It All Hinges on the Resurrection

By Jonathan Clark

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I’m a pastor to college-aged young adults. One of the best parts of my job is meeting with 20-somethings to process life and faith. These are sacred, vulnerable, and exciting chats, often in campus common areas with luke-warm coffee, or on Palmer Park trails, or over Chipotle burritos. One of my favorite parts of this is that I never know what a student is going to bring up. We might just “talk shop” about weights, or class, or sports, or we might get into weeds of faith and life. Anything is on the table: from science and faith, to sexuality, to canonicity, to relationship drama, to roommate conflict, and more. 

As exciting as these topics are, it’s a constant challenge to steer the conversation toward that on which everything else hinges: the resurrection of Jesus.

The Hinge of the Christian Faith

 Our world is becoming increasingly diverse, and Christians may feel the social pressure or personal expectation to defend and explain the Christian life in all areas, from race, to politics, to economics, to school choice, to ecology, to parenting, to…well you get the picture. One hack I’m learning to use when these topics come up is Paul’s words in 1 Cor 2:2, “I decided to know nothing among you, except Jesus Christ and him crucified.”

Later in 1 Cor 15:3-7, Paul says he delivered to the church the most important message of the faith: Christ died for our sins, and was raised, all according to the scriptures, and then he appeared again alive to hundreds of eyewitnesses. This is the core claim of the Christian faith. And in this, all Christians have the hack which cuts through the smoke and mirrors of secular society and religious life. 

If the claim of the resurrection is not true, then Christianity is either the worst lie to deceive humanity (“we are found to be misrepresenting God,” v. 15) or a pitiful delusion (“we are of all people most to be pitied,” v. 18). (C.S. Lewis lovers will detect the Lord, Liar, Lunatic argument here.) Yet if it is true, then Christianity is the only and best Good News that can redeem our world and your life. Those are the stakes. And it all hinges on the resurrection. 

Event and Meaning

To help the young adults I pastor understand the profound importance of the resurrection, I explain that there are two basic components: the event and its meaning. The event is the historical, in-space-and-time fact of the resurrection. A man named Jesus living in rural Palestine in the first century was also God-in-flesh. He died and then came back to life three days later on a certain day in a certain place. Hundreds of people saw him alive again, providing such compelling evidence that no one could successfully refute or deny it. And unlike a Tolkien or Clancy novel, it has real historical grounds.

This historical event also has meaning. Some events don’t have cosmic meaning. We eat our respective dinners nightly. I put clothes on each day. These are time-and-place events, but generally with low “meaning,” or import beyond even our lives, let alone the human race or the whole cosmos. In contrast, an “event with meaning” could be the Signing of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. That event meant the birth of the United States. 

The “meaning” of the resurrection event, according to the apostolic witness (or scripture), is “for our sins” and is twice mentioned “according to the scriptures” (v. 3). Here’s what that means: the God-man’s redemption-rescue of his own elect; the defeat the Prince of Darkness and his chief weapon, Death; the purchase for himself a people from every nation; the fulfillment all the Covenant promises of the Messiah; the accomplishment of all the law’s demands substitutionally. In short, the resurrection means the reconciliation of all things to Jesus, for the glory of the Triune God, forever. That’s a lot of meaning! And, if it is true, it demands either our assent or rejection. The aroma of Christ is to life or death (2 Cor. 2:15). 

Here’s the hack, though. When students want to start with their questions, their fears, and their criticisms of the church about things like sexuality, money, politics, or whatever, I can say, “This all hinges on the first claim of the faith: Was Jesus who he claimed to be, and did he do what the Bible claims he did, namely die and rise? If so, he’s our savior and our king, and the rest of our lives is the process of following him and submitting to him in every area. But if not, none of this matters, and we can just eat, drink, and be merry (1 Cor. 15:32), because we are stuck down here ‘til the worms finally get us or the sun burns out.”

A Conversation “Hack”

I’ve found the rub for people often comes to the major cultural friction point for the Christian faith in our world today: sexuality. Often in my conversations I will hear, “I can’t be a Christian because I’m gay.” I respond with something like, “Can we sideline the sexuality question, and just consider the plausibility and meaning of the resurrection first? Once we deal with that claim, then we can circle back to the other questions.” It cools down the emotional temperature of the room, it gets to the core question of the faith, and it builds trust. I’m telling you, it’s a real hack. 

Yes, the Faith once delivered should be teased into every area of human experience. We should indeed take every thought captive (2 Cor. 10:5). In the end, though, all stands or falls on the resurrection and the incredible grace of God on full display on that meaning-ful, event-ful day. 

Jonathan Clark is a Presbyterian minister (PCA) and serves as the campus minister with Reformed University Fellowship in Colorado Springs, Colo. He holds an MDiv from Covenant Theological Seminary and a BA in politics, philosophy, and economics from The King's College. He is married to Caroline, a graphic designer, and together they have one daughter. His interests include Christian missions in a secular culture, Enlightenment philosophy and politics, and cycling whenever it's warm outside.

What is Love?

By Jonathan Wilcox

Love is in the air...

Culture dedicates February to the topic of love. Every convenience and big box store is filled with hearts in various shades of pink and red, alongside rows of cheap chocolate and cards full of sappy poetry. This commercial emphasis can leave one feeling that to have love, you must have that mooshy-gooshy feeling toward a romantic partner.

For anyone who has been married any length of time, it is evident that this approach to love is insufficient. Basing marriage commitment solely on warm feelings is a recipe for disaster. Furthermore, marriage is not the only way we see love expressed. A great example is Jonathan and David, who shared the love that comes from being the best of friends.

Thankfully, we are not left to cultural feelings or commercialized platitudes to give us a basis or direction for our love. One of the main themes in Scripture is love. Not only does God give us numerous examples and instructions on love, but he also models it for us in Christ and empowers us to love through His Spirit.

Love is a command

When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus goes back to the Pentateuch to cite two verses. First, Deuteronomy 6:5, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind,” and second, Leviticus 19:18, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

These two commands, along with the explanatory parable of the good Samaritan, are truly humbling. They demand a radical commitment with the whole person that is counter to our sinful, self-centered way of operating. To best understand these commands, we must consider them in terms of covenant. In the context of these commands, God was delineating the terms of His covenant with Israel. As such, the term love implies affection, allegiance, and action. Let me explore each in turn.

There is a passion involved in the commands to love God and neighbor. This passion is much deeper than the gooey feeling that modern culture teaches us to expect. Rather, it is much more akin to zeal. Our heart is to be consumed with God and the welfare of our neighbor.

Our passion for God and our affections in our covenant relationships with other people are not to be fleeting based on how we feel. Instead, they are to be constant. Our only allegiance should be to God, who we commune with in the vertical relationship, while we should be appropriately loyal to our horizontal covenant commitments toward other people. For example, my covenant commitment to my wife trumps every other human relationship, whether a job, immediate family, or another good friend.

God takes covenant loyalty very seriously. In fact, the sins of adultery and idolatry are very closely tied together, especially in the prophets, and both sins are emphatically denounced and have severe repercussions, such as exile.

The last covenantal component of love is action. Our zeal and commitment to God should invariably result in wholehearted obedience to not only the letter of the law but also be in accordance with the spirit of the law. Likewise, since we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, we ought to do the things that promote our neighbors' welfare. This is where the parable of the good Samaritan hits home; it forces us to ask ourselves, “To what lengths will I go to pursue the good of my neighbor?”. If you are anything like me, you are squirming in your seat, realizing how far short of this command we fall. Thanks be to God that this love has been demonstrated to us in the person of Christ and enlivened our hearts through the gift of the Spirit.

Love is a gift of God

The commands to love God and our neighbor are not arbitrary rules that God made up just to taunt us or make us to toe the line. They flow out of His character and are part of His very essence (1 John 4:7-8). God’s love is so deep towards us that He sent His son to live among us as a perfect example of what love looks like and to die on our behalf to restore the relationship that we broke in Eden.

During His ministry here on earth, Christ demonstrated what perfect affection, allegiance, and action look like. His zeal for God is evidenced by his passionate exchanges with the Pharisees and his clearing of the temple. His deep compassion for people’s emotional and physical welfare is plentiful. One instance was the raising of the widow’s son at Nain (Luke 7:10-17). Before performing the miracle, Jesus looks at the woman in distress and has compassion for her. Likewise, He weeps at Lazarus’s death alongside Martha and Mary before raising him to life. Christ demonstrates his allegiance and action toward His Father and His people best in the events leading up to the crucifixion. In the high priestly prayer (John 17), Jesus talks about how He has completed the work the Father gave Him and prays for His people (vs. 4-9). Additionally, Matthew recounts Christ’s complete submission to the Father’s will (Matthew 26:39).

Not only did Jesus fully demonstrate God’s love toward us, but He also gave us the gift of His Spirit to powerfully grow that same love within us (1 John 4:13). It is the Spirit within us that enables us to put to death our self-centeredness and begin to live passionately for God and sacrificially for others.

Tim Keller, in his book Meaning of Marriage, attributes the ability to sacrificially commit to one’s spouse to the radical work of the Spirit in their lives. I thank God that the Spirit effects change in my inner being. Left to my own resources, I often give in to the temptation to accept the status quo, and pick what is easy rather than zealously pursue my covenant commitments.

So, if you also struggle to manifest perfect love towards God or the people God has placed in your life, be encouraged to boldly go before the throne of grace, knowing that His love for you is deeper than you can imagine.

Have a blessed Valentine's Day.

Jon Wilcox has been a participant in g+p from the beginning. He is married to Karin Wilcox and loves reading philosophy and theology. Jon, an insurance agent by trade, loves connecting with others. He blogs at Theology in the Trenches. You can follow him on social media here.

The Other “F” Word

By Scott Olson

Father. What does this word evoke within you? Perhaps particular memories, images or emotions arise within you, whether fond or deeply painful. Or maybe it represents what you’ve longed and hoped for but have yet to know from experience. You would not be alone. In our culture, roughly 1 in 4 children live without a biological, step, or adoptive father in the home. The other “F” word can be controversial, complex, emotionally evocative, politically charged, even scandalous.

I must confess that every time I hear the word “Father” in relation to God, a variety of complex emotions begin to swirl around within me like a tempest. I was raised by a workaholic, perfectionistic, alcoholic, angry, absent, abusive and wounded step-father who was kicked out when I was 17 years old. He told me that he loved me once: the day he left. And I've neither seen nor heard from him since. Because of this, my closest emotional association with my step-father was a different "F" word.

And yet, God reveals himself as “Father” throughout Scripture.

In the Old Testament, God is referenced as “Father” only 15 times. In a particularly heartbreaking instance, the prophet Jeremiah, in chapter 3 verse 19, records God’s impassioned rebuke of Israel, “...I thought you would call me, ‘My Father’, and would not turn from following me.” Here we see a Father who longs for relationship with his children (Israel), but who’s been utterly forsaken by them.

However, in the New Testament, we see God’s continued pursuit of his people through his Son, Jesus. The gospel of John sets the scene in chapter 1 verses 11-12, “He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” In a dramatic plot twist, John declares a stunning reality: it’s through Israel’s rejection of Jesus that anyone, both Jews AND Gentiles (non-Jews), can become a child of God by receiving and believing in Jesus, the one who calls God his Father, who is one with the Father, and who reveals the Father to us (Matthew 11:27, John 10:30).

In the gospels alone, Jesus refers to God as “Father” more than 175 times. In roughly 150 of these instances, he calls God his “Father” (beginning at the age of 12). It’s here that this Father-Son relationship becomes front and center. In John 17, Jesus repeatedly calls out to his “Father” in prayer just before being arrested, tried, sentenced and crucified. In verse 24, He reveals that his Father loved and glorified him “before the foundation of the world.” Here we get a small glimpse into the eternal, selfless, self-giving love shared between the Father and Son.

In a similar scene (Mark 14:36), Jesus uses a particular Aramaic word that has profound implications for us, “Abba” (always followed by the Greek word translated “Father”). This word is only used once by Jesus and twice by Paul in the New Testament. But what exactly does this word mean? Though it's a term associated with relational intimacy between a father and his child(ren), it has the larger connotation of a solemn, responsible, adult address to a father. And it’s with this fullness of meaning that Jesus addresses his Father during his prayerful petition at Gethsemane, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” It’s here that we discover a Son who did not forsake his Father, but was faithful even unto death.

Paul clearly has this scene in mind when he writes, in Galatians 4:4-7, that we’ve received adoption as children (heirs), through Christ’s redemptive work. Therefore, we’ve received the Spirit into our hearts crying “Abba! Father!” And more than five years later, Paul expands upon this line of thought in Romans 8. Beginning in verse 15, he similarly writes that we've received the Spirit of adoption as children by whom we cry “Abba, Father.” Then, in verse 17, he uses two conditions of certainty, “and if children (which we are), then heirs - heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him (which we will) in order that we may be glorified with him.” And Paul continues this thread throughout the rest of the chapter, applying this suffering and coming glory to the redemption of all things. So, when we examine the full progression of these two passages, we see a clear picture of the Trinity’s (Father, Son, and Spirit) participation in our redemption, adoption, suffering, glorification, inheritance and the renewal of all things to come!

I entered into this beautiful, participatory reality at the age of 20. Upon being rescued by Jesus and reconciled to my heavenly Father, I began praying for reconciliation with my biological father. You see, my parents divorced when I was 3 years old due to a highly dysfunctional, abusive relationship. So, my father had been absent for the vast majority of my upbringing. However, he'd come to know Jesus as a middle-aged man, and the love of God had begun reshaping him. Without my knowledge, he’d been following my life from a distance and praying for an opportunity to be reconciled with me. And just before my 21st birthday, God answered our prayers. We reunited. And with Jesus’ forgiveness as our foundation, we were able, over time, to forgive each other and work toward a healthy, adult, father-son relationship. Over the next twenty years, I grew to love, respect and admire my father until his death around ten years ago.

My relationship with each of my earthly fathers has both strengthened and warped my understanding of God as “Father.” And from a different perspective, having been adopted twice and having adopted twice has also contributed to the incredible amount of baggage I’ve needed to unload, unpack and sort through regarding fatherhood. In my worst moments, I wallow in self-pity, depression, loneliness, anger and shame. In my best moments, I continually fight to reframe my understanding of who I am as a beloved, adopted child of God and who God is as my loving Father so that my mind and heart would be in alignment with the Scriptures. And I desire that these truths would transform my identity, perspective, responses, reactions, emotions, and actions.

My prayer is that those of you who, like me, have struggled with the other “F” word, would be able to declare (with increasing confidence), “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.” (1 John 3:1)

Questions for Reflection

1. How has your relationship (or lack thereof) with your earthly father(s) impacted your understanding of your relationship with God as Father?

2. What is one step that you can take to intentionally reframe your understanding of God as Father to be in accordance with the Scriptures?

Dr. Scott Olson has been married to the same, amazing woman, Anna, for more than 28 years. They have 2 adult sons, a daughter-in-law, and a grandson. He’s passionate about awakening kingdom dreams in people, equipping the church for service, developing & shepherding leaders, theological & cultural engagement, and multiplying apprentices of Jesus through movemental, missional practices. Scott’s served in a missional context for more than 26 years, having planted/replanted 5 churches, shepherded 3 other churches, and served as the Program Manager for My Father House family shelter (Portland, OR). He’s received a MAPS (Church Planting), M.Div. Equivalence (Trinitarian Theology), D.Min. (Missional Leadership) from Multnomah Biblical Seminary. Scott currently serves as a Faculty Mentor for Redemption Seminary and web consultant for Fidelis International Seminary.

Begrudging Grace

By Jonathan Clark

In the Parable of the Vineyard in Matthew 20, Jesus tells us a parable which has offended my heart for the last 6 months. When the disgruntled 12-hour shift laborers complain about the same payment for the 1-hour laborers, Jesus, through the vineyard owner says, “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?” (v. 15). Behind these two questions is a convicting truth I am realizing I need more and more. It is all too possible for each of us, even and especially us “grace-centered” people, to become the legalists we claim to renounce. 

            This is not a new truth, but it is one that even our particular tradition of reformed Presbyterianism can forget. In The Whole Christ, Sinclair Ferguson tells the story of an obscure theological scuffle in early-1700s England, but one which taps into the gospel nerves of every time, culture, and human heart. The occasion was “The Marrow Controversy.” It began as a simple theology question to a pastor candidate, but quickly fanned into a large-scale theological debate. In 2023 terms, the theology question was essentially, “Does repentance precede our acceptance of Christ as savior?” Or, “Does a person need to repent of their sin before they entrust their lives to Christ?” The seminary student initially said yes…  and then later no, pointing to a pseudonymous systematic theology book entitled, The Marrow of Modern Divinity. The Marrow, as it was called, argued that both scripture and the reformed tradition teach that no one can bring any meritorious work into their salvation, including repentance. Rather, Marrow argued, God lavishes undeserved favor, or grace, without prior conditions from believers. Even repentance cannot qualify a person for faith or grace but instead follows it. Ferguson writes, “Repentance [and conviction] do not constitute grounds on which Christ is offered to us. They may constitute the way in which the Spirit works as the gospel makes its impact on us. But they never form the warrant for repentance and faith” (58). 

In response, the Presbytery argued The Marrow was antinomian (“against law” in Greek), since it denied the law in our lives for holiness and salvation. The Marrow Men insisted that was the whole point not just of the historic Calvinist creed but of the entire Christian faith! That we do nothing to merit any part of our salvation has always been the “offense of the gospel.” 

            So what? Why does an obscure theology debate in 18th century Scotland matter? Because it reveals the ever-human reality that every person, every culture, every church is capable of, in Jesus’ words, “begrudging the generosity” of the vineyard master. We begrudge the vineyard master’s generosity when we say one person deserves reward more or less than another and when we attach conditions to our personal faith. We begrudge his generosity when we internally or externally demand that the vineyard owner use his resources as we see fit, not as he designs. One of the major themes of the Bible, and the starting place of the reformed understanding of salvation, is that humans are not saved or accepted or justified by God because of any condition, character, or merit in them. God does not save us because we deserve it. In the parable, he does not pay more for long days and less for short days. He does not even save us because of foreseen faith. We are saved (elected, justified, adopted, sanctified, and glorified) because of God’s sovereign choice. It’s not fair, just like a 12-hour shift receiving the same pay as a 1-hour shift. The life-long Christian, baptized as a child, attending church every week for 90 years, devoted to acts of justice, mercy, evangelism, and piety, is just as saved as the death-bed convert. The playing field is completely leveled, and this offends our meritorious sensibilities. 

            The problem is that all of us are experts at smuggling in personal and cultural conditions of merit into our daily theology. For the 18th century Presbyterians, they wanted to say that some repentance was necessary for salvation. But we do the same thing today. For some of us, it is a particular ethical behavior. For others it is a social or political issue, or perhaps theological precision. Because the impulse of the sinful human heart is to seek reconciliation with God on our terms, we constantly generate new and novel proofs that “I am not that bad! I can surely bring something to my salvation.” And then- God have mercy- we do begrudge the landlord’s generosity.

           What challenged me so acutely about the Marrow Controversy is that the debate occurred at the high point of reformed theological discussion in Scotland, the birthplace of Scottish Presbyterianism, among some of the best reformed pastors ever. If anyone should have discerned “salvation by grace alone,” it was these men. And yet, the Marrow controversy was a hot debate.

         The same could be said for Jesus’ main opponents, the Pharisees. They were experts in the law, in covenant theology, and in morality. They had Deuteronomy 7:7 drilled into their minds: “It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the LORD set his love on you and chose you…but because the LORD loves you and is keeping the oath that he swore to your fathers.” The Rich Young Ruler, who set the occasion for the Parable of the Vineyard, likewise knew the law (Mt. 19:16-22). Yet they all missed the grace! The sharp reality (and this unnerves me to the core as a pastor) is that sometimes it is the most theologically learned among us who can be the most confused or deceived about the basic tenets of the faith: “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost (1 Tim. 1:15).” 

            What do we do with this? We must humble ourselves anew, as communities and individuals. We must ferret out the dark parts of our hearts and communities which still question and reject solo gratia, by grace alone. None of us moves beyond the basics of our faith, that of sin, repentance, Jesus, and undeserved grace. Paul confessed in Philippians 3 that his former life as a Pharisee was complete rubbish. Do I account my labors as a husband and father and pastor and friend and citizen as worthless next to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ by faith and only faith? I’m not there yet. I must attend closely to “guard the deposit” of “God who saved us and called us, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace” (2 Tim 1:9, 14). 

The key to understanding the Parable of the Vineyard is found Jesus’ unsettling reminder in verse 16: “The last will be first, and the first last.” The Marrow controversy showed this again. Our modern-day controversies over merit show this again, too, even those that play out in the secret places of our hearts. I pray we learn from those who have gone before.

Jonathan Clark is a Presbyterian minister (PCA) and serves as the campus minister with Reformed University Fellowship in Colorado Springs, Colo. He holds an MDiv from Covenant Theological Seminary and a BA in politics, philosophy, and economics from The King's College. He is married to Caroline, a graphic designer, and together they have one daughter. His interests include Christian missions in a secular culture, Enlightenment philosophy and politics, and cycling whenever it's warm outside.

When Sovereignty Hurts

This is the second of a series on God’s sovereignty by Jonathan Wilcox.

It was the middle of the morning on April 20, 1999 when shots rang out at Columbine High School in Littleton, CO. I was in my sophomore year on the west coast when I heard the news of the tragedy. Since I was also attending a large high school, the news was quite shocking. Since that time, there seem to be regular instances of public violence, not to mention all manner of natural evils such as major disasters and sicknesses.  There’s also been the disability that has significantly impacted my own life for the past 12 years.

In response to the outworkings of human sinfulness and the pain of the curse, there is only one rational question: WHY!!?

How can a good, sovereign God (as demonstrated in Everyday Sovereignty) allow these atrocities?

As a fellow sufferer, with a long term, progressive disability, I am constantly having to wrestle with this challenge to my faith. In order for us to find peace and rest in God in spite of this dilemma, we need to look at what our king has to say

There are two responses in Scripture to the question, “How can a just God allow injustice?”

1. Job ch. 38-41

2. The passion of Jesus Christ (recounted in all four gospels)

Job 38-41

The entire book of Job seems to set the stage for this question. “Job… was blameless, upright, fearing God and turning away from evil” (Job 1:1). Yet, in the space of a few weeks his world fell apart. He goes from abundant riches to abject poverty, good health to agonizing afflictions. On top of this, his friends and even his wife turn on him. Furthermore, after declaring himself righteous (Job 31) he gets told off by a young hothead named Elihu who audaciously claims to speak for God (Job 32-37). In a very lofty and arrogant tone, Elihu essentially tells Job that because God is absolutely powerful and just, Job must be getting his just deserts for some wrongdoing. In short, he provides a classic example of the pompous religious response to suffering which has done much harm to people over the centuries.

All throughout Job’s story, we see that our human responses to explain away evil fall short and don’t get at the heart of the issue. When God finally answers Job, it comes in the form of rhetorical questions meant to shift Job’s entire perspective on the mystery of God’s sovereignty.  It ultimately leads him to worship, saying, “I know that You can do all things, And that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted. … Therefore I have declared that which I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know. … I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees You; therefore I retract, and I repent in dust and ashes.” Job 42:2–6 (NASB95)

Along with Job, we ought to humble ourselves and repent when we get to know God’s sovereignty first hand. God revealed Himself to Job in a mighty storm, and although this was impressive, as an Old Testament saint Job did not get to see God’s full redemptive revelation of himself. However, we do have God’s full revelation of Himself to us in His Son.

The passion of Christ

Just like Job and his friends, we seek answers and resolution to the difficulty. But, as in the case of Job’s story, all human arguments fall short in explaining how a good, sovereign God can allow evil, suffering, and death. Instead, we only get a full picture when God himself shows up. In the death and resurrection of Christ we get God with us in a special way. In fact, the cross of Jesus is God’s perfect response to all the injustice and pain in the world. In His wisdom, God overcame our sin-induced suffering by coming down from His throne and enduring the ultimate curse for us. God used the ultimate act of injustice- the murder of the only truly righteous man- to defeat death itself and injustice with it. 

Because God has ultimately revealed Himself in Jesus, we can have peace and rest under the rule of a sovereign king who is intimately acquainted with our suffering as one who descended into hell for us, walked out of the grave, and ascended into heaven where He now intercedes for us. If you want a fuller analysis of this topic, check out Evil and the Cross.

How do we, as sinful broken people who have an innate urge for self-preservation and pain avoidance, cling to a God who tells us He is a good king in the midst this painful world of death and decay? We surely can’t just try harder to have more faith. The failure rate using that methodology is 100%! We must turn again to the trinitarian God who empowers us by his Spirit so that while we groan with the rest of creation under the curse, we also are able in our hearts to cry “Abba, father!” (Rom. 8:15).

Each of us has a legitimate choice every minute of every day: do we trust God’s ultimate control, authority, and presence or do we reject it in favor of our own wisdom and might to determine what is right? I live constantly in this tension due to my ever present disability, and I am by no means perfect or even consistent in my outlook. Yet through the finished work of Christ and the powerful gift of the indwelling of the Spirit, we can declare with the psalmist,

In peace I will both lie down and sleep;

For you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety.

-Psalm 4:8

Everyday Sovereignty

By Jonathan Wilcox

Being a theology nerd, I regularly get into spicy conversations about the Bible’s teaching on various topics. One of the most frequently recurring topics is the relationship between God’s sovereignty and our free will. This controversy has plagued the church from its beginning and has turned many spicy conversations bitter.

Over the centuries, this discussion has become laden with philosophical baggage and technical jargon for the sake of setting the two positions in opposition. The reality is that the issue is clouded by the human sinful desire to set our will over and against God’s. However, if we let God inform our perspective, we will find freedom in abundance. 

Although I can and have argued the finer points of this debate till I am blue in the face, I have discovered that doing so is rarely productive and hardly ever practical to our Monday through Saturday lives in the world. Furthermore, it does not answer questions like,

“How do I make good decisions?”

OR 

“Why is the world so full of evil?”

I will wrestle with the first question here as we explore the lives of God’s people in exile through the book of Daniel. I will tackle the specific questions of evil and suffering in part II,  When Sovereignty Hurts, so stay tuned.

In order to understand how to exercise our freedom rightly, we need to understand what God’s sovereignty means for us practically. I have often heard of God’s sovereignty referred to using the analogy of God as a master puppeteer, pulling the strings of our fate while we have no say. This analogy doesn’t actually help us live in a world  where we are responsible to make decisions in light of God’s ultimate control. A much more useful analogy is God as king. Seeing God’s control and authority over us as that of a king drives us to action as we live in relationship to Him.

In western democratic republics like the U.S. we value an individualistic, almost absolute, kind of freedom. This value has resulted in us creating a system of government that allows for the easy overturn of leaders we don’t like.

In essence, we have shifted the locus of ultimate authority to ourselves so that we have lost touch with what it means to be accountable to a king. Up until the 17th century, the king had absolute control, and if someone tried to set up a competing kingdom he was quickly put in his place.

Daniel 4 tells the story of how Nebuchadnezzar, the most powerful pagan king of his era, learns to humble himself and declares that God is the greatest king over all kings. He says:

“How great are His signs

And how mighty are His wonders!

His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom

And His dominion is from generation to generation.”

-Daniel 4:3 (NASB95)

This hymn of praise summarizes the lesson that Nebuchadnezzar learns: the Most High God is in control over people, nature, and the future. The rest of the chapter details how he gets to this conclusion.

While Nebuchadnezzar is congratulating himself on what great self-made king he is, God suddenly causes him to become insane, eating grass like an ox. In essence, God knocks him down a notch and makes it evident to everyone that Nebuchadnezzar is still a creature (Dan. 4:28-33). Not only does God humble Nebuchadnezzar in judgment by stripping away his kingdom; He also mercifully feeds him on the grass of the field and the dew of heaven and keeps his kingdom intact, waiting for the day when he would be restored. In these acts, God demonstrates very clearly His sovereignty over both people and nature.

In this episode, God also demonstrates His lordship over time (Dan. 4:4-27) by warning Nebuchadnezzer in a dream well in advance of the actual event. Nebuchadnezzar clearly recognizes this as evidenced by his reference to an “everlasting kingdom” in his hymn of praise.

The fascinating aspect of Nebuchadnezzar’s story is that God does not exercise his control and authority from afar like some puppeteer, but rather is present and active both in judgment and mercy, even with a pagan king.

So, God is king. How does this impact daily life?

Since God’s kingship entails control, authority, and presence in a comprehensive way, we are free to engage the world both in humility and confidence.

As Nebuchadnezzar learned the hard way, he was not the ultimate author nor sustainer of his success. God raised him up and God brought him low. We should also take this lesson to heart. Whatever situation you find yourself in, whether it is climbing the corporate ladder, running a marathon, or just getting out of bed on Monday for work, you are not the ultimate source of either your success or failure.

This truth is very sobering but it can also be a source of great comfort and joy for God’s children. If we were in the hands of fate, random chance, or even a far off puppeteer, we would have every reason to fear since an impersonal force has no relationship with us and therefore cannot have our best interest in mind. 

However, we are in the sovereign hands of a king who is present with us, and has bound himself to us His people through a covenant. He has made good on that covenant through His son Jesus. Paul writes, “For as many as are the promises of God, in Him they are yes” (2 Cor 1:20).

I personally draw great joy knowing that I do not have to ensure my future. I can work faithfully at what God has given me to do and direct my efforts toward the growth of His kingdom rather than my own, knowing that He is in control of my future.

Since our king is Lord over everything, including the future, we have beautiful freedom as His citizens. How are you living with your freedom?

Jon Wilcox has been a participant in g+p from the beginning. He is married to Karin Wilcox and loves reading philosophy and theology. Jon, an insurance agent by trade, loves connecting with others. He blogs at Theology in the Trenches. You can follow him on social media here.