sanctification

How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians, Part 2: Obedience

August 28, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

So what does Paul pray for the members of the church at Colossae? He begins this prayer (Co 1.9-23) with a basic request (Co 1.9) followed by its typical result (Co 1.10a) and then amplifies that result with four descriptors (Co 1.10-12). As I noted in the previous post, the final descriptor (thankfulness) opens the door to a long list of specific things for which believers should be thankful (Co 1.13-23).

That’s a lot to digest. Let’s start at the beginning, chewing slowly and thoughtfully.

[ Sidebar: I’ve noticed in recent years, particularly among what we used to call “the young, restless, and reformed,” that many preachers like to use the metaphor of unpacking a box when they exegete a passage; they’ll say, “Let’s unpack this passage.” I rather suspect that they have a favorite preacher who uses the expression, and they’re imitating him (Piper? Mohler? Macarthur?). I have to admit that since I’m a hopelessly out-of-touch old coot, I don’t know who the exemplar preacher—the Yoda, if you will—is. But in any case, I’ve always used a different metaphor, that of chewing and digesting. I do have considerable experience at chewing, and I find great pleasure in it. And there’s always Jeremiah 15.16 to consider:

Thy words were found, and I did eat them; and thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart: for I am called by thy name, O Lord God of hosts.

So there’s that.

End sidebar. ]

Paul’s primary prayer is straightforward:

We … do not cease to pray for you, and to desire that ye might be filled with the knowledge of his will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding (Co 1.9).

The second infinitive, “to desire,” is, I think, simply a restatement of the first, “to pray.” (In Greek, the word “and” can often be translated “even,” as introducing an appositive, a restatement.) And what is that prayer, that desire? That they would know God’s will, or, more expansively, “be filled with the knowledge of his will.”

For the believer on the way to spiritual maturity, the essential thing is to be determined to live according to the will of God. That means, of course, not just knowing what God wants, but being oriented toward it (being “filled with it”) and then doing it. Paul is praying that they would obey God. That’s where it all starts.

And that’s why he immediately says, “in all wisdom and spiritual understanding.” These words have to do with more than just knowing. We must not picture the hypercranialized space aliens who just know all kinds of stuff and always win at “Jeopardy!” Wisdom and understanding have to do not so much with intellect, but with application: knowing how to use what you know to do practical things. I once read somewhere that knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit, not a vegetable; but wisdom is knowing that you don’t put ketchup on ice cream.

It’s more extensive than that, of course; wisdom and understanding include creative thinking, problem-solving, and what Bloom called synthesis. It’s the opposite of the ivory tower. It’s the ability to get stuff done.

So if Paul is attaching the concept of wisdom to the knowledge of God’s will, he is praying for us to do what we know, to live out who God has designed us to be.

Well then. We begin here.

But how? How are we to know the will of God?

To the college students I’ve taught for many years, the will of God has to do with three w’s: what (is my career going to be), where (am I going to live), and who (am I going to marry). Those are important questions, of course, but the teaching on the will of God in the Bible doesn’t focus on that. It focuses instead on the kind of person you’re going to be. For example, Paul writes elsewhere,

This is the will of God, even your sanctification, that ye should abstain from fornication (1Th 4.3).

And there’s more; grab your search software (or, if you’re over 75, your concordance—and a good magnifying glass) and have a field day.

God’s well-rounded people start every day, and the rest of their lives, with the question, “Based on what I know of the Bible, what does God want me to do?”

That’s a start.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians, Part 1: Introduction

August 21, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Decades ago one of my professors (the late Charles W. Smith, for those who may remember him) suggested that a good way to study prayer was to focus on Paul’s prayers at the openings of his epistles. I took note of that and started noticing the kinds of things Paul prayed for his churches. I found then, and I still find, that my prayers, particularly the requests, could use a significant upgrade.

Why the need? In my case, it was because I was focused on the wrong stuff—or at least, my focus was too narrow: help this sick person feel better, provide more money for this person or that ministry, that sort of thing.

Paul, on the other hand, is focused like a laser beam on the Big Idea: the spiritual growth and well-being of those to whom he ministers. Along the way, he’s not just asking God for things; he’s instructing his readers (including us) as to what kinds of “things” we should be giving our attention to.

I’d like to pursue this idea here by spending a few posts working through Paul’s prayer in the opening to Colossians. This follows naturally on my recent meditations on the supremacy of Christ as the firstborn, which Paul lays out in one portion of this prayer (Co 1.15).

The prayer itself is in Colossians 1.9-12, but at the end of it he moves quickly past a comma to offer an extended reflection on the works of God in our salvation, for which we should be thankful—a reflection that runs through the end of the chapter.

When taken as a whole, then, Paul’s prayer lays out the works of God in our salvation, works that cover every facet of our “inner man”—what we often call the heart, the mind, the psyche, the emotions, the wishes, the dreams. God does a complete renovation of the house that we call our selves (2Co 5.1). There is nothing in us that his work doesn’t touch. Hence the title of this series: “How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians.”

Note the subject and verb. I don’t intend this series to be a list of more stuff ya gotta do, or a list of virtues for you to work on, a la Benjamin Franklin. This is work that God does in you; you can’t do it without him.

But the Bible does indicate that although justification is monergistic (God does it without our help), sanctification, or growth in Christ-likeness, is synergistic: we play a role in making it happen, by God’s grace. (Even Calvinists teach that. Yes, they do.) For example, Peter speaks of “making effort” toward spiritual growth (2P 1.5). Paul speaks of “presenting our bodies” (Ro 12.1), of “bringing holiness to completion” (2Co 7.1), and of “working out our own salvation” (Php 2.12); the author of Hebrews speaks of “striving for … holiness” (He 12.14).

So it’s wise stewardship to know the goals that God is working toward in us, and to be purposeful is seeking opportunities to work with him in developing the characteristics that will get us there.

That’s one purpose of this series. There is a second.

If any of us finds that these characteristics are missing—not just imperfect, but missing, strange, out of the ordinary—then it’s time to go back to the beginning and ask the big question. Has God begun a work in us by justifying us? We know that he has if we have repented and believed (Mk 1.15; Ac 3.19; Ro 5.1). But in Western “Christian” culture it’s easy, particularly for those raised in Christian homes, to just go along, be agreeable, give the right answer to the questions in Sunday school—but never genuinely repent.

This series is chance for all of us to inspect our inner selves and ask, is God in fact sanctifying me? Am I making progress in Christ-likeness?

If the answer is “No,” there’s a free and simple solution.

Next time, we’ll begin looking at Paul’s prayer for his Colossian readers, and for us.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

On Winning the War, Part 3: The Flesh

November 25, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Identifying the Enemy | Part 2: The World

The second front in our three-front war, according to the common saying, is “the flesh.” The Bible uses this word in a couple of ways, one positive and the other negative. Sometimes the word refers to the sensitive part of us, the tender part, the living part—similarly to the way we use the expression “it cut to the quick.” Twice through the prophet Ezekiel God says, “I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh” (Ezk 11.19; cf Ezk 36.26). That’s a good thing.

But the Bible, particularly in Paul, also speaks of the flesh as the evil that lives within us (Ro 7.18)—what Paul also calls the “old man” (Ro 6.6), and what theologians refer to as the “sinful nature.” And as I’ve noted in an earlier series, John names “the lust of the flesh” as part of what characterizes the lifestyle of “the world.”

I noted in that same earlier post that “the flesh” involves more than just sexual lust; it includes any physical desire that is inappropriate: gluttony, for example, or laziness. It’s interesting to me that all of these physical desires were given to us by God: we need food and sleep every day, and we need to reproduce for the survival of the species. They’re good things, all of them—but they make lousy gods, and they can destroy us if uncontrolled. Like fire, a useful servant but a fearful master.

So how do we fight the flesh? Particularly since these desires are things that we ought to exercise responsibly? Are we doomed to be like the alcoholic who has one drink a day and hopes—forlornly—that he can control it?

Not at all. The key to controlling the flesh, like the key to controlling physical addiction, is health—physical health for the addict, and spiritual health for the worshiper of the flesh. A helpful passage, I think, is Galatians 5.16-26:

16 But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh. 17 For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law. 19 Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, 21 envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you just as I have forewarned you that those who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God. 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. 24 Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. 26 Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another.

Here’s how that works:

Recognize the fact of victory (Ga 5.16). We do not need to lose this battle; indeed, it has already been won (Ro 7.24-8.1). Many are discouraged that their struggle with the flesh is ongoing; but on the contrary, that struggle is a good sign. It indicates that the Spirit is doing his convicting work and conforming you, bit by bit, to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18). It indicates a tender heart, a “heart of flesh,” rather than a hardened one.

Be led by the Spirit (Ga 5.18). This is simply sanctification, or growth in grace. It’s the result of spiritual exercise through absorbing the Scripture, wrestling in prayer, and actively fellowshipping with other believers. Filling one’s mind with God’s thoughts will help drive out one’s own—or rather, transform them (Ro 12.2) from self-focused to outward- and upward-focused.

It’s a long haul, and it requires faithfulness. But victory is certain, in God’s good time.

Next time: dealing with the devil.

Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash

On Winning the War, Part 2: The World

November 21, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Identifying the Enemy

So we’re fighting a three-front war—something no one’s likely to win without divine power. Let’s take a look at the first enemy, the world.

I wrote some on this just a few posts ago, focusing primarily on definitional matters. Here I’d like to focus on how to fight so as to win. I think a key biblical source on this question is John’s first epistle.

The Right Family

I’d suggest that the essential requirement for this fight is being in the right family (or to continue the military metaphor, the right army); without this identity and the power it conveys, all is lost. John writes,

For whatever is born of God overcomes the world; and this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith (1J 5.4).

To be effective in battle, a soldier has to be alive. In the spiritual battle against the combined forces of the world as organized in opposition to God, the spiritually dead have no hope.

But to be spiritually alive, a member of God’s family—now that equips and mobilizes a person for spiritual warfare. And John identifies the impetus for spiritual life: faith.

The biblical authors are agreed on this. Paul writes, “By grace are you saved, through faith—and that not of yourselves” (Ep 2.8). Peter writes of “the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls” (1P 1.9). The author to the Hebrews states, “Without faith it is impossible to please [God]” (He 11.6).

Faith is simply trusting God to forgive your sins on the basis of Christ’s death on your behalf (Ro 3.21.28).

How do you know if you’re in?

Well, there are actually several signs of that, but let me focus on just one: your attitude toward sin will change. Whereas you once loved your sin, you now see it accurately as your enemy, the destroyer of your soul. And you turn from it. The Bible calls that “repentance.” You won’t completely stop sinning—in my opinion that’s impossible this side of the grave—but your attitude toward sin will change, and you’ll fight against it. As time goes on and you gain fighting experience, you’ll get better at the fight, but you’ll be attitudinally on board from the very beginning (1J 3.9).

The Right Focus

Any combat veteran will tell you that to succeed in battle, you have to pay attention. Focus is absolute.

Just after identifying faith as the key in the verse quoted above (1J 5.4), John writes,

And who is the one who overcomes the world, but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God? (1J 5.5).

As a believer, you keep your focus on Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, because he is the one we follow, we serve. He is the battlefield commander, and following his orders certainly eventuates in victory. Why is that? Because Jesus, as God, is all-powerful and cannot be defeated.

You are from God, little children, and have overcome them; because greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world (1J 4.4).

In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world (Jn 16.33).

To win this fight, every soldier needs to concentrate on Christ, study him, learn him. Everything else is a distraction.

Focusing on Christ will also enable you to focus on the long-term rather than the short-term. The English poet William Wordsworth wrote, “The world is too much with us.” It fills our peripheral vision with distractions, like the mobile over a baby’s crib, and we’re tempted to fritter away our limited lifetime on passing, temporary things: stuff, applause, pop culture, and a host of other trivia.

When your mind is focused on the eternal—most especially, likeness to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18)—the flashing neon roadside signs seem dim and worthless. Like an experienced driver, you focus down the road, taking in the whole scene and driving responsibly, safely, effectively, arriving at your destination, which was the whole point of being on the road in the first place.

Focus. It will enable you to defeat your enemy the world.

Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 5: Mentors 

August 5, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence | Part 4: Thought

One more item in Paul’s list of areas we should give attention to and discipline:

Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you (Php 4.9).

He encourages the believers in Philippi—a church that he planted—to imitate his example, to follow his practices. These days we call such a person a mentor, and those who imitate him proteges.

Some people might find this surprising. Isn’t this arrogant of Paul—especially since Christ is the only perfect example?

Good point. And as it happens, Paul says that himself elsewhere:

Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ (1Co 11.1).

He’s clearly not placing his value as an example above that of Christ.

I’ll note that Paul’s exhortation here indicates that he has been careful to set the kind of example that the Philippians should follow. He’s been helped in that, certainly by the fact that he’s an apostle, guided by the Spirit into all truth (Jn 16.13).

Slight sidetrack: Many interpreters would apply Jn 16.13 to all believers. I don’t, because I know that I’m not guided into all truth, and as I tell my students, I have written documentation in a file cabinet in my office that they are not guided into all truth either. I think this is a promise to the apostles that they would be inerrant in their reporting of Jesus’ life and teachings—their proclamation of the gospel. This of course would come to us through the New Testament. But since only three men in the room in John 16 wrote any New Testament, I’m also inclined to believe that the rest of the apostles, though not sinless (Ga 2.11), were inerrant in their preaching—which makes Luke’s description of the Bereans all the more remarkable (Ac 17.11; but cf 1Th 2.13).

But to return.

Paul here encourages the Philippians to imitate his example.

Might this exhortation have broader significance? Should we, two millennia after Paul’s death, imitate him too? It occurs to me that we’ll have a harder time doing so, since we can’t see Paul’s example in his day-to-day life, as the Philippians did. But there are certainly a good many things we can know about him, and those things we can imitate.

But to go a step further. Can we take Paul’s words as a general endorsement of the concept of mentorship? There are a good many Christian books on discipleship that do just that, and I don’t see a reason to disagree with them. Paul’s teaching on spiritual gifts seems to imply strongly that all believers should sit under gifted teachers and should live exemplary lives before their church assemblies.

So, I would suggest, we can all benefit from following the examples of exemplary believers. (The apparent redundancy there is intentional and is not actually redundant.) And Paul’s words here in verse 9 indicate that we should be careful whom we choose.

I suppose it could go without saying that we should choose as models those who follow Christ well, consistently, carefully, graciously. We should choose them not because they’re popular, or good-looking, or socially adept. We should recognize something of the character of Christ in them and then seek to integrate that character trait into our own thinking and lifestyle. We should ask them questions, and we should listen to the answers.

I suppose it’s worthwhile to insert a caution here.

You and I are not called to be anybody else. God has made us all different, and he has gifted us to serve in ways that are the sum of our DNA, our upbringing, our experiences, our sanctification, and yes, our gifting. I’ve known Christians who want desperately to be just like somebody they admire, and those efforts always end in disappointment. We’re called to be ourselves, remade in the image of Christ.

But we ought to follow examples, carefully chosen, in our lifelong journey to be like Christ.

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 4: Thought

August 1, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence

The next area of discipline in Paul’s list is likely the toughest one for many people.

 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things (Php 4.8).

Here Paul calls for mental discipline: controlling what you think about.

This is tough.

We’re not used to that in our culture, and in recent years it’s only getting more difficult. We naturally tend to think about whatever pops into our head. Most often those things pop in from our daily circumstances—conversations, assigned tasks, and so on. Many of those things we don’t control; they just show up, and we think about them.

But with the rise of social media, we’re being conditioned against mental discipline. Social media posts scroll by, and we think about them for 5 or 10 seconds, and we move on. We’re passive consumers of mental stimulation; it’s all up to the algorithms, and our thoughtful choices have nothing to do with what’s being poured into our brain bucket. There’s no discipline or self-control whatsoever; it’s just random dopamine hits.

Yikes.

But it gets worse. Neurological research indicates that the more we engage in this kind of media surfing, the less thinking we’re able to do; our brain rewires itself for “fast-twitch” thinking rather than long-form consideration of more complex ideas. If a paragraph consists of more than 9 or 10 lines, we’re not going to consume it thoughtfully; eventually we’ll just skip it altogether. (How many of the issues that we deal with in modern society can we think through in 5 or 10 seconds? We’re being conditioned against wisdom.)

For more information on this concept, I highly recommend Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. He brings serious research to the question.

In this pervasively “fast-twitch” environment, we’re going to find it harder than ever to follow Paul’s admonition. In a culture where many people have no mental discipline, directing your thought anywhere in particular, let alone to specific areas, is going to seem strange and foreign.

I’d suggest some practical things:

Read, regularly and repeatedly. Of course, believers should read their Bibles as their primary source of spiritual nutrition. But any long-form reading will strengthen your mental discipline. (And no, the closed captions on movies are not long-form reading.)

Memorize Scripture. Memorization requires repeated review (I have a system, and I hope you do too), which will enable you to bring to mind biblical content whenever you have some mental free time—while driving, walking, standing in line, and so on.

Approach casual conversations thoughtfully. Sure, small talk has its place; but if your conversations at church are all about football or politics, they could use some discipline. Direct conversations to substantial things. “How can I pray for you?” is one way to start.

Use “down time” thoughtfully. While you’re waiting to fall asleep at night, direct your thoughts.

Paul includes here a list of things to think about. I’m not sure detailed word studies on each term are what he’s after; the list could be more of a random collection of examples than a to-do list. I doubt that once you’ve thought about his list of 8 things, he’d say you’re done. Think about anything excellent; think about anything praiseworthy. Think on purpose.

Again, this is hard. We like to let our thoughts go wherever they take us. But they do take us places, and while “the power of positive thinking” isn’t a magical formula for personal success—“if you can believe it, you can achieve it!”—the way we think does make a difference in the progress and outcome of our living. It certainly makes a difference in our spiritual success, our sanctification.

Think on these things.

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 3: Dependence

July 29, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action

Paul now turns to a third area where we need discipline:

⁶Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. ⁷And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Php 4.6-7).

People come in all varieties. Some are pretty self-confident; they think they can deal with whatever comes down the pike. Don’t need any help, thanks. I got this.

But if the truth be known, even those people worry. They think about how they’re going to deal with this issue or that, and even though they don’t want to ask anybody else for help, they still spend time on the mental merry-go-round, trying to figure out the next step.

And for others, it’s even more difficult. Worry becomes anxiety, and fear dominates their thinking.

This is the human condition.

And if we humans are merely the peak of evolutionary development, with no one higher to look to, then we’re doomed to a lifetime of anxiety.

But we’re not, and we’re not.

There is a higher throne. And Paul points us there.

Don’t worry about anything, he says.

What? Don’t worry about where the rent’s coming from? About progressive degenerative disease? About broken relationships? About societal ills? About nuclear holocaust?

That’s just crazy.

No, my friend. It’s crazy only if we’re all there is.

But there is a God, and he is infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth. And further, he loves us, and he invites us to bring our anxieties to him and leave them there.

He can provide the rent money, and grace to face the physical ravages of time, and relational healing, and societal peace. And he can prevent nuclear holocaust, in his good will.

Bring your requests.

I note that Paul returns to his earlier theme of thanksgiving, or rejoicing. How can we be thankful even as we recount our troubles at the throne?

Because God hears, and he responds, and always in a way that is good and wise, wiser even than the “solutions” we can suggest to him. Beyond all that we can ask or think.

Paul follows his imperative with a promise. If we’ll do what he says, then God will bring peace to our troubled hearts—peace, he says, that surpasses all understanding.

I used to think that that meant that it’s so wonderful that we can’t understand it. But I don’t think that’s it. It surpasses understanding; when our understanding has taken us as far as it can, and it runs out of gas, the peace of God takes over and keeps us going, as far as we need to go. We find that we don’t need to know it all, to understand everything that God is doing. We know him, we trust him, and we just keep going.

Paul adds one last thought. This peace he says, is not passive; it’s active. And the verb he chooses is instructive: it guards our hearts and minds. You know, that place where the anxiety comes from? The wellspring of all our fears? The peace of God stands as a sentinel at the door, muscular and armed, and it denies entry to the dangerous stuff.

So we have a choice.

We can give in to the anxiety, trying to work things out for ourselves, despite the fact that there are all kinds of things that we don’t know and can’t do.

Or we can trust the sentinel standing outside the door of our hearts, as we work diligently and wisely during the day and sleep well at night.

That shouldn’t be a difficult decision.

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 2: Action

July 25, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Perspective

Here in Philippians 4, we’re surveying a list of areas that we ought to discipline as we live out our faith in Christ. In the previous post, we noted that we should discipline our perspective to be joyful, rejoicing in whatever comes our way (Php 4.4). We turn now to the second Item in Paul’s list.

Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand (Php 4.5).

You may know that the KJV renders the key word “moderation.” There’s great breadth in the various reliable versions: “gentle spirit” (NASB), “graciousness” (CSB), “gentleness” (NIV). The standard Greek lexicon (BDAG) suggests “yielding, gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant.” I think we get the idea. There seems to be general idea of others-centeredness, of unselfishness, of lesser concern with one’s own rights than for the rights or needs—or even desires—of others.

Paul says this characteristic of ours should “be known to everyone.” How does that happen? Well, practically speaking, it can happen only when this is our default—whatever we do, in whatever circumstances, with whatever kinds of people, we’re gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant. This is just the way we always act.

That’s a tough order. It’s easy for most of us to be kind and cordial with people we like, or those who are first kind to us. But the situation is very different when someone is rude, or hostile, or childish, or self-centered. It is not my inclination, or yours, to be kind or courteous in those situations.

How often do we see that kind of spirit in operation in our culture? How often, rather, do we see some people mocking those they disagree with—“libtards” or “snowflakes” or “RINOs” or “MAGAs”? How often do we ourselves engage in that kind of mocking and ridicule?

Oh, but in my case it’s justified, you see, because that idiot deserved it, because he was rude to me first, or he’s a tool of the deep state, or he’s a threat to democracy. Or he’s just stupid.

Oh, no, my friend. Let your gentle default mode of action be known to everyone. There are no riders or qualifiers there.

Let me suggest that our current polarized culture presents us with a rare opportunity to have our calm, gentle, kindness stand out from the angry, pugilistic, chaotic background of polarization and rage. When everyone is running to and fro, the one who’s sitting calmly amidst the chaos reading a book stands out; he’s impossible to miss. And in our culture the simplest act of kindness, the slightest evidence of care and attention, screams louder than all the surrounding noise.

What a way to make a difference. What a way to be an ambassador.

Paul’s seals the importance of this discipline with a terse observation: “The Lord is near.”

To what is he referring here?

The word near here is a common word, one that can refer to either time or space.

Is he saying that the Lord is spatially near, as in omnipresent? “O be careful little mouth what you say”?

Or that he is temporally near: coming back soon? “O, can we say we are ready, brother”?

In his epistles Paul uses the word in both senses (Ep 2.13; Ro 13.11). In Jesus’ teaching he tends to use the word temporally, mostly because he’s frequently teaching about the nearness of his Coming. But when he says, “The Kingdom of God is at hand,” is it possible that he means to imply both?

I don’t see a reason to restrict the word here to either sense; either or both can serve as motivation for us to do better at this.

The Lord is indeed near us, both as a deterrent to sin and as a source of power for victory. In ourselves we cannot live this way consistently, but our God is near to us.

The Lord is indeed coming soon, to deliver us from all the frustrations that so vex us now. That means that as vexing as these confrontations are, they are temporary; and knowing that can relieve us of much of the pressure to collapse.

Live out grace, kindness, courtesy. By default. To everybody—especially to the really challenging everybodies.

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 1: Perspective

July 22, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

No, I’m not referring to child-rearing, but to how we discipline ourselves. It’s a truism that if you aim at nothing, you’ll certainly hit it. Pretty much everybody understands that you have to set goals, and then persist in pursuing them, in order to accomplish anything worthwhile.

There’s a whole industry of advisors, people who are happy to coach you on making the best of life—whether on the secular side or on the spiritual. Reading these works discerningly and thoughtfully can be highly profitable.

More reliably, though, the Scripture addresses this topic extensively. A series of blog posts is not the place for a comprehensive survey of the biblical theology of personal discipline, but it’s reasonable to focus on a single passage that concentrates on the idea.

I find such a passage in Philippians 4. It’s a concise presentation, and a familiar one; many Christians have memorized the passage, or at least parts of it. In verses 4-9, I find a list of five aspects of our lifestyle—what the King James translators called “conversation”—that we ought to discipline in certain ways. Lord willing, I’ll devote a post to each of the five.

The section opens with Paul’s goal for his (and our) perspective:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice (Php 4.4).

Our view of things, he says, should be consistently joyful.

Several things to note about that.

First, this is Paul writing. He has not had an easy life; as he has already noted in this short epistle, he has sacrificed early professional success to follow Jesus (Php 3.4-11), and a few years earlier he has listed for the church in Corinth a litany of hardship (2Co 11.23-29). Even as he writes these words, he is under house arrest in Rome, waiting for a hearing before Caesar that threatens capital punishment. He is not speaking platitudes.

Second, he is writing to Philippi, a church founded out of a night in prison, an earthquake, and government opposition (Ac 16.13-40). He is about to say that this church has already given sacrificially to support his ministry from a distance (Php 4.16). There is nothing flippant or casual about what he is asking them to do.

Rejoice, he says. No, I really mean it, he repeats.

And furthermore, rejoice all the time.

Rejoice in the good times; rejoice in the bad. Rejoice in success; rejoice in failure.

Rejoice in house arrest. Rejoice in the inner prison.

Interestingly, Paul lives that out. He has already written here that his arrest has yielded good things (Php 1.12-14), and he will go on to say that there are now saints in Caesar’s household (Php 4.22)—though we don’t know whether they became saints as a direct result of his appeal to Caesar.

Now for the fifty-dollar question—how does he do it? How does Paul rejoice in the midst of suffering and injustice greater than you (probably) or I have ever experienced? And by extension, how are we to “rejoice … always”?

The ellipsis provides the answer: “rejoice in the Lord always.”

There’s a lot packed into that tiny prepositional phrase.

What does it mean to “rejoice in the Lord”?

At its purest, it means simply to rejoice in God himself—who he is, and what he does. Meditation on him brings great delight.

But God knows that we are dust, and he understands that we are consistently motivated by self-interest. He graciously works benefits to us, in which we can then rejoice. The blessings of salvation are profitable topics for meditation, as are answers to prayer. (Sidebar: if you don’t pray much, or at all, you’re depriving yourself of the joy that comes from seeing prayers answered.) The confidence that comes from following his will, even through valleys (Ps 23.4), is reason to rejoice. It’s a great gift to know that, really, everything’s going to be OK, and the hard times will eventuate in great good.

So our first step of discipline, according to this passage, is in our perspective: we discipline ourselves to see all things as causes for rejoicing.

This is life-changing.

More next time.

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

Continuous Improvement, Part 2: Inch by Inch

January 18, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: No Fear

Deming’s fourteen principles included a second one that has greatly influenced my thinking: being satisfied with slow, iterative change, so long as it is constant because it is built into the system. That, too, reflects something in God’s relationship with us.

During Jesus’ earthly ministry, he has three years to save the world. We would certainly feel a lot of pressure in that situation. And that pressure would be compounded if we had to set up a system that would perpetuate itself for thousands of years—particularly if we found that our disciples unanimously and continuously Just Didn’t Get It.

A remarkable thing about Jesus’ ministry is that he never seems to be in a hurry. As he’s traveling through Galilee, he sees a funeral and stops to raise the lone widow’s only son back to life again (Lk 7.11-17). As he’s walking to a village to heal Jairus’s daughter (Lk 8.41-42), he pauses and asks, “Who touched me?” (Lk 8.45). And he takes time to talk to the woman, to comfort and encourage her. Though he sometimes expresses frustration over the thickheadedness of his disciples, he doesn’t fire them and look for someone else. At the end of his earthly ministry, though they are still essentially numbskulls, he instructs them patiently and at length about what’s coming next and what their responsibilities will be.

A little improvement here, a little improvement there. That’s good. We’re moving in the right direction.

It should be no surprise, then, that he works with us in the same way. At our conversion, a lot happens from the divine side, but we’re still just babies, dependent on constant care, feeding on milk and not solid food (He 5.12; 1P 2.2). Yet God has committed himself to us for the long term, uniting our efforts with his in the lifelong process called sanctification (Php 2.12-13). With our active participation, he begins to conform us to the character of his Son, a process that will take our entire lifetimes, even with the Spirit’s empowerment. And even at the end, we still won’t be there, and God will have to take us the rest of the way to perfect Christ-likeness—and he certainly will (1J 3.2).

He knows, of course, that all along that lifelong pathway we’ll stumble, sometimes from weakness, sometimes from inattention, sometimes from sheer bone-headedness. Even Paul didn’t do any better than that (Ro 7.14-25).

But our Father is utterly committed to our long-term reclamation, and he is in this with us for the long haul. He knows our dusty frame (Ps 103.14), and he knows that we’re going to progress in tiny steps, and that sometimes we’ll take steps backward. Though we are frustrated by the fickleness of our love for God and by the consequent inconsistency of our spiritual growth, he is not.

Why not?

Because God’s plans are never frustrated.

And because he loves us.

We’re going to get there, by God’s grace and with his empowerment. You can take that to the bank.

So, every day, we seek continuous improvement. As my pastor said recently, we just take the next step. What that next step is, is different for each of us, but by God’s grace we can see that far, and we can take the step in confidence that he will empower it.

I hope you don’t take this brief series to imply that God is following Deming’s fourteen principles; God is what he is timelessly, and Deming, through common grace, is following God’s principles rather than vice versa.

It shouldn’t surprise us that God is the perfect Father, the perfect Master, the perfect Director and Accomplisher of his good and eternal plans—that he has delivered us from all fear and empowered us to become like Christ, no matter how long it takes or how slow and inconsistent the process.

Take the next step, with confidence.

Photo by carlos aranda on Unsplash