as I can” prove inadequate responses. The response Scripture is seeking is thanksgiving (1 Thess 5:18) and joy (James 1:2). We are supposed to be shouting our victories in the midst of our trials, knowing He’s winning—knowing He’s doing good things in us.

Jesus said, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly” (John 10:10). That sounds like neither “I’m falling” nor “I’m barely holding on.” It sounds like abundant life. Abundant life does not mean a life free from suffering. It means a life filled with God's purpose, presence, and transforming work even in suffering. Maybe we’re missing out when we spend so much time worrying about our suffering rather than watching eagerly for what God is doing at that moment—and every moment.

My Thoughts Are Not Your Thoughts

Jesus sometimes says things in Scripture that we don't expect. For instance, in John 10:26, Jesus said, "You do not believe because you are not among My sheep." That seems contrary to logic. Don’t we become His sheep by believing? But Jesus places being His sheep as a prerequisite for believing.

He says a lot of these things.

“Whoever is of God hears the words of God” (John 8:47). Wait, don’t we become “of God” by hearing the words of God?

“All that the Father gives Me will come to Me” (John 6:37). Human logic says we choose to come to Him, but He’s indicating that it’s predicated on the Father giving us ... and never fails.

He told Nicodemus, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God” (John 3:3). Didn’t it seem as if being “seeing the kingdom of God” produces being “born again”? That’s not what Jesus said.

In Mark 3, Jesus said something startling. He was accused of being of the devil, and His family came to take custody of Him. When He was told they were there, He indicated those around Him and said, “Here are My mother and My brothers! For whoever does the will of God, he is My brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:34-35). Doesn’t that dishonor His mother? Besides, we thought believing made us His brothers. He indicates doing the will of God indicates being in His family.

One might be forgiven for thinking that Jesus doesn’t think like you and I. Of course, it is, in fact, true. He doesn’t. So why do we keep trying to bend Him to our mold?

Apologies

We're in the process of moving to our new home ... which doesn't have internet thanks to the lovely "service industry" of today that doesn't ... you know ... provide service anymore. After (literally) 14 conversations with AI and humans, I've got installation scheduled and will be back up soon, but for now I'm using a borrowed line and can't write a full post for today. Please forgive my tardy posting of your comments and this stunted post in the interim.

Lessons from a Farmer

Jesus told the famous “Parable of the Sower” (Mark 4:1–20). He used the familiar imagery of a farmer scattering seed to illustrate the proclamation of the gospel. The sower throws seed. Some land on the path. Some land on rocky ground. Some land among thorns. Some land on good soil. Four types of soil—and only one produces fruit.

Jesus explains the parable. The seed is the Word of God. The sower is the one spreading the Word. The soil is the human heart. There are hardened hearts and shallow hearts, crowded hearts and fruitful hearts.

It’s a parable, not an allegory. An allegory is more complex; a parable conveys a focused meaning. So it’s dangerous to try to pull out more than Jesus intended. What do we see here?

Numerically, three out of four soils fail. More hearts will not benefit from the Word than will.

There is no attempt to modify the seed distribution. We shouldn’t be “evaluating soil” before sowing the Word. We don’t really know the condition of any given heart.

One interesting thing to note is that good soil always produces. The yield varies, but it never fails. Or, to put it another way, you can tell how good the soil is by the fruit it bears.

After Jesus told the parable, His disciples took Him aside to ask what it meant. His answer is surprising: “To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables, so that ‘they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven’” (Mark 4:11–12). Jesus is echoing Isaiah’s language of judicial hardening—the sobering reality that persistent resistance to God results in obscured understanding. It is apparently His expectation that not all will be saved.

A simple parable from the mouth of our Lord, yet full of profound and challenging truth.

An Oldie, Not Goodie

It’s embarrassing. I heard this joke in junior high. The fact that I can still recite it is embarrassing. It’s the kind of joke that should have been instantly deleted from memory … and, yet … here it is.

Have you heard of double petunia?

Well, a petunia is like a begonia.
A begonia is kind of sausage.
A sausage and battery is a crime.
Monkey’s crime trees.
Trees a crowd.
A rooster crowd and made a noise.
The noise is that thing between your eyes.
When you vote there are eyes and nays.
A colt nays.
And if you go out in the rain with a colt … you wake up with double petunia.

I know, I know … but … it stuck with me. It’s not my fault

Love is Tough

We danced around “tough love” last week and dabbled with the idea that “love isn’t always roses and sweetness,” but let’s look at that. Is that just an opinion or true?

We understand that love entails seeking the best for the loved one. What we often forget is that it isn’t always pleasant. And that’s biblical. Jesus never sinned (Heb 4:15). Yet when faced with the moneychangers in the Temple, He used a whip to drive them out. If the biblical basis for morality is love (Rom 13:8) and Jesus never sinned, then that outburst wasn’t sin — and was based on love.

But we don’t have to reason it out. The author of Hebrews is explicit: “For the Lord disciplines the one He loves, and chastises every son whom He receives” (Heb 12:6). Solomon was equally clear: “Whoever spares the rod hates his son, but he who loves him is diligent to discipline him” (Prov 13:24). It isn’t guesswork. It’s clear. There are times when genuine love requires harsh measures.

Sometimes we need to take this difficult approach in order to rescue a loved one. They’re headed in the wrong direction. They need to turn. It’s not an expression of anger or rejection. It’s love.

We rarely think of love as ever harsh. That’s because we’ve bought into this “warm affection” definition. It’s simply not true. Love is deeply concerned about the best for the loved one, but that doesn’t mean it is always pleasant. We have our own saying: “No pain, no gain.” It is often true, and love isn’t always pleasurable, but it is always intended for the best.

News Weakly - 9/26/2026

A Little Confused
Apparently President Trump has rejected Iran’s seven-day cease-fire proposal. Instead, Trump plans to restart bombing after the midterm elections. My confusion is this—what does one have to do with the other? I mean, if this president can find time to deal with renaming Lake Ontario and New Mexico, why can’t he deal with elections and blow things up at the same time? And, look, if he isn’t starting again until after the midterm elections, isn’t that more than seven days? It’s all so confusing.

The Government We Don’t Trust
The Supreme Court gave the Donald the go ahead to continue using the DHS SAVE database for verifying voter rolls for potential noncitizens. A lower court blocked it, but the Supreme Court reversed that ruling. Apparently a government should have a listing of citizens in its domain that can be used to verify … citizenship. Others are pretty sure you can’t allow a government to have that kind of power … or something like that. I always thought the same when the teacher was calling roll in school. “Is it fair she would know who is supposed to be in this class?”

Real Humanitarians
Russia continues its humanitarian mission to kill civilians in Ukraine. This week they hit a steelmaker, killing seven civilians. The United Nations doesn’t seem to mind. A few less Ukrainians isn’t “inhumane.”

A Staggering Statistic
Canada is reporting that, currently, assisted suicides make up 10% of all deaths in Canada. Mind you, COVID killed less than 2% of those who got it and in Canada legal suicide is killing at a rate of 10% of all deaths. The story says, “These people are dying to leave Canada.” Was that an attempt at humor?

Fake News to Make Your Day
On that “assisted suicide” story out of Canada, the Bee reported that Canada clarified that “assisted suicide” meant “totally unsolicited murder,” which cleared things up for a lot of people. In politics, there is a movement afoot to nominate Alexandra Ocasio Cortez (AOC) for president in 2028 (actual story). The Bee responded with the story of a man who’s taking solace in the belief that AI will destroy humanity before that happens. Could she actually win? Don’t worry; we won’t live that long. Finally, there’s the story of the 81st General Assembly of the United Nations where they still want people to take them seriously. Fortunately, no one is taking them seriously on that.

Must be true; I read it on the internet.

Tough Love

No, I’m not addressing the topic of “tough love” as we normally use the phrase. I’m addressing the idea that love isn’t easy.

When we look at the ways love is expressed in biblical terms, it turns out it’s rather challenging. Paul wrote that God demonstrated His love for us by sending His Son to die for us (Rom 5:8). Jesus gave up Himself for us (Php 2:5-8). Funny thing—at no point is there any indication that this love is a warm, fuzzy feeling. It is a choice on God’s part for people Scripture calls “enemies” (Rom 5:10; Rom 8:7). So the love that is expressed for us by God is a sacrificial love—a love that faces outward rather than inward.

Then Jesus comes along and tells His disciples, “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another” (John 13:34). How has He loved us? Sacrificially. Selflessly. His love wasn’t aimed at what He was getting, but what He was giving. “Love that way,” He told His disciples.

Husbands are commanded to love their wives as Christ loved the church by giving Himself up for us (Eph 5:25). Paul told the Philippian Christians to have the same mind as Christ who gave Himself up (Php 2:5-8). Repeatedly we’re told to die to self (e.g., Luke 9:23; Gal 2:20; Rom 6:6, 11; Rom 12:1; Col 3:3; Gal 5:24; Matt 16:24). It is our ongoing aim in our sanctification (Rom 8:13; 1 Peter 4:1-2; Php 3:8).

Love seems warm and friendly as long as you’re keeping the world’s “warm and fuzzy” version of love. The biblical version is not natural to humans who are self-centered by nature. God’s version of love—the love we’re commanded to perform—is a love that looks outward and sets self aside in favor of the best interests of others. That looks different in different situations and it’s not easy, but it’s necessary. But if we have that faulty view of love as “warm affection,” we’ll never love the way we’re supposed to love—the way God loves us.

All We Need?

The Beatles said “All you need is love,” and then they broke up. (Larry Norman, Reader’s Digest on the 1972 album Only Visiting This Planet).

We just spent time discussing “speaking the truth in love” and the difficulty that presents. One commenter noted it didn’t mean “always speaking in meek and soft ways.” Another called it “complex.” Whatever it is, it is a command and, therefore, important.

As it turns out, love itself is important. All the law and prophets depend on love (Matt 22:37-40). Love is the fulfillment of the law (Rom 13:8-10; Gal 5:14). The two commands, love the Lord you God with all your heart and love your neighbor as yourself, are the two highest commands (Matt 22:37-40). It’s important.

Paul wrote that if we are gifted in all the best possible gifts and don’t have love we’re worse than “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal”—we are nothing (1 Cor 13:1-3). It’s important.

Jesus commanded His disciples to “love one another: just as I have loved you” and then said it was the hallmark of being His disciple (John 13:34-35). It’s important.

John warned, “Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love” (1 John 4:8). It’s important.

But we don’t seem to grasp biblical love. I know I’ve written about it before, but it seems as if we’re constantly nodding our heads and saying, “Yes, that’s what it is,” and then walking away and forgetting. We know it’s not the world’s definition—a feeling of warm affection—if it’s a command because you can’t command a feeling. It’s a choice. Only a choice can be commanded.

Paul explains exactly what he means in that 1 Corinthians 13 reference. “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends” (1 Cor 13:4-8). That is not a warm feeling. It is not predicated on the loved one. We don’t love because they deserve it. Jesus said we were to love our enemies (Matt 5:44; Luke 6:26, 35). And He practiced it by dying for sinners (Rom 5:8-10).

In the end, biblical love is neither sentiment nor softness but the steady, self-giving resolve to seek another’s good in obedience to God. It is the shape of Christ’s own life, the fruit of the Spirit’s work in us, and the fulfillment of everything God has ever commanded. When we speak truth in love, act in love, endure in love, and sacrifice in love, we are not merely performing a virtue — we are reflecting the very heart of God. And without that love, all our gifts, insights, and efforts collapse into noise. With it, we walk in the life for which we were redeemed.

A New Word for You

Maybe not new, but certainly uncommon. The word is "mondegreen." What is it? A mondegreen is a mishearing or misinterpretation of a phrase in a way that gives it a new meaning ... most commonly song lyrics.

Misheard lyrics have a way of becoming little stories in their own right, and when you gather them together, they read almost like a portrait of how the human ear improvises meaning. What stands out is how confidently the mind fills in familiar words even when the singer never actually sang them. We hear what fits our world, not necessarily what’s on the record.

Take the perennial favorite — “It’s gonna be May” — a line that owes its fame to the way Justin Timberlake’s clipped delivery turns me into something that sounds like a calendar announcement. Or the way Taylor Swift’s rapid phrasing in Blank Space transforms “Got a long list of ex‑lovers” into a strangely plausible crowd of “Starbucks lovers.” The ear grabs the nearest familiar phrase and runs with it.

Some mishearings have become cultural folklore. Elton John’s “Hold me closer, Tony Danza” is so widespread that it’s almost a second, unofficial lyric to Tiny Dancer. Jimi Hendrix’s “’Scuse me while I kiss this guy” has been repeated so often that Hendrix himself joked about it onstage. And Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “There’s a bathroom on the right” is so persistent that John Fogerty occasionally sings it intentionally for laughs.

Other misheard lines are simply the product of muddy consonants or the singer’s style. Kurt Cobain’s raw delivery in Smells Like Teen Spirit gives us “Here we are now, in containers” instead of “entertain us.” The Eagles’ smooth opening to Hotel California becomes “Cool Whip in my hair” when “cool wind” blurs into something more culinary. And Johnny Nash’s clear, bright melody in I Can See Clearly Now still can’t stop listeners from hearing “Lorraine has gone” instead of “the rain has gone.”

What ties all these mondegreens together is the way they reveal the brain’s eagerness to make sense of sound. We latch onto what’s familiar, what’s funny, or what fits the rhythm, and once a misheard lyric catches on, it spreads faster than the correct one ever did. They’re mistakes, yes—but they’re also tiny, accidental acts of creativity.

Penal Substitutionary Atonement from the Red Letters

The “Theory of Atonement” most referenced in Scripture is the concept we call Penal Substitutionary Atonement. From Old to New Testament, it is the consistent message that someone has to die for our sin in our place or we have to do it ourselves. So from the Fall in the garden of Eden all the way through the New Testament, the same story surfaces. Still, we get voices who challenge the notion that we “are justified by His grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by His blood, to be received by faith” (Rom 3:24-25). Words like “redemption” and “propitiation” and “by His blood” leave no room for doubt. “Nope!” they assure us. “Never happened.” They’ll even claim it’s not biblical. Jesus disagreed.

When we listen carefully to Jesus’ own words, without importing Paul or the prophets, we find that the shape of His self understanding already carries the full weight of penal substitution. Jesus does not leave us to infer the meaning of His death from later apostolic reflection; He interprets His death as a necessary, substitutionary, judgment averting act offered for sinners.

Jesus begins with the language of ransom: “The Son of Man came … to give His life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). In His own vocabulary, His death is a payment made on behalf of others. A ransom presupposes bondage, cost, and release. Jesus identifies Himself as the one who supplies the cost, and He does so for many. The logic is transactional and representative. He gives His life in the place of those who cannot secure their own freedom.

He reinforces this substitutionary pattern with the shepherd imagery: “The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep” (John 10:11). This is not the language of mere example or inspiration. It is the language of one life given for another. The shepherd’s death is not incidental; it is protective, shielding the flock from what would otherwise destroy them. Jesus places His own life between the sheep and the danger that threatens them.

Jesus also speaks of His death in terms that unmistakably echo the Old Testament’s portrayal of divine judgment. In Gethsemane He speaks of “the cup” He must drink (Matt 26:39), the very image the prophets used for the cup of God’s wrath (cf. Isa 51:17; Jer 25:15). He asks whether it might pass from Him, and the Father’s silence is its own answer. If forgiveness could be secured without the Son’s death, the cup would pass. But Jesus submits to the Father’s will precisely because the cup must be drunk. His death is not simply tragic; it is necessary. It satisfies what must be satisfied.

This necessity is woven into His repeated statements that the Son of Man “must” suffer and be killed (Mark 8:31). The verb is not accidental. Jesus understands His death as the fulfillment of the Father’s purpose, not as the outcome of political misfortune. He goes to the cross because the Father wills it, and the Father wills it because sin requires judgment.

Jesus ties all of this together in His interpretation of the Last Supper: “This is my blood of the covenant, poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matt 26:28). Here He speaks plainly. His blood is poured out, not simply as a sign of covenant renewal, but for the forgiveness of sins. Forgiveness is not a matter of divine leniency; it is the removal of guilt. Jesus declares that His blood accomplishes that removal. His death is the means by which forgiveness is secured.

Finally, Jesus identifies Himself with Isaiah 53 when He says, “He was numbered with the transgressors” (Luke 22:37), and insists that this Scripture “must be fulfilled” in Him. Isaiah 53 is the clearest Old Testament articulation of penal substitution: the Servant bears the iniquity of the people, suffers their chastisement, and secures their peace. Jesus does not treat this passage as a vague foreshadowing; He claims it as the pattern of His own mission.

Taken together, Jesus’ own words form a coherent and compelling account of His death. He presents Himself as the one who offers His life as a ransom (Mark 10:45), who lays it down for the sheep (John 10:11), who drinks the cup of divine wrath (Matt 26:39), who dies because the Father wills it (Mark 8:31), who pours out His blood for the forgiveness of sins (Matt 26:28), and who fulfills the prophecy of the suffering Servant (Luke 22:37). In His own teaching, the cross is a necessary, substitutionary, wrath‑averting act by which sinners are forgiven and reconciled to God. The doctrine of penal substitution is not an apostolic construction placed upon Jesus; it is the meaning Jesus Himself gives to His death. To deny it is to deny Jesus … and the rest of Scripture.

A Case Study

We’ve had some discussion on “prescriptive vs descriptive” and looked at it in a couple of posts. I thought I’d take a topic that often runs into this concept and causes division and see if we can’t “rightly handle” the Word to come to a biblical conclusion. I thought I’d just jump right in and try “divorce” as a case study. Note, first, that "descriptive" was the issue in the Pharisees' argument with Jesus on divorce: “Why then did Moses command one to give a certificate of divorce and to send her away?” (Matt 19:7). They understood what Moses did to be prescriptive; Jesus didn't. He said to them, “From the beginning it was not so” (Matt 19:8). Thus, I think "divorce" makes a good starting case to examine.

When we talk about divorce in Scripture, we have to keep the tension of prescriptive vs. descriptive firmly in mind. The Bible does not flatten these categories, and if we do, we will end up either permitting what God forbids or forbidding what God permits. Scripture gives us both descriptions of what happened in a fallen world and prescriptions of what God commands His people. When we take both seriously, a coherent biblical ethic emerges.

Scripture begins with a description that is also foundational: “A man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” That’s Genesis 2:24. It is from the beginning, and it is referenced both by Jesus and Paul as authoritative and definitional. That is, it is descriptive of creation, but Jesus treats it as prescriptive—God’s design for marriage. From the beginning, marriage was intended to be a lifelong, covenantal union. That’s the baseline.

From there, Scripture gives us plenty of descriptive material showing what happens when human sin enters the picture. Abraham and Sarah’s marriage is riddled with conflict. Jacob’s marriages are a tangle of jealousy and pain. Israel’s history is full of broken homes and fractured relationships. None of these are commands; they are simply the record of human failure. They show us that divorce and marital chaos are always tied to sin, never to God’s ideal.

Even the Mosaic law acknowledges divorce—not as a good thing, but as a reality in a hard hearted people. Deuteronomy 24:1–4 regulates divorce, not because God approves of it, but because He protects the vulnerable. That regulation is prescriptive for Israel’s civil life, but descriptive for us. It tells us something about God’s heart: He cares for the one who is sinned against.

Malachi makes that heart explicit. Israel was divorcing their wives treacherously, and God says He hates it. That’s not a suggestion; that’s divine evaluation. The narrative shows Israel’s sin, and God’s commentary shows His posture: covenant faithfulness matters to Him.

When we come to the New Testament, the prescriptive material becomes even clearer. Jesus restricts divorce to cases of sexual immorality. He roots His teaching in creation, not in cultural practice. He says Moses permitted divorce because of hardness of heart, but that from the beginning it was not so. Jesus is not giving Israel a new law; He is restoring God’s original design.

Paul adds another prescriptive element. In 1 Corinthians 7, he forbids believers from divorcing one another. But he also recognizes a situation Jesus did not address directly: abandonment by an unbelieving spouse. In that case, Paul says the believer is “not enslaved.” That is not a loophole; it is a pastoral recognition that covenant requires two participants. If one destroys the covenant, the other is not held hostage.

So when we put the descriptive and prescriptive material together, the picture is remarkably consistent. God designed marriage to be permanent. Divorce is always tied to sin. God never commands divorce; He only permits it under narrow circumstances—sexual immorality and abandonment. He regulates it to protect the vulnerable. He condemns treacherous, selfish, or frivolous divorce. And He calls His people to reflect His covenant faithfulness in their marriages.

The descriptive texts show us the tragic reality of human sin. The prescriptive texts show us God’s will. Together, they teach us that divorce is never God’s ideal, sometimes permitted because of sin, and always treated with gravity. If we are going to handle God’s Word rightly, we must let both kinds of texts speak—what happened, and what God commands—so that our conclusions align with His intentions rather than our own.