This essay is also available in an (AI-free) video format here.

Would Jesus charge for a book He had written?

For months, this question nagged at me, but not because it was hard to answer, but because it was so easy.

Oh sure, we can say something like, “he did write a book, it’s called the Bible, and I bought mine for $19.99”, but that’s just an immature response that misses the point of the question. Plus, we honor organizations who work to give Bibles away for free because we know, deep in our souls, that God is pleased.1

No, Jesus would not put a monetary barrier between Him and His people, in any way, shape, or form. If he had written a book of parables, no one would be required to pay for it.

What nagged at me—what was driving me semi-crazy—wasn’t really about whether or not Jesus would have people pay for a book He’d written (or an admission for a sermon, or a healing, or whatever else). No, the reason I kept coming back to this was because I knew I wasn’t like that. I hadn’t conformed to Him in that way.

You see, I would tell you the Lord had given me a book to write and He had helped me write it. I would tell you the novel I wrote was something God had commanded for me to do, then supported me through it.

But if you wanted to read it, you had to pay.

An Ultimatum of Sorts

Let me use my own testimony as a template for a moment.

In June of 2025, Living Room Disciple launched our book imprint: Living Tome Publishing. A few weeks later we launched our first novel, The Tragedy of Oli Ricker. It went on sale on Amazon and other eBook distributors for $9.99, and a few months later was in print for about $18.99.

It would be about three months or so before the thought struck that… maybe Jesus wouldn’t charge for this book.

Oh, I feel the book is worth that much money, for sure. But I also felt that:

• I wrote the book out of an obedience to the Lord to write.

• The Lord gave me the wisdom, talent, and endurance, to write and edit the book.

• The Lord provided community to bring the book to excellence.

• That those who read the book will become (in a very small way) more like Jesus.

• And, that God is my actual provider.

When all of these factors came together… something started to rise up in the bowels of my soul that I couldn’t silence. And it took the form of the question, “Would Jesus charge for a book He had written?”

At first, I hated the question because I knew that whatever answer I was led to, I would need to follow that or make a conscious decision to do something Jesus wouldn’t do. In other words, if Jesus wouldn’t charge for a book, I shouldn’t either.

And that terrified me.

So I did what anyone would do. I vocalized my thoughts to those I love and trust in the hopes of someone giving me the justification needed to avoid the end I was so scared of.

One particular counter-point was faithfully brought up.

A Worker. His Wage. Our Lies.

“A worker deserves his wage.”

This often quoted passage is seen twice in Scripture. The first time, Jesus is speaking to His disciples and is sending them out as forerunners of His ministry to go and proclaim His coming and to heal the sick. He is telling them to travel with functionally nothing, and to accept the hospitality of a family in the town they are to go to. The “wage” the worker is given is simply the food provided by the family (and the place to sleep).

Here is the full passage so you can see for yourself.

What is so interesting in this passage is that the “wage” is paid by one family in the town, and the ministry of healing and teaching is given to all.

Jesus is not saying they should charge for their ministry (i.e. host conferences with fees at the door or write their message down and sell it, etc.). Jesus is saying that His disciples should trust that God will provide for their needs through the generosity of others, and that they shouldn’t feel guilty or ashamed for accepting such generosity. They are working for the Kingdom, and the King is paying them a wage… through the generosity of others.2

I’m bringing this up for a very important reason. If I were to say, “[name of famous Christian author] should give away their books for free,” then someone may reasonably say, “no, because a worker deserves his wage.”

Except, that’s not how Jesus seemed to intend that verse. Jesus was not telling His disciples to charge for their ministry, He was emboldening his disciples to receive the generous donations of others and do the work for free.

A worker does deserve his wage. But if we work for the Kingdom, our wage will be paid to us from the King.

This isn’t me saying it is a “sin” when a Christian charges for their art, only that we need to take a deep breath and prepare for some more nuance. Maybe charging isn’t the only way. Maybe it isn’t even the best.

How Else Can We Pay the Bills?

Practicality shouldn’t be ignored, it just also shouldn’t be prioritized.

Many people gave financially to Jesus’ ministry. He and his disciples had a moneybag.3 But financial support was given, it seems, as a response to Jesus’ ministry.

Ministry first. Financial support second.

That means that, surely, Jesus sometimes did miracles, taught, and ministered without any financial compensation. Other times, it’s conceivable that the family of a healed person gave a financial contribution to Jesus afterward.

I think us Christian artists may do well to expand our imaginations wide enough to actually believe that the Spirit still works in this way. That maybe, just maybe, we can use our gifts as an act of service and love first, then trust our Father to provide financially.

I think of an organization I respect deeply, the BibleProject. They create animated videos, high quality podcasts, and virtual classes. Everything they do is expensive. Animation specifically is very expensive.

And they have never charged for any of it. Ever. They don’t even run ads on their YouTube videos.

And God has seen fit to bless their work and financially provide for them.

What if we viewed God as big enough to do the same for us an our art? What if no Christians put helpful Substack articles behind paywalls? What if authors had free versions of their books available? What if we put our work on YouTube ad free, or even paid money to give our work away.

What if we actually thought God was big enough to pay our bills despite our reckless generosity?

Some Nuance.

We know that God’s people have participated in the marketplaces in which they have been called since as long as the Church has been around. Buying and selling goods has never been a sin, though there are sinful ways to do it.

Still… art and other works of ministry stand apart in my mind.4

One of my dear friends, Michael Rosado, performs music under the name Wind Words. He never charges for his music because he feels its a gift to be given. That isn’t because it’s free for him to make it, and it isn’t because the music is “worthless”. It’s very expensive for him to produce his songs, and it requires much time and emotional energy… it’s genuinely worthy. Worthy of your time, your attention, and your money. He just refuses to put finances up as a barrier.

Through him I’ve met a whole community of artists who seemingly just look for ways to give away what God has given them. Artists like Kevin Schlereth, who never charges for music or admission to his shows.

None of these artists are rich in material goods, but I suspect the wealthiest artists in the world today will look upon the riches they will receive in the Kingdom to come and realize only then how God’s economy actually works.

And that is the crux of it all: God’s resurrection economy.5

One day I will die and one day I will rise again. On that day of resurrection, I will face judgment. My sins are covered by the blood of Jesus and I will not receive the punishment that I deserve for my sin, but I will still face a reckoning for how I lived as His disciple. And that reckoning will determine my “treasures in Heaven” and is when “the last will be first”.

And honestly, I don’t think I could handle the idea that maybe, just maybe, God wanted me to give my story to someone… and I put a stumbling block in the way. This doesn’t mean He couldn’t overcome that block, only that I would be ashamed to have placed it there to begin with.

But all of this only matters if I truly believe that God is Provider.

And perhaps that is the next stage of my own growth, to allow myself to be pushed to the point of desperately giving away all that God has given me, and believe beyond doubt that my King will ensure his worker is paid the wage he is due.

And if that wage is not paid in this life, all the better. The next one will be longer, by far.

Starting Today

So, starting today, electronic versions of every book I write will be made freely available to all who want it.

The books will still be available for purchase at major retailers for those with means who would like to support, but that will not be required any longer.

Our Substack will stay free, forever, but we will still graciously accept financial support from those God calls.

Is this commitment from me life altering?

Probably not for you, but it is for me. It’s a small way for me to join my brothers and sisters who were already here—believing they are called to be generous and God will provide. It’s a way for me to say to my Father, “I trust I’m your worker, and you’ll pay my wages.”

Regarding LT Publishing

My commitment is personal and bound up in certain convictions that I do not believe I should put on others. As a publishing company, authors will never be pressured into following suit. This means not all the books that we publish will be released for free.

So… Should All Christian Artists Do This?

I don’t know.

Still, I can’t personally imagine that there will be a follower of Jesus who gives their art away and, at the resurrection, will hear God will say, “Well, John, really wish you would have tried to sell more copies of your book. I’m really disappointed in you. I had so many blessings you could have had if only you’d hadn’t been so generous.”

But it should be noted, I’m surely wrong about a great many things. But if I am going to get something wrong, I want to choose the safe side of failure. I want to throw myself so thoroughly before the Lord, and have my failures come from good intent and too much naivety.

In other words, God may not be requiring me to give away the books I write. But He is also not sitting in Heaven biting his nails and wondering why I’m screwing up so bad and how He could possibly redeem this situation. No, I think it is far more likely that He is smiling.

And to make Him smile, I will do anything.

All that I am for all that You are, my Lord
All that I have for all that You are6

This essay is also available in an (AI-free) video format here.

I am a Christian and I write fiction.1 Do I, therefore, write “Christian Fiction”?

For me, there is no term as strange and vague as “Christian [insert type of art]”2. For most of human history, art was inherently a way of processing and exploring the divine. All art was (and perhaps is) religious.

Today—through many machinations and interesting movements of history—we have arrived at a time in which “Christian” is a term used for a slice of consumers in the Western market that are primed to buy a specific type of product. How we got here is an interesting study, I’m sure, but not the purpose of this article.

What I’m curious about, is how we, as artists, should consider and define “Christian art”. And, for the sake of this article, I’ll hone in exclusively on the art of storytelling and propose how I think we, as writers, should view the term “Christian Fiction”.

But First, a Story

I was a senior at UCF, taking a course titled “Advanced Fiction Writing”. The course centered around a capstone project—a 20,000 word short story that we would revise throughout the course. Nearing my final draft, my professor sat me down in his office and said, “Phil, you are already writing at a publishable level.”

A “publishable level”.

As someone aspiring to be published (in an era where blogging was the only form of independent publishing), you can imagine the sudden burst of elation I felt at my professor’s words. Alas, it was not long lived.

He continued, “But we need to tone down this religious stuff.”

Important context: I was about a year into following Jesus and about as zealous as new believers come. Because of a love for Jesus and a deep desire to make “Christian fiction”, I was fairly heavy-handed with my religious themes.

Now, in 2026, a statement like my professor’s would seem inflammatory3, but I wasn’t insulted nor did I feel persecuted. I felt challenged, and I wanted to understand. The professor and I had an excellent conversation that formed me well, and I am incredibly grateful for his willingness to push me.

You see, my work up to that point demonstrated a solid enough understanding of imagery, character development, pacing, etc. But I was so fearful that I would make something “secular” or “meaningless”, I was forcing the story to take on Christian lessons and allegory so obvious it was painful to read.

In other words, my stories never rang “true”. The felt forced, fabricated. The felt like lies.

Years later, I think I would rephrase what that professor said. It wasn’t that I needed to “tone down the religious stuff”. It was that I needed to tell deeply true stories, and trust the Lord to use them.

Christian Fiction is…

Christian Fiction are stories that, at the deepest and most fundamental level of human experience, are true.4

That’s it. The grand reveal.

Still, I think this definition takes some digesting, and it contains within it some nuance… and maybe some problems.

To tell a fictional story means to tell a story that has not, in the literal sense, happened. But when a writer sits down and pens a story that has not happened in the literal sense, and yet still aims to capture some deeply true thing about God, others, or this world… they are engaging in a beautiful act of truth-telling.

This was my experience as a reader when I finished my first read through of Till We Have Faces5 and wept. The story of Orual’s journey was fictitious (did not happen in the literal sense), and yet was a near-perfect mirror to my own life up to that point (true on the level of human experience).

It was true, in that the story brought me into intimate proximity with the Truth.

This is art at its most Christian.

But it has to be made by Christians, right?

The first “problem” my proposed definition brings up is this: it does not specify that only Christians can make “Christian Fiction”. But of course, that is implied… isn’t it?

There is a near universal experience Christians have when we encounter a piece of art that is so profoundly “Christian” yet we know nothing of the artist’s beliefs. Diligently, we hop on Google and type, “is [artist name] a Christian?” or “what does [artist name] believe?” or something else. I’ve done it. You probably have too.6

Something in us wants to know if these people “really are” Christian, or if we have just been fooled into seeing something “Christian” where it wasn’t. I did this after hearing "Heavydirtysoul” by Twenty One Pilots and thinking, “there is no way these dudes don’t know Jesus.” Still, I wouldn’ let the art speak for itself. Something in me felt like I had to know if the band was “Christian” in order to know if I was consuming the art as it was intended.

Sometimes we’re happily surprised and find out these people are fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Sometimes we end in ambiguity (turns out not everyone’s religious beliefs are on the internet). Sometimes we find that the artist is not at all a Christian, and then we may even feel “betrayed”.

The reality is, I cannot always be sure someone who professes faith in Jesus really is a believer. And sometimes God uses a non-believer to do His work. I haven’t the slightest clue who are all the people who created the film Schindler’s List, but that movie had a profound influence on my imagination being shaped more like the Beatitudes recorded in Matthew chapter 5.7

And just because someone is following Jesus, doesn’t mean they are at a place of maturity (or are maybe just not called) to make art that can dig deep and expose Truth. Personally, it took me ten years of diligently following the Lord and studying the novel-writing craft before I believe I could partner with the Lord in writing stories that are true on the most fundamental level of human experience.

In the interim, the art I made was often very “un-Biblical” in that it was sanitized to the point of being fake.8

An Example

Consider two films side by side.

Now, I have been a huge Star Wars fan in the past9, and I can tell you that the lightsaber duel at the end of Episode I: The Phantom Menace is top tier. Beautifully choreographed with fantastic cinematography, and a killer musical score behind it. But if you think about it for just a second… it’s also sad. People engaging in an act of violence so savage as to literally chop one another limb from limb… it’s horrific.

But the movie doesn’t make you think of a lightsaber duel as a horrific and sad thing. You are not led into emotions of disgust or grief. On the surface—when viewing the film as it was intended—you see this fight as enjoyably and fun. So much so that I (and tens of thousands of other young boys) asked for a retractable toy lightsaber for Christmas so I, too, could pretend to chop up my brothers and sisters for fun.10

Violence and death is nothing like what Star Wars portrays it as.

It is, however, much like how The Hunger Games books and movies portray it. In this series (books and film, both), death is ugly and tragic. And the process of becoming someone who can kill is dehumanizing, so much so that our main character has to see other humans as animals in order to kill them. Getting to know people (seeing the humanity in others) is perhaps the number one thing that problematizes her chances for survival. To the best of my knowledge, The Hunger Game films did not spawn a line of toy weapons that children wanted to use to reenact death in their own home.11

This isn’t me saying “Star Wars is terrible and you shouldn’t watch it”.

It is me saying, that Star Wars isn’t true art, and thus not “Christian” in the deepest sense of the word.12

Whether or not a book is made by a Christian or is written for a market of people who identify as Christian is very much irrelevant to what I believe is the true definition of “Christian Fiction”.

The question is simply, “is the story true?”

And Yes, Being a Christian Matters

It is true that one does not have to be a Christian to make something that is true at the deepest and most fundamental level of human experience, but I do think it’s the only way to do it consistently.

You see, true art is most often created at the intersection of discipleship to Jesus and a disciplined pursuit of craft.

When a human is following Jesus as a disciple and—because of a calling from Jesus—they are diligently working to hone their craft, then they are bound to create Christian art over and over again.

But both discipleship to Jesus and discipline to the craft are vital components. Neither can be sacrificed and still leave a legacy of Christian art (as we have defined it here).

When there is discipleship but no discipline to the craft, you get art that is poor and flavorless. It turns people away, and rightfully so. Of course there must be a stage of this in someone’s life, and we need a safe community who will lovingly bear with us (like my professor in college). But that community is not loving if they say, “this is good” when it is truly bad. They are loving when they say, “this is bad, but I love you and want to help you make it better”.

Excellence in craft with no discipleship to Jesus is worse, because it most often (though not always) leads to art that is both sweet and deadly. Like perfectly grown and processed tobacco that is “artistic” in its creation and presentation… it is still a carrier of cancer and death.13

But we do not have to choose a lesser evil.

Christians who take discipleship to Jesus seriously will love their neighbor well, and loving your neighbor well means learning the craft.

I can’t bake. Not at all. I’m terrible at it, and so it isn’t loving for me to make a cake and ask my community to eat it just because “I’m Christian”. I either need to learn to bake well and then serve my community through baking, or I need to do something else.

Writing stories is similar. Simply not everyone is called to it, and those who are called will not be good at the start. Stories should not be shared widely until the writer has grown into excellence. It simply isn’t loving to market a poor book and ask people you don’t know to read it. A new writer needs a small group of people who will love them enough to read their crappy fiction, tell them why it sucks, and then celebrate when the next draft is less terrible. And then, after years and years, that writer will write a story that makes—for just a little while—that close-knit community forget who wrote it. The story will come alive and the writer will disappear… and that’s how they know they are ready to write for a wider community.

Everyone is called to disciple under Jesus.

Not everyone is called to write stories. Those who are called must place themselves under discipline to the craft so that they may serve and love others well.

This essay is also available in an (AI-free) video format here.

In the past year, I attended a number of Christian writer’s conferences and expos. As things usually go with events like these, certain themes emerged from the booths, speakers, and the books on display.

In the larger publishing world, Romantasy1 was having its moment, so (in typical evangelical fashion) most conferences were filled to the brim with Romantasy-for-Christians.

To be clear, the marketing was not “Buy this book because it is Romantasy for Christians”. Instead, everything was labelled as “clean” or “without spice”.2 The idea being, “this story is just like the Fourth Wing, but without the explicit sex scenes”.

In other words, Romantasy… for Christians.

In a way, it’s simply what many of us have born witness to our whole lives. Growing up through the 90’s in an evangelical family and community, I was often given books, movies, and music that was the “Christian” version of whatever was popular. I literally played a Noah’s Ark game on Nintendo where you platformed like Mario to save animals (probably two-by-two)3.

By the time I was in high school, I was so sick of the ”knock off” versions of art, I couldn’t wait to get out from under my parents’ gaze and watch R-rated movies, play violent video games, listen to hard rock, and read Harry Potter. I wanted the “real” thing.

Perhaps the only difference now is that Christians are “knocking off” what is already exceptionally poor art.

No one (and I mean no one) has ever read a novel from Rebecca Yarros or Sarah J. Maas and thought to themselves, “ah yes, this was such excellent literature I’m sure this will be studied in future English classes for generations to come.” Instead, these books will fall into the uncomfortable shame of later years when current “fans” have mild heart attacks when they find their twelve year old reading their old copy of A Court of Thorns and Roses.4

Christians attempting to create “safe” or “clean” versions of this type of art is sad, for it lends credence to the art through the compliment of imitation. And on top of that, it is misidentifying what makes this art “non-Christian”.

• Sex scenes are not un-Biblical.

• Gory violence is not un-Biblical.

• Homosexuality, incest, and all other forms of sexual deviance is not un-Biblical.

No, each of these are very much in the Bible. In fact, we (as followers of Jesus) must engage with these scene (even at a young age) as a part of our formative process to become more like Jesus. If we were to skip whole sections of Scripture (which no one says they do…) then we would become malformed believers indeed.

The presence of “dirty” content is not what makes something “un-Biblical” or “anti-Christian” or whatever.

It is what the art says about the content, that matters.

In other words, art that says “sex outside of marriage is good” is un-Biblical. But art that pretends it doesn’t happen, and thus never meaningly addresses it, is lying and is thus also “un-Biblical”.

Less About the “Content” and More About the “Lens”

I am currently re-reading The Hunger Games. I can still recall when the movies released, sending the book into a moment of mega-popularity. I asked someone if they were going to see the film, and they looked at me with disgust. When I asked what was wrong, her answer was simple. Children kill each other, so she could never condone going to see the movie.

Her look told me she was very much judging that I was excited to see the film.

Suzanne Collins, if the internet can be believed5, is a devout Catholic. Although I cannot attest to whether or not that is true, I can say that the original Hunger Games trilogy is profoundly Christian6.

Not because there is child violence, but because of what the literature (and movies) tells you about violence. When someone dies in the Hunger Games, you as the reader (or movie goer) never feel excited or eager. Action sequences aren’t “fun”. They’re sad. Villains aren’t pure evil and the heroes are complicated, selfish, and broken.

In other words, the stories are profoundly “Biblical” because it leads the reader to draw the same conclusions about humanity and violence that the Bible does.

That, and that alone, is what makes something “Christian”.

Art, whether or not made by or for those in the Church, is Christian not when it is clean, but when it leads the reader to see the world through a Biblical lens. And you can’t help someone see something through a Biblical lens when an artist (or a gatekeeper such as a publisher) refuses to engage in content such as sex or violence.

If your standards of “cleanliness” would prohibit you from including content found in the Scriptures, you aren’t creating art that is “Christian”, you are just creating art which attempts to make money from an evangelical consumer block.

It isn’t honoring to the Lord. It’s fleecing His flock.

Gratuitous violence isn’t necessarily the problem, it’s the conclusion that violence leads the reader/viewer to concluding. In John Wick or a Steven King novel, the conclusions is that the violence is interesting and fun. But watch Schindler’s List or read The Hunger Games, and you’ll thirst for righteousness and pray the Kingdom comes.

“Clean” versions of violence (maybe consider Star Wars, for example) simply make violence feel whitewashed and safe. In a way, it forms us more like the gratuitous violence portrayed by Gladiator or some other R-rated film—it makes violence seem cool.

Sex scenes and “spice” aren’t necessarily the problem, it’s the conclusion that sex outside of a loving covenant of marriage leads to life and fulfillment. Fifty Shades of Gray reduces humans to their most base and perverse, treating humans as though they are valued for little more than the pleasure their bodies can bring/receive, and it is “un-Biblical” in the extreme. Yet the Bible itself contains so much sexual content (and I’m not just referring to the Songs of Solomon). Here is (one of many) quick examples: Judah’s son, Onan, is required to marry his dead brother’s wife, Tamar, as a way of continuing his brother’s legacy and ensuring Tamar would have financial/physical security throughout her life. Yet the text is explicit in describing how he would have sex with Tamar and intentionally remove himself and ejaculate on the ground7—meaning he would use her for sexual pleasure, but refuse to give her a child.

I know zero Christian publishers that would publish a book today with such graphic content. Now, it may not “seem” graphic because a) it’s in the Bible and b) our translations use English words that are more sterile such as “slept with his brother’s wife” and “spilled semen on the ground”. But the phrases are crass in Hebrew, and intentionally so.

Yet our modern day “Christian” content which is “spice free” likewise is often free of leading readers to the same conclusions that stories within the Bible do. Human depravity, including all forms of sexual deviance, must be on display for us to be formed into people who can come to the conclusion that sex can be one of the most harmful and destructive forces in human experience—or one of the most edifying.

Again, the inclusion of sinful content is not problematic, it is what the art has to say about that sin that can be problematic.

Perhaps one of the most profound problems in much art today, Christian or otherwise, is it simply has nothing meaningful to say about the world. And because of that, it says the worst things of all.

Having Something To Say

Nothing annoys me more than encountering what I call “Transformers” art.

Do you remember the original Transformers live action movie from 2007? It was… fine. The CGI was incredible, and everything else was… there. Millions of dollars invested into art that communicated to the audience… nothing at all. Robots are cool. Robot fights are cooler.

It was a movie symbolic of most art—thoughtless.

If you think too hard at all, the movie is no fun.

The thing is, this is the most dangerous and destructive art of all. It’s the sort of art that promises you escape—a carefree “good time”—but is actually shaping you internally without you realizing it. Female characters are paraded for sexual arousal (but no sex scenes!), minivans with families are thrown around (but no violent death scenes!), and good/evil is put into its simplest possible terms.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying the director was trying to shape you. I’m not saying there is a conspiracy here. But like it or not, these pieces of “escapism” are deeply formative precisely because they are not trying to make any profound claim about the world. They just drop images and ideas into our minds that normalize worldly things without us noticing, and if someone in our friend group raises a concern they’re told their legalistic, or they don’t understand, or “its not that serious”.

But art is always that serious.

So much art pitched to Christians today is “Transformers” art. Shallow and thoughtless, created based on certain evangelical assumptions about the world, fitting into certain expectations about what is included/excluded not with the Bible as a model, but with western evangelical consumerism as the model.

Give me an N. K. Jemisin or Margaret Atwood novel over one of these any day of the week. Those women deeply disagree with my Christian worldview, but their books are thoughtful and have something to say. Their deep pursuit of creating impactful art is more “Christian” than shallow books written to simply give readers a “clean” option.

But none of us need clean options.

We need art that is created in partnership with the Spirit, born from grief and joy, and has something of value to say to the world.

Les Misérables isn’t still read because it is “safe”. It really isn’t. It’s bloody and sexual and gross, and deeply Christian. Victor Hugo was a follower of Jesus and had profound things to say to France at the time. And we still read it today because God is still pleased to use it today. But, for sheer content alone, the book would not be published by many “Christian” publishers.

Art that is most notable made in partnership with the Holy Spirit won’t be sheer escapism and won’t be marked by being “clean”, because there is no Biblical evidence that the Spirit works in those ways. No, the Holy Spirit enables humans to make art that draws people closer to Christ, and that is often (though not always) art that exposes the deep harm of the ways of this world.

In other words, it is art that often shows the depths of both human sin and God’s love. Both in their extremes.

And when that is done in combination with a pursuit of excellence in the craft, you get art that forms people really, really, well.

But Phil…

Addressing some objections and making some clarifications.

So anything goes?

Is it okay, then, for a writer to describe every squirt of gory blood and describe every movement of body parts as two people have sex?

Of course not. But why it isn’t okay, matters.

Excessively described violence and sex shouldn’t be in books, movies, music, etc. because:

• It’s almost always lazy art, making money because of people’s perversion rather than excellence in craft.

• Too excessive descriptions almost always mean the author is trying communicate that something is “good” and deserves attention.

Saying “Christians shouldn’t watch/read that” isn’t helpful and isn’t accurate. Christians should be present at the very depths of human depravity, it’s where our most fruitful mission fields are. But we are fruitful in those spaces not because we have whitewashed sinful experiences, but because we engage with them and zealously point to something more beautiful.

But what about the children?

Well, Hebrew children would have memorized passages in the Scriptures, about rape, incest, violent death, and even poems about healthy sexual desire. Our passage from Genesis 38 referenced above, and many more that are more graphic, would have been read aloud for children to hear and process.

We live in a weird (and recent) phenomena where we actually avoid certain stories in the Bible on Sunday morning because children may be present.

I am not saying art made for children shouldn’t look different than art made for adults. It should. However, we aren’t being wise when we think avoiding certain issues with children is helpful. Wisdom is not avoiding certain things with children, it’s asking God how He wants us to communicate those things to our children.

That being said, I can’t say for you when children should encounter certain topics. That’s a decision families should make alongside their Church community.

But I can say that the first encounter a child has with sex and violence should come from Scripture, and then from excellent art that reinforces the Christian (not “western/conservative evangelical”) view of those things.

Children should mourn and grieve because of art, learning to let their hearts break like Jesus’.8

So about YA…

Quick bone to pick.

Young Adult (YA) novels are a hit and have been for awhile. It really isn’t because the books are primarily read by those who are 12-18 (they aren’t9). YA has found a niche in the market for adults who want to read on a “more accessible” reading level.

This has created a complicated moment in the publishing/reading world as much of the romance YA genre now contains porn-level sexual content because many adult women are drawn to erotica content similar to how many men are drawn to visual porn. The thing is, these books are still technically marketed at younger (12-16 year old) girls.

It would be like a porn website getting an ad on Disney.

The Christian response is (as I stated above) to “write the same kind of stories and make them ‘clean’”. This usually comes from a desire to create books that girls can read that will give them the fun stories without the porn. Quick and unrealistic romance, a bit of whitewashed violence and adventure, but with characters who have an unnatural ability to control their sexual desires.

Please hear me out on this. I am not saying the desire to write romance without the spice is bad. It just like Christian fantasy writers during the rise of grimdark, wanting to write “gritty” stuff, but with hope in the mix. Or when the 90’s had all this Christian pop and rock that was practically the same beat/sound as secular music, but with “clean” lyrics.

The desire to make content that seems “safe” isn’t bad.

It’s unwise.

The reasons are all those listed above. Teenagers don’t need sterile and safe art. For most of human history, a sixteen year old is getting married, learning to raise children, take care of a family, and be a part of a community as a full member.

In other words: be a full adult.

I’m not saying we can’t celebrate the changes to the human experience that mean longer lifespans, more education, and slightly delayed adulthood. But making malformed teens (i.e. teens with a sterilized understanding of the world and, therefore, God’s kingdom) isn’t honoring the changes our culture has made over the last few hundred years—changes often pioneered by those in the Church.

A sixteen year old should still have a profound understanding of sex and violence, and have had a heart formed by the Church to see those things through God’s eyes.

YA should help with that, and selling books because they are “spice free” isn’t helping. No, I’m not saying we need Christians to write descriptive oral sex scenes. We do need Christians to write scenes about being pressured into sex, the complicated emotions of enjoying sex but feeling shamed and exposed, the strange desire to serve someone sexually as an act of love but the damage that causes when it is outside of covenant marriage, the rush of guilt felt at a miscarriage (which we shouldn’t feel), and even the total awkwardness that is early sex inside a healthy marriage.

Also (and more importantly) those conversations should happen in the family and church community. I’m simply saying that in addition, there should be excellent art that expresses those things, preparing the hearts and imaginations of our teenage sons and daughters to see the world through God’s eyes.

So sex and violence in everything?

Great question.

No.

Most Christian art does not need to address sex and violence, just like most of the Bible doesn’t address sex and violence. But the absence of such things shouldn’t be the selling point or the marketing.

All art made by Christians should be intentionally crafted to form us to be more like Christ, and not everyone is called to handle some of these “darker” issues, for lack of a better word. So now, authors reading this should not feel pressured to include sex and violence in their stories.

However, authors reading this should be asking how they are forming their readers if they leave it out. A romance between two characters without any sexual tension can seem fake, even like a lie. Violence that is flippant with life, which is the vast majority of Christian art that contains violence, is more damaging than grotesque violence that will at least repulse many (just like real violence does).

The key is to be deeply intentional, and not make “cleanliness” a goal.

The goal is always, without exception, glorifying Christ. Sometimes, scenes that are considered “dirty” are the very thing that does that. Refusal to create that sort of art may become disobedience to the Lord who did not refuse to place it in His own book.

Conclusions

What makes art “Christian” or not is not what is contained within the art, but the conclusions it leads the audience to drawing about God, other humans, and the world.

Art that avoids certain elements of the human experience simply to be “safe” to a Christian audience, (at best) misunderstands discipleship or (at worst) is intentionally trying to sell to a Christian market.

We are most like our Creator not when avoid human depravity and sin, but when we see human depravity and sin the way He does, and lead others to see the same.

We were in the basement—my wife and I huddled around our four children. Ductwork and plumbing shook, glass shattered, and a supporting beam above us cracked.1 It is not a moment I enjoy reliving in my imagination. “Scary” is an accurate word, though it feels neutered.

When that first tornado passed, and before the second could arrive (yes, there was a second), we ran out of the home and through the dark and the rain to our neighbor’s home, unsure if our own home was safe any longer.

Our neighbors were like disguised angels, the way they took us in and welcomed us to plop onto their floor—soaking wet, holding back tears, and praying. The blur of the night that followed was trying to understand the logistics of letting the right people (emergency services, insurance, etc.) know my home had received an unwelcome visit from our favorite tree and floundering on how to help my boys not be traumatized.

In other words, it was a blur.

When streams of sunlight flooded the world, putting to death the night, the damage to our home became apparent.

Shallow & Cliché

As a 90s kid raised in the pool of western evangelicalism, I’m hyper-sensitive to Christian cliché. Moreover, I’m keenly aware of the tendency we all have to skim headlines and photos, whoring our imaginations out to see damage and destruction, ignoring the sanctity of the cognitive commitment we should have with empathy and meditative thinking.

And so, I am hesitant to share my experiences lest readers choose not to pay close attention to my words and intentions, rather than skimming the images of my broken home and then clicking away.

Why not assume this article will merely boil down into something akin to “God is still good”? Of course, He is still good, but that isn’t actually what He is teaching me in this season. It isn’t all I have to say.

In this moment, I’m learning the absolute overwhelming joy that is trusting in Jesus.

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The Fraud Feeling

For many of us, that sense of feeling like a fraud when we say we “trust” in Jesus is not condemnation from the Evil One, but conviction from the Spirit. There is a reality that when we are living in the disconnect between what we tell ourselves we believe and what our lives actually testify our beliefs are, we get that welling up inside us of fraudulent feelings.

Of course, none of us live in a perfect harmony between the two, but true disciples are living in a pattern of life that is ever moving closer to Jesus’ example—and repenting when it falls short.

Now, the Evil One will usually leverage that feeling of conviction and attempt to accomplish one of two things:

• A self-loathing that drains you of any energy to make change, or

• A lulling into the lie that God’s love is given so freely, it requires nothing from us and so those feelings are not true.2

The Spirit, meanwhile, wants conviction to draw us into prayer, repentance, and a desperate plea to God for direction.

In our context in the west, many people (myself included) have built up whole lives in which we are protected from the need to live in daily dependence upon the Lord for our material life. We, very literally, do not need God to provide our daily bread. That line in the Lord’s prayer may feel silly.

Thus, when we say aloud (or in our hearts) “I trust the Lord,” there is a logical follow up question that I believe the Spirit plants in our hearts.

“How do you know you trust me?”

In other words, where is the evidence of this trust? If we have no evidence, we likely have no trust.

Perhaps this is why James writes,

Now the brother or sister of humble circumstances is to glory in his high position; but the rich person is to glory in his humiliation, because like flowering grass he will pass away. For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; and its flower falls off and the beauty of its appearance is destroyed; so also the rich person, in the midst of his pursuits, will die out.

James 1: 9-11 NASB3

The poor in the church are in “high position”, perhaps because they are those who truly live on faith. They are not “double minded” but live in daily belief that God will provide their daily bread. And the rich? Well, they could become poor (much easier to become poor than rich, mind you), but instead they choose to be flowering grass—they look pretty today, but will burn up.

Although the letter that James wrote is often used like a grab bag of disparate quotes are persevering, bridling your tongue, and showing faith through works, it’s earnestly a beautifully symphonic treatise to compel us to have so much faith in Jesus that we demonstrate it by doing the thing that is right.

So for one who knows the right thing to do and does not do it, for him it is sin.

James 4: 17 NASB

So, back to that feeling of being a fraud. For many of us, we have encountered a Jesus that compels us to do more than we are, give more than we do, and forgive more radically than we have. For some of us, this is a condemnation complex caused by demonic influences.

But if you are sitting in excess wealth while those in your community are struggling to pay rent, it’s probably not a condemnation from the Devil, but a simple recognition that there is something that is “right” and you have not done it. The Spirit inside of you is nudging, pushing, urging you towards that which is “right”.

If your mind has drifted to a parent, a sibling, or an ex-spouse you refuse to talk to, it’s probably a simple recognition that there is something that is “right” and you have not done it.

Many of us experience a “Christian culture” that has tried so hard to teeter-totter away from a guilt-driven and work-based faith, that we have ended up with something less than “Christian”. Take, for example, the line “Christianity isn’t a religion, it’s a relationship”. Then read James 1: 26-27, “If anyone thinks himself to be religious, yet does not bridle his tongue but deceives his own heart, this person’s religion is worthless. Pure and undefiled religion in the sight of our God and Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”

And lest anyone think to themselves, “ah, yes, Phil, but when I say it’s not ‘religion’ I’m referring to a works-based system of rules and actions.”

To which I would just like to point out that James seems to think “pure and undefiled religion” is demonstrated through works—visiting the least of these in distress, and keeping oneself “unstained’ by the world (including the accumulation of material wealth).

What I am getting at is this: there is a healthy understanding that there is a point in which our actions are so out of alignment with what we claim our faith to be, that we are lying to ourselves.

So, back to that oak that bashed in my house.

The House I’ve Built

There are many wonderful gifts God has given me as it relates to my discipleship, and this tree landing on my home is perhaps one of the greatest.

Or, that’s not right exactly.

You see, the tree landing on my home is not good. The fear and potential trauma, the destruction and waste, the displacement, the inability to sleep as our bodies just work off the stress and adrenalin… it is, by definition, bad.

And yet, it’s also been a time of deep joy.

Once upon a time, I worked out very regularly. I can still remember when I pushed myself to do higher and higher box jumps4, until I was able to leap nearly chest-high. That early-morning, after I just realized what I had done, I was in a sort of awe at how far my body had come. I had never thought I could actually jump so high.

In a weird way, this season has been a wonderful reflection on how far the Lord has brought my wife and I in the area of faith related to our finances.

I can faithfully say (without hyperbole) that I am not worried about my finances.

I should be poorer than ever before, mind you. Moving into full time ministry, we have been led into a life without stable income, and now our primary financial asset has a large tarp draped over it and a few too many windows. It’ll be months of repairs, uncertainty, and displacement. So, I should be an anxious wreck.

Of course, there was a few days of genuine hustle as my wife and I did our due diligence to try and get a crash course in home owners insurance and find a safe place for our children and us to sleep, but this past month has been otherwise very easy.

God has provided friends and community who love us deeply. We never lacked for a safe place to be (we actually had a half-dozen offers from friends to come and live with them), our community has been financially generous, we have had more help with cleaning and moving our things, and insurance has miraculously (and I mean that literally) been wonderful.

But all that provision, all those gifts, all that love, was the Lord responding to our prayers made in faith—because He loves us. And He did not let us encounter this difficulty until we were ready. Like with the box jump, God has given my wife and I the gift of reflection—the sight to see all that we have persevered in the testing of our faith, and how that produced endurance, which is having its perfect result so that we are being brought to completion, lacking nothing.

But to get to this place of faith, God had to upend our entire financial life. No material wealth or security could stay, for if it did then there would be at least one central part of my life in which I could not faithfully say “I trust the Lord.”

There have been moments in my life where I have felt like a fraud, because I was a fraud.

I said, “I trust the Lord” and had no meaningful actions or works to show that to be true. I had begun my journey of discipleship to Jesus in simple faith, but that faith would have shriveled up and died after too long—devoid of works done in faith. By God’s grace, there were enough believers in my life to push me onward, and just enough willingness in me to take steps forward (as small as they often were).

But some of you have no community driving you on, and perhaps you even attend a church group that is (with good intentions) so focused on ensuring you don’t feel guilty, they have drawn you into spiritual apathy. When thoughts of zealous faith and sacrificial actions arise, you push them down as “works based”. Or perhaps you have pushed back so hard on the teachings of Jesus (or worse, co-opted political ideologies and slapped Jesus’ name on them) that your heart has hardened without you realizing.

Either way, today is a new today.

This is perhaps the greatest gift of sacrificial financial giving—it places us in that terrifyingly beautiful place of genuine trust. And when I say “sacrificial” I am talking about giving so much money, time, resources, love, and forgiveness, that we have not saved enough for ourselves. The sort of giving in which we have to say “no” to some crucial or meaningful element of our lives because of our giving.

Shallow, non-sacrificial, giving (whether of money, time, energy, etc) lulls is into thinking we aren’t slaves to our money or worldly ideologies, while keeping us bound very, very, tight, indeed.5

For many years, I wanted to trust in Jesus, to really believe that God could and would provide for me. I wanted to come to a place of freedom in which I could cast all my anxiety on Him, because I know He cares for me.6 But there is a duplicity, a fakeness, to those of us who claim we “trust” in God without ever allowing ourselves to be put in a position of trust.

No, in order for our faith to be shown as “genuine” it must be tested. For most Christians in our western culture, that test will be tied up directly in our wealth.

Change and Falling Trees

I am happy to report that God is exceedingly patient and loving.

Although it is best when we respond with obedience when He says “sell all you have and follow me”, He isn’t going to give up on us when we drag our feet and bounce between trust and anxiety. He’ll romance us, stay with us, and continue to beckon us.

For my wife and I, this has taken many years.

Brief moments of radical generosity made space for larger steps of financial faith. Those steps gave our imaginations the framework to hear God tell us to make a move across state lines (not an easy thing for us). But even then, he allowed us to keep my job in the short term for we would have been too scared to move without a “stable” income.7

In love, He positioned us where He desired and then ripped off the financial Band-Aid (read: losing my job). I am not some faithful prophet who said “yes” to radical faith. I am a rather pathetic man who has been deeply afraid of not providing for my family. Perhaps my only redeeming quality is that I want to love God more than I do.

Every time my youngest son has a Band-Aid, he is deeply afraid of having it removed. I have to hold him and rip it off quick, then keep holding him while he goes through the mental “that hurt!” then “wait, did that hurt?” followed by “oh… that didn’t hurt.”

Like a loving Dad, the Lord ripped off the Band-Aid and then held me while I cried and screamed about the pain, and even to the point where the initial sting wore off and I could I look up and say, “oh, that really didn’t hurt at all.”

The very thing I was so deeply afraid of—putting all my financial eggs in the Jesus basket—is actually one of the nicest and easiest things in the world. I sleep better, I laugh easier, and worry less. It’s kinda awesome.

What I am trying to say is this—God desires for us to be people who will say “yes” to the “big” things, but He will patiently work with us to get there slowly. He will do for you what He has done for me, giving you opportunities for small moments of giving, which build to bigger moments, then steps of faith, then full on trials.

He will never give you more than you can handle, but He will likely give you more than you feel you can handle.

You only need to keep saying, “yes”.

Friend, I plead with you to kill your dreams of wealth and security that will help you justify a “no” to the Lord. This is the great danger, the snake in the grass ready to strike.

In your mind, imagine a life in which you can give everything away and not seek to rebuild it. Imagine treasures in Heaven and imagine yourself spurning earthly ones. Hold on to those images. Stop listening to the wealth building podcasts, YouTubers, and books. Beg your spouse to give those up too.

Soak in the Gospels, the teachings of Jesus, and the radical acts of love in the Church.

Let yourself despise your wealth. Encourage it. Stoke that fire.

No one has stood before the Lord and heard, “oh, if only you had not hated your wealth so much, you could have done more for my Kingdom.”

No, indeed those who hate their wealth the most hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” for those people likewise love their Messiah more and more. It is why Church history tells us the earliest apostles did not die in mansions nor in fine clothes, but as poor men.

Like Jesus.

And for those who tell you that the early church “needed” rich people to “fund” the apostle missions… pity them, for they think too small of God. 8

Tis So Sweet To Trust In Jesus

’Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to take Him at His word;
Just to rest upon His promise;
Just to know, Thus saith the Lord.
 
Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him,
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er,
Jesus, Jesus, Precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more.

O how sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just to trust His cleansing blood;
Just in simple faith to plunge me,
’Neath the healing, cleansing flood.

Yes, ’tis sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just from sin and self to cease;
Just from Jesus simply taking
Life, and rest, and joy, and peace.

I’m so glad I learned to trust Thee,
Precious Jesus, Savior, Friend;
And I know that Thou art with me,
Wilt be with me to the end.

— Louisa M. R. Stead

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A Side Note

For the record (as I know some will ask), the Snyder family is doing well. We really have had an overflow of love from God and His Church, and—in some tangible way that I can’t fully put words to—I have more joy than ever.

Not happiness, mind you. I am tired and have struggled with impatience and moments of melancholy. But joy is the primary experience of my life, and why wouldn’t it be? God is exceedingly good, and my family is being allowed to participate in His story.

It’s incredible.

Plus, the books the Lord has entrusted us to publish are still moving forward (more on that in our upcoming newsletter).

Growing up in 90’s American Christianity, I was taught that “eternal life” means going to Heaven when I die—an everlasting paradise that is, by definition, otherworldly. This idea is not only un-Biblical, it’s honestly strange to imagine someone coming to that conclusion when reading the Bible cover-to-cover.

The Old Testament books almost exclusively talk about everyone going “down to Sheol1” when when they die, and the New Testament writers almost exclusively talk about the “resurrection of the dead”, “entering the kingdom of Heaven”, and “eternal life”.

The problem is, art and media targeting a Christian audience has largely focused on the “kingdom of Heaven” and “eternal life” imagery, yet fully divorcing them from their contexts and meaning. Eternal life is to know God and His Son2, and the kingdom of Heaven is a thing that is coming to earth—right now through the Church, and coming in full one day at Jesus’ return.

I am convinced beyond a reasonable doubt that this poor understanding of what is to come is a major stumbling block for how those who desire follow Jesus see their earthly wealth and possessions. It deeply affects how we understand words and ideas like “investment” and “stewardship”, and it radically alters how we understand the ripple affects of our decisions with money.

And honestly, this poor understanding and conviction about the resurrection is ensuring that many people in our communities will enter the kingdom of Heaven poor in eternal wealth, if they enter at all.

Some Groundwork

The hope that Jesus gives His followers is not that they will die and enter an exclusively spiritual paradise, escaping the problems of the world. Our hope is that as we follow Jesus into death, we will one day follow Him into resurrection, and that at the day of resurrection, God will restore all things and bring about the new Heaven and new earth.

This reality of the resurrection of the dead is so essential to discipleship to Christ that the author of Hebrews calls it an “elementary teaching”.

Therefore leaving the elementary teaching about the Christ, let us press on to maturity, not laying again a foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God, of instruction about washings and laying on of hands, and about the resurrection of the dead and eternal judgment.

Hebrews 6: 1-2 NASB (emphasis added)

But the teaching isn’t just that the dead will rise, but that on that day there will likewise be a judgment.

Truly, truly, I say to you, the one who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.

Truly, truly, I say to you, a time is coming and even now has arrived, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. For just as the Father has life in Himself, so He gave to the Son also to have life in Himself; and He gave Him authority to execute judgment, because He is the Son of Man. Do not be amazed at this; for a time is coming when all who are in the tombs will hear His voice, and will come out: those who did the good deeds to a resurrection of life, those who committed the bad deeds to a resurrection of judgment.

John 5: 24-29 NASB (emphasis added)

This is often referred to as “the last day” or “the day of Judgment” or (as in the passage above) “the resurrection”—some to life and others to judgment.

For those of us in Christ Jesus, we will not receive the due punishment for the lives that we have lived, for that punishment has already been rendered in full on Christ on the cross. For those who have chosen not to submit to Jesus’ lordship and follow in His way, they will be outside of grace and will take upon themselves the full weight of their actions.

Yet for those of us in Christ, we will still experience varying realities in this coming kingdom based upon how we lived once we began following Jesus. Despite what has been taught in many popular churches, our experiences in this new earth after the resurrection will not be identical.

In other words, there will be treasures in Heaven dolled out based upon the faithfulness of the lives lived by Jesus’ followers. Some will receive many blessings, some few.

Now the one who plants and the one who waters are one; but each will receive his own reward according to his own labor. For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.

According to the grace of God which was given to me, like a wise master builder I laid a foundation, and another is building on it. But each person must be careful how he builds on it. For no one can lay a foundation other than the one which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, or straw, each one’s work will become evident; for the day will show it because it is to be revealed with fire, and the fire itself will test the quality of each one’s work. If anyone’s work which he has built on it remains, he will receive a reward. If anyone’s work is burned up, he will suffer loss; but he himself will be saved, yet only so as through fire.

1 Corinthians 3: 8-15 NASB (emphasis added)

In this passage above, Paul is very clear—the works of this life will result in either loss or reward, even for those covered by the blood of Jesus. Some will enter into the coming kingdom like people just barely escaping the flames of judgment, while others will enter in to stand before Jesus and hear “well done, good and faithful servant”3.

Jesus proclaims this over and over and over again through His teachings, calling for us to store up wealth in the life to come—the life that will not end and that life that is more real than the life we live now.

Sell your possessions and give to charity; make yourselves money belts that do not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near nor does a moth destroy.

Luke 12:33 NASB

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

Matthew 6: 19-21 NASB

And is this not the obvious meaning for His many parables of servants stewarding their master’s wealth? In the end, some servants receive more than others, based upon how trustworthy they were with what was given.

What these treasures are, exactly, and the details of how this will manifest is unclear, but the fact that there will be differing rewards based on how faithful someone lived there life is beyond doubt.

The question, in the end, isn’t whether the Bible teaches the resurrection and rewards in the life to come, but whether or not we actually believe it? Confession means little when there is not a life of repentance that conforms to that confession.

Wealth Redefined

Father, the hour has come; glorify Your Son, so that the Son may glorify You, just as You gave Him authority over all mankind, so that to all whom You have given Him, He may give eternal life. And this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent. I glorified You on the earth by accomplishing the work which You have given Me to do. And now You, Father, glorify Me together with Yourself, with the glory which I had with You before the world existed.

John 17: 1b-5 NASB

Whatever treasure I will be given in the life to come, it will be treasure that deepens my intimacy with God.

If that idea stirs nothing in your heart, it is likely all your treasure is here on earth. You see, if you long for rewards that amount to possessions—financial security, nice things, hefty bank accounts, etc.—then the thought that your reward is deeper relationship to Jesus will be unsatisfying. Your heart has been given to that which you have already been storing up.

The kingdom to come cares little for your nice HOA, 401k, BMW, or other pointless acronym. It will all burn up, forgotten and pointless when the life-that-is-true-life comes with Jesus’ return. Everything that is true, that is real, that is good, and that will last is found in Jesus.

Everything.

And it is with this understanding that we redefine all the formative words around money. “Wealth”, “stewardship”, and “investment” are flipped on their heads in the teachings of Jesus, and the modern church in America has greatly erred their handlings of these terms.

Consider Jesus’ parable about the “shrewd” manager recorded in Luke 16. Often this has left Christians (myself included) scratching their heads and shrugging their shoulders.

Now He was also saying to the disciples, “There was a rich man who had a manager, and this manager was reported to him as squandering his possessions. And he summoned him and said to him, ‘What is this I hear about you? Give an accounting of your management, for you can no longer be manager.’ And the manager said to himself, ‘What am I to do, since my master is taking the management away from me? I am not strong enough to dig; I am ashamed to beg. I know what I will do, so that when I am removed from the management people will welcome me into their homes.’ And he summoned each one of his master’s debtors, and he began saying to the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ And he said, ‘A hundred jugs of oil.’ And he said to him, ‘Take your bill, and sit down quickly and write fifty.’ Then he said to another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ And he said, ‘A hundred kors of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, and write eighty.’ And his master complimented the unrighteous manager because he had acted shrewdly; for the sons of this age are more shrewd in relation to their own kind than the sons of light. And I say to you, make friends for yourselves by means of the wealth of unrighteousness, so that when it is all gone, they will receive you into the eternal dwellings.

“The one who is faithful in a very little thing is also faithful in much; and the one who is unrighteous in a very little thing is also unrighteous in much. Therefore if you have not been faithful in the use of unrighteous wealth, who will entrust the true wealth to you? And if you have not been faithful in the use of that which is another’s, who will give you that which is your own? No servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Luke 16: 1-13 NASB

This isn’t the first time Jesus centers a story around someone who is unrighteous, for it forms in us the question, “well, if the unrighteous person would do x, should I not go above and beyond if I am a follower of Jesus?”

In the context of this parable, even the unrighteous manager understood that earthly money is to be used to deepen relationships to others, how much more so for those of us called to make disciples of all nations?4 I mean, consider this for a moment. Jesus is claiming that all earthly wealth is to be used to build human relationships.

How does a 3-6 months savings account accomplish this, especially when we have neighbors who are hustling two extra side jobs to pay the bills? Who gives a rip about employee 401k matches and pre/post taxes on retirement when we could be using that money today to love a neighbor? We may not even live to use those savings, and even if we did we’ll just die one day and be poorer at the resurrection. Why was a “larger home so that I can host people” better than just inviting people into a shed-sized apartment and helping others take care of their needs?

Like, really, how would any of this make sense if we believe in a resurrection?

If the resurrection is real, and all of Jesus’ teachings on wealth are to be believed, then

• True wealth is that which Jesus rewards us with on the day of resurrection.

• True stewardship is giving freely of all we have to make friends and love others.

• True investment is using our money for God’s kingdom, and thus not seeing a monetary reward in this life because we would rather see it in the life to come.

If you (like me) have been taught that “stewardship” has anything to do with withholding from someone because of fear they will be “unwise”, or because you can put that money somewhere with a higher return on investment, then that teaching was not rooted in Jesus’ teachings, life, death, burial, and resurrection.

In other words, it was not “of God”.

Jesus lived and taught with the kingdom of Heaven ever on His mind, and He is trying to teach us to be the same way. The only people who make any meaningful difference here in this life are those whose minds are so desperately focused on Jesus and the life to come.

The God who rained down bread from Heaven has never said, “oh, I only wish Bob would have put more money into retirement” nor sat there biting his nails in concern because Lucy’s bank account had less than the $1000 emergency fund in it. Every single person who, out of a love for Jesus, has given money to the point of worldly recklessness has gained a thousand times that in the life to come. Meanwhile, many people living a Dave Ramsey approved life are likewise saddening their Messiah, who knows they are choosing mud pies over the “holiday at the sea”5 He has for them.

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A Call to Passion

Here is a longer quote from C.S. Lewis’ The Weight of Glory, which I referenced above.

Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, 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.

We must not be troubled by unbelievers when they say that this promise of reward makes the Christian life a mercenary affair. There are different kinds of rewards. There is the reward which has no natural connection with the things you do to earn it and is quite foreign to the desires that ought to accompany those things. Money is not the natural reward of love; that is why we call a man mercenary if he marries a woman for the sake of her money. But marriage is the proper reward for a real lover, and he is not mercenary for desiring it…

Jesus is our Bridegroom, our best friend and He who should consume all our affections. We simply cannot love both Him and money. Either we love Jesus and hate money, or we love money and hate Jesus6.

Lewis is right, we are far too easily pleased. The illusion of financial security, the feeling that we have become rich or secure, the lie that we can store up earthly and heavenly treasures simultaneously… they are all symptoms of lukewarm love.

I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot; I wish that you were cold or hot. So because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will vomit you out of My mouth. Because you say, “I am rich, and have become wealthy, and have no need of anything,” and you do not know that you are wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked, I advise you to buy from Me gold refined by fire so that you may become rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed; and eye salve to apply to your eyes so that you may see. Those whom I love, I rebuke and discipline; therefore be zealous and repent. Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me. The one who overcomes, I will grant to him to sit with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat with My Father on His throne.

Revelation 3: 15-21 NASB

Be zealous.

Here, in the American church, such a statement would cause deep divides, much suspicion, and claims that the speaker was a fool. That is because we are like the church in Laodicea (the group being addressed in this passage). We say to ourselves “we are rich” because even our churches have investment accounts and we have become so “wise” in money. But in truth, our refusal to pour all that we have onto the feet of our first love has left us wretched, miserable, poor, blind, and naked.

Oh God, forgive us.

But even as Jesus rebukes this church, He offers a way forward. We can become zealous for Him and we can repent, and in so doing we will purchase for ourselves “gold refined by fire so that you may become rich, and white garments so that you may clothe yourself and the shame of your nakedness will not be revealed; and eye salve to apply to your eyes so that you may see”.

True wealth. True clothes. True sight.

Given only with repentance, demonstrated by zeal.

This is the Jesus economy, where those who have made themselves poor for the Gospel in this life will be raised again to riches that are so wonderful they bringing us somehow even closer to He who we love. But all of it must be born out of a furious and deep love for our Messiah that cannot be faked or forced.

In reading this, if you know that your love is not with Him, is not drawn to Him, is not zealous for Him, then today I urge you to sell what you have and give it to the poor. In doing so, you will make the decision to put your wealth in Heaven, and in so doing you will find your heart there also.

Isn’t that interesting? Giving sacrificially is both the response to love for Jesus, and often the gateway to deeper love for Him. Or, in other words, we do not wait for a loving emotion to rise of us before we give, we give knowing that we will love Him more when we have stored up our treasure with Him.

Oh the goodness of God, so patient with us and abounding in love. Let us serve Him, and not our financial plans for the year. Let us enter into His economy, even if it means poverty in this one.

But whenever you give a banquet, invite people who are poor, who have disabilities, who are limping, and people who are blind; and you will be blessed, since they do not have the means to repay you; for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.

Luke 14: 13-14 NASB

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A note from Phil

As we began our slow trod through topics of debate and division within the church, reached out to me asking to write a piece on the Eucharist. I was excited for two reasons:

First, I am fairly ignorant on the historical and nuanced arguments around the topic, and so am grateful for someone far more versed than me to step in (and to educate me along the way). And second, Graham is a brilliant writer and critical thinker. If you aren’t following his current writing adventure, you should. Consider this not only an excellent introduction to the topic of the Eucharist, but to Graham as well.

I write as a layperson.

October of 1529, Marburg, Germany.

A time of fresh and dangerous ideas. Conflicts wracked the tumultuous world of Renaissance Europe, now aggravated by the throes of the Reformation.

Philip I, Landgrave of Hess, had summoned the principal reformers, Swiss and German, to his castle in hopes of solidifying a Protestant political alliance. Among those assembled were men whose names would echo down through the ages: Zwingli, Melanchthon, Bucer, Luther.

Fourteen articles of the faith, drafted and unanimously accepted by the disputing theologians, demonstrate substantive unity in such essential theological tenets as the doctrine of the Trinity, the divinity of Christ, and justification by faith. Only the fifteenth article—the one concerning the Eucharist, the sacrament of the broken body of Christ—proved irreconcilable.

“And although we have not been able to agree at this time,” the joint statement concludes, “whether the true body and blood of Christ are corporally present in the bread and wine [of communion], each party should display towards the other Christian love, as far as each respective conscience allows, and both should persistently ask God the Almighty for guidance so that through his Spirit he might bring us to a proper understanding. Amen.”

Though it reads charitably enough, the statement belied a contentious reality.

Early on in the debate, Luther had written the Latin words of institution hoc est corpus meum, “this is my body” (Matthew 26:26, Mark 14:22, Luke 22:19, 1 Corinthians 11:24), on the table with chalk, and covered them with a velvet table-cloth.

The debate ranged back and forth. Luther couldn’t abide Zwingli’s memorialist view of the Eucharist; to Luther, it was a simple matter of adherence to Christ’s words. For Zwingli, the Lutheran argument of the ubiquity of Christ’s body seemed nonsensical, falling short of the simplicity the Lutherans claimed. The Reformed side argued the spiritual nature of communion from John 6:63. Both objected to the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation.

For his part, Luther refused to acknowledge the Swiss as genuine believers. “Today the Landgrave is making every effort to unite us,” he wrote to his wife, “or at least to make us consider each other brethren and members of Christ’s body. He is doing his best to accomplish this. But although we object to be brethren, we wish to live at peace and on good terms… I consider God has blinded them, that they cannot achieve anything good.” [Emphasis added]

At a climactic moment, Luther withdrew the tablecloth and pointed to the objective words of Christ: this is my body. For Luther, it wasn’t a matter for compromise.

Andreas Osiander, a Lutheran chronicler, gives Luther’s words to his still unconvinced opponents as follows: “Our spirit does not harmonize with your spirit. Rather it is clear that we do not have the same spirit, for it cannot be the same spirit when in one place the Word of Christ is simply believed and in the other the same faith is ridiculed, disputed, denigrated, and attacked with any number of sacrilegious and blasphemous words.” [Emphasis added]

The argument ended in bitter division. “We should let you leave and commend you to the just judgment of God. He will know well, who is right,” Luther concluded. Johannes Oecolampadius, speaking for the Reformed contingent, replied likewise. “As we leave you.” Osiander, the chronicler, notes that Zwingli was teary-eyed.

Osiander also records the Reformed group’s request for mutual communion. “They unfairly damned and bad-mouthed us, calling us cannibals, Capernaites, [and] Thyesteans,” he writes, “and [made] other slanderous claims that we worship a God of bread, a baked God, a gluttonous and drunken God. And yet they asked us to accept them as brothers!”

No such fellowship was granted.

In private remarks to his own side, Zwingli poured out his disdain for Luther. “These and other innumerable vacillating, absurd, and foolish utterances of his, which poured forth tirelessly from him like water rippling on a beach, were refuted by us so successfully that the Prince himself is now on our side; although publicly, in the presence of certain princes, he pretended not to be. Almost the entire Court of Hesse has deserted Luther… Truth prevailed so clearly that if anyone was ever beaten, it was the impudent and obstinate Luther, who was beaten publicly, albeit only in the eyes of clear-sighted and just judges; may he scream as loudly as he wants that he remains unbeaten, etc.” [Emphasis added]

The damage had been done. Both sides would harden into mutually exclusive confessions concerning the Eucharist.1 2

Five hundred years later, the wounds remain unclosed.

As the splintered remnants of the Landgrave’s political dream filtered out to go their separate ways, I wonder if Luther met Zwingli’s teary eyes one last time. Triumphantly? Regretfully?—I wonder if he, too, felt an uncommunicated pang at the parting—if history might have gone differently, had he only expressed a desire for fellowship rather than satisfaction or arrogance (as Zwingli and his fellows certainly perceived, whether actual or not) at the blindness which Luther supposed belonged to his dissenters. I wonder if fellowship might have been maintained, had he been an Ananias willing to find a brother in his persecutor Saul (Acts 9:17).3

Reader, who is not spiritually blind in some degree on this side of eternity? Do we not in our incompleteness still persecute one another continually, even as we profess Christ? Isn’t that why we depend on grace?

Was it Luther’s own unjust treatment by the ecclesial authorities that scarred him into making of himself an island?

As he watched the ones he wouldn’t recognize as brethren shuffle out the door, I wonder if those abandoned words, scrawled in chalk on the table of dispute, still echoed in Luther’s mind. This is my body…

Theology Is Dangerous

The Eucharist is a thorny dispute. Allow me to briefly touch on the arguments, to illustrate why.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever receives the one I send receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.” — John 13:20

What is the Eucharist?

From the time of Justin Martyr onward, the faithful have acknowledged Christ’s presence in the meal which He instituted. But how is He present?

Some confess Him to be bodily present in the bread, with the bread, under the bread. Some confess that the bread is substantially transformed. Some are content (or sufficiently confused) to relegate it to mystery. Some believe in a spiritual presence. Some say that we are lifted up to heaven in partaking. Some view rather that Christ descends to us. For all, it is a participation (1 Corinthians 10:14-22). For some, it is held to be a sacrifice. A re-presentation. A liturgical recollection. A time of remembrance. A proclamation. An offering of praise.

The reformers themselves variously concurred on the necessity of faith for rightly partaking. “To eat the body of Christ spiritually is equivalent to trusting with heart and soul upon the mercy and goodness of God through Christ,” Zwingli wrote. “That person is truly worthy and well prepared [to partake],” Luther taught, “who has faith in these words: ‘Given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.’” Calvin, speaking of the Sacrament, explained, “Christ offers himself to us with all his benefits, and we receive him by faith.” But conflicting views of the elements are difficult to reconcile.

Suppose, for the sake of argument, we consider that it is Christ Himself, within the elements. Should He not be adored?—how abominable, to fail to recognize His presence! How could you call yourself a follower of Jesus and give him the cold shoulder, if you bumped into him in the middle of a crowd? Could you stand before your Judge and defend your failure to confess Him, just because it was publicly awkward?

Now suppose, likewise, that we take a more spiritualized view. What was compulsory now looks frighteningly akin to idolatry—the worship of bread and wine, material stuff. Superstition. Dependence on works. Maybe the stilted ceremony seems invested with exactly the kind of self-righteous hypocritical scrupulosity for which Jesus castigated the Pharisees. Or shall I name as my Savior that which is not capable of speech?

But it gets thornier.

You see, the arguments about the presence of Christ branch off into soteriology—the doctrine of salvation. The nature of the Gospel. Was His sacrifice really once for all (Hebrews 9:24-26)? Is not His complete righteousness imputed by faith (Romans 4:3)? Do we receive grace by partaking? Spiritually? Bodily? Haven’t we already received the grace? What is grace, anyway?

If you further hold that valid consecration of the Eucharist is dependent on the valid ordination of the celebrant, you find yourself confronted with a barrage of confusions regarding disputes of apostolic succession. Who gets to be the church?

If that’s not intimidating enough, it gets thornier still.

Suddenly we find ourselves in the realm of theology proper—Trinitarian theology, the stuff that really divides Christians from heretics.4 Where, precisely, is Christ? What is the relationship between His two natures—between the attributes of the divine nature, and the human?

Reader, heed the words of the Psalmist.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

“O LORD, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.” — Psalm 131:1

I Hear That There Are Divisions Among You

Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians addresses a church in a state of fragmentation: a timely concern for our day and age.

“What I mean is that each one of you says, ‘I follow Paul,’ or ‘I follow Apollos,’ or ‘I follow Cephas,’ or ‘I follow Christ.’ Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” — 1 Corinthians 1:13-14

This is ugly, and Paul deals out his reproof unsparingly. Nobody is off the hook here, not even those who declare “I follow Christ” as a way of putting down their brethren.

We later learn that this fragmentation has infiltrated and disrupted the Corinthians’ celebration of the Lord’s Supper. Here it becomes apparent moreover that the problem is not merely a crisis of truth; it is a crisis of charity.

“But in the following instructions I do not commend you, because when you come together it is not for the better but for the worse. For, in the first place, when you come together as a church, I hear that there are divisions among you. And I believe it in part, for there must be factions among you in order that those who are genuine among you may be recognized. When you come together, it is not the Lord’s supper that you eat. For in eating, each one goes ahead with his own meal. One goes hungry, another gets drunk. What! Do you not have houses to eat and drink in? Or do you despise the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing? What shall I say to you? Shall I commend you in this? No, I will not.” — 1 Corinthians 11:17-22

This passage may be understood to justify the rationale of “closed communion,” i.e., a local church excluding believers of differing confessions from partaking of their own tables. The reasoning generally runs that communion should be a time of doctrinal purity and unity, that to admit even a convictional believer obedient to the dictates of the authorities in the church of that believer’s own membership, if that other church’s confession is sufficiently distinct on significant points, would be a kind of adulteration of the feast, or pastorally irresponsible. In short, shared communion becomes the end goal of church unity efforts, rather than the basis.

I would like to challenge that rationale.

The word rendered here as “genuine,” elsewhere better translated as “approved,” comes from the Greek root δόκιμος, dokimos. This indicates acceptance by God (cf. 2 Corinthians 10:18, James 1:12).

When Paul recognizes the necessity of division in the church, he isn’t talking about the difference between kinds of believers. He’s talking about the difference between believers and non-believers.5 That is a true basis for severed communion (2 Corinthians 6:14-18).

Paul goes on in the present text, 1 Cor. 11, to recite the words of Christ by which He instituted the Supper, pointing out that we are proclaiming the message of Christ’s death. He has already defined it as a participation in the foregoing chapter, in addition to being a memorial.

After presenting the Words of Institution, Paul provides a severe warning against partaking unworthily; his language is strong and sobering.

“Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself. That is why many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. But if we judged ourselves truly, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.” — 1 Corinthians 11:27-32 [Emphasis added]

I’d like to call attention to three statements in parallel here:

“examine [δοκιμάζω, dokimazō] himself…” (vs. 28)

“…discerning [διακρίνω, diakrinō] the body…” (vs. 29)

“…judged [διακρίνω, diakrinō] ourselves…” (vs. 31)

It’s a fascinating and confusing knot of statements which I don’t intend to fully untangle, but there’s a significant point to be discovered. The central statement seems to speak comprehensively. We partake unworthily if we are not discerning the body.

What does it mean to be discerning the body?

Those who hold to various formulations of bodily presence in the Eucharist will see this statement as an affirmation of that doctrine. I’m not here to take a position on the mode of Christ’s presence in the Sacrament. I’m simply pointing out a broader implication—what Paul’s statement means for how we treat one another as believers.

You see, this central statement is sandwiched between two much more definite instructions which are comprehended within discerning the body. First, we are to discern ourselves as members of Christ’s body individually (vs. 28). The word here, dokimazō, related to dokimos (see above), is about approving—seeing whether we are in Christ (i.e., a believer, walking in repentance). Every individual communicant must first recognize himself or herself as in Christ, or else that person cannot worthily partake.6 Second, we are to discern ourselves as members of Christ’s body collectively (vs. 31). The word here, diakrinō, connotes separating, making a distinction, discriminating, just as in the central statement of vs. 29. The grounds for this collective distinction are no different: are you together recognizing all those who are in Christ?

To put it another way, this is my body isn’t just about the bread.

The implication is simple. If you would call someone a believer, you must accept that person at your table.7 8 If we fall short of this standard, we fall under the discipline of God.

To refuse someone from the Lord’s Table is to call that person, for all intents and purposes, outside of Christ—an unbeliever (Matthew 18:15-17). Even in that extremity, our goal, and the goal of excommunication, ought to be restoration (1 Corinthians 5:5).

Brothers and sisters, how can we call one another brethren if we exclude one another from communion? Do we claim authority to reject the one accepted by Christ?

“Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” — 1 John 3:18

The Epiphany of Emmaus

If we desire that the injured body of Christ be healed, we would do well to heed the words of a physician.

Near the end of Luke’s Gospel, the author recounts a tantalizing anecdote. In the aftermath of the Crucifixion, two disciples—Cleopas and another—were walking and talking dejectedly on the way to the village of Emmaus, a few miles outside Jerusalem. Presently, they found themselves accompanied by a third.

One wonders how this mysterious figure might have appeared to their eyes. Were his clothes tattered and soiled, wayworn? Repulsive, or merely nondescript?

What sort of person did the disciples suppose him to be? A beggar? A bandit? A tax collector? Or worse, a foreigner?

At any rate, he certainly seemed ignorant.

“Then one of them, named Cleopas, answered him, ‘Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?’” — Luke 24:18

It was the third day since the Crucifixion. Everybody knew about the Crucifixion, that was three days ago, over and done. The guy who claimed to be the Messiah, the one starting to get some traction with the crowds, had been killed. Yet again, Rome had indomitably crushed the aspirations of the dreamers. Cleopas and his friend had heard about the empty tomb, true, but that was only a rumor. They didn’t know what to make of it. They hadn’t seen with their eyes. To judge by their words, they weren’t feeling optimistic.

“But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.” — Luke 24:21a

Do you hear the disappointment? Had hoped.

The stranger responded with a rebuke. Then—surprisingly!—he began to teach them from the Scriptures, expounding powerfully upon prophecy. What business did this rogue evangelist have being so brilliant with joy? Who did he think he was? At any rate, he knew the Scriptures; moreover, he wielded them to effect. The disciples found themselves… discomfited. Of that lesson, they would later say, “Did not our hearts burn within us?” (Luke 24:32).

And so they came to their lodging place. The stranger indicated that he would continue on his way, saving them the awkward business of ridding themselves of his company. In that moment, Cleopas and his friend made a decision—“Stay with us,” they asked, “for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent” (Luke 24:29b).

So the stranger stayed.

As they reclined around the table later that evening, spreading forth their meager provisions, the stranger performed a mundane gesture—perfectly mundane, and yet nonetheless invested with startling significance to those haunted by the memory of the last meal they had shared with their Teacher. The one where he’d said this is my body. The stranger reached for the bread, took it in his hands, asked a blessing, and broke it, passing around the portions to his fellows.

“And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. And he vanished from their sight.” — Luke 24:31

One momentary glimpse of the risen Lord. What might this curiously evasive passage mean for the Eucharist? We come to the table to recognize Christ in the brother by our side.

And in Christ, the disciples encountered hope.

“Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.” — Luke 24:35

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Not One Of His Bones Will Be Broken

Looking around at the dismal state of Christian unity, it’s easy to feel dispirited.

The painful rift of Marburg was only one instance. Formal schism has existed for a thousand years. Bitter tensions and conflicts have wracked the church from the time of the Apostles onward.

Maybe we think the unity Jesus prayed for (John 17:20-26) isn’t possible. Maybe we think domineering authority is the only thing that can bring us together—that the world’s playbook works, and the way of Christ doesn’t. Maybe we doubt the worth of charity and the effectual work of the Spirit. Maybe we become historical pessimists. Maybe we build up pride in our own camps, putting down one another, forging a counterfeit unity out of those who won’t make us too uncomfortable, or maybe we find ourselves tempted rather to give up on dearly-held Scriptural convictions, resigning ourselves to confusion and uncertainty.

What grounds do we have to hold out hope?

It’s ironic that the meal of the broken body of Christ so often seems to end up… breaking the body of Christ.

But is it really proper to say His body was “broken”?

Whenever I find myself grieved by divisions in the church, I take comfort in remembering that there’s a deeper reality at work. More holds us together than mere circumstance; a richer Life than our own indwells us. In Christ’s hour of suffering, yes, His flesh was much injured—lashed, lacerated, flayed, impaled, crucified—but even so, there was a kind of essential bodily integrity which was not permitted to be violated.

“Since it was the day of Preparation, and so that the bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day), the Jews asked Pilate that their legs might be broken and that they might be taken away. So the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first, and of the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. But one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water. He who saw it has borne witness—his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth—that you also may believe. For these things took place that the Scripture might be fulfilled: ‘Not one of his bones will be broken.’” — John 19:31-36

This claim about the bones has always intrigued me. There’s something oblique and fascinating about it—some suggestion of a grand significance not immediately apparent. What’s the point?

Not one single bone was broken, Scripture testifies—not a rib? Not one of those itty bitty ones in the toes, so easy to crush? Not the wrist-bones, with an iron spike driven between?

This, even despite all the powers of Hell being unleashed against Him. Imagine lowering a man into a moiling pit of lawn-mowers, Jurassic Park-style, and lifting him out again, only to see the old clothes perfectly cut away from his untouched skin, not a single bleeding scratch to be discovered, with a fresh haircut and a clean shave besides! That, to my mind, is the sort of precision conveyed by this prophecy.

Do you see, now, the hand of the Father over every minute circumstance which befell His Son?

Do you see Him lovingly preserving His own, even through the hour of trial?—even when it seemed His adversaries would rip His body apart? Even when it seemed they had succeeded?

Brothers and sisters, let us keep the faith.

“Blessed is that servant whom his master will find so doing when he comes.” — Matthew 24:46

Bibliography

Beto, George John. “The Marburg Colloquy of 1529: A Textual Study.” Concordia Theological Monthly 16 (February 1, 1945). Accessed February 25, 2026. https://scholar.csl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2847&context=ctm.

Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Vol. 2. Translated by John Allen. New York: Robert Carter & Brothers, 1845. Accessed March 9, 2026. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64392.

Concordia Publishing House. Formula of Concord: Epitome. In The Book of Concord. St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House. Accessed March 13, 2026. https://bookofconcord.cph.org/en/formula-of-concord-epitome/vii_the_holy_supper_of_christ/.

Justin Martyr. “The First Apology.” In Ante-Nicene Fathers, edited by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, 159–187. Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1885. Accessed March 9, 2026. https://archive.org/details/antenicenefather01robe/page/184/mode/2up.

Ligonier Ministries. We Believe: Creeds, Catechisms, and Confessions of Faith. Sanford, FL: Ligonier Ministries, 2023.

Luther, Martin. Letter to Katharina von Bora, October 4, 1529. In Martin Luther’s Letters, transcribed at Lutherdansk. Accessed February 25, 2026. http://www.lutherdansk.dk/Web-Luther’s%20Letters/Martin%20Luther%20-%20Letters%203.htm#_Toc106560561.

Luther, Martin. Luther’s Small Catechism with Explanation. St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 2017.

Luther, Martin. Table Talk. Translated by William Hazlitt. Grand Rapids, MI: Christian Classics Ethereal Library. Accessed March 9, 2026. https://ccel.org/ccel/luther/tabletalk/tabletalk.

Osiander, Andreas. The Marburg Colloquy—Report by a Lutheran Eyewitness (1529). Translated by Ellen Yutzy Glebe. In German History in Documents and Images. Accessed February 25, 2026. https://germanhistorydocs.org/en/from-the-reformations-to-the-thirty-years-war-1500-1648/the-marburg-colloquy-report-by-a-lutheran-eyewitness-1529.

Zwingli, Ulrich. “An Exposition of the Faith.” In Zwingli and Bullinger, edited by G. W. Bromiley, 257–286. Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1953. https://archive.org/details/thelibraryofchristianclassics/mode/2up.

Zwingli, Ulrich. The Marburg Colloquy—Ulrich Zwingli’s Report (October 20, 1529). In German History in Documents and Images. Accessed February 25, 2026. https://germanhistorydocs.org/en/from-the-reformations-to-the-thirty-years-war-1500-1648/the-marburg-colloquy-ulrich-zwingli-s-report-october-20-1529.

The man, perhaps not realizing that his statement that Jesus was “good” is true, because Jesus is God, says, “All these things I have kept since youth.”

And so Jesus, replied, “One thing you still lack; sell all that you possess and distribute the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me.”

Perhaps you know what happens next, for this whole interaction is recorded in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 18. The man leaves sad, and Jesus reflects that it is incredibly difficult for the rich to inherit the Kingdom. Everyone was like, “what, then who can be saved?” and Jesus assures them that, with God, all things are possible.

Today, this is taught in American churches as “see, your relationship to money is a heart condition, but God isn’t saying you need to be poor. With God, you can become someone who owns great wealth and yet still enters into eternal life.”

Except, that’s not what Jesus means, because that’s not where the story ends.

Right after this, Peter reminds Jesus that His disciples have left everything—they have done what the rich man would not. Jesus says, “Truly I say to you, there is no one who has left house, or wife, or brothers, or parents, or children for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times as much at this time, and in the age to come, eternal life.”1

Then Jesus heals the sight of a blind man while on His way into Jericho, and inside Jericho he meets someone we are supposed to see in contrast to the “rich young ruler”.2 His name, of course, is Zaccheus.

Jesus invites himself over to Zaccheus’ house, and there Zaccheus declares, “Behold, Lord, half of my possessions I am giving to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone, I am giving back four times as much.” And Jesus then says, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.”3

Zaccheus impoverished himself. Half his wealth gone, off the top. Then, since he was a tax collector, it was very likely he had “extorted” many people. In all likelihood, he would be a pauper when he was done. And Jesus’ response? Jesus assures him he doesn’t have to give his wealth up, only change his heart condition and begin to tithe…

No. That’s what our churches today in the American south may well teach, but not Jesus. This messianic King declares that rescue (or “salvation”) has come to Zaccheus’ home.

Listen, when Jesus declared “all things are possible with God” He wasn’t saying that “even rich people can keep their wealth and enter eternal life”. He was saying, “with God, even the rich can give up their great wealth”.

And it is with that on our minds, that Jesus tells us the parable of the “Ten Minas”4

“Generosity” As Defense

Jesus’ teachings on money are radical, especially when read at face value. But rarely do we want to face Jesus’ teachings head-on, and thus we must default to certain (predictable) defenses.

In the American church, this first and strongest defense is usually “generosity”.

• “I give (x) percent to the church.”

• “I use this (house, car, computer, etc.) for God and His Kingdom.”

• “Without this thing, I wouldn’t be able to do this other thing for God.”

I have said every single one of these. Every. Single. One.

And they are all excuses that, in light of Jesus’ teachings, are pathetic. “Pathetic” may seem like a strong word, but I mean it. Each of these defenses (and many others) hinge on some basic principles:

1. There is a certain percent (usually 10%) that is required of me to give, and anything beyond is “generous”.

2. Using a material possession for God justifies my ownership of it.

3. God “needs” me to own something so that He can do His will.

Now, you may disagree with these principles in theory, but I would argue that most of us live lives in which we do not disagree in practice. Yet each of these are easily debunked (which is why they are “pathetic”).

1. The giving of every single thing I own is still immeasurably short from what is “required” of me. My generosity should be aiming to match Christ’s own generosity, and He has held back nothing. A tithe of 100% given in love would be received with joy in Heaven, but would not be thought “above and beyond”. A life that is a “living sacrifice”5 is the most reasonable response to the Gospel of Jesus.

2. God will use all things, including the evil and sin of this world, for His purposes. His willingness to use my immaturity or sin does not excuse me when I have refused to give something up.

3. God needs nothing from me, though He desires my love and my submission for His glory and my good. He does not “need” me to own or posses anything so that His will can be done.

We would do better as a Church to think less about how much we’ve given, but instead ask the Lord what He desires us to keep, and then give away all else. Our default posture should be to give and give and give, only holding on to something when we hear clearly from the Lord.

Yet we almost exclusively do the opposite: we keep and keep and keep, only giving when we hear clearly from the Lord.

Oh, how wicked we are. An evil and crooked generation, surely. And, it seems to me, that I am the worst. My sin in this area is great, and my justifications have been long and fervent. I’ve held back and held back and held back, ever justifying myself that I was a “simple guy” and didn’t want much. Only my wife ever called out my sin, observing how I would justify and hyper-focus on this or that.

No, in the church and with friends, I appeared to be doing the opposite of serving money. My house was smaller than everyone else’s, we had one car, lived “simply”. Yet there was pride in even that, and a secret desire that in simplicity there would be financial security, and in financial security there was a form of salvation.

Oh, how wicked am I that even my “simplicity” and “generosity” were not always in service to Jesus.

And how great is God that He used those mixed offerings anyway, and has been so faithful to never give up on my wife and I, but has kept pursuing us, raising us up more and more into His likeness! And that is true for you, as well. He has not, nor will ever, give up on you. He is patient, and kind, and is pleased to love you.

Still, it is important to say once more that when the teachings of Jesus make us feel as though we need to defend ourselves or rationalize away our lack of zeal, we are most certainly in sin—or at the very least, at the precipice of it.

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A Righteous Calling

I have heard Tim Mackie (of the Bible Project) define “righteousness” as “doing right by God and doing right by others”. And what does it mean to be righteous in our relationship to God? In other words, how do we treat God rightly?

In Genesis 15, Abram6 receives a vision in which God says, “Look up at the sky and count the stars—if indeed you can count them. […] So shall your offspring be.”7

This is impossible, by the way, for Abram’s wife is too old to conceive.

And yet… “Abram believed the LORD, and he credited it to him as righteousness.”8

In other words, to treat God rightly means to believe His word even when it stands in opposition to reality. This lesson is one that must take root in us in all areas of our life, and money is no exception.

Friend, we must believe God will provide all we need even if we give away all we have. If we are willing to do sacrifice all (shown by actually doing it, not just professing it), we can affirm that we have faith in our Lord who promised us “seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be provided”.9

We treat God rightly when we truly believe His words, even when they stand in contrast to reality.

But we treat God wrongly when we hold back what is ours because we “need” it.

When Jesus says we should pray for our “daily bread”, He didn’t mean that we should store up decades worth of retirement savings. He meant, very literally, we should pray for our daily provision. But this spurns up in us feelings of defensiveness because we have been taught that it is irresponsible not to save—to store up. In fact, we have been taught that storing up for ourselves in savings and retirement accounts enables us to be generous.

That is a lie.

We do not need a savings to be generous. Rather, we need to be so convinced in the goodness of God that we drain our savings.

As Jesus looked up, he saw the rich putting their gifts into the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow put in two very small copper coins. “Truly I tell you,” he said, “this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”10

I can recall only three people Jesus commends regarding their use of wealth: Zaccheus (who gave away it away), Mary (who anointed Him with a ridiculously expansive oil) and this widow. In other words, Jesus only commends the people who gave everything.

What about those who are very rich, and so give 70% or 90% of everything? Well, Jesus seems unimpressed with them, so why should I be? What sort of fool would say that he loves Jesus and is His disciple, and yet would rather be identified with the rich rather than the widow?

Me, for the record. As often as not. I have struggled with selfishness, and have not always chosen generosity. I write this with a pure conscience only because of recent repentance, not because of some years worth of righteous living.

When Jesus said he would provide everything I need if I sought Him and His Kingdom, I didn’t believe Him. I confessed I did, but you only needed to peer into my growing savings account, and you would have known the truth.

Oh, how great is the mercy of God that He is pleased to bear with us. He is patient. Slow to anger. Quick to forgive. Extending love and blessing to us who are so far from deserving. All for the glory of the Son, and the Father, and the good of His people.

A Narrow Way Forward

God is a physician, and it appears that often He will not perform surgery on patients who are not willing (though, I’m sure exceptions abound). For my wife and I, we had to go through a series of choices that required us to say “yes” before we were put in a place of having our wealth taken from us.

We had to say “yes” to a cross-country move, to starting a non-profit, and “no” to seeking other forms of financial provision. We’ve had to endure some judgmental comments and views from those we love, and to keep ourselves humble when people look at us and say, “I so wish I could have your faith”.

They can, in fact, have such faith. They often simply refuse it, though it is offered freely from our Father.

I would be foolish to indicate that, in this format, I can give some broad-brush statements about what you should do with your money. I can’t, especially as that could easily become confused with a poverty gospel.11 Yet I would be remiss if I give no helpful guidance and thoughts.

In our next article in this series, we’ll learn about trusting in God in the “Wilderness”, and how you and I are called to choose the wilderness lifestyle. There, we’ll see some basic understandings for how we are to live our life rise to the surface.

But I will end on this thought, which may also be a precursor to other things in this series.

You may not be called to quit your job or sell your home, but you are called to participate in Jesus’ economy. And that first step, whatever it will be for you, will feel like a dying of sorts. It will be scary, a risk filled decision in which if Jesus is not faithful to His promises you will experience great harm.

But Jesus is faithful. Forever and always.

For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is life not more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the sky, that they do not sow, nor reap, nor gather crops into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more important than they? And which of you by worrying can add a single day to his life’s span? And why are you worried about clothing? Notice how the lilies of the field grow; they do not labor nor do they spin thread for cloth, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you? You of little faith! Do not worry then, saying, ‘What are we to eat?’ or ‘What are we to drink?’ or ‘What are we to wear for clothing?’ For the Gentiles eagerly seek all these things; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be provided to you.

So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.12

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In nearly every church I’ve attended, what is called “Biblical Money Principles” tend to looking something like:

• Be debt free

• Live below your means

• Responsibly save for emergencies and retirement

• And be generous (first to your local church, then beyond)

These principles have permeated through all forms of church barriers and have been held up as good stewardship and wisdom.

Yet, though these principles have often been taught as though they are deeply rooted in Scripture, the truer narrative of Scripture’s relationship with money does not support them. In other words, they are not (in the deepest sense of the word) “Biblical”.

To be clear, you can find Bible verses to loosely support each one, but you’ll often be pulling them from out of their larger context and usually from Proverbs, a book whose meaning is to be understood in contrast with Ecclesiastes and Job. You see, finding Bible verses to support an idea carries little weight if the narrative of Scripture as a whole does not affirm that idea.

Now, to be clear, I have no desire to dismantle these ideas about money. Anecdotally, these principles (generally summarized in the Bible Belt as Dave Ramsey’s “Baby Steps”) helped my wife and I pay off my student loans and begin a lifestyle of generosity.

God used it, but I’ve come to learn He would have preferred my wife and I to have been discipled into a deeper, more edifying, understanding about money. An understanding that will be immensely controversial in a wealth and security worshipping church culture.

An understanding about money that, in reality, is a narrow way.

And I had to be forced into this understanding, for I could not have grasped these ideas nor been convinced of their validity based on my own wisdom. It was as if I had a spiritual bone that grew malformed (“Being financially secure is wise!”) and the Lord had to re-break my bone and set it anew so it would heal as He desired (“Wisdom begins when I fear the Lord. Where my treasure is, my heart will be also. I cannot serve God and money.”).

As I catalogue what I have learned (and am learning) about money and finances, the temptation would be for these ideas to be quickly excused away, for this teaching is hard. That’s understandable, for only the Lord can truly grant insight into the depths of our hearts and the interplay there with money.

Only God can be so generous with His riches as to come into your life and re-break you too. But, here there should be a warning: it is possible to say to the great Physician, “no, sir, I like my arm as it is. I will not let you touch it.”

May we be on guard from this, and pray against it.

Relating to Money Like Jesus

More often than not, when a Christian uses the statement “well, I’m not Jesus” as a defense against a call to holiness, they are (for that moment) not choosing to surrender some element of their life to the “the originator and perfecter of the faith”1.

To confess with our lips “Jesus is Lord!” and to believe in our hearts that God has raised Jesus up from the dead means, at its most fundamental conclusion, to surrender our very lives to be conformed into Jesus’ likeness.

The statement “well, I’m not Jesus” nearly always equates to, “well, I’m choosing not to conform to Jesus’ likeness in this area.” Yet, for Jesus to truly be our Lord means to give up our own will, our very ability to “choose” something other than His command.

So how did Jesus relate to money?

Well, firstly, he put Judas—someone he knew was stealing from the moneybag—in charge of all of it (see John 12). Meditating on this simple fact will do much to wrestle our hearts towards God.

In a small essay on Desiring God, John Bloom writes,

But in knowingly giving dishonest Judas the moneybag, Jesus specifically modeled for us where not to put our trust: money. Jesus trusted his Father, not money, to provide everything he needed to fulfill his calling. He slept in peace every night, knowing that Judas was embezzling.

To be clear, Jesus was not only having Judas run his own moneybag, but the money for all those traveling with Jesus. Could you imagine, in America, a pastor knowingly putting an embezzler in charge of the church finances? We would call him or her foolish, unwise, irresponsible, enabling immoral behavior, and perhaps even worse.

We know we cannot call Jesus any of that, but many of us also fear to reevaluate our own relationship to money in light of His relationship to it. Thus, many of us either ignore this entirely, or begin the art of hoop-jumping that ultimately hinges upon the idea that, “well, we aren’t Jesus”. Jesus can do that, but today we must…

And yet, the most obvious teaching and conclusion is radically different.

Perhaps our churches today are supposed to put so little faith in the church bank account that we would let an immoral man run them, knowing that the God who raised Jesus from the dead is truly our defense, and would use those immoral actions for the gain of His Kingdom.2

It recalls to mind the story of Jesus paying the Temple tax (for both Him and Peter) with money from a fish. Recounted in Matthew 17, right after Jesus has been Transfigured and then gone on and healed a demon-possessed boy, then rebuking his disciples (because they couldn’t heal the boy) telling them “truly I say to you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”3

Right after all that, we get this story.

Now when they came to Capernaum, those who collected the two-drachma tax came to Peter and said, “Does your teacher not pay the two-drachma tax?” He said, “Yes.” And when he came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth collect customs or poll-tax, from their sons or from strangers?” When Peter said, “From strangers,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are exempt. However, so that we do not offend them, go to the sea and throw in a hook, and take the first fish that comes up; and when you open its mouth, you will find a stater. Take that and give it to them for you and Me.”

Now, I believe this passage has much to say about our relationship to the powers of this earth, and the declaration of who Jesus is (and by extension who we are) that I’m still learning and wrestling with. For our purposes, I would like to reflect on how flippantly it seems Jesus takes the need for money and finances. He paid the tax not because He worked and hustled and earned his wage—not in the American sense, at least. Jesus was going about the will of His Father, and thus he trusted that His heavenly Father knew His needs. So, He sought first the Father’s Kingdom and the Father’s righteousness, sure that “all these things will be provided to” Him.4

How much more powerful is this story in recognition that Jesus should not have even had to pay the tax. Yet, He didn’t argue or ask to speak to a manager. He didn’t claim it was unfair or even seem anxious at all. He knew that His Father would provide even for a tax Jesus should be exempt from. And through relationship with the Father, Jesus knew the way in which the provision would come.

A strange and impossible way.

“…go to the sea and throw in a hook, and take the first fish that comes up; and when you open its mouth, you will find a stater.”

Considerations for Our Life and Practice

The most fundamental Christian principle about money is this: do not trust it.

Do not look to it for provision, do not look to it for security, do not look to it for meaning, do not look to it for satisfaction, do not look to it for pleasure, do not trust it.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

The eye is the lamp of the body; so then, if your eye is clear, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. So if the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!

No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.5

So what is the response I so often hear when tough conversations about money and heart conditions are brought up? “Well, of course we shouldn’t trust money, but we also shouldn’t be foolish with it either. I just have to keep my heart trusting in God, then I am free to use money wisely.”

But here is the most poisonous and deadly lie that permeates Christian circles in America: all this money talk is purely spiritual. No outward sign is truly needed—and heck, no other person can identify whether I have a healthy relationship with money. It’s all about the heart, which only God can see.

Friend, you are an earthly being. Nothing in our lives is exclusively spiritual. Everything bears earthly fruit. You cannot claim to have a healthy relationship to money while storing it up on earth.

There is no exception. There is no “out”. There is no, “well, you don’t understand” or “my pastor said” or anything else that will protect our hearts.

Storing up wealth is serving it, and the whole thing darkens our eyes so we cannot even see the light, so that eventually everything within us becomes darkness. I can think of no entry-drug to sin more common in our culture than a slippery slope with earthly riches that the American church has called “stewardship” yet Jesus has called “service to wealth”.

There are earthly tools that can be helpful for a disciple of Jesus (budgeting, debt-paying snowballs, etc.). But those are not spiritual disciplines that will draw you into Christ-likeness. In fact, they may well just make you “a more clever devil”.6

Or worse, those tools, when put in the hands of a disciple who has not yet learned what discipleship truly costs, may become more a snare than an aid, turning hearts from the potential to see God as Provider to instead seeing budgeting and retirement accounts as our way of provision.

Soon, without ever meaning, we become people who are serving those systems that brought us out of debt and into a larger home with a healthier retirement account. We feel good because we have tithed some, helped a few brothers and sisters, and so offset the balance of purchasing another “new to me” car and moving into the HOA zoned for the nicer schools.

And who tells us different? In all likelihood, those steps will see us appointed to a board of Elders in our church, not into anything like a challenging conversation. We receive pats on the back, and the most successful of us will be called “leaders” and “teachers”.

Have we never felt chastised by the knowledge that Jesus Himself would not be able to grow a church to “mega-church” size, for His teachings are too difficult for that? If He stood on the stage of our churches He might say to us what He told His followers:

“Beware, and be on your guard against every form of greed; for not even when one is affluent does his life consist of his possessions.” And He told them a parable, saying, “The land of a rich man was very productive. And he began thinking to himself, saying, ‘What shall I do, since I have no place to store my crops?’ And he said, ‘This is what I will do: I will tear down my barns and build larger ones, and I will store all my grain and my goods there. And I will say to myself, “You have many goods stored up for many years to come; relax, eat, drink, and enjoy yourself!”’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This very night your soul is demanded of you; and as for all that you have prepared, who will own it now?’ Such is the one who stores up treasure for himself, and is not rich in relation to God.”

And He said to His disciples, “For this reason I tell you, do not worry about your life, as to what you are to eat; nor for your body, as to what you are to wear. For life is more than food, and the body is more than clothing. Consider the ravens, that they neither sow nor reap; they have no storeroom nor barn, and yet God feeds them; how much more valuable you are than the birds! And which of you by worrying can add a day to his life’s span? Therefore if you cannot do even a very little thing, why do you worry about the other things? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither labor nor spin; but I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. Now if God so clothes the grass in the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, how much more will He clothe you? You of little faith! And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying. For all these things are what the nations of the world eagerly seek; and your Father knows that you need these things. But seek His kingdom, and these things will be provided to you. Do not be afraid, little flock, because your Father has chosen to give you the kingdom.

“Sell your possessions and give to charity; make yourselves money belts that do not wear out, an inexhaustible treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near nor does a moth destroy. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”7

Oh, how small would Jesus’ church in America be.

Yet, let me draw attention to something beautiful that brings me comfort. Just before Jesus calls all (yes, all) of His disciples listening to “sell your possessions and give to charity”, he says, “Do not be afraid, little flock, because your Father has chosen to give you the kingdom.”

But I am afraid. The very idea of selling what I own to give to others terrifies the very part of me that really doesn’t trust Jesus. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Whether or not I can find an arrangement that works for the two parts of me: the part that trusts Jesus in love, and the part that doesn’t.

But Jesus tells me to not be afraid, and so I must choose to desire to be obedient to Him and put to death the part of me that does not trust him.

Jesus is surely unafraid, for he preaches this bold sermon without caveats or reassurances that maybe we can hold on to our things. The conviction sits upon our chests, and thus has the power to draw out our fears like poison being drawn from a wound.

If Jesus were to stand in the pulpit and preach this today, many would leave that church and go somewhere else that shares both their fear and their desire to keep it hidden. But a few would stay with Jesus, and when Jesus asked why they are still around, they would respond, “Where would we even go? Who else has the words of everlasting life?”8

What if the healthiest practice for most of us in our nation is to sell things that we own, but not to pay off our own debts, but our neighbor’s? What if our pay raise isn’t so we can begin purchasing the organic and “clean” products, but so that we can start helping our brothers and sisters with their groceries?

What if our children need parents who spend less time talking about how we can enjoy the good things God has given (which is true) and how we need to develop the discipline of giving up good things for the Kingdom of Heaven (also very true).

And maybe wisdom is not at all learning budgeting and having a Roth IRA, but is being so lovingly fearful of God that we would gladly die poor—no, gladly live poor—so that we might be a hoarder of the treasurer that is in Heaven.

An Analogy to Help

If I open a friend’s fridge and see a six-pack of beer, I don’t think anything about it, (though, I may ask if I can drink one).

If I open their fridge and they’ve got two twelve-packs, I’ll ask if there’s a party coming up. Game night?

But if their recycling is filled with cans and bottles, and their garage fridge is stocked full, and hard liquor lines the tops of the kitchen cabinets . . . I’ll probably ask a few tougher questions. Questions trying to search out what my friend thinks about meaning, about need, about value.

A house stocked with alcohol isn’t a sin, but it is usually a sign pointing to one.

Of course there are exceptions. They could be stocking up for a party, a wedding, or maybe Costco had an amazing deal. But exceptions are exceptions because they aren’t the “every day”. They stand out from the normal rhythms of life and is a season that should pass.

We could run this little story back again, but with dollars and investments instead of Bud Light and Jägermeister.

There is a six-pack equivalent of a savings account—something that isn’t needed for Christians who live off of a “daily bread” but is nice to have on a hot-summer’s day. To be upset about it is closer to the Inquisition than helpful discipleship.

And there’s also a stocking up of twelve-packs equivalent—the six-figure friend with a healthy savings and significant 401(k) contributions. It should be enough to raise an eyebrow, but only the closest and most intimate brothers and sisters in Christ could come alongside and call this into question. There may be real reasons for such storing up, (perhaps God is orchestrating the funding of a ministry) but it could be a sign of something deeper. Loving friends would ask.

And of course, there is the filled recycling cans and stocked garage fridge equivalent. This is the 3,000 square foot home in the nice HOA, the maxed out 401(k) contributions, newer cars, yearly vacations. You couldn’t possibly figure out what to get them as a Christmas present because, in their own words, they could always “just buy whatever they want”.

To be clear, there is no “sin” in owning an entire garage full of Heineken. But it’s also difficult to imagine getting to that point without a dependence on alcohol. And there is no “sin” in maxing out your 401(k) or buying a home that provides 500+ square feet per person… but it is so excessive by world (and historical) standards that it should be equally difficult to imagine getting to that point without a dependence on money and material possessions.

And, it should be noted, the longing is perhaps as bad as the having.

Though a smaller and smaller percentage of people in our economy will achieve this “dream”, a greater and greater percentage will lust after it. Those who have it will be deemed as mentors and people to aspire to, and the damage to our relationship to Jesus will be equally as harmful.

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Where We’re Going

This post has taken awhile to get out because I’ve been sending it to people in my community and getting feedback. The previous draft was much longer, but I realized it must become longer still.

Over the next few weeks we’ll discuss many of the common objections and concerns of a Jesus-view on money, and we’ll also highlight practical steps most of us (if not all) should take.

But I should say that this really is an especially difficult teaching because money is such a deceptive god. Money is fine with an otherwise godly marriage, with sacrificing your time, with purity and goodness. Money will let you forgive others, and be “Christian” is all the sense except allowing Jesus full Lordship.

Money will say “well, did Jesus really say” to just about anything sacrificial or what our American Church-culture calls “radical”. But that should be expected. We live in a Christ without sacrifice culture, or what Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls “cheap grace” in The Cost of Discipleship.

Without intending it, we have created a culture that is fine with a Jesus who says “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”9 and not the one who says of Paul, “I will show him how much he must suffer for my name.”10

They are the same Jesus, of course, for coming to Jesus and gaining rest also means we will follow Him through the dying of ourselves. They are the same. Worldly suffering for Christ somehow only magnifies our joy and rest in Jesus.

Material wealth that avoids that suffering, likewise smothers the joy and rest.

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In this video, we talk about the actual recording process. .

Here is an excerpt from near the beginning of their conversation.

“But you don’t know? You were sent there [to Hell] because you are an apostate.”

“Are you serious, Dick?”

“Perfectly.”

“This is worse than I expected. Do you really think people are penalized for their honest opinions? Even assuming, for the sake of argument, that those opinions were mistaken?”

“Do you really think there are no sins of intellect?[…] It all turns on what are honest opinions.”

“Mine certainly were. They were not only honest, but heroic. I asserted them fearlessly. When the doctrine of Resurrection ceased to commend itself to the critical faculties which God had given me, I openly rejected it. I preached my famous sermon. I defied the whole chapter. I took every risk.”

“What risk? What was at all likely to come of it except what actually came—popularity, sales for your book, invitations, and finally a bishopric?”

“Dick, this is unbecoming of you. What are you suggesting?”

“Friend, I am not suggesting at all. You see, I know now. Let us be frank. Our opinions were not honestly come by. We simply found ourselves in contact with a certain current of ideas and plunged into it because it seemed modern and successful.[…] You know that you and I were playing with loaded dice. We didn’t want the other to be true. We were afraid of a crude salvationism, afraid of a breach with the spirit of our age, afraid of ridicule, afraid (above all) of real spiritual fears and hopes.”

It’s important to note that the Ghost’s intellectual sin was related to a core element of faith—whether or not the resurrection of Christ was real. And yet, as I prepare to embark on a series of essays about issues of theological tension and conflict in the modern western church, I cannot help but feel as though I have often been very like the Ghost. No, I’ve never doubted the Resurrection, nor anything outlined in the Apostles' or Nicene Creeds, yet I’ve perpetually played “with loaded dice”. For the first ten(ish) years of my faith, I was defending things I wanted to be true rather than honestly beseeching the Scriptures and the Spirit to discern what is true.

Correction came for me (as it often does) in an area that was entirely separate from theological debate.

I was working a job in which I had deep conflicts with my manager, and I was handling those conflicts as I would anything else—debating, berating, and arguing. I was right, he was wrong, and I had to make that clear. One night I dreamed I was in a prison, and he was the jailer. I tried to free myself, but couldn’t. But the jail wasn’t a jail, it was a school. When I woke, I knew the exact meaning of the dream as though God had spoken it directly into my mind.

I was imprisoning myself to this man.

Unsurprisingly, the Spirit led me to John 17 (I “happened” to be in that passage during my read through of John). This chapter records the prayer that Jesus prays with His disciples before going to Gethsemane, and eventually the cross.

“I am not asking on behalf of these alone, but also for those who believe in Me through their word, that they may all be one; just as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me.”2

The world will believe that Jesus was sent by God if believers (of whom my manager was one) would be “one” just as Jesus and the Father are one. So what was I doing when I divided with this man because of what was “right” and “just” in the workplace?

Functionally, I had been declaring to the world that Jesus was not sent by the Father. That is a false gospel, and my actions had been preaching it. Oh, woe to me and all of us who have done the same. We are wicked and evil, and only Jesus’ alone can save us.

With this in mind, we may tentatively begin conversing about one of the most divisive topics in modern-day western Christianity—whether or not women may be ordained to pastoral ministry.

May God help us.

Some Clarity

For simplicity sake, I’m going to define two important terms as they apply to my journey (and as I think most people understand them). I can assure you that these definitions don’t capture the historical or academic depths behind each, but they are more grounded in the lived experiences of laypeople (like me).

Complementarianism: the belief that men and women are fully equal in identity and value, but that God has created them with different roles in and outside the Church. In practice, this means that there are roles of spiritual authority that women may not hold.

Egalitarianism: the belief that men and women are fully equal in identity and value, which means that they should be able to fulfill identical roles in and outside the Church. In practice, there is an acknowledgment of the differences men and women generally have, and a belief that those differences make the appointment of women into office of authority even more important.

Some Empathy

In all likelihood, you already have a belief about whether or not gender should be a consideration regarding whether or not someone should be appointment to a role, such as “pastor” or “priest”. It is equally likely that you believe you came to this conclusion through searching the Scriptures.

Perhaps you have. Perhaps you are playing with loaded die.

The fact of the matter is, immensely intelligent people who have lived (or are living) Spirit-led lives that have been radically transformed by the Gospel have come down on different sides of this debate.

John Wesley ordained two women near the end of his life, Dallas Willard wrote the forward to How I Changed My Mind About Women in Ministry, and N.T. Wright likewise ordained women during his time of ministry.

Those who believed in some form of restricting women from elements of teaching and leading include (nearly) all our historical forefathers, reformers (men and women), and even more recent thinkers, such as Tim Keller and Francis Chan. In 1948, C.S. Lewis wrote to the broader Anglican church about the dangers he foresaw in ordaining women as priests.

All this to say, each of us should be able to take a deep breathe and say with humility and honesty, “I may be wrong about this,” whatever side of this isle you come down upon. Now, I don’t mean to deify any Christian thinker nor catapult their work to the level of Scripture—God forbid. I only mean to say we should show loving deference and humility to those who have gone before us and whose lives have shown faithfulness and thoughtfulness to Christ.3

This does not mean we cannot hold a conviction, only that it should set healthy boundaries with how we hold such a conviction.

Straw Men & Strong Men

The most notorious intellectual sin (if I can be so bold) I see in this argument, is when people create “straw men”4 of the opposing side in order to justify their point. It is not hard to create (for either side) a story in which we can cast the “other” as having immoral or devilish intent (though perhaps we’ll soften it by indicating they are only ignorant).

Our complementarian brothers are (so the story goes) misogynists who feel safe only in an environment in which they can have power over women. Our sisters in these churches are victims, fooled into a form of oppression that Christ desires to set them free from, if only someone would preach them the good news of egalitarianism.

Our egalitarian brothers and sisters are (so the story goes) incapable of submitting to God’s commands when it does not appear “right in their own eyes” and are simply swept up in the “spirit of this age”.

If only one of those descriptions seemed ugly to you, I ask you to repent. They both should seem appalling, for they both are.

Surely, there are complementarian churches with misogynists leaders who take their authority and lord it over those in their churches, and husbands who do the same in their marriages. They do not have a theology problem, but a heart one. Or, perhaps (more accurately) their theological shortcoming is not in their beliefs about men and women, but their belief about God and power.

And surely there are egalitarian churches caught up in the “spirit of the age”, who came to their conclusions about leadership not because of honest study but because of fear of being a “misogynist”. They will cave to other social pressures (if they haven’t already) out of fears of being called a “bigot” or “homophobic”. They, likewise, do not have a theological shortcoming about men and women, but about their belief about God and power.

We would all do well to read less arguments about why the “other side” is wrong and more about why our brothers and sister who hold different viewpoints than us are still beautiful. Let’s do so now.

The Complementarian Strong Man

In Christ-centered complementarian churches, there is a genuine desire to kill the idol of “power” through the daily disciplines of “service” and “submission”. When they are at their best, they are communities of men and women who are operating in an ongoing mutual submission. Men, appointed by God, assume the roles as the lowliest of servants and give themselves to the “ministry of the word” (see Acts 6). Their brothers and sisters in the community support this work financially through tithes and offerings, as well as through service in all areas of the church community. Men and women “laypeople” provide wisdom and support, and trust the Spirit to lead those who have been tasked to lead the community.

They have thoughtfully come to the decision that women are not appointed by God to roles of leadership and authority, but they may not really know why this is so. Like the Levites chosen as priests, the clan of Judah as kings, or a mixture of Hebrew men as the Twelve Apostles, this community sees leadership and authority as exclusively appointed by God, and they trust that—even though it often seems to not make sense in their eyes. Yet, like the Levites, the kings, and the Apostles, they know these leaders are held to the highest of standards and will face the harshest of judgments, and they try to oversee their leadership duties with the appropriate weight.

The Egalitarian Strong Man

In Christ-centered egalitarian churches, there is a genuine desire to see all people step into the roles the Spirit has for them. When they are at their best, they are communities of men and women who are operating in an ongoing mutual submission. Men and women, appointed by God, assume the roles as the lowliest of servants and give themselves themselves to the “ministry of the word” (once more, see Acts 6). Their brothers and sisters in the community support this work financially through tithes and offerings, as well as through service in all areas of the church community. Men and women “laypeople” provide wisdom and support, and trust the Spirit to lead those who have been tasked to lead the community.

They have thoughtfully come to the decision that women may be appointed by God to roles of leadership and authority, but they are careful to separate someone’s value by what roles or function they fill in the Body of Christ, and to carefully seek the Spirit’s guidance to ensure they are not unduly swayed by the currents of modern culture. They know leaders in the Church are held to the highest of standards and will face the harshest of judgments, and they their leadership duties with the appropriate weight.

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But, Phil, you don’t understand…

• “I was in a complementarian church, and I watched the abuse.”

• “Paul’s teachings are so clear, and to allow a woman to teach and lead men is a sin.”

• “The logical conclusion of women not being allowed authority in church is an inherently abusive system.”

• “If we cannot trust God regarding what He has said about men and women, we will eventually become just like the culture around us.”

First, to those who have witnessed or been the victim of abuse in the church, please let me extend what grief and mourning I can in this medium. I am truly sorry, and your individual story and pain is not something I can truly hold or understand. I ask only that our Father in Heaven will hold and heal.

I would be a poor brother in Christ if I did not raise the concern that personal pain often becomes a tool for Satan to demonize others. Too often, the sin of men becomes the catalyst for generalization about those who share the same theological stance. Suddenly, the evil desires of a few lead us to believe that all complementarian churches are ticking time bombs of similar abuse. And if that is true, then all such who defend such institutions must be… and on and on it goes.

A similar logic is played out on the other side. There can be a feeling that egalitarian brothers and sisters are willing to play loose with the Scriptures, being moved hither and thither and willing to put together vague arguments based on feeling, perception, and a few tenuous Scriptures (of which you must have deep historical understanding to interpret, but trust me it really means…). And of course, if only Augustine, Luther, Lewis, and Keller had been as “enlightened” as these people with their liberal theology… and on it goes.

To be clear, I don’t understand all the integral arguments, nor the personal experiences of everyone involved. I daresay, no one does. But I would like to take time to explore this often under-appreciated portion of Paul’s letter to Rome concerning food sacrificed to idols, for I think it is intimately relevant here.

A Logical Division

I am in the middle of a multi-year deep dive into the Torah (first five books of the Bible). A good portion of these books (which are functionally the foundational texts for the Hebrew people) is spent discussing the ways that the Israelites are to be set apart from the surrounding nations. These laws are incredibly important to the story of God’s people, and indeed God’s work on earth.

And a good portion of those laws are about what foods can and cannot be eaten.

The first followers of Jesus were Jewish and continued to adhere to these food laws. Jesus hadn’t come to abolish the Law, after all, but to fulfill it (see Matthew 5). But as Gentiles began to also follow this Jewish messiah, the two cultural groups naturally began to clash in their life together. Rome became one of the points in which much of these conflicts came to a head, for it was home to many Jewish and Gentile believers.

I now think those Jewish believers made a very logical assumption5: these Gentiles should adhere to our food laws. Eating together was deeply intimate and important, so how could these Greek converts keep on eating foods God called “unclean” and which Jesus never ate. I am convinced that these Jewish believers weren’t being petty, they were trying to be faithful.

Though, I suppose trying to be “faithful” doesn’t mean we’re always “right”.

Paul corrects this theological belief in his letter to the Romans, essentially saying that Gentile believers do not need to confirm to food laws of the Old Covenant. If Paul was speaking like a modern-day American Christian writer, he’d have ended there, essentially saying, “this is why I’m right and your wrong, now agree with me or you are this or that.”

Instead, Paul ends this way.

Accept the one whose faith is weak, without quarreling over disputable matters. One person’s faith allows them to eat anything, but another, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables. The one who eats everything must not treat with contempt the one who does not, and the one who does not eat everything must not judge the one who does, for God has accepted them. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand.

One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind. Whoever regards one day as special does so to the Lord. Whoever eats meat does so to the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever abstains does so to the Lord and gives thanks to God. For none of us lives for ourselves alone, and none of us dies for ourselves alone. If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord. For this very reason, Christ died and returned to life so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living.

You, then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? For we will all stand before God’s judgment seat. It is written:

“‘As surely as I live,’ says the Lord,
‘every knee will bow before me;
every tongue will acknowledge God.’”

So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.

Therefore let us stop passing judgment on one another. Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in the way of a brother or sister. I am convinced, being fully persuaded in the Lord Jesus, that nothing is unclean in itself. But if anyone regards something as unclean, then for that person it is unclean. If your brother or sister is distressed because of what you eat, you are no longer acting in love. Do not by your eating destroy someone for whom Christ died. Therefore do not let what you know is good be spoken of as evil. For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, because anyone who serves Christ in this way is pleasing to God and receives human approval.

Let us therefore make every effort to do what leads to peace and to mutual edification. Do not destroy the work of God for the sake of food. All food is clean, but it is wrong for a person to eat anything that causes someone else to stumble. It is better not to eat meat or drink wine or to do anything else that will cause your brother or sister to fall.

So whatever you believe about these things keep between yourself and God. Blessed is the one who does not condemn himself by what he approves. But whoever has doubts is condemned if they eat, because their eating is not from faith; and everything that does not come from faith is sin.

Perhaps we should take this to heart. Why do so many spend significant time and effort “calling out” those who disagree with them about matters of church leadership? Surely it is okay to say “I believe this and here’s why”, but it is another matter to say “this is what they believe and here is why they are wrong.” Who are we to judge God’s servants if they are faithfully seeking the Lord? Who are we to say someone is in the wrong if they are trying to serve our Lord in faith?

I am not their master, and neither are you.

It is a sad irony that when we try to extrapolate the heart conditions of our brothers and sisters because of their theological stance, we’ve made such a childish error that we lose the authority to truly call out our brothers and sisters who have shown their heart condition by their actions. When we have made every complementarian a misogynists, no one will take us seriously when we try to call out true misogyny. When we insinuate that all egalitarians refuse to take the Word of God seriously, we lose our ability to call our genuine instances of such churches giving into the way of the world rather than the Word of God.

Some will (rightly) point out that Christians have a long standing history of calling out both abuses in our society and lack of orthodoxy in the Church. Therefore, should Christians not call out others for “oppressing women” in complementarian churches? Or, shouldn’t Christians not call out one another for “disregarding the Scriptures” in egalitarian churches?

When there are specific actions of abuse, those should be called out and brought to account, yes. When there are flagrant disregards for elements of Christian orthodoxy (see the Apostle’s Creed), then those should be called out and brought to account, yes. But when a fellow gathering of believers has a genuine desire to please God, and believes they are living in a way that is pleasing to God (even if we think they are mistaken), then we should allow their Master in Heaven to do as He sees fit with His servants.

Perhaps if we are focused first on submitting to our brothers and sisters in Christ, bearing with them in their journey without judgment and with copious amounts of grace and love, we shall actually persuade some to our side.

Or not. If we only love one another, I’m unsure how much else really matters. For in our love for one another, Christ shall be glorified, and this should always our highest aim.

Going Forward

I would like to end by encouraging readers to check out two wonderful resources. The first is the essay from C.S. Lewis on this topic that I referenced above, titled “Priestesses in the Church?” The second is a rather short, but splendid, video by N.T. Wright. In it, he argues that this issue isn’t one to divide the church over, but to live in a way that “does not make demands on one another’s conscience, but may make demands on one another’s charity.”

Perhaps that’s what I’ve been trying to say this whole time, but with many (many) more words.

I (Phil) try to avoid topics in which Living Room Disciple doesn’t have an organizational stance. We have a Gospel-centered, but theologically rich, team of people who may not agree with all my thoughts (and praise the Lord for that!).

With that in mind, I thank the numerous people who read this piece ahead of time to ensure it stayed thoughtful and respectful. To my wife, Brittany, who helped me clarify my thoughts. And to my mentor, Cindi, who gave me her loving “thumbs up”. And to Nick O’Brien (Renewed Mind), who has graciously disagreed with me and sharpened me more than any other regarding this issue. I thank and bless each of you.

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In this video, we build a sound booth.

I didn’t actually know anything about denominations, mind you. Except, of course, that they were all “dead religion”.

To be fair, the leaders I was under in those early years of my faith may well have come from churches that were so focused on their liturgies and form, that they had created a sort of “dead religion”. For many, the burst of non-denominational churches in America in the late 1900s surely felt like a breath of fresh air, bringing to the center of the church the simplicity of the gospel and the love of Jesus.

By the time I showed up in the late ‘00s, things were more “event venue” than “radical for Jesus”. Teaching had become little more than public speaking, worship little more than shallow and popular songs led by skilled musicians, and “conviction” was more about agreeing with the (little “c”) church than about a willingness to by all-in for Jesus.

My experience is hardly special. Many millennials experienced the same and it led some to “deconstruction”, some to “apathy”, and other to exploring more ancient forms of Christian faith.1

Yet, I’ve always maintained my wariness of denominations, though, my reasons have since changed. In fact, it’s the changing that is the problem. I no longer believe that denominational churches are a bunch of homes for “dead religion”, but I’ve still kept my distance.

The thing is, so often denominations are denominations because they have drawn a line in the sand about a non-gospel related issue. They believe in infant baptism (or don’t). They believe women shouldn’t be pastors (or should). They believe Christ is literally present in the bread and cup (or think that idea is gross).

Or whatever.

Lines are drawn that create a sense of “the people who believe X worship over here, and the people who believe Y worship over there.”

To be fair, I’m painting denominationalism in its worst light and removing important elements of historicity that have gone into creating the (literal) thousands of denominations of Christianity worldwide. But I’m using the broad brush only to explain my personal hesitancy, not to describe the lived reality of many faithful Jesus followers in denominations.2

The thing is, for me, once upon a time, I divided myself up from the church on non-gospel related issues… a lot. There would be an issue that I (at the old age of twenty-two) was certain I had enough knowledge and maturity to call out in other Christians. Whether this was baptism, just-war theory, or women in pastoral leadership. I created conflict over these things and made sweeping statements about others who disagreed with me.

After the Lord disciplined me (a story for another time), I did my best to stop that sort of internal and external dialogue. And, since then, I’ve changed my thoughts on a vast array of topics regarding church life.

And it’s this idea, on my changing of thoughts and opinions, that will be the topic of my next few posts. I’ll be writing on some topics that, for many, are controversial. Yet I will rarely, if ever, be taking a distinct stance. Instead, I’ll be recounting my explorations and trying to shed light on the complexities of issues.

My goal isn’t to lack conviction by sounding “wishy washy” on various debates.

In fact, it’s about the very opposite.

Each of us only has so much gas in the tank regarding convictions and which hill to die on. In the church, when we choose to fight over who can be in the pulpit, whether or not someone is “elected” regardless of free will, or whatever else, we are nearly always meandering away from that which is the only thing worthy of our total and utter conviction: Christ and Him crucified.

A Church truly full of conviction would also be a very diverse, and conversely very united, Church.

So, I’m prayerful that a more frank exploration of my journey on these issues will help each of us love one another better, find a sense of humility, and become more convicted about Jesus’ Lordship.

Or I suppose you could rail against me in the comments.

We’ll find out next week.

In this video, we explore what we need to actually make this happen.

In this video, we explore the three options we have to do this, and why we’re doing it ourselves.

It’s been a longstanding Living Room Disciple habit to take the last two and first two weeks of the year off, as a time of rest and prayer. This go around, it was also a time for some serious creative pursuit (about 60k worth of words on the rough draft of The Glorious Fall of Layla Ricker).

But we’re back now, and you should start seeing regular Substack posts coming again next Saturday (January 24th).

Some New Book News…

We are so incredibly excited to announce that our first book of 2026 should be rolling out this Summer. Written by Vanessa Matelski, The Keeper of What Can’t Be Told (working title) is a middle-grade urban fantasy that is truly wonderful. We’re in the middle of edits now, but will be able to roll out more information soon.

In the meantime, check out Vanessa’s post here for more info!

This is one of three novels currently on the docket for release this year, so stay tuned for more information on those other works!

Back In Stock

You may have noticed The Tragedy of Oli Ricker was out of stock for a minute there . . . it’s back! If you haven’t snagged it yet, we can’t recommend it enough.

We have six 5-star reviews on Amazon/Goodreads. I mean… come on. Six.

You can pick up a paperback using a link below. These links support LT Publishing the most (though you can totally pick it up at B&N and Amazon if that’s most convenient).

Order Paperback

And if you want to order 5+ copies (Book Club, anyone?), use the bulk order link below for a small discount.

Bulk Order

Audiobook, anyone?

We’ve heard from a number of you the desire of The Tragedy of Oli Ricker to come to audiobook. For a bit, we were exploring using a studio to make that happen. Unfortunately, that didn’t pan out.

So… we’re working on it in-house. Literally.

We’re going to document the whole journey on our social media, so if you aren’t following Living Tome on Instagram, you should.

Support In Prayer

Please keep praying for the provision of the Lord over the Living Room Disciple and LT Publishing.

In Christ,

Phil Snyder

In the midst of that, I got a text from a friend.

A discussion came up this morning on AI generated art. How are we formed by that? Could we have a genuine worship experience while listening to AI worship music? What if we don’t know it’s AI?

For what it’s worth, there simply aren’t answer to all these questions right now. To some extent, we’ll all be on this journey together over the next few years, and it won’t be for a decade or so until we really understand the impact these things have on our spiritual life.

Yet that doesn’t mean we’re ignorant entirely.

Manufactured Intimacy

Whether in explicit erotic content or sexualized billboard marketing, whether targeting men or women, whether for intended sexual arousal or for a fully-clothed album cover… eye contact is important for giving the audience the illusion of intimacy.

The illusion.

It’s a way of tricking the audience into thinking “I know this person. This person desires me. I can trust this person.”

It’s one of the reasons parasocial relationships are so common today (yay to Cambridge’s “Word of the Year”). These are one-sided relationships where someone feels emotionally connected to someone they don’t know. They feel like friends with Taylor Swift or Brad Pitt, but in reality they’ve just experienced a lot of pseudo-intimate moments with that individual. Close up shots on Brad in a movie, eye contact from Taylor in an Instagram reel.

Of course, everyone “knows” that the intimacy isn’t real, but it’s still working wonders on us subconsciously.

How many of us feel a level of loyalty to certain social media influencers, more inclined to watch their newest videos than we would be to attend a niece’s birthday party? And when that influencer says or does something we don’t like, are we inclined to shrug our shoulders and move on? After all, they are a random person living in a different place whom we’ll never meet… their opinion has no significance in our daily lives.

But we don’t shrug. Instead, we feel the same rush of emotion as if someone in our intimate circle had just offended us. Why? Because weekly (or daily) we watch selfie videos in which we have been invited just 12 inches away from that influencer’s face, in the most intimate proximity of human interaction. We’ve been looking into their eyes and they’ve been “looking” back.

We’ve been tricking our brains into thinking we’re close to these people.

In explicitly pornographic content, this eye contact subconsciously tells the viewer — in a moment of deep vulnerability — that they are desired and that they are known. Afterward, grief and shame often come not because of social stigmas around pornography, but because we know it was all a lie. We are supposed to have that kind of eye contact, but only with that person who — in marriage — we have become “one flesh”.

And so, we come back to Solomon Ray and the pornography of AI worship.

Manufactured Worship

The term “worship” is immensely broad, and rightfully so. Paul, exhorting the church in Rome, urges us to present our bodies as a “living and holy sacrifice” because this is our “spiritual service of worship”.1

But for the context of this discussion, let’s narrow the term to “the singing of praises in individual and corporate settings”, which I think covers the questions my friend — and indeed, many of us — are asking. In fact, I’ll just address each of my friends’ questions here (though, out of order).

Q: Could we have a genuine worship experience while listening to AI worship music?

In many ways, this gets to the crux of most of our concerns.

But this also begs the question, what is genuine worship?

I would make the case (and I don’t think it’ll be all that controversial) that worship is the disciplined practice of giving back to God the praises He deserves with a heart posture that is in right relationship to Him.

It isn’t about an emotional feeling during the time of singing, though I really think those emotional moments are a wonderful gift from God. Those moments aren’t the point, but they have been a byproduct and gift to me (and many others) on numerous occasions.

The thing is, most evangelical churches don’t treat their time of corporate worship as a discipline meant to form us. They treat is at an event to conjure up feelings one might associate with worship… and to draw a crowd.

We all know the lights, fog machine, laser projector craze that propagates America’s largest churches (and many smaller ones). And the medium (the event venue) has influenced the message (the songs to be sung). The songs that have flourished in these environments over the last few decades are (generally) theologically shallow, easily played, and very catchy (yes, there are exceptions).

You might see excerpts from one of the Psalms makes its way into a lyric, but actually singing a Psalm in full would be considered too hard and too boring. It is very safe to say that these popular “worship” songs wouldn’t have been sung after Passover with Jesus and His crew2, nor by Paul and Silas when they were in jail3. And not just because they weren’t invented yet.

But they make us feel good, don’t they?

AI generated worship songs will surely be able to give us the same feeling. Like an actor or actress staring into the camera lens, these songs will give us momentary rushes of intimacy that most of us have associated with closeness with God and genuine worship.

This is why liturgical churches will — by and large — not struggle with the rise of AI anything in church. When the popular church world began calling their hymns and homilies lifeless and boring, they continued on with their disciplined practice. This may be one reason that many young believers are seeking out these technology-free and more liturgical churches.

The concern around AI worship will largely be in homes and churches that have been uncritical in the songs they’ve been singing — making decisions based on popularity, whether it fits with that week’s sermon, and whether they “like it”. AI generated worship will be able to hit those criteria for sure.

And God, in His infinite goodness and grace, will meet people where they are. For new believers (and for those who’ve never been trained into maturity) He will accept that worship when made with a right heart posture. God is so incredibly good, and His love cannot be hampered by any work of man (even AI).

But mature followers of Jesus will see worship as much larger and more disciplined. They will see the songs they sing as a larger choice that has nothing at all to do with crowds, preference, or feelings. They’ll sing (at church and at home) when they feel bored, because they know God deserves praise know matter how they feel. They’ll choose songs (old and contemporary) that are written by mature followers of Jesus (yay, artist theologians!) because they believe their Father likes songs that His children wrote.

And the songs are for God, not us.

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Q: How are we formed by singing AI worship?

The ways AI worship forms us will be different from person to person.

Generally, if you have been choosing your Spotify playlist based purely on what “you like”, then your formational destination is unlikely to change with the rise of AI worship songs. Just choose the songs (AI or otherwise) that meet your ever-changing preferences. Whether AI or not, you’re on a path of formation that puts you and your preferences at the center of everything.

This will only make that easier.

Yet, I would encourage a new path.

Find albums (yes, full albums) by Christian artists that are beautiful and true… then listen to them when “you’re not in the mood”.

Watch how God shapes you, it’ll be awesome (and we’ll increase the compensation to those artists so they can make more art that is wonderful and true).

I’ll highlight one such album in our artist feature below.

This also begins to answer our next question…

Q: What if we don’t know if it is AI?

If you become intentional about seeking out excellent Christian artists — and sharing them with friends — you will very likely also be able to tell when something is AI generated.

For one, it’s likely to have that AI… something. Like when you know corn syrup is for sure in a particular drink. It just has a flavor.

Yet one exception to this is if you attend a church that is prone to singing an AI-written song because it’s “trendy”. How would you know if the band on stage is playing a song that was made by an AI algorithm?

Honestly, you may not.

If this is a concern for you, I would say to have a conversation with your pastor about your concern, and then leave it to the Lord. Be disciplined and participate in the corporate gathering you’re called to unless your conscience is truly bothered, and then pray for guidance.

It may sound flippant, but there is no other way.

God may lead some of you to leave, some of you to speak up, some of you to stand in silent prayer during those songs, or even some of you to sing along free from guilt. I cannot know which it will be, and I would do a disservice by trying.

Whatever you do, seek the unity of Christ in love.

The Future

It’s likely that AI art will only become more prevalent in our culture, and surely there will be a rise of AI music in the “worship” genre on your streaming platform of choice.

When we have a low bar for art, it isn’t hard for a Large Language Model (LLM) to cross it.

Songs created by AI will be able to draw crowds, grow churches, and give people feelings of closeness with God because those LLMs have been trained on shallow songs that have been designed to do just that. It’s imitation, not creation. And it’s not imitating hard stuff.

AI won’t be able to create hymns that can be sung generations later because they were born of rigorous Biblical study, lifelong discipleship to Jesus, and out of a Spirit-led response to praise in the most down-trodden moments of life.

To be fair, most of us haven’t been singing songs written in that way anyway.

Wisdom is to keep AI (and most forms of technology) well outside the church gathering until we fully understand how it will impact us as disciples of Jesus.

This isn’t out of fear of technology, but love for God and His Church.

How much harm have we done by removing sunlight from our gatherings in pursuit of a stage and lights (windows don’t play well with laser projectors)? The evangelical church saw the rise of phones and said, “how can we harness it?” and not “how can I help these people put those things down?”

Only now do we understand how terrible this has been for our fellowships, the mental health of our congregants, and our children4.

As best you can, stay away from Manufactured Intimacy of all types. Be wise. Be discerning.

Oh, and pray for one another, including the people who are choosing to use AI to make art. They may be doing harm, but it’s likely because they’re trying to fill a need in themselves. This has often been my story, and I daresay yours as well.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.5

Artist Feature

If you have never heard “ALL YE LEPERS” by Joshua Leventhal, it is truly a gift to the church. Check it out today.

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Paperbacks are here and the launch has been awesome.

The support you all have given us has meant the world. We’re nearly to our first 100 book sales, which is amazing as a new press (not even 6 months old yet!).

If you haven’t yet, you can pick up a paperback using a link below. These links support LT Publishing the most (though you can totally pick it up at B&N and Amazon if that’s most convenient).

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And if you want to order 5+ copies (Book Club, anyone?), use the bulk order link below for a small discount.

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New Books In the Works

Though it’s still too early to share much, we’re already scheduled for two more book releases in 2026 (with a likely third still in the works!).

Although one with be the sequel and conclusion to The Tragedy of Oli Ricker, the other two are from authors new to the LT Publishing community. More concrete information will be shared early in the new year.

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In Case You Missed It

The Weight Upon Out Shoulders

“It’s not your fault” has been a refrain in my church experience that has felt, at times, unceasing.

Perhaps in retaliation to the fire and/or brimstone of the prior generation, the southern-American flavor of evangelicalism I came to faith in often worked to put a soothing balm on my conscience whenever bouts of self-flagellation rise up. My mentors (and wife) would say to me, “you’re really hard on yourself, Phil. Give yourself some grace.”

Their words are always well intentioned. Sometimes, they’re right.

But there often exists a great confusion in our culture between…

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Please keep praying for the provision of the Lord over the Living Room Disciple and LT Publishing.

In Christ,

Phil Snyder

These shaky hands
Could never hold
The weight of this
Broken world

So I fall at your feet
Recreate me

John Van Duesen - “A Prayer of Surrender”

“It’s not your fault” has been a refrain in my church experience that has felt, at times, unceasing.

Perhaps in retaliation to the fire and/or brimstone of the prior generation, the southern-American flavor of evangelicalism I came to faith in often worked to put a soothing balm on my conscience whenever bouts of self-flagellation rise up. My mentors (and wife) would say to me, “you’re really hard on yourself, Phil. Give yourself some grace.”

Their words are always well intentioned. Sometimes, they’re right.

But there often exists a great confusion in our culture between conviction and condemnation. A follower of Jesus who weeps and beats their chest, desiring a change in themselves that they can’t bring about in their own power… that isn’t a sign of condemnation, but conviction.

Condemnation molds our self-image and tries to drown out thoughts of God entirely.

Conviction draws our thoughts towards God, revealing both the depth of our sin and the holiness and grace of God. It leads us to cry with Isaiah, “Woe to me, for I am ruined! Because I am a man of unclean lips, And I live among a people of unclean lips; For my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of armies.”1

A Godly Shame

When we, like Isaiah, see our sin uncleanliness in light of a holy God, it is right to feel shame. Isaiah knew that he was unclean — literally impure — and God does not contradict Him.

God’s response to Isaiah is not, “don’t feel so bad, dude, you couldn’t possibly be perfect.”

God didn’t coddle Isaiah, nor did He provide shallow comfort. Instead, God responded to Isaiah’s cry by purifying him. Specifically, the LORD sends an angel with a burning coal, making atonement for Isaiah’s sin.

He touched my mouth with it and said, “Behold, this has touched your lips; and your guilt is taken away and atonement is made for your sin.”2

Recently, I applied for a job that, in my conscience, I knew I shouldn’t have applied for. Thoughts of encroaching bills and the fear of the future had me coming back to this job posting over and over again. I had connections, so I knew I could get an interview at least.

I had no other prospects, but I really felt the LORD did not want me to apply. I applied anyway.

An initial interview was set up within the day and that went great. I appeared to be a strong candidate, meaning this season of financial stress may be coming to an end.

But my spirit was jacked up. I was hoping God would “close the door” if He didn’t want me to walk through it, but that very idea isn’t inherently Biblical. God wants a speaking relationship with His kids, not one where we play some weird “Shut the Door” game.

I withdrew my application and burned with shame. I knew I had done wrong, and it led me to tears and repentance.

A few days later, I told all this to Iven, a friend and mentor of mine.

Now, when things like this have happened in the past, advice from loved ones and mentors almost certainly sounds like, “It’s okay, Phil. You didn’t sin and God understands what you’re going through. Really, you’re being to hard on yourself.”

The idea is, I didn’t “sin” and so this is just one of the bumps in life..

But Iven didn’t do that.

He listened, then asked why I was sharing.

“I just felt like I needed to confess,” I said. “I know it was wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” Iven said. “And if you had gone through with the job, you still wouldn’t have been too far from God’s forgiveness.”

Iven didn’t try to comfort me, not in the sense that most people would. He, simply and lovingly, pronounced over me the truths of Scripture. I am forgiven. Not because Iven says so, but because God says so. Yet hearing those words from a brother is so healing.3

I allowed fear and anxiety to lead me to do something that went against my conscience — even if it wasn’t a “sin” in the traditional sense — and I felt shame because of it. That shame wasn’t a “problem”. It isn’t a sign of a guilt complex or of not understanding God’s love.

It’s a sign that my spirit is sensitive enough to know when it has hurt God, and a sign that I understand (in some small way) the holiness of the Creator.

But I knew this was a healthy form of shame because it was tied to a specific action and not my identity.

When I feel ashamed of “who I am”, or of sweeping elements of personality/background/past events/etc. those are signs of condemnation. Satan desires for us to feel condemned, and thus try and steer clear from God.

Condemnation gives us the sense that we cannot be around God lest we die. But conviction knows that when we come around God it is our sin nature that dies, not us.

If we have confessed with our mouth that Jesus is Lord and we believe that God has raised Him from the dead, then when we approach God it is only our sin that is burned away by the coal of purification. What remains is the real us, the co-heirs who will rule with Christ in the coming Kingdom.

Therefore there is now no condemnation at all for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.4

In Reflection

I wonder how many in our churches today do not endure the burning of purification because of our deep focus to “give ourselves grace”.

Of course, we should not “beat ourselves up” for our wrongdoings, berating and condemning ourselves as “worms” or “bad people” or whatnot — and I recognize this is the past experience some have with church.

We must learn to discern what is (and therefore what isn’t) our “fault” in this world. We must learn to sense when the Spirit is convicting us, and learn how to lean into the purifying work He is doing in us. And we must learn when Satan is condemning us… and we gotta kick those thoughts in the teeth.

The truth is, there are a great many things in my life that are — very much — my fault. And there are many that are not. And yet, I don’t hold the weight of my own failures. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. They would crush me, grind me to dust beneath depression and self-hate — an experience all to familiar to some of you reading this.

Confronting, head on, the truth about my shortcomings doesn’t mean that I bear the weight of them, no more than Isaiah had to bear the weight of his uncleanliness. I confess my short comings, both my sins and all other sorts of human failures, and I cry out to God.

In the most backward logic imaginable, conviction draws me into the consuming fire of God, and condemnation would seek to keep me away. Conviction leads to repentance, and in repentance Jesus Christ my Lord takes the weight of all my guilt and shame and carries it to the cross and then the grave.

If I try to lessen the weight of my own sin and failures, I not only tell a lie, but I cheapen Jesus’ death.

Oh, and when Jesus rises from the grave, He doesn’t bring my shame and sin with Him. It is buried and conquered. And the risen Christ looks and me and calls me righteous, not because my sin didn’t exist in the first place, but because I’ve been invited to follow Him to the cross, the grave, and into the resurrected life.

Condemnation — which involves telling myself a story about who I am based on my failures (real and perceived) — would have me running far away from the Tabernacle and all that is closeness and intimacy with God.

But conviction — which is truly seeing and grieving my specific failures and yet knowing I am forgiven because of the works of Jesus on the cross — has me running to God and feeling the burn in my spirit as the coals of His holiness burn away my unrighteousness. And after God purifies us, we become eager and willing participants in His work of redemption on earth.

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, ‘Whom shall I send, and who will go for Us?’ Then [Isaiah] said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’ And He said, ‘Go, and tell this people[…]’”5

We do not need to create our own words of comfort when we feel the weight of our shame and sin. We only need to run to God and we can trust that God will cleanse us and lift the burden of our sins from us.

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous, so that He will forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.6

Featured: Renewed Mind

Nick O’Brien’s stellar Substack. If you like The Living Room Disciple, you’ll love reading his posts. Start here.

There is a grounded-ness that music, art, writing (etc) tend to lend a person. When that is joined with a spiritual journey of discipleship to He who commands us “pick up your cross and follow me” you get people who are prone to feeling the tension between the kingdom of this world and the already-not-yet Kingdom.

That tension, if we choose to live in it long enough, will be used by God to purify us.

Part of that tension (or perhaps the root of it) is the feeling that there is a need to promote one’s self in order for their created art to find an audience and minister to those who need it.

In the publishing waters I (sort of) swim in, this is all about “author brand”. Instagram reels, Facebook ads, Substack following, newsletter audience count… the whole schtick.

And yet every Jesus-following author I meet (whether aspiring or established) feels the ick of it all. There is this idea that self-promotion is a necessary evil that must be endured in order to pay the bills and reach our intended audience. It isn’t “sin” to put out a TikTok video about your book, so have at it. I mean, if God didn’t want you on social media then He wouldn’t have let the market go this way, right?

The thing is, when we are willing to coerce our conscious to do a thing that (deep down) we aren’t certain Jesus would do, then we are not acting as people who are fit to create the art we believe Jesus would have us create.

Praise the Lord for His redemptive work in us, for I think nearly all of us are guilty of this.

Of course, using social media to talk about the art we make isn’t necessarily sinful. But that, in and of itself, isn’t a reason to talk ourselves into another Instagram reel or to making more TikTok sludge.

The Venn diagram overlap between people who are being formed like Christ and who are able to effectively promote their “brand” is very, very, small — and the answer to our problems isn’t to find a way to grow that overlap or (God-forbid) assume we happen to be in that overlap.

In fact, me and you are (almost certainly) not in that overlap.

You can see this in the totally accurate and well-researched graph below.

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At the end of the day, there is a real problem here for artists: without a strong enough following or “platform”, even a Christian publisher won’t give your book a serious look. And even if a traditional publisher today did publish your work, it’s unlikely they’ll put time, money, or effort into any marketing. That’s on the author. Heck, publishing with the “Big 5” doesn’t even mean your book will be sold on store shelves.

So what do we say then? Get off social media, cancel your newsletter, and be a poor/struggling artist forever?

Um… maybe. For some, that is surely the calling the Lord has on their life. It may be the way they are asked to suffer for the name of Christ (see Acts 9:16 for God’s words about his servant Paul).

Generally though, I think we just need a community of Christian artists stubbornly refusing to glorify promote themselves and instead to use their efforts to promote other artists.

That’s actually my grand “plan” to solve our problems. I’ll repeat it for clarity.

I believe artists in discipleship to Jesus should stop their efforts to promote their own work and instead devote that effort to the promotion of others.

I’m not saying we can’t make the occasional announcement post. When a couple announces the birth of their child on Facebook, they (usually) aren’t doing it for self-glorification. They’re excited and want you to be as well. The posts vibe different than a “let me sell you something” and more like “I just birthed a book-baby and I’m pretty excited about it!”

But when we do things in community we are more prone to make content that

a) will glorify God more faithfully,

b) will shape us and our audience to be more like Jesus,

c) and won’t ask us to go against our conscious.

Maybe the answer isn’t to find a better way to promote yourself, but to desperately seek out other Christian artists and prayerfully promote what God is doing through them. Perhaps we only need to trust the God who knocked down Jericho’s walls, believing that if we just love one another He will faithfully take care of us.

For what it’s worth, send me a message on Substack with the work you’re doing, and I’d love to pray about promoting it. Don’t feel icky about it because I’m asking to see it.

Praying you find, build, and support the community God is calling you to.

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Starting now, I’ll end my posts by calling out a Christian artists an algorithm and/or ad dollars probably hasn’t shoved in your face.

Artist Feature - Wind Words

A fantastic musical artist with a blend of rock and spoken word. Check him out here.

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I actually didn’t plan the timing, but the cover art and story fully vibe with the season. I mean… check it out….