Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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Archives for May 2020

How to Care for Your Pastor, Part 3: Respecting

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Remembering

In one of Paul’s earliest epistles the Bible gives us a second way to care for our pastor:

12 But we request of you, brethren, that you appreciate those who diligently labor among you, and have charge over you in the Lord and give you instruction, 13 and that you esteem them very highly in love because of their work. Live in peace with one another (1Th 5.12-13).

Paul identifies the object of his readers’ action as doing three things:

  • Diligently laboring among them;
  • Having authority over them (literally, “standing before” them) in the Lord;
  • Giving them instruction , or “admonishing” them.

With these descriptions he’s clearly referring to their pastors.

And how are his readers supposed to respond to this leadership?

  • Appreciate them (literally, “know” or “recognize” them);
  • Esteem or respect them;
  • Live in peace with one another.

So we have three actions we’re to take.

I’d suggest that the first one is pretty much the same idea covered in the previous post—we’re to call these leaders to mind, to acknowledge that they should have our attention and care.

As the title of this post indicates, I think the meat of Paul’s admonition is in the second imperative: we’re to esteem them, respect them, hold them in high regard. The verb comes from a root meaning “to lead”; it’s to acknowledge the fact that the one being respected is indeed worthy of honor because he’s in a position of leadership.

And so I need to deal with a couple of issues here. The first is cultural. Most of my readers are Americans, and as we all know, we don’t have nobility in this country, and we don’t bow even to our president, because he works for us. We fought a war to get rid of a king, and we’ll do it again anytime we need to, bubba.

All true.

Americans are uncomfortable with a caste system, a sense of social distinctions. But for some Americans—and other people all around the world—that can lead to a rejection of all authority whatsoever, and that’s a profoundly unbiblical view.

I’ll observe that the strongest adherents of such a view don’t really live as they profess. Here in America, we have our nobility; they’re just not kings. They’re performance artists, athletes, and other cultural icons. Some of them we esteem for worthwhile reasons; there’s no doubt that Michael Jordan was a talented basketball player, and he got that way by hard work and discipline, which are commendable qualities. There’s no doubt that Dustin Hoffman is a talented actor, and he too got that way by exercising commendable qualities. Some cultural heroes, I wonder what they’ve ever done to deserve the kind of ludicrous adulation our society bathes them in. And here, out of politeness, I’m not going to give specific examples.

But the examples I’ve given, though commendable, in the end are primarily entertainers—they perform a cultural service, and a significant one, but there are many other contributors to our society who are at least as worthy of appreciation, if not moreso.

And in the biblical worldview, eternal consequences far outweigh passing, temporal ones. Those who tend to our spiritual health should be at the top of the list for esteem.

The second issue comes from the text of the passage itself. We’ve all at least heard of pastors who seem not to be measuring up to Paul’s description. What about them?

Well, every pastor is imperfect—as is every congregant—and some are further from the standard than others. If a man is unqualified (1Ti 3.2-7; Ti 1.5-9), then he ought to be sent on his way.

But if he’s doing the job, however imperfectly, the effectiveness he’s having should be recognized and respected. We ought to esteem him because of his work.

There are lots of ways we can show our respect; use your imagination on that score. But Paul mentions one in particular: Live in peace with one another.

As my list above indicates, I don’t think that closing sentence is just tacked on; I think in Paul’s mind it follows naturally from what he’s just said.

Get along, ya boneheads. :-)

When the pastor doesn’t have to spend his time herding cats, he’ll have more time to devote to his other duties. And who knows, you might be helping him do a better job, which benefits you and everybody else.

Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

On Memorial Day

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In the US, today is Memorial Day, the day when we remember those who have given “the last full measure of devotion,” who have died in the military service of our country. In an odd way, it’s a reminder of both the brokenness of our world—the ongoing frequency of war and the toll it takes on entire generations of families who have lost loved ones either to death or to deep psychological scars—and the pervasiveness of the image of God, reflected in the courage and self-sacrifice of those who serve.

There’s no more Christ-like action than to offer your life for those you love (Jn 15.13). I suppose no soldier actually intends to sacrifice his life; to paraphrase General George Patton, you win not so much by dying for your country as by making the other guy die for his country. That doesn’t lessen the significance of their sacrifice; every soldier is prepared to make that sacrifice, even as he takes steps to minimize the likelihood that he’ll have to.

Some of those who died never saw it coming and felt no pain in that moment. Others, however, made a deliberate choice to die in order to save their buddies, some by falling on a grenade, others in other ways. In that last moment, they were well past the point of “taking a risk”; they acted intentionally to give their lives for those they loved.

I have known men who saw such things—men who were the loved ones for whom others intentionally took the proverbial—or not at all proverbial—bullet. Most of them never, or almost never, talked about it. These were strong men, the Greatest Generation, tough and hard, but not hard enough, not tough enough, to hold back tears when they spoke of such things.

They came back, carrying heavy invisible loads of survivors’ guilt, and they paid private visits to the families of those who had died, and the ones I knew lived the rest of their lives in the memories of their heroes, their saviors. Indeed, living their lives, the lives paid for with the lifeblood of their friends, was the only chance they had to make some sort of repayment.

And live they did. They raised families, they worked hard, they formed the backbone of the greatest nation of all time. In the main, the defects of that nation today—and there are many—cannot be laid at their feet. They lived well, honoring the sacrifices of their unimaginably brave and devoted buddies.

And some of them, those who were able, have stood at the graves of their friends, heads bowed, deep in grief, wishing for a chance, just a moment, to speak one more time with their savior, to express their gratitude, to tell him about the life they’ve lived and the good they’ve done and the joys they’ve seen, to assure him that they’ve tried to make his sacrifice Worth It. And to say, through tears, how much they wish that he could have experienced those things with them.

We stand in their shoes.

Someone has died for us as well.

He did see it coming, for all eternity, and he planned it himself as the just means of justifying, not his friends, but those who hated him without reason and by their own choice.

It was not painless. Indeed, the form of his death may well have been the most painful ever devised, and the most shameful as well.

How shall we then live?

We don’t need to stand by his grave and weep, because there is no grave, because there is no body. Unlike our honored dead, this Savior emerged from his grave, taking death by the throat and squeezing every bit of power and authority out of it, crushing the serpent’s head.

He is not there. He is risen. As. He. Said.

How shall we then live?

To the fullest. In honor of his sacrifice, in eternal service to him. This do in remembrance.

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How to Care for Your Pastor, Part 2: Remembering

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Part 1: Introduction

I’m going to structure this series around several passages that tell churches how they ought to treat their pastors. I’d like to start with a passage at the end of Hebrews:

Remember those who led you, who spoke the word of God to you; and considering the result of their conduct, imitate their faith (Heb 13.7).

We’re told to “remember” our pastor.

That sounds a little weak. Remember his name? Remember that he’s my pastor? Think kind thoughts about him? How’s that going to be of any help?

The confusion stems from the fact that we tend to use the verb remember of a purely intellectual activity—calling to the front of our mind a fact that’s been stored further back.

I can’t remember where I put my keys.

It’s a skill, an ability, something we either can do or can’t.

But in the Bible it’s not like that. A little earlier in the same NT book, the Bible says that God doesn’t remember our sins (Heb 8.12). Now, we know that God is omniscient—as the same book says even earlier (Heb 4.13), and is often said elsewhere in Scripture (1K 8.39; Ps 33.15; 94.11; 139.1-4; Mt 6.8; Ro 11.33). So he would never say, “I can’t find my keys,” or “I can’t remember what you’ve done wrong.” And when we read the passage carefully, we see that the verb isn’t “can’t,” but “won’t.”

God can remember our sins. But he won’t. He chooses not to.

In the Bible, then, remembering involves a choice, an act of the will, a decision to think about something.

We should place our thoughts on our pastor, bring him to mind. Make him a focus of our consideration.

So I repeat my earlier questions: do we just think kind thoughts about him? How’s that going to be of any help?

Well, there’s more depth to this word in the Scripture. Paul says of his meeting with the other apostles after his conversion,

They only asked us to remember the poor—the very thing I also was eager to do (Gal 2.10). 

Now, what’s the clear meaning here? Paul’s supposed to think about all those poor people and feel appropriately bad?

Of course not.

He’s supposed to think on their situation and figure out how he can do something about it. He’s supposed to roll up his sleeves and do something—as in fact he later did (Rom 15.25-26).

So “remembering” our pastor includes at least two concepts:

  • Making his well-being a priority—bringing it to mind; and
  • Doing something to make his well-being happen.

Some years ago I learned that my pastor at the time had collapsed in the church parking lot—as it turned out, from a stroke caused by the glioblastoma that would take his life a year later. After I hung up the phone, I spent the rest of the evening praying, worrying, wondering what I should do, wondering what I could do.

And then a thought struck me.

He needed my attention and prayers and plans to help just as much last night as he does tonight. Where were my thoughts and prayers then?

I needed to change my habits of thought, the focus of my attention.

There’s a little bit more to this verse.

We’re to imitate our pastor’s conduct, with consideration of its results.

What does that mean?

We’re to watch what he does, evaluate it, and follow his example on the good stuff.

We’re to consider him a pattern, but not an infallible one.

So he’s not a dictator, not a demigod. But when he does something right—studies the Word, shares it with others, loves and cares sacrificially for people, speaks an encouraging word, answers a call in the middle of the night—we should seek for opportunities to do likewise.

Call that to mind, even when there’s no emergency.

Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

How to Care for Your Pastor, Part 1: Introduction

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Most Christians have been members of (or at least attended) a church long enough to go through a pastoral transition or to witness an ordination service. When they do, they’ll often hear a sermon on the pastor’s responsibility to the church. It might include a look at the qualifications for pastor as listed in 1Timothy 3 or Titus 1, and perhaps also a charge from 2Timothy 4.1-2:

1 I solemnly charge you in the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who is to judge the living and the dead, and by His appearing and His kingdom: 2 preach the word; be ready in season and out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with great patience and instruction.

Every pastor I know who’s worth his salt has approached these pastoral responsibilities with thoughtful solemnity and at least a little bit of fear. Who is sufficient for these things? Those of us who’ve never walked that path probably don’t understand the weightiness of that calling.

So we’ve all heard about the pastor’s responsibility to his flock. That topic gets its share of pulpit time.

But we hardly ever hear sermons about the flock’s responsibility to its shepherd.

Some might suggest that the whole concept is illogical. Shepherds take care of sheep; sheep don’t take care of shepherds. Why would the Scripture talk about that?

Well, I don’t like to speculate on the “why” of such things, but the fact is that the Scripture does address the concept, and repeatedly.

So why don’t pastors preach about it? Doesn’t the passage above charge them to “preach the Word”? All of it?

Well, I think we can see the problem. For a pastor to preach on “what you ought to do for me” would sound pretty self-serving, wouldn’t it? That feels just a little icky.

So they’d prefer that somebody else raise that issue.

Well.

As it happens, I’m not a pastor. Because God hasn’t called or gifted me for that role, I’ve never been ordained, and while I preach in churches as need arises, my financial needs are not provided by any congregation.

So I have no conflict of interest.

That being the case, I’d like to take a few posts to fill in a gap that your pastor, for reasons that are completely understandable, may have left in your awareness of biblical teaching.

But I really don’t want to give the impression that any fingers are being wagged in your face. This series isn’t about “more stuff we all gotta do, or else we’re bad Christians!”—first, because in a very real sense there are no bad Christians; our sin debt has been paid, in full, by the loving sacrifice of Christ, God is not angry with us, and we live under the glorious sunlight of infinite grace.

And second, because most of us have been ministered to by our pastors, and we appreciate what they’ve done, and we wish we could do something kind in return. We’d be all the more delighted to do something that we knew was part of God’s design for our pastor’s prospering, as revealed in the Scripture.

So I’ve titled the series not “What y’all gotta do for your pastor!” but “How to care for your pastor,” because that’s really what we’re talking about here. This is just a natural outgrowth of loving our neighbors, one of the ways we respond in gratitude for what God has graciously done for us.

We’ll start thinking about the particulars next time.

Part 2: Remembering | Part 3: Respecting | Part 4: Hearing | Part 5: Obeying | Part 6: Rewarding | Part 7: Praying for More

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

On Death, Part 7: Closing Thoughts

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Preparing | Part 3: The God of All Comfort | Part 4: Life (from Death) in the Body | Part 5: Joyful Grief | Part 6: Pain with a Purpose

It’s said that only two things are certain: death and taxes.

There’s not much I can say about the taxes part—other than that you should pay them (Ro 13.7)—but in this series we’ve seen a lot that the Bible says about death.

  • It’s not part of the original design.
  • It’s a temporary problem; it will be destroyed (1Co 15.54).
  • In the meantime, we are in a position to take dominion over it, even as it appears to be winning.
    • We can prepare for it in ways that are eternally significant.
    • We can call on supernatural sources of comfort even as we face it.
    • We can tap into comfort from those God has kindly placed around us and organized for that purpose.
    • We can find genuine reasons to praise God even as we grieve.
    • We can become better people through the experience.
    • And we can use that experience to help others become better people as well.

We … exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope (Ro 5.3-4).

Sin and death are facts of life. They’re nasty, they’re brutal, and they’re not fair. But they are not all there is, and they are not winners in the end. There is a God who is greater than our greatest enemies. He is stronger and wiser than we are, and He also good. In the valley of the shadow of death, you can trust Him. 

  • You can trust Him to love you more than anyone else ever can. 
  • You can trust Him to walk with you through the valley. 
  • You can trust Him 
    • to make sense out of the senseless; 
    • to bring joy out of sorrow; 
    • to bring purpose out of pain. 
  • You can trust Him to meet your eternal needs just as well as He meets your temporal needs. 
  • You can trust Him now. You can trust Him forever. 

So trust Him. There is no peace, no joy, no forgiveness, no safety, no meaning anywhere else. And he has all those things in infinite supply.  

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Mt 11.28-30). 

Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price (Is 55.1).

As often as you go to that well, you will find fresh, clean water for your soul. 

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

John Donne (1572-1631)

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On Death, Part 6: Pain with a Purpose

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Preparing | Part 3: The God of All Comfort | Part 4: Life (from Death) in the Body | Part 5: Joyful Grief

We’re willing to go through painful things if there’s a purpose behind the pain. Athletes do this all the time: they deny themselves foods and activities that might interfere with their training; they push themselves physically, through weariness and even pain, because they want something that makes the weariness worth it—a skill, or a new level of strength, or a precision of movement, or an extra microsecond of response time.

Our hypothetical athlete shows us that we’ll not only endure hardness, but we’ll choose to endure it, if we want the outcome aggressively enough.

One of the most significant things the Bible tells us about us is that we’re not random. God made us, and for a significant purpose—relationship with him. And he has designed us, individually, to fulfill that purpose. Further, every step we take, every phase of our lives, every incident along the way is designed to bring us to that good end.

Even the bad stuff. The hard things.

Peter spends a whole epistle (his first one) on that. Paul tells us that more concisely in 2 Corinthians 1.3-5—

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 5 For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.

What’s Paul saying here?

God takes us through hard times for a purpose:

  • He directs our path through a difficult experience.
  • He comforts us throughout that experience—and the comfort is measurably enough to get us through.
  • We learn of his comfort by the experience of it.
  • Now we have something to teach others; when they go through a similar experience, we can empathize and share our experience with them and help them through.

We’ve all had the experience of having a well-intentioned friend say, “I know just how you feel,” when there’s no way in the world that he knows how we feel; he’s just trying to say something to make us feel better. But when we’re going through a ragingly hurtful experience, one unlike anything we’ve experienced before, and someone tells us his story—one like ours—we’re inclined to listen to him.

Hard times are a promotion, a new level of certification. They equip us for new levels of service; they put us in the position to help make the world a better place, and more importantly, to help make our brothers and sisters in Christ stronger believers.

I first learned this principle when my Mom died. She was one of those people that everybody liked; she was genuine and unassuming, with the ability to enjoy a social situation without being in the middle of it. When I was 28, she was diagnosed with advanced cancer—the surgeons took a look and just closed her up again—and she spent the next year dying a slow and painful death. One of my sisters cared for her for most of that year, and my other sister and I were with her when she died.

That was excruciating.

As her friends began lining up at the door with casseroles and words of consolation, I found myself learning a lot. Before, as I had stood in receiving lines at funeral homes, I had always wondered what to say. How do you make it all better? What’s the magic phrase that will solve this problem and take away the pain?

I learned that that’s not it at all. There’s nothing you can say to make it all better. It’s not about the words.

But you can be there. You can grieve with the loved ones. You can share memories of the impact the deceased person had on your life. Fond memories. Happier times.

The ministry of presence.

And that experience has rendered me a bit more useful and helpful, and a little less clumsy, around the grieving.

Pain with a purpose. Sometimes we would even choose it.

We’ll wrap this all up in the next post.

Part 7: Closing Thoughts

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On Death, Part 5: Joyful Grief

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Preparing | Part 3: The God of All Comfort | Part 4: Life (from Death) in the Body

The universe, and the lives it contains, are not random. There is a Designer, and there is a design. There is purposefulness behind very blade of grass, every delight and disaster, every life, every death. As you would expect of a plan this big, the purpose is complex and multifaceted, but in the end, the overriding purpose is simple and direct.

Paul puts it this way:

  • Whether, therefore, you eat, or drink, or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God (1Cor 10.31).

God, as the Creator and Sustainer of all there is (Col 1.16-17), and the prototype for all life and particularly for all human life (Ge 1.26-27), is the only being worthy of glorification, of worship. Unless we live by this principle, nothing about the universe or the lives it contains—our lives—makes any sense. History is a long record of our ancestors’ trying to find meaning elsewhere and concluding that in the end it’s all meaningless.

How can death—yours or that of someone you love—bring glory to God? How can the God who is life be glorified by an apparent defeat?

In the very first chapter of the Bible, we’re told that every human being—every one—is in the image of God (Ge 1.26-27). Now, we know that just a couple of chapters later, Adam and Eve fall into sin, bringing a curse on all their descendants (Ge 3.6ff; Ro 5.12, 18-19), but we also know that this curse did not erase the image of God; it remained in Noah’s day (Ge 9.6), and it remained in James’s day (Jm 3.9), and so it remains in us today.

Everyone you know is in the image of God. That means that everyone you know should elicit your praise to God who made him. Of course we’re broken and sinful, but there are in all of us, regenerate or not, qualities that reflect the Creator and should provoke us to praise him.

Now, the better you know somebody, the more you know about his foibles, his failures, the eruptions of his flesh in pride or anger or lust or some other form of brokenness. But as deep as the corruption goes, deeper yet is that which is praiseworthy.

When you grieve over the loss of a loved one, you are driven by the loss to think deeply about the one you have loved. And in that person you will find evidences of God’s grace—

  • Characteristics that reflect God’s image;
  • Providences in his life that testify to God’s common grace;
  • Providences that testify to God’s individual grace, to God’s love and care for him;
  • If he was a believer, multiplied evidences of God’s spiritual care for him.

I suppose I should address the elephant in the room.

What if he wasn’t a believer? How can you glorify God then?

Well, to begin with, in everyone we can find those evidences of God’s image and providential care, and we can praise our kind and gracious God for those things.

But what kind of monster praises God for the reprobation of a loved one?

I’m not suggesting that you need to do that, or even that you should, though there are theologians who have implied or suggested such a thing.

I’ve been to a lot of funerals for believing loved ones, and to some for unbelieving loved ones. I don’t think people in the image of God can be dispassionate about the prospect of perdition for anyone. God certainly isn’t (Ezk 18.31; 33.11).

But I would say this.

God desires the salvation of the lost far more than I do, and he has resources far beyond what we know. The death process is unknown to us—Scripture has nothing of substance to say about it—and we are in the dark about those moments when the mind and the brain temporarily part ways. What does the unregenerate mind know and experience as it approaches death? What light shines? What decisions can be made, even at that late and fading moment?

The answer is, we don’t know.

But I’ve known God for many years, and I trust him with the fate of my loved ones. All of them.

I will praise him, in every death.

Part 6: Pain with a Purpose | Part 7: Closing Thoughts

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On Death, Part 4: Life (from Death) in the Body

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Preparing | Part 3: The God of All Comfort

God takes care of his people. Because he is all-knowing, he’s aware of our struggles; because he is good, he cares about us as we struggle; because he is wise, he knows how best to meet our needs in those struggles; and because he is great, he can do whatever those needs require.

God is kind even to his enemies; those who curse God with every breath get that breath, and the life-sustaining oxygen it contains, freely from the hand of God, who designed their respiratory systems and freely provides all the oxygen they need, not just to curse him, but to go on living even as they do so. In his great Sermon on the Mount, Jesus—who in fact created oxygen, and lungs, and everything else (Jn 1.3; Col 1.16; Heb 1.2)—observed that “your Father who is in heaven … causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Mt 5.45).

We call that “common grace.” God is kind to the most undeserving. But he is especially kind—gracious—to those who trust and rely on him, to his children, as any father should be (Ps 103.13-14). If you’re a believer, and you think back over your life, you will certainly see God’s provision and providence all along the path on which you have followed him.

One of the ways he has designed our walk with him and brought kindness and grace to us is by placing us into the body of Christ (1Co 12.13). When you were born again, Christ baptized you in the Spirit (Mt 3.11; Ac 1.5), and in that moment you were united with his body (1Co 12.13). That means a couple of things: first, that you are “in Christ,” with all that entails (Ro 8.1; 1Co 1.30; 2Co 5.17; Ga 3.28; Ep 1.3; 1Th 4.16; 1P 5.14), and second, that you are a member of “the body of Christ,” which is the church (Co 1.18, 24).

In an abstract sense, you and I are members of the church “universal,” the body of all believers since Christ’s earthly ministry, living and dead; that’s a powerful thought, that we’re united with Peter and Paul and Polycarp and Perpetua and Felicity and Luther and Calvin and Roger Williams and Jim Elliott and an innumerable host of people from every tribe and kingdom and language and nation, who will one day be assembled before the throne and worshiping together (Re 7.9-17).

But much more concretely, you are appointed to a visible body of believers, a local church (He 10.25), where God has providentially surrounded you with other believers who have just exactly the gifts you need (Ro 12.4-8; 1Co 12.4ff) to be strengthened in your walk with Christ. (And, conversely, you have gifts that they need, which you should exercise for their benefit; but that’s another post. Or two.)

So what does all this theology have to do with taking dominion over death?

God has designed, just for you, a local body of believers who are supernaturally gifted with exactly what you need as you face the death of a dear one or your own death—and, for that matter, any other need you have. When you need his comfort, his assurance, his strength, you can find it most easily not when you are alone in your bed in the dark of the night—although it is available there too—but you find it most easily in the fellowship of God’s people, who will use their gifts to minister that comfort to you (2Co 1.3-5). Gifts of mercy, of helps, of shepherding, of serving, of teaching, of exhorting. And faith, hope, love.

You don’t need to walk through this valley alone. Let God’s people share the journey with you.

Part 5: Joyful Grief | Part 6: Pain with a Purpose | Part 7: Closing Thoughts

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