It’s a question you’ve probably asked. Why is it that when you are looking for a house, driving slowly down a darkened street straining to see the numbers on the fronts of the homes or on the mailboxes at the end of the driveways, you automatically turn down the car radio? Why do you need silence when focusing, concentrating? You do so, I suppose, because you instinctively know that music and voices are a distraction. You know on a subconscious level that you cannot focus as well on the task at-hand when there is noise in the background. Noise is a distraction.

I find that when I am writing, and especially writing something that requires deep thought and consistent logic, I need to remove background distractions, whether that means I turn down the music playing from my computer or close the door to my office to drown out the sounds of squabbling or playing children. I do this without thinking about it. As I strain to collect my thoughts and to put words to them, I automatically turn down the music (as I did just now). I am often surprised, when I have finished my writing, to find that the music has been turned off or the door has been closed. I may have no recollection of doing so. It must be a natural reaction.

Many years ago I heard a sermon, one of the few I remember from my younger days, in which the pastor suggested that we try turning off the stereos in our cars, especially when we are driving alone, and spend the time thinking or praying. He had apparently developed the practice of praying aloud when driving alone. It earned him some bemused looks from other drivers who saw him talking, apparently to himself, but because he found it a beneficial practice he swallowed his pride and continued to talk to God. I guess this was in the day before bluetooth headsets; today it seems as if every driver is talking to himself. I often make a decision—and it has to be a deliberate decision since I am accustomed to pressing the “play” button immediately after starting the car—to turn off the radio or MP3 player when I drive. I have found such times extremely valuable. My mind can process things and mull things over far better where there is silence. This is particularly true if the song I might be listening to is one that is familiar to me as then, whether I am aware of it or not, I tend to sing along. It is hard to think deeply when singing!

In our culture we have allowed ourselves to become notoriously busy. And all the time, while we are busily going through life, there is a great deal of “noise” in the background of our lives. It may be music that plays when we drive, when we work and when we play. It may be a television that is turned on every time we have a few minutes to spare. Perhaps when we find fifteen empty minutes between picking the kids up from school and beginning to cook dinner we watch an episode of Judge Judy or catch a re-run of The Simpsons. The background noise may be a Blackberry that constantly beeps and buzzes as it receives emails or stock quotes, even when we are far away from the office. It may be a cell phone that keeps customers or employees in contact with us even on weekends and holidays.

It seems to me that, as society continues to move in its current direction, and as we become ever more “wired,” Christians have to be increasingly deliberate about moderating and perhaps removing some of this ever-present background noise. If we are to be thinking people, people who think deeply and deliberately about spiritual matters, we simply cannot allow our lives to be overshadowed by the noise of technology.

I wonder how much we miss because of our busyness. I am often challenged to think just how much of life I miss while I check my email for the seventh time in a given evening or while I follow along online with a football game that I really don’t care about. Technology, it seems, is a great distractor. Technology sticks its foot in the door of so many areas of my life. When I sit down to read to my children we may be interrupted by a phone call. As we head outdoors to play, I may do a quick check of my email and spend fifteen minutes typing out a reply that could easily wait until the next day; and then, while I play with the children, I am distracted, mulling over what I might have or should have said. Maybe we duck out of church before the time of fellowship is complete so we will have time to get home, make a sandwich and fluff the cushions on the couch before kickoff time.

Truthfully, I cannot think of anything that distracts us so fully and completely and consistently as technology. For too many of us, technology is a master and not a servant. It is our owner, not our possession. We let it run and rule our lives. We allow technology to determine the course of our lives, taking us where it leads. We determine our schedules with TV Guide in one hand, a Blackberry calendar in the other. We invest countless hours in online friendships, many of which are shallow and insignificant, while ignoring people in our local churches and communities. Perhaps while ignoring even our own families.

Technology is a great servant but an evil master. Technology is proof of the greatness and grace of God and something we ought to be thankful for. But why, then, have so many of us allowed it to rule and govern our lives? Why do we allow it to play such an important, transcendent role in our lives and in our families?

It may be as simple as escapism. Technology, and especially its many applications to entertainment, provide unparalleled opportunities to escape from reality, even if only for a few minutes. Through technology we can leave the drudgery of our lives to listen to music that glorifies freedom or to watch television or film where what happens is far more thrilling than what we experience at home and in the office. The purpose of much of modern technology is to allow us to take our entertainment with us no matter where we go. MP3 players allow us to take thousands or tens of thousands of songs with us in the car or on the train. Video iPods allow us to escape from work or school for a few minutes by watching (ironically enough) The Office or unlimited amounts of pornography. Portable DVD players allow us to keep the children quiet in the car while we take a vacation. No matter who or where we are, we can use technology as a brief escape.

Perhaps we use technology to hide. Maybe we hate to be alone with our thoughts. We have become so accustomed to constant noise that, like a baby who can only sleep in a room with a white noise machine softly humming, we can barely stand the sound of silence. Maybe we have lost the ability to think or even the desire to think, and so we anesthetize our intellects, we lull them into inactivity, by replacing them with noise.

Maybe we need constant noise from the cell phone or laptop so we feel like we are accomplishing anything. Perhaps we have bought into the lie that we need to be accomplishing something significant—something that either pays the bills or leaves us with another bill to pay—at all times. And so we take phone calls during dinner and answer emails in church. We check email compulsively and work while we should be resting.

Or it could be that we prefer the anonymity and safety of online relationships, relationships that allow us to be almost exhibitionist in what we reveal about ourselves, all the while hiding behind a mask of secrecy. We would rather tell our deepest secrets to strangers on the other side of the continent, strangers we know only by their online personas, than find and nurture deep and lasting friendships close to home.

We are busy. We are distracted. Too often we hide behind the noise. As Christians we need to ensure that we are mastering the noise, not allowing it to master us. We need to be in control of our cell phones, Blackberries, laptops and inboxes. We can and often should use this technology, but we must not allow it to control us.

The Call by Os Guinness is a book that was on my list of things to do for a long, long time before I actually settled down to read it. But once I got into it, I was amazed at just how much wisdom it contains. At one point Guinness discusses the importance of living life for an audience of One. He begins the chapter by reflecting on Andrew Carnegie and his lifelong desire to be able to parade through the streets of the city of his birth to prove to them that he had been able to become fantastically wealthy. He desired to be seen and known by a human audience.

Guinness talks about other examples of people who have been obsessed with the praise of men. He mentions Marlene Dietrich who would record the applause given at the end of her performances and would then play the recordings for visitors to her home. She would gather friends such as Judy Garland and Noel Coward and play them both sides of a record filled with applause, telling them solemnly what city each round of applause was from. Guinness quotes Mozart who wrote to his father, “I am never in a good humor when I am in a town where I am quite unknown.” He quotes an old French story which tells of a revolutionary who, when sitting in a Paris cafe, hears a disturbance outside. Jumping to his feet he cries, “There goes the mob. I am their leader. I must follow them!”

Such narcissism is shocking, yet is all too common. Some time ago a reader forwarded me a link to a copy of Sharon Stone’s rider, the document that describes her requirements when she accepts a role in a film. Reading the document is almost nauseating, yet is no doubt not uncommon for Hollywood standards. She demands, among other things, $3500 per week in unaccountable “per diem” funds, three nannies, two assistants, presidential suites, first-class travel, a deluxe motorhome, and the rights to keep all of the jewelery and wardrobe items she uses in the film. Even more shocking, to myself anyways, were the requirements dealing with publicity of the film. The rider insists that her name is given first position in the credits for the film and that her name be at least as big as the movie’s title. Her picture, if it appears in advertising, must be at least as big as, if not bigger, than any other person’s likeness. It goes on and on. As I read this I thought of a friend who used to work in the special events industry. She tells of a particular musician who insisted that no one turn their back on him. People serving him had to, quite literally, walk backwards when they left the room lest they turn their back on him. Reading this is enough to turn one’s stomach.

In The Call, Guinness discusses narcissim in the context of audience. Christians are to be motivated to serve and to please an audience of One. We are to called to seek the pleasure of God. Guinness finds it odd that in a century which began with some of the strongest leaders the world has known—Churchill, Roosevelt, Lenin and Stalin—has ended with a “weak style of leadership codependent on followership: the leader as panderer.” He quotes Winston Churchill, a man who had an amazing way of cutting to the heart of issues. “I hear it said that leaders should keep their ears to the ground. All I can say is that the British nation will find it very hard to look up to the leaders who are detected in that somewhat ungainly posture.” At another time he said, “Nothing is more dangerous…than to live in the temperamental atmosphere of a Gallup Poll—always feeling one’s pulse and taking one’s temperature.” Violet Bonham Carter once said of Churchill that he was “as impervious to atmosphere as a diver in his bell.” Why was this? Because Churchill knew his mandate and sought to fill it to the best of his abilities. He was far from perfect. In many ways he was a troubled, rude, unkind individual. Yet he led the British nation through a dark hour and his name lives in history as an example of a great leader.

The application to the church is obvious. In our day we have leader after leader, teacher after teacher, telling us that the leaders of the church must take their cues from the people. Leadership is seen ever more as leading the people where they want to go, not necessarily where they need to go. Leadership is shaped by fleeting public opinion more than objective standards.

Yet what the church needs is leaders who serve the audience of One—leaders who, like Churchill, are sure of their calling and their mandate. They care nothing for the whims of their followers or potential followers, but only for pleasing the one who has called them to be leaders. These words from Spurgeon, sent to me by a friend, seem particularly pointed:

Never think of the Church of God as if she were in danger. If you do, you will be like Uzza; you will put forth your hand to steady the ark, and provoke the Lord to anger against you. If it were in danger, I tell you, you could not deliver it. If Christ cannot take care of his Church without you, you cannot do it. Be still, and know that he is God… When you begin to say, “The Church is in danger! The Church is in danger!” what is that to thee? It stood before thou wert born; it will stand when thou hast become worm’s meat. Do thou thy duty. Keep in the path of obedience, and fear not. He who made the Church knew through what trials she would have to pass, and he made her so that she can endure the trials and become the richer for it. The enemy is but grass, the word of the Lord endureth for ever.

The “Reading Classics Together” effort has taught me that blogs (even this blog) can offer a kind of excitement and accountability by community that helps me do things I wouldn’t otherwise have the discipline to do. And from what I hear, it works for some of you, too. Many of us would never have read Owens or Edwards or Pink if we had not had the crowd accountability we’ve found here. This has been the reason for the success of the “Reading Classics” program, I’m sure. Shared enthusiasm means that more than one person will be reading a particular book and shared accountability means that more people will continue reading a book. It has worked well!

Today I’d like to introduce a similar effort dealing with Scripture memorization. But just like “Reading Classics” isn’t quite an easy book club dealing with short, simple, modern books, I don’t think this “Memorizing Scripture” effort will be exclusively dedicated to memorizing short and isolated verses. Instead, I’d like to focus on longer passages—whole Psalms, poems, portions of prophecy and maybe, just maybe, entire books (Colossians, perhaps?).

Don’t freak out yet.

I have a terrible memory. Memorizing comes to me only with great effort so I will be—will need to be—moving through these passages at a reasonable pace. I do not intend to try to memorize Psalm 119 in a week (or a month, for that)! But over time I would like to challenge myself and others to commit to memory lengthy portions of the Bible. I am convinced that we can do it, if we do it together.

So here is what I propose. For those who are interested in working on only verses or short passages (still a good and noble goal) I will provide a weekly verse and will post it on this site every Sunday. This will coincide with the verse my church has committed to memorize that week. But I will also be progressively working on larger portions of Scripture and I’ll post these larger passages as well. That way you can commit to individual verses, larger passages, or both. In any case, you’ll be memorizing Scripture and that can only be a good thing!

I plan on sending out weekly emails (every Sunday) to remind you of the commitment and to tell you about the new verse. If you’d like to participate in the program, I ask as well that you sign up for these emails (though you certainly do not have to if you don’t want to). And then, beginning on Sunday, we’ll get memorizing Scripture together.

Are you in?

Last week I solicited questions from the readers of this site, looking for good ideas for future blog posts. I received almost 100 responses, many of which asked really good questions. In the coming weeks and months I will attempt to answer many of them. I begin today with this one: “How do you discern when to take something up with a person and when is it something to just let go (is it ever right to just “let it go”?).”

There are a couple of Scripture verses that seem especially and immediately applicable to this question. Proverbs 17:14 says, “The beginning of strife is like letting out water, so quit before the quarrel breaks out.” This tells me that there are some situations in which strife is unnecessary and even unhelpful. A couple of chapters later we read “Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense” (Proverbs 19:11). Put these verses together and we realize that we are not required by God to confront a person every time he or she offends us. In fact, there are times when we should not confront a person. And honestly, if every person I have offended confronted me every time I sin against them in some way, I would be an awfully busy guy. There are times when the best course of action is to leave our offenses between the offender and God.

So now the question before us is this: when do we confront and when do we overlook? I am going to follow, roughly at least, the logic Chris Brauns uses in his excellent book Unpacking Forgiveness (If you haven’t bought a copy of this book yet, you really ought to do so. It’s a wonderful guide for situations like this one).

1. Examine Yourself

Before you do anything else, you will want to examine yourself. You will want to see if there is some log in your eye that you have missed in all the fixation on the speck in your neighbor’s eye (Matthew 7:3-5). You will want to examine your motives to determine why it is that you may desire confrontation (or perhaps why you desire to avoid confrontation). Are you angry and seeking revenge? Do you harbor a grudge against the person and feel like you can only ease this burden by telling him of his offense against you? Will you only feel better after you inflict guilt upon him? As you focus on your own sin and on your motives, you may find that the desire to pursue confrontation fades in the light of God’s holiness and in the darkness of ungodly motives.

2. Examine Yourself Again: Are You Right?

You have now established that your motives are pure and that you are not overlooking a similar sin in your own life. Now you will want to examine yourself to ensure that you are right in this matter. Have you looked for Scriptural principles to determine if you have truly been sinned against? Is there clear violation of a Scriptural principle here, or are you dealing with a gray area? If you find that this is a gray area where there is no clear definition of right or wrong, it may well be best to simply put the matter aside.

3. Determine the Importance

If you have passed through the first two filters and still believe this is an issue worthy of confrontation, you will want to consider just how important a matter this is. Are we dealing here with a matter of preference or a matter of objective right and wrong? Is this an issue that will have long-term ramifications or something that will not much matter one way or the other? Are you making dogma out of personal preference? If, upon examination, you determine that this matter is not of great importance or that it is more about preference than anything else, just let it go.

4. Look for Patterns

There are times that we sin in a way that is out of character for us. For example, you may be consistently punctual but then, one day, show up late for an important meeting. In such a case it would probably not be worth my while addressing this offense. However, if you are constantly showing up late for even the most important meetings, this may be a matter I should address with you. It may still not be an area of sin (perhaps traffic is wildly unpredictable or you have a young child who is waking you up all night long, making it difficult for you to spring out of bed). Either way, we often do better to confront patterns of sin or offense than isolated incidents (though, obviously, with more egregious offenses we may need to confront them immediately).

5. Be Sensitive

Before approaching the person who has offended you, ensure that you are being sensitive to his or her unique situation. There may be stresses or strains in that person’s life that are causing him or her to act out in ways that are atypical. In such a situation you are not excusing the person’s sin but, rather, understanding that difficult times can cause even the finest Christian to act out in ways that are unusual for him. Adding the burden of confrontation may not be the wise or sensitive thing to do at that moment.

Whether or not you choose to confront may well also depend on your relationship to the person who has offended you. There are some relationships that are more likely to bring about good results. For example, only with great hesitation would I ever directly confront a woman and even then only if she was a good friend. However, I have friends who are eager and willing to hear of sin in their lives and who would appreciate such counsel or loving confrontation.

6. Seek Counsel

It may be valuable to seek the counsel of other mature Christians before pursuing confrontation. You will want to ensure that this is not simply an opportunity to gossip and vent, after which you will feel better and let the matter drop. But discreetly seeking wise counsel may be a very good way of “error-checking” your assessment of the previous four steps.

If, after such an assessment of your own heart, the offender, and the offense, you still feel confrontation is necessary, you will want to pursue forgiveness and reconciliation in the way Jesus outlines in Matthew 18.

However, far more often than not, I think you will find it is wise to let the matter go. And here you will need to release your pride and outrage. You will need to be willing to let the matter well and truly drop, not telling others about it and not letting it fill your mind and outrage your heart. It is the glory of a man to overlook an offense; it is a foolish and prideful man who feels every little offense is worthy of confrontation.

It was a couple of years ago now that I read George Marsden’s great biography of Jonathan Edwards. As I read it I was often stopped short by Edwards’ wisdom. Constantly surrounded by conflict, and often facing people who sought to undermine his ministry, Edwards had every opportunity to reflect on the task of a minister. One of these conflicts involved the question of whether sermons should primarily enlighten the mind or whether they should primarily stir the affections. Charles Chauncy, his opponent in this debate, believed that “an enlightened mind, and not raised affections, ought always be the guide of those who call themselves men; and this, in the affairs of religion, as well as other things.” Chauncy, as with many men of his day, believed that the affections were closely related to the passions of one’s animal nature and needed to be restrained by the higher faculty of reason. Intellect was on a higher plane than affection.

Edwards disagreed, teaching that one could not neatly separate the affections from the will. Both the intellect and affections are fallible and unreliable, he insisted, but both are given by God and ought to be exercised by the Christian.

Marsden points out an application of this. “Critics of the awakenings alleged that when people heard many sermons in one week they would not be able to remember much of what they had heard. Edwards countered, ‘The main benefit that is obtained by preaching is by impression made upon the mind in the time of it, and not by the effect that arises afterwards by a remembrance of what was delivered.’” Marsden concludes, “Preaching, in other words, must first of all touch the affections” (Page 282).

I found this a great encouragement. Like every other Christian, I have often sat enraptured in church, having my mind filled and my affections stirred. But sometimes after arriving home I can barely remember a word that was said. The same is sometimes true of books, Bible studies and conferences. What was so meaningful at the time may be nearly forgotten only a short time later, leaving me to question if it was really so important in the first place. This is not to say that nothing sticks in my mind. Certainly I do remember a lot of what I hear and what I read. But when I consider a 500-page book or a series of eight addresses and compare what I read or what I heard to what I now remember, it can be awfully frustrating. It can be discouraging.

But, according to Edwards, if I were to worry in this way I would be placing too great an emphasis on intellect while downplaying the importance of affections. I independently reached a similar conclusion to this not so long ago, though unlike Edwards, my conclusions were based on necessity rather than being argued from Scripture. With the amount of conferences I attend and the number of books I read, I have had to have faith that God is working through them, even if I cannot remember the intimate details of a book or conference even only three short weeks after the fact. I’ve had to trust that the effort is not wasted, even if so much seems to fade away so quickly. I’ve had to trust that the Holy Spirit is at work behind the scenes, doing His work, even when I cannot easily measure any benefit. I’ve had to trust, and this has been a useful exercise to me.

The words of Edwards gave me confidence that the benefit of a book cannot be measured simply by how much I remember a week or two weeks or a month after reading it. The benefit of a sermon may be greater during the hearing of it than in the later reflections upon it. The benefit of a conference may be more in the hearing than in the recounting of it. God uses books, Bible studies, conferences and sermons not just to fill my mind, but also (and perhaps even primarily) to stir my affections, even if a frustrating amount of the benefit seems to fade away far too quickly.

I ran Edwards’ quote through Google and found that others have discussed these words as well. I found one article particularly beneficial. Paul at Expository Thoughts applies them to taking notes during church. He also quotes Martyn Lloyd-Jones who wrote of Edwards, “The first and primary object of preaching is not only to give information. It is, as Edwards says, to produce an impression. It is the impression at the time that matters, even more than what you can remember subsequently…. It is not primarily to impart information; and while you are writing your notes you may be missing something of the impact of the Spirit.”

God was good to allow me to encounter these words. In the couple of years since I first read them, they have often resounded in my heart and given me confidence that the Spirit is at work when my affections are stirred and my heart longs for Him.

Every believer carries a measure of the guilt for Jesus’ death. Was it not for our willful disobedience to God’s perfect Law, we would have no need of a Savior. We acknowledge in song that it was our hands that drove the spikes into His and sometimes speak about driving the nails into Jesus’ hands every time we sin. We speak figuratively, of course, knowing that although we were not present at the time of His death, we bear the guilt of creating the need for His death. Had we not sinned, Christ would not have died.

In the Bible we are given a brief glimpse of a man who was present while Jesus was nailed to the tree. He is mentioned in three of the four gospel accounts. But he is mentioned not for his cruelty, ruthlessness or ability as a soldier. He is mentioned for something far more important, for a marvelous transformation. This man was a Roman centurion, a commander over 100 soldiers of the Roman army. We know little about the man except that he was probably a hardened solider who commanded a detachment of Syrian-born soldiers. He had, in all likelihood, presided over the crucifixion of hundreds or even thousands of men and must have become hardened to the agony these men endured. Day after day he would watch men endure unspeakable agony.

It is likely that this man was present from the time Jesus was brought before Pilate right until the Lord’s body was lowered from the cross and given to Joseph of Arimathea. He may even have been present with the detachment of soldiers that aided in Jesus’ arrest the night before His crucifixion. This man would have accompanied Jesus from the time the Jewish leaders brought him to the Praetorium. He would have ordered his men to beat Him, caring little for who He was, knowing Him only to be another in a long line of people he was commanded to execute. He would have been nearby when his men dressed Jesus in a robe, pressed a crown of thorns onto His head and walked Him to Golgotha. He would have given the order to proceed with the crucifixion. He was there through it all, undoubtedly viewing Jesus as just one more man in an endless succession.

Having seen so many crucifixions, the centurion knew what to expect from prisoners. Most people who were sentenced to be crucified were criminals, brigands, thieves and murderers. He had heard countless men scream in agony while being whipped and plead for their lives before Pilate. He had heard them shout curses to men below and blasphemies to God above. The behavior of the thieves on either side of Jesus was all too common, as they mocked and ridiculed Jesus while he hung between them. What more could you expect from the kind of man who was hung on a cross?

Perhaps it was during this time that the centurion began to notice that there was something different about Jesus. Where most men cursed and swore, Jesus, as His hands were nailed to the wood, cried out for God to forgive those who were causing His suffering. Or maybe He noticed the tender mercy in Jesus’ voice when He spoke to the penitent thief beside Him, promising that the same day he would be with Jesus in paradise. Perhaps he was amazed that during such suffering Jesus could look down at His mother and ensure that her future was secure by telling John to take care of her. Certainly the three hours of darkness that accompanied Jesus’ suffering would have marked this as an execution unlike any other.

We can only guess when the centurion began to realize that perhaps, just perhaps, Jesus was exactly who He claimed to be. What we do know is exactly when He knew with full certainty.

Just before He died, Jesus cried out “It is finished!” and then said “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” At that very moment Jesus died. At that same moment a violent earthquake shook the land with such ferocity that rocks were split. Matthew tells us “when the centurion and those with him, who were guarding Jesus, saw the earthquake and the things that had happened, they feared greatly, saying, “Truly this was the Son of God!” Luke expands on this saying “when the centurion saw what had happened, he glorified God, saying, “Certainly this was a righteous Man!”

And just like that, the man who presided over Jesus’ execution, the man who ordered the nails to be driven into His hands and feet, became the first person to become a believer after Jesus’ death.

What an awesome, exciting testament this is to God’s divine grace! God was willing and eager to save one of those primarily responsible for the murder of His Son. A man who watched Jesus be scourged, who watched his soldiers mock and abuse Him and who probably enjoyed every minute of it, suddenly cries out in terror, realizing that He has killed an innocent man. But his cry of terror is also an expression of faith as he confesses his new-found knowledge that Jesus was and is the Son of God.

I am certain that this story served as a great encouragement to many people in the early church. Though many of them carried the guilt for having killed the Lord, the realization that God could save even those who held the nails, would have proven that He is a God of love and forgiveness. It would have reassured them that, like this centurion, they could gain God’s favor through Jesus’ sacrifice.

This centurion’s miraculous conversion continues to serve as an encouragement today. Just as we share the centurion’s guilt for driving the nails into Jesus, so we can share the victory He won that day. As with this soldier who lived and died almost 2000 years ago, we need only have faith to believe that “truly this was the Son of God” and we, too, can be forgiven for the part we played in this terrible, unjust execution.

Last week I spent an evening reading Rick Warren’s soon-to-be-published book The Purpose of Christmas. It is a mostly-original work that, while it draws heavily from The Purpose Driven Life is at least not entirely derived from it. An evangelistic gift book, it is meant to be given as a Christmas gift. I have written a review of it that I will post a little closer to the release date. For now, though, I wanted to deal with one of the statements inside it. It’s one I’ve seen Warren write in the past and one that always bothers me. Here it is. “[T]he baby born in Bethlehem did not stay a baby. Jesus grew to manhood, modeled for us the kind of life that pleases God, taught us the truth, paid for every sin we commit by dying on a cross, then proved he was God and could save us by coming back to life. This is the Good News. When the Romans nailed Jesus to a cross, they stretched his arms as wide as they could. With his arms wide open, Jesus was physically demonstrating, “I love you this much! I love you so much it hurts! I’d rather die than live without you!” The next time you see a picture or statue of Jesus with outstretched arms on the cross, remember, he is saying ‘I love you this much!’”

Now clearly it is true that Jesus died as an expression of his love for his people. The Bible tells us as much and it tells us so repeatedly. “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Jesus’ death was as great an expression of love to us as he could offer and it was far greater than anything you or I could offer. I might die for a friend, but I could not suffer the Father’s wrath on his behalf. Jesus, though, died and faced the Father’s wrath so that I would not need to. There is no greater imaginable act of love than that. I would never wish to minimize the love of the Son for his people.

But when that is all there is to the Lord’s death, we miss a critical element. When we go no further and see ourselves as the ultimate object of Jesus’ love, we raise ourselves far too high. We may inadvertently make Jesus’ death a kind of idolatry.

Before he was raised on that cross, Jesus had been asked for his view on which was the most important of the commandments. He did not hesitate for a moment, but answered “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these” (Mark 12:29-31). Love for one another comes only second to love for God. If we do not first love and treasure God, we cannot properly or fully love our neighbors. If we do not first love and treasure God, we make every other kind of love into a form of idolatry—we raise them higher than God in our hearts.

So what we miss in the “I love you this much” story of the cross is that Jesus’ death was not primarily an expression of love for us, but for his Father. It had to be this way. Jesus greatest love is not for us, but for his Father. His sacrificial death was not first for us, but first for his Father, so that he might ransom those whom his Father loved. Though there is no doubt that the cross is an expression of love for us, it is first an expression of love for the Father and an expression of obedience to the Father. There is abundant proof for this in Scripture. Jesus said, “I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father” (John 14:31). So that the world may know I love you? No, so that the world may know I love the Father. It was this love and obedience that sustained Jesus, even on the cross. Early in his ministry he had said, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work” (John 4:34). Addressing his disciples shortly before his death, Jesus said, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love” (John 15:9-10). The Apostle Paul says the same: “And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8). In all these things, and especially in his obedience, Jesus expressed a heartfelt love to his Father.

Bruce Ware says “If Christ’s obedience to the Father was the truest and necessary expression of the reality of his love for the Father, then the severity of what was asked of him and his willingness to obey at a cost beyond human comprehension indicate a love that is so great, so pure, so deep, and so passionate, that we can only grasp in miniscule part what this truest of all loves really is. But this much we can know: such love would never, could never, be love were it not for costly obedience. This is the hallmark of Jesus’ love for the Father.”

So does Jesus love us “this much?” Of course he does. He loves us enough to take our sin upon himself and to face the father’s infinite wrath. Jesus could never have made his love more plain than this. But more foundational to this is Jesus’ love for the Father. The cross was Jesus’ ultimate expression of love to his Father.

Now let me ask you: do you think I am making a false distinction here and fabricating some kind of controversy? Or is it really important to us that we position the cross first and foremost as an expression of love to the Father and only secondarily as an act of love toward us?

Over the weekend I read Michael Horton’s new book Christless Christianity. I greatly enjoyed reading it (despite chapters that were slightly longer than my attention span) and found that it gave me a lot to think about. A few days earlier I had read a new book by Rick Warren, The Purpose of Christmas. What a contrast there was between the two of them.

Throughout his book, Horton emphasizes the importance and transcendence of the gospel message—the pure, undefiled simplicity of the gospel. Warren, on the other hand, obscures that message with talk of purpose and rash generalizations about the nature of a person’s relationship with God (though, thankfully, the gospel message is present despite that obscurity). Over the past couple of days I’ve found myself pondering the gospel message over and over again and asking myself why it is that this message is so unpopular even in Christian churches and among Christian authors. Why would an author or a pastor seek to soften the message?

I guess there is no great mystery here. Unbelievers hate the gospel message because it insists that things are true about them that they simply do not wish to believe. It insists things are true that they are unable to believe. The gospel message tells us that we are sinners. Many people are able to accept this information; only an incredibly dishonest and delusional person could pretend that he has done no wrong. The gospel message tells us that ultimately we have not sinned against others or against ourselves, but against God. This is more difficult to digest. Few of us care to think that we have sinned against the Creator of the world. The gospel goes on to tell us that our sin against God has offended him and filled him with wrath against us. Fewer people still are able to digest and accept this information. Few people are able to believe that God is justified in his wrath towards those who transgress his laws. But the gospel reaches its ultimate offense when it tells us that we are utterly unable to do anything about all of this. None of our deeds, however noble and good, are able to make the least dent in the debt we owe to God. Furthermore, none of us would pursue any kind of reconciliation with God were it not for his prior action in our hearts. We are, in our heart of hearts, God-haters. Without God’s grace we are helpless and hopeless.

This is some exceedingly bad news. And this is why so many churches seek to soften the news. It’s better, they think, to welcome into church the many people who will accept a softened message than the few who will accept such a tough message. And so they tamper with it, taking the edge off. Yes, we have sinned, but let’s think of it as just doing bad things or making mistakes. And though God has noticed these mistakes, he is willing and eager to overlook such offenses. What kind of Father would he be if he really insisted that we face eternal damnation for some mistakes? Soon the message is watered down into watery, tasteless baby food. Having covered this not-too-bad news, these pastors and authors offer good news. If you turn to God, you can have your best life now. He will bless you richly, giving you all the things you want and need. He will make your life better and promise you the reward of heaven where you will be reunited with all of the people and the things you held dear here on earth.

There is, of course, a direct correlation between the weakness of the bad news and the weakness of the good news. The weaker we make the bad news, the weaker is the good news in comparison. The badder the bad, the gooder the good (and I apologize to my English teachers for that sentence)! When we understand—truly understand—the precariousness of our position; when we understand just how badly we have offended God and how we justly deserve his wrath, the good news becomes so much sweeter. Gone is the man-centered view of the benefits of God’s salvation and in its place arises an understanding that the greatest benefit of salvation is Christ himself! Rick Warren presents the benefits of being reconciled to God primarily in terms of personal benefit. “Wrapped up in Jesus are all the benefits and blessings mentioned in this book—and so much more! In Jesus, your past is forgiven, you get a purpose for living, and you get a home in heaven.” All of these things are amazing, but they pale in comparison to Christ himself. John Piper says it well. “The critical question for our generation—and for every generation—is this: If you could have heaven, with no sickness, and with all the friends you ever had on earth, and all the food you ever liked, and all the leisure activities you ever enjoyed, and all the natural beauties you ever say, all the physical pleasures you ever tasted, and no human conflict or any natural disasters, could you be satisfied with heaven, if Christ was not there?”

Good news is only good in relation to what is bad. If we soften the bad news, we necessarily soften the good news. Our job is not to analyze the news we are called to herald to the world. Faithfulness to God requires faithfulness to the message—the whole message. We dare not soften the bad news; we dare not lessen the offense of the cross. Instead we preach the message faithfully and fully, letting people see first the depth of their debt to God and then the unsurpassed worth and beauty of Christ.

The best defense is a good offense. You’ve probably heard that phrase before. As far as I can tell, it was coined by the Prussian military historian, theorist and tactician Carl von Clausewitz (a name I’m quite sure I haven’t written since military history classes way back in my college days). Since then it has been applied to all kinds of situations far beyond the military. It has also been turned around so occasionally you will hear people say, “the best offense is a good defense.” Today we most often hear in the phrase in the context of sports and this was the context in which I heard it applied in a sermon a few weeks ago. I got thinking about the phrase and realized how applicable it is to the Christian life.

When it comes to sports, it is often the case that a strong offense is the best defense. After all, a team with strong offensive production denies the other team the ability to control the ball and to tally points. The phrase works well in sports like soccer or hockey where, especially in the game’s closing minutes, a team will attempt to control the ball (or puck) for long periods, knowing that this will keep the other team from scoring. But maybe it works best in football. Football is a sport I used to watch a lot (far too much, really) and there were several occasions where I saw those games where the first possession would last an entire quarter, or very close to it. As the team marched slowly up the field, with play after play, they maintained possession of the ball. The defensive team remained on defense and had no opportunity to put any points on the board. Of course many teams have this down to an art and in the game’s closing plays have mastered the ability to take large chunks of time off the clock while accomplishing little more than keeping the ball out of the other team’s hands. In this case offense serves as defense. The offensive team plays defensively, not attempting to score points as much as they try to keep the other team from getting control of the ball.

The more I live this Christian life, the more I see that there is truth in that old and worn phrase. The best defense really is a good offense. The best way to protect my heart and life is to be constantly on the offensive. It is in those times that I ease off, those times where I grow complacent and disinterested, that I am most prone to sin. It is in those times that I begin to lose battles. The words of 1 Corinthians 10:12 come to mind: “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.” When I think I can stand on my own power I am priming myself for a great fall.

Remaining on the offensive is a lifelong process and one that is surprisingly uncomplicated, at least the way I see it. I thought about it for a time, asking “how can I stay on the offensive?” It’s simple, I think. God gives us the tools we need to stay on the march (You’ll be glad to note, no doubt, that I resisted retaining the sports metaphor and saying that he gives us the “playbook…”). He gives us his Word, the Bible, which is the sword of the Spirit. He gives us prayer which helps us submit ourselves to his will and to plead for those things which please him. He gives us Christian community as the natural context to grow in our knowledge of him and to grow in personal holiness as our sin is lovingly brought to our attention. And he gives us the preaching of the Word which pierces our hearts and arms us for conflict.

So if I wish to remain on the offense and thus maintain the best defense, I need to study the Bible, asking God to help me understand and apply it. I need to remain in a constant posture of prayer, sharing my burdens with God and seeking His face. I need to commit to my local church and to the community God has established there. And I need to rejoice in the preaching of the Word, letting God’s Word penetrate my heart and my life.

In all of these things I am actively putting aside sin, actively seeking God, actively pursuing holiness. I am on the offensive against sin, against Satan and against the old man. I am depending on God, relying on his strength, and trusting in his sovereignty.

It is a worthwhile question, I think. Am I on the offensive or am I showing complacency, allowing myself to fall back to a defensive posture? It is a question I have to ask myself often.

Last week I added a poll to this site and asked where you buy the majority of your books. The results really surprised me. As of this moment Amazon has a clear lead with 55% of the votes. That means that half of us buy the majority of our books from Amazon instead of the local Christian bookstore or one of the many online Christian retailers. There are almost three times more votes for online retailers as brick-and-mortar retailers. While I’ll grant that this poll is far from scientific, it does show a clear trend (and one that makes sense of the fact that so many Christian bookstores are closing their doors).

In the comments, of which there are currently 89, many people indicated that Christians should do better than Amazon—that we should go out of our way to support Christian-owned businesses (see, for example, this one or this one).

I thought this was worth thinking and talking about and would love to hear some feedback. Do you think Christians should go out of their way to support Christian-owned businesses? Is this a moral imperative? Or should Christians feel free to shop wherever is most convenient or wherever offers the best prices? What is our obligation to other Christians in such matters?