Our world is full of boys and men who never have experienced the joy of being a son. Though they were born here and are made in the image of God, the love of a father is nonexistent for far too many.

There are also those who have experienced having a father and it left them feeling empty, traumatized and lost.

For others, there are boys and men who have had fathers who were physically in the home, but emotionally and spiritually absent.

Some of us could only imagine what it feels like to be fatherless.

For me, being a son meant access. It meant being able to ask questions. It meant I could trust my dad with specific things. But it also meant if I made a mistake, I had a choice to come clean about it.

In early April, my dad Willie Lyons passed away, and such an event caused me to experience both deep grief and reflection. As I walked through the good and bad of all the memories, one of the things God spoke to me during this time was: “Learn how to be a son.”

Being a ‘good boy’

I spent a large amount of my early Christian years, even while growing up in the church, striving to be a “good boy,” thinking, “As long as I didn’t mess up or fail, God is happy with me.”

The goal was to be free and clear of life’s challenges I thought only resulted in just bad decisions. A few years of good, accurate Bible teaching and sound theology taught me no one was excused from the challenges and troubles of this world, especially those who are in Christ.

The issue with the “good boy” life is it holds to the idea that somehow good people will not endure trials and tribulations. When personal struggles and matters pertaining to my fallen nature came into play, the “good boy” motif failed to offer what only Jesus could.

When God told me I needed to “learn how to be a son,” I immediately knew what he meant. Rather than spending so much time looking for my earthly father to teach me certain things, I needed to lean even more into my heavenly Father to meet my past, present and future needs.

Boys and men carrying the question, “Who am I?” can rest their identity in Christ. One of the identifiers for guys in deep need of the acceptance and affirmation of their identity is being a son to God the Father.

Being God’s son

Those who believe in Christ receive the right to become children of God (John 1:12).

Sonship means we are “led by the Spirit of God” (Romans 8:14). Sonship also means we “received the Spirit of adoption as sons” (Romans 8:15). Galatians 4:6-7 shows us, because we are sons, God sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba, Father.” The Aramaic term Abba means “Daddy” or “Papa.”

The benefits are life-changing and transformative for those who are sons in Christ. As a son, you have the same nature as the Father, because you also partake in his divine nature, whereas a servant does not (2 Peter 1:4). A son can obey out of love, not out of fear.

Being a son also meant I had to let go of this idea I could somehow be a “good boy” for God. And that’s great, because God offered me something far better—being justified (made right) in Jesus Christ. In Jesus, I’m good, which means no unnecessary masking as a “good boy” in a man’s body.

Sonship also means we will experience discipline. We are reminded not to regard the discipline we go through lightly, and not to grow weary when we are corrected. The Lord disciplines the one he loves (Hebrews 12:6-11). We are encouraged to endure discipline, and it is in his discipline of us that he’s treating us as sons.

Our need for a father

Perhaps this truth is what boys and men are needing to hear. People who experience life without a father may find discipline, self-control and order either to be too stifling or limiting. Others may find the idea of being disciplined and challenged by God to be cruel and unusual.

When we are faced with those thoughts, we can find within the word of God multiple Scriptures that point to God’s good, righteous, faithful, trustworthy character. Hebrews 12 further tells us God disciplines us for our good, so we may share in his holiness.

Also, God knows we would find those periods of discipline unpleasant, but it yields the peace of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.

Being a son means we are receiving our identity from God the Father and through our relationship in Jesus Christ, not earning it through the world’s model of manhood with all its hustle culture, performance and all manner of unbiblical masculinity.

Kendall Lyons is a writer, minister and cartoonist who publishes on his Substack page Kendall’s Comics. He is also the illustrator of Your Identity in Christ: Finding Who You Are in Who He Is by David Sanchez. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Without a doubt, the Ten Commandments are important. You might even say they are foundational. Rep. Candy Noble did, and I don’t dispute her on that general point.

The Ten Commandments certainly are foundational for Jews first and Christians second. Through the Judeo-Christian heritage, surely the Ten Commandments have exerted a profound influence on culture, religion, ethics and perhaps law in many places around the world.

I support teaching the Ten Commandments. I was a collegiate missionary, a youth and associate pastor, and a senior pastor, after all. I was a seminary professor. I’ve also been a Sunday school teacher off and on over the last 25-plus years. Oh, and I have two children.

I very much want people not to murder, commit adultery, steal, bear false witness or covet. People create so many problems when they do those things.

I very much want God to be the only God in people’s lives, and I want people to honor God. I think Sabbath is a fantastic idea. And what parent doesn’t want their kids to honor them?

For something as important, as world historic as the Ten Commandments, it seems how, when and where they are displayed ought to be given the utmost care. If for no other reason than to avoid or mitigate against some unintended consequences. At least, I hope they’re unintended.

Other foundational documents

Noble, R-Lucas—who is carrying HB 2696, the House version of SB 10—contends the Ten Commandments are foundational to American jurisprudence, “being cited favorably in over 500 court cases.”

Therefore, she and others believe the Ten Commandments should be displayed in Texas public school classrooms to “remind students of the importance of the cornerstone of American and Texas laws,” Noble said.

If we follow this line of reasoning, then we must admit the Ten Commandments are not the only foundational document for American jurisprudence and therefore should not be displayed alone.

We also ought to display the full text of the Magna Carta—the 1215 document that fundamentally changed the relationship between monarchs and their subjects. We also will need to display John Locke’s Second Treatise of Government and Jean Jacques Rousseau’s Social Contract.

Rep. James Talarico, D-Austin, made a similar point to Noble, saying the Declaration of Independence and the U.S. Constitution should be displayed.

If the Ten Commandments bill were to pass into law in Texas, then to be consistent with Noble’s and other’s argument, a copious amount of posters would need to be produced to wallpaper every Texas public school classroom.

But the Ten Commandments aren’t to be displayed only because they are foundational to American jurisprudence. We know that because no one who supports such bills is putting forward a bill to display other foundational documents in every classroom.

There must be another reason. And there is.

No religious objective?

Noble asserted the objective of displaying the Ten Commandments in Texas public school classrooms is “an educational and judicial objective from our foundations and traditions in the United States.”

Moments before, she said her objective is “for children, our school children to understand why God is mentioned in the first two paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence and the last two paragraphs of the Declaration of Independence and other Founding Father documents, why it’s infused in our laws, … the principles of having an authority, that is God, that we keep our word … because God is watching.”

Like some on the House Committee on Public Education, this and other comments Noble made sound like a religious objective to me. Noble’s further responses to questioning from members of the committee did not change my opinion on that.

That’s because the Ten Commandments are a religious document. There’s no getting around that. And to explain them entails religious education. There’s no getting around that. To suggest they should be taught only because of their educational and judicial value is to reduce them. I object to that. And so would Noble, which is my point. She must have a religious objective, too.

Are teachers prepared?

But for the sake of argument, let’s grant Noble’s claim, and let’s imagine her bill passing into law. And let’s imagine a 16-inch by 20-inch poster with the Texas Legislature-approved wording of the Ten Commandments displayed “in a conspicuous place” in every Texas public school classroom.

Not every public school teacher is prepared to explain the Ten Commandments. If public school teachers will be expected to explain them to their students—either before or after students ask about the contents of the mandated posters—how will teachers be prepared?

Will teachers receive standardized training? Who will write and approve that training? Surely, a Texas legislative body and educational board and/or agency will have to approve it.

Will teachers be forced—as a condition of employment—to undergo that training? It seems they would.

Rep. Jeff Leach, a cosponsor of HB 2696, as much as said so when he said, “We are not forcing teachers to teach there,” in response to whether teachers will be forced to display the Ten Commandments.

And what about the children?

Beyond what should be displayed on public school classroom walls, beyond what teachers are supposed to say about the Ten Commandments, we ought to consider unintended consequences involving our children.

Informal research tells me students don’t pay attention to what’s on classroom walls. Should they be made to pay attention? How would that be achieved?

At a certain point, our children will do like adults do and become blind to or ignore the posters. That would defeat the purpose of displaying them.

Some students will assume or misinterpret the meaning of the poster or the words on it. That would defeat the purpose of displaying it. How will their misunderstanding be corrected? Will we even know they have a wrong understanding?

Still other students will resent the posters or see them as coercive. Some will reject Christianity or religion in general because of the posters. That also would defeat the purpose of displaying the Ten Commandments—even if the objective really is only “educational and judicial.”

I agree with those who contend Texas students need to know about the Bible and Christianity, because both undoubtedly were a major influence in the beginnings and throughout the history of the United States. They still are. And they need to be taught correctly.

But SB 10 and HB 2696 open a can of unintended consequences Texas isn’t prepared to deal with. More care must be taken with something as important as the Ten Commandments. SB 10 and HB 2696 do not rise to the occasion.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Would you want your son or daughter to be a pastor?

Many pastors and seminary professors I know flinch at the thought, at least privately. I’ve never known that many persons, clergy or lay, who have a desire for their children to grow up to be pastors. Cowboys? Maybe. Pastors? Not so much.

My wife and I have one son who is a pastor. His journey in these early years of pastoral ministry has reinforced my sense he has been led into a magnificent calling. But it is not an easy life. It’s hard on so many levels.

I understand the reluctance parents have about a loved one entering pastoral ministry. For whatever reasons, my wife Sara and I were not among those parents.

We both grew up in homes in which pastors were revered. We both caught that reverence for pastors from our parents. Then we both answered a call to ministry in our teen years. Last year, I retired from 53 years of pastoral ministry, including full-time, part-time and interim service.

Sara had a calling before she met me. We have lived the pastoral life together, and beyond all the ups and downs, good days and bad, we relish God’s claim on our lives.

We can tell as many varied stories of the good days and rough times as most pastoral couples. But the magnificence of the pastoral life and the deep love we have for the people in our churches, and they us, resound to the depth of our being.

So, do I push back against the tendency to discourage your children and grandchildren to enter pastoral ministry? No. If your daughter or son is called to be a pastor, most will bypass your resistance to accept God’s claim on their lives to serve.

What I do push back against is the myth that the pastoral life is not to be desired. I say this, while acknowledging pastoral ministry is more difficult now than it has been in my lifetime.

Challenge of the pastorate

Most church members are aware of the effects of COVID on church life, political and cultural chaos, church conflict and denominational wars. And I haven’t even mentioned the pay. The list of current challenges confronting pastors goes on and on.

I also must acknowledge many pastors, including younger ones, are leaving congregational leadership at a rapidly increasing rate. Some, of course, are well-publicized cases of those who leave ministry due to moral or personal failure, which thankfully is a small percentage of ministers.

So, why speak well of pastoral ministry? I’ve been on a journey of carefully observing and studying the pastoral life for decades now, and my love and respect for pastors has only grown. My sense of the magnificence of this unique calling has not diminished.

Magnificence of the pastorate

Let me encourage you to look at your pastor. Just look at her or him and take note.

God personally sent that called individual to serve you and your church. In many cases, they entered years of some kind of training and education, some bringing a significant amount of educational debt along with them. They love you and your church. Most really do.

Even with their personal limitations, they bring gifts to serve and hearts that care for you. They are pastors.

When they step among you, officers of the royal court of our Lord Jesus Christ have stepped on deck.

They are in their places of service day by day, week by week, year by year. The ministry is relentless—weeks and weekends—and for most, 48 to 50 weeks a year. They serve on. To me, they are magnificent. Can’t you see it?

And pastors, join me in looking at this claim on our lives.

When we were set apart, the mantle fell on us to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ. We took the baton to carry forward prophetic and apostolic roles.

When called to serve a church, we are privileged with the role of shepherd, serving under the Great Shepherd, stewarding the body of Christ entrusted to our care. It is an epic role, as we are entrusted with spiritual care of the precious lives entrusted to us.

The work of God’s kingdom and eternity are on the line, and we are stewarding the threshold to all God has for our sector of humankind.

Some of us may, in a season, downgrade the ministry and even default. We all are capable of such. We all are that vulnerable. Yet only by God’s claim and grace can we fulfill this formidable calling. He stands by his call. He restores us.

Going the distance

So, why did God choose someone so human, one who so often falls short, one who too often struggles under the burden, the stress, even the torment that falls on pastors? Why me? Why us?

I know the feelings that come with the recurring thought I might not be up to such a life. But then come the moments of re-commissioning, like the one Peter had at that breakfast on the beach with the risen Lord. And we serve on.

I have no criticism for those who have taken a season away from ministry. The pastoral life can be so hard, and hard on families. I stand in awe of any pastor who serves in that role for even one season of life.

Pastors, on the whole, are faithful and remarkably resilient. They go the distance because of God’s claim, his mantle and his anointing. Some have called it an “odd and wondrous calling,” to borrow the title of Lillian Daniel’s and Martin Copenhaver’s book. They are right. It is.

I’m the son of a coach. I heard my father say simply and in low tones to his exhausted players at moments in a game or in a season: “OK, men. Let’s get it done.”

I would have run through a wall for my father, as would his players. I will go the distance for my Lord Jesus. What other life would I choose but the one for which I am chosen? It’s a magnificent calling.

Ron Cook is retired from the faculty of Truett Theological Seminary at Baylor University. He also served as pastor and interim pastor in several churches. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

A couple of turning points happened recently. We celebrated Jesus’ resurrection, and I turned 50.

These are nowhere near equal in their importance. For one, my turning 50 is a turning point for only a small group of people. Jesus’ resurrection turned world history.

Turning 50 did spur some self-reflection, however. It’s a sobering thing to know—and not just casually—that I’ve lived most of my life. It’s also a somewhat electrifying experience to know the end of the road is closer than the beginning.

Turning 30 also spurred some self-reflection, but not so expansive. I don’t know why, but when I turned 30, it was important to me to spend the next 30 years giving more than I took during my first 30. I was sure I had another 30 years then. But another 50 now? Probably not.

The bad news is, I could have taken my 30-year-old pledge more seriously. The good news is, I have 10 more years to make good on my aspiration.

The day I turned 50 was a joyful day. I got to spend time with some of my family. I got calls from other parts of my family. Part of my joy is I’m proud to be 50. Not everyone gets to be 50. Some of my friends didn’t even get to be 40.

So, yes, taking in the day I turned 50 was a gift, a joyful gift.

Followed by the next day. How is it that a special day gives way so easily to … to just another day? It’s exciting when you turn 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 or more, but who cares when you’re 50 and one day?

That special day—our birthday—somehow loses its spark the day after.

Easter

It’s like Easter.

If you’re in a tradition that observes Lent—the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Maundy Thursday—you’re accustomed to spending weeks anticipating and preparing for Holy Week and Easter Sunday. But not the Monday after.

If you’re not in that tradition but your church presents an Easter musical, drama or other live performance and you are in the choir, orchestra, band or otherwise, you also spend weeks looking ahead to Easter. But not the Monday after.

There are Easter egg hunts and spring festivals. Some still shop for fancy new clothes for Easter morning. Those who still get together with family for a special Easter lunch make a last run to the grocery store for the holiday meal.

When the day finally arrives, we pack into churches, sing hymns and spiritual songs specific to Jesus’ resurrection, and hear a familiar yet rousing sermon. When the minister proclaims, “He is risen,” we respond, “He is risen, indeed.” We take family photos. We eat lunch.

And then Monday comes.

As powerful a thing as Easter is, we manage to get up Monday morning and go about our day as though we didn’t proclaim just the day before that a man rose from the dead and that that man was none other than God in the flesh. Surely, something about that ought to change how we go about Monday. But does it?

Monday

If, on Monday, you’re already planning to attend worship and maybe Bible study the next Sunday, then Easter has shaped you in a way you may not be fully aware. The whole reason we gather to worship Jesus on Sunday mornings is to commemorate that first “first day of the week” when the women found Jesus’ tomb empty.

That discovery changed all their next days, and those of countless other people. If nothing else, that discovery changed many of our weekly routines—even if only culturally.

If, on Monday, you believe Jesus hears your prayers and talks to you, then Easter has a significant effect on your following days. A dead man doesn’t hear prayer or talk back, and a mere man doesn’t rise from the dead, nor does a mere man stick around 2,000 years to hear your prayers and mine.

Scripture and 2,000 years of constant witness testify Jesus is no mere man, nor is he dead. Think about that on Monday.

If what you do on Monday is in obedience to the Risen Lord, then Easter absolutely has changed, not just how you go about Monday, but how you go about all your days. Can we characterize what we did the Monday after Easter as obedience to the Risen Lord or as obedience to the daily grind?

Easter should spur us to such reflection. More than that, Easter should spur us to action—specifically, action obedient to Christ Jesus.

Tuesday

I pray with pastors and ministry leaders throughout each month. I may have mentioned that before, but right now, as I write, I can’t remember. I’m told this sort of thing happens when you get to be … my age.

As I was saying, I pray with … oh, right, I already told you that.

I don’t share these prayers with the public, but this time, one of the pastors said my prayer sounded like the start of an editorial. I really hadn’t meant it to be, but his comment made me think.

Speaking of, that’s what I really hope my editorials do—make us think. At a bare minimum, anyway.

The gist of my prayer was that Easter happened, and so did Monday. Now, here we are a couple of days later, and I bet we’ve moved on. As every pastor knows, Sunday’s coming. And between now and then, we have things to do.

Major things have happened in our world in the last few days. Pope Francis dying is just one of them, as significant an event as that is. Major things are happening still—in our communities, our state, our country, our world. And at every level and in every area—religious, political, cultural, economic and otherwise—Easter is the prime turning point.

Through and in all our world and all its happenings, Easter proclaims Jesus is conqueror of sin and death, Risen Lord, King of kings and Lord of lords, Eternal Life, the Resurrection.

I may not have another 50 years, but I do have today. What difference will Easter make in me today?

“Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it.
Prone to leave the God I love.
Here’s my heart, Lord,
take and seal it.
Seal it for thy courts above.”
(“Come Thou Fount” by Robert Robinson)

*******

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

As you read, I encourage you to pause and read the Scripture passages cited in each subheading below.

Initial consult: Waiting (Philippians 4:6-7)

It all started gradually—the blurriness creeping in, turning my daily life into a blur.

My eyeglasses became unreliable after two long years. So, I finally decided it was time to see a new ophthalmologist.

“Cataract surgery is necessary,” he said, confirming what I expected.

Hearing those words felt like a stark realization I was indeed aging.

With the doctor’s instructions in hand, I braced myself for a prolonged wait. Insurance hurdles, paperwork, appointments and unexpected heart tests dragged the process out much longer than I anticipated.

As I waited for the final OK for surgery, it struck me how waiting on God felt similar.

“His timing is perfect,” even when the delays stir up anxiety.

Surgery readiness: Time to prep (Proverbs 24:27a)

Two days before my surgery, the home prep began. It included eye drops, eyelid wipes and pages of instructions.

The real challenge hit me on those two days before surgery when I had to give up coffee. Two days without my beloved caffeine felt like pure torture. I scraped by with sheer willpower. Well—perhaps to sound more biblical—maybe it was a bit of self-control.

When I thought it couldn’t get any tougher, “the doctor’s rules” added salt to the wound: No eye makeup for two days before surgery. Seriously! No lipstick was an even tougher pill to swallow. Lipstick is practically part of my identity.

But finally, one day, I found myself walking into the surgery center totally exposed—sweats on, makeup-free and no lipstick in sight. I dreamed about sneaking in with a touch of foundation, but nope, the surgery rules demanded a complete surrender.

Here’s the lesson I had to learn: Sometimes you have to give up what you desire, even if it’s just temporary.

God asks us to come to him “just as we are,” not in perfection, but wrapped in humility. It’s uncomfortable, yet that’s when we understand our true identity isn’t in our appearances but in who we are in Christ.

Pre-op consult: Yield to the process (1 Peter 2:13)

What we value says a lot about us. I truly value my eyesight.

At the surgical center, a medical bracelet was slapped on my wrist, but only after my husband handled our financial commitments. Makes perfect sense.

During the doctor’s consult before my surgery, I told my surgeon: “I love to read. So, do a good job.”

I could hear a man in the next cubicle being prayed over before his surgery, and I had a longing for the same.

I asked my nurse and doctor who was praying for that gentleman. The nurse said it wasn’t her. The doctor said it wasn’t him.

So, I told them, “I guess that means I need to pray for myself.”

So, I did. Though my husband already had lifted my surgery up in prayer, I still wanted more prayers. I wasn’t afraid of the surgery itself. I just worried about the changes awaiting me if the outcome wasn’t what I envisioned for myself. Oh, me of little faith.

After my chat with God, I made up my mind to release control, putting my trust in my nurse, doctor and anesthesiologist to do the right thing.

It took me back to the moment I accepted Christ—when I stopped trying to fix everything myself and I learned to trust in the grace he freely gave to me. What a special day it was—when the Holy Spirit first led me to believe in Christ with my whole heart.

During surgery (Philippians 3:13)

No recollection, which was a good thing.

Post-op instructions (Hebrews 5:8)

“Keep the eye patch on.”

Easy.

“Use the drops four times a day.”

Feasible.

“Don’t lift anything heavy.”

No problem.

“Don’t bend over.”

A struggle.

Every step mattered for healing. Ignoring the doctor’s instructions could jeopardize, not just my eyesight, but also the ministry the Lord graciously has given me. Staying faithful to the end means continuous obedience. God’s word is our map, and his commands protect and keep us on track.

Post surgery: Persevere to the very end (James 1:17)

On the drive home, my woozy post-anesthesia chatter and nonsensical thoughts entertained my husband, but all I could think about was coffee.

I already had told him our first stop after my surgery would be McDonald’s for some coffee. Oh, what pure joy I encountered as we drove away from the drive-thru. I truly felt God’s favor was upon me at that moment.

Recovery (Psalm 62:1)

Upon arriving home, I sat by our large glass window overlooking our backyard. I began to reflect on everything I had learned. I glanced at the peaceful view—the trees swaying in the wind, the water rippling at their banks and the breeze whispered through the air. The world was moving, yet I was forced to be still.

How often does God ask us to slow down, look ahead and truly see his creation, his presence, his gentle leading frequently unnoticed in our rush. Probably more than we would like to admit.

Concluding reflections (Jeremiah 29:11)

Just like that first post-surgery cup of coffee, God provides what we need at the perfect time.

When I finally can wear lipstick again, I will be in “hog heaven”—a state of utter bliss and contentment. Still, even then, I know genuine renewal isn’t in the color of my lips, but in the clarity of my vision, both physically and spiritually.

It is always good to follow Christ and to remind ourselves not to boast about tomorrow, for we do not know what it will bring. We must trust and obey and “fix our eyes on him.” When we do that, our spiritual vision becomes unclouded and clearer.

After we have encountered something once, we are better equipped for the next go around, and that thought makes me less anxious about my second cataract surgery next week.

Patti Greene is a graduate of Baylor University and Dallas Baptist University, a member of Second Baptist Church in Houston and the author of seven books. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

I know it’s the middle of Holy Week, and I probably should write an editorial about Easter, but I’m not going to today. Not directly, anyway.

Today, I’m thinking about Titus, the letter.

It’s a short letter, stuck in many Bibles to the back of 2 Timothy. A person can be forgiven for not knowing it and Paul’s even shorter letter to Philemon are there just before Hebrews.

These days, most of the attention Paul’s letter to Titus receives is to see what Paul had to say about church leadership—specifically, elders.

For that reason and others—such as Paul’s instructions about how slaves should please their masters and “the people” should obey their rulers—Paul’s letter to Titus, which is shorter than this editorial, is at the center of more than one controversy.

“Teach slaves to be subject to their masters in everything, to try to please them, not talk back to them,” and so on (Titus 2:9).

“Remind the people to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient,” and so on (Titus 3:1).

And, of course, “An elder must be … faithful to his wife, a man whose children believe,” and so on (Titus 1:6).

How’s that for starting a fight?

And that’s just my point. We give so much attention to these controversies that we overlook another controversy altogether.

Paul was intent on Titus teaching Christians in Crete “to do whatever is good” (Titus 3:1).

What’s the controversy in that? The fact followers of Jesus almost 2,000 years later continue to disagree about what exactly is good.

An example where we disagree

I could use many examples to demonstrate my point, but I’ll use one that’s a live issue as I write—school funding. We at the Baptist Standard are actively following the 89th Texas Legislative Session as the Texas House considers and votes on school funding bills this afternoon.

Some Christians support passage of education savings accounts, seeing ESAs as good. Others oppose education savings accounts, seeing opposition to ESAs as good. Both can’t be right. And there’s the rub.

Whether we believe we’re doing good by supporting or opposing education savings accounts—which sure look like mutually exclusive goals—we agree on a more fundamental thing: It’s good to educate our children.

We also agree we want our kids to receive a good education. But what is a good education? How quickly we reach our points of disagreement.

A friend of mine who supports education savings accounts and school vouchers—which are similar but not identical—gives as one reason for his support his strong opposition to progressive ideology in public schools. I may have just opened a can of worms, but we’re just going to let them wriggle around.

In my friend’s case, he believes it is good to make it financially easier for parents to place their children in private schools that teach the Christian values with which he agrees—even using public funds to do so.

Those who oppose education savings accounts and school vouchers, such as myself, believe it is good for public funds to be restricted to public education, that private—often religious—education not be publicly funded. There’s another open can of worms. Just let them wriggle.

Defining ‘good’

In my example, both groups are Christians. Both read Paul and consider him more than instructive. They consider him authoritative. They read Paul’s repeated instruction in Titus and elsewhere to love and do what is good, and they want to do just that, very much. But they disagree significantly among or between each other about just what is good.

Maybe if we knew what Paul meant by the word “good,” it would help.

Using BibleHub’s interlinear Bible, we see the original Greek word agathon translated “good” in Titus 3:1 describes something “beneficial in its effect.”

According to Strong’s Lexicon, agathos “primarily denotes that which is good in its nature and characteristics [and] is used to describe moral goodness [and] virtue. … In the New Testament, ‘agathos’ often refers to the intrinsic goodness that aligns with God’s nature and his will.”

But here’s my favorite description of the word, also taken from Strong’s Lexicon as found on BibleHub: “good whether it be seen to be so or not, the widest and most colorless of all words with this meaning.”

Nope, a simple word study will not be helpful for arriving at a clear definition of “good” on which we all can agree. As I tell those I teach how to read the Bible, to know what Paul means by “good,” we need to read more than one verse in Titus. In fact, we need to read more than Titus. If good is what aligns with God’s nature and will, then we need to read all of Scripture.

And while we’re doing that, there are decisions that need to be made, actions that need to be taken. We can’t put all decisions and actions off until we’ve thoroughly studied the whole counsel of Scripture. What are we to do then?

An uncomfortable pause

I don’t know. And at the same time, the best we can. But one thing we should do far less of—if we must do it at all—is fight about which definition of “good” is the right one. I think we can agree our fighting about what is good isn’t beneficial in its effect, and much of it doesn’t come close to aligning with God’s nature.

It’s here that I get back to Easter. I wouldn’t have written this editorial, you wouldn’t be reading it, and we wouldn’t be trying to sort out what Paul meant by “good” if Jesus hadn’t risen from the dead. But he did. And that’s the best good there is.

In light of that, we need to figure out how we’re going to do good, even if we can’t agree on the definition.

Returning to one of the controversies in Paul’s letter to Titus: One great good was ending the scourge of chattel slavery in the United States. Slavery in other forms still exists throughout the world, including in the United States. It would be a great good to end it in all its forms everywhere.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Don’t ever mention falling through cracks in the presence of Jared Greer—unless you delight in seeing eyes roll, hair stand on end and bodily contortions with “rigors” followed shortly by “mortis.”

With three appearances on NBC’s American Ninja Warrior television show and a fourth segment to run at 7 p.m. (CST) on June 23, the former youth pastor is not one of the four warriors claiming a million dollars each for total victories over all obstacles during the show’s 17-year run.

Yep, he’s found many cracks through which to fall, as have 180 to 200 other participants annually. But he has improved each time, endearing himself to producers and now a tester and consultant for a program receiving up to 50,000 three-minute video submissions annually.

The upside, though, is the discovery of a unique career ministry for presentation of the gospel. At 514 churches, schools and Christian camps during the past decade, some 200,000 young people have attended. Most importantly, 4,156 have accepted Christ.

Youth minister

Son of Pastor and Mrs. Roger Greer, the Lewisville native was a three-sport star at Huffman High School near Houston but decided to forego intercollegiate sports during his four years at East Texas Baptist University.

A professed Christian at age 15, Jared began his youth ministry with a part-time church assignment as an ETBU freshman. As sophomores, he and the former Sally Tacquard were wed. Now, they have sons Micah, 14, and Bennett, 10.

His family leads cheers as he jumps, grabs, balances, reaches, dodges, grimaces and swings in manners he never dreamed of until his church youth urged him in 2013 to submit a video to the TV show.

Since then, they have prayed for him as he faces obstacles known for their dips, dives, rolls, shakes and twists, often changing speeds and sometimes disappearing. Remember, just four of several hundred thousand entries have totally mastered the course.

‘Ninja outreach’

When he was tabbed to compete in 2014—claiming to be “in no way fit for it”—he worked hard and ate right to lose 30 pounds in 30 days to compete at 145 pounds.

Standing 5 feet 9 inches, he keenly remembers his first performance foiled by a large log that added insult to injury.

While half on the mat and half on the log, it swung around, bopping him in the head. He was greatly embarrassed, doubly so a few episodes later when his “pratfall” opened the show—with voice accompaniment—“Jared Greer gets on log, but it comes back for a knock-out!”

Former youth minister at First Baptist Church in Grandview, he resigned six years ago to enter his “Ninja outreach” full time.

He and pastor Corey Cornutt remain strong friends, and another valued encourager is Brad Collins, a fellow churchman and chiropractor who keeps Jared’s body aligned for long road trips, obstacle placement, performances and sharing God’s word.

For a couple of years, Jared’s dad was alongside. At ages 68 and 69, he helped with driving and setting up obstacles. He also joined Jared in scaling a 14-foot warped wall, juggling all the while.

At one church, Jared reached the top, held on with one hand and fired a basketball at a goal a half-court away with the other. Nothing but net!

Like father, like son

It’s evident Jared uses his athletic talents as a means to an end. He knows few candidates over age 40 are selected for the TV show. In fact, now nearing age 38, he had no intention of competing this season, but God’s word goes on. It was his son Micah—committed to following in his dad’s footsteps—who prepared and submitted the video.

“To God be the glory,” Jared beams, referencing Gideon, a biblical figure used of God “to make the impossible possible.”

One day, Micah may go warped-wall-climbing with his dad. And his granddad, now a pastor in Latexo, might join them. What a remarkable trio. God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.

For more information about Jared’s ministry Overcoming Obstacles, visit obstacleministry.com.

Don Newbury, retired president of Howard Payne University, writes weekly and speaks regularly. This article is adapted from his regular column, ‘The Idle American.’ Newbury can be contacted via email: newbury@speakerdoc.com; phone: (817) 447-3872; Twitter: @donnewbury and Facebook: Don Newbury. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author. Published by permission.

Self-help articles are everywhere, discussing anxiety, depression, substance abuse, addictions and more. In every instance, the reader is urged to “seek help,” because no one knows how serious a disorder is or could become, and in most cases, it will cause personal suffering and have an effect on others.

Counseling or getting medical help from the family physician is a great idea. Better to err on the side of caution than not.

Most of us are used to medical doctors taking our vitals and ordering tests and medications. A medical doctor can fix what is wrong.

However, emotional and psychological maladies may be less clear-cut. We may believe the Bible and prayer can cure our ills. When that doesn’t always happen, we may become more fearful.

In my case (Ruth), panic attacks affected my heart rate so much that I landed in the emergency room with a quick EKG and echocardiogram to follow. Referral to counselors, even a bio-feedback technician, followed that. Things happened fast, and I realized it is wise to educate oneself about psychological counseling and be open to it should the need arise.

Can we trust a counselor? Will they do any good? What can we expect if we go for a session or take our loved one? Will a counselor help me?

The role of a counselor

Counselors are trained to recognize symptoms and develop a diagnostic overview, which can be supported factually through diagnostic criteria. Various treatment theories may be used, the best ones corresponding to the particular problem with positive effect. Skilled counselors utilize several theories.

Counselors are active listeners, attuned to the client without judgment and withholding direct advice. They may repeat the client’s statements back to him or her to show careful understanding. Misunderstanding then can be corrected.

When I (Ruth) was in counseling, the first great relief to me was having a trained person present inside my illness with me. I had been so alone, then amazingly, there was someone who had seen other people like me and was my advocate in survival. From that first moment with my counselor, I had hope.

The practice of counseling

Counselors listen to the client and ask questions—some therapists are more directive than others—leading to insights about feelings and the overall problem at hand.

Sometimes focusing on the past—early relationships, trauma or abuse—is helpful and brings gradual relief. We may feel worse before we feel better as experiences and emotions are brought to the surface. We may feel angry or more energetic, and these should be monitored by our counselor and physician.

As we seek answers, we need a safe place to share about ourselves and find comfort.

The day I (Ruth) realized it was OK to be imperfect, to be emotionally honest, to assign responsibility to those who hurt me and then forgive was a very happy day for me. But all that surely did not happen all in one day.

Progress in therapy may seem gradual. We may walk out of a session with no clear direction, but truths and realizations come to us between sessions, through the Holy Spirit.

Breakthroughs come in prayer and preaching and through Scripture, reading, dreams and conversations with other people. With the brain and spirit, all of life works together—memory with present thought.

As for the duration of counseling, insurance companies might initially allow six sessions with a therapist then update after that. Diagnosis leads to protocols with specific session numbers. No reputable counselor overtreats. Treatment plans are carefully monitored.

Confidentiality of counseling

Clients can expect confidentiality from the counselor. However, there are some exceptions: child or elder abuse, the client’s danger to self or others, and when litigation demands confidential information be revealed. Laws vary among states. An attorney should be consulted for any legal questions.

A client reads and signs an informed consent document before beginning sessions. This important document may provide the counselor’s credentials, address of the state professional counseling board, the goals and benefits, risks and methods of or approaches to counseling, testing and reports, and limits of confidentiality. This can be an important, if lengthy, form that outlines the responsibilities of the counselor and client.

How do we know when we are better?

We are better when we are able to accept our situation and develop coping skills to handle symptoms. Symptoms could subside dramatically, or most likely become milder and more manageable. An important job of counselors is helping develop a strong coping plan, using reliable psychological techniques. Medication may or may not be part of the strategy.

I (Ruth) learned, when medication reduced my anxiety and depression to a less overwhelming state, cognitive techniques began to work. Sadly, before I had medication, nothing helped. Medication, along with the presence and skill of my therapist, gave me hope.

Hope builds atop hope. Each small success is the foundation for the next brave attempt to live and grow.

We are spiritual beings

For Christians, a Christian counselor will be beneficial in understanding how our faith is affected by emotional and chemical imbalances. Clients need assurance of God’s love and tender care in illness, even if we are angry and fearful, even if we exhibit “sinful” behavior. God is our healer.

Many factors determine mental health. Humans differ in temperament, genetics and physical make up; past experiences like parenting, abuse, trauma; also, mental health education and opportunity for treatment.

God never requires us to be perfect in ourselves, but that we be made righteous through Christ in faith and salvation. He never requires us to be like everybody else, but to model our lives after Jesus.

We can be gentle with ourselves in our suffering and learn to be our unique selves in God’s peace.

A counselor can model Jesus for us as he or she stands alongside us and prays for us.

My (Ruth) counselors indeed were ministers to me. When I went to counseling, I received help from a well-trained, skillful clinician who knew God. I received and accepted my diagnosis and learned coping skills like self-talk, visualization and deep breathing.

I lost my fear of dying from panic attacks and won my life back, becoming a more mature person in the process. I became more confident in every area of life through more fully trusting God. Trusting really does grow through difficult experiences.

Ruth Cook is a cancer survivor and crime victim. Joe Cook is a counseling professor at Liberty University. He holds a Doctor of Ministry from New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary and a Ph.D. from Regent University. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the authors.

As we approach Easter, we need to remember who Jesus is.

Against the politics of our day, we need to remember who Jesus is.

Amid the temptation to win the world, we need to remember who Jesus is.

We are right to worship Jesus as Risen Lord—Conqueror of sin and death. We are wrong to separate his prevailing from his travailing—or from just how he travailed.

Jesus is the crucified one. He is the Lord who succumbed to arrest without a fight, stood for a sham trial without complaint, absorbed a horrendous beating without an ounce of retaliation, gave himself up to a merciless and utterly humiliating execution without the least resistance. Jesus is the one who died.

In the world’s eyes—then and now—Jesus was weak, a loser, a sucker. Only with the advantage of hindsight or reinterpretation can someone cast Jesus as a conqueror.

Blessed are those who believe without the advantage. And what is the advantage? That Jesus rose from the dead. And that he appeared alive again to more than 500 people before he ascended to heaven.

Blessed are those who are not offended, who are not repulsed, who do not reject Jesus as he is. And what is the offense? That he is “the lamb who was slain,” “slain from the creation of the world,” as John tells us in Revelation.

This is the testimony of Scripture and 2,000 years of the church’s witness.

So, who do we say Jesus is? Conquering warrior or crucified lamb?

While it’s more complicated than an either/or, our answer matters immensely.

A different kind of conqueror

Some Christians today make much of Christus Victor, which Robert Kolb defines in an essay for The Gospel Coalition, as “the element of the atoning work of Christ that emphasizes the triumph of Christ over the evil powers of the world, through which he rescues his people and establishes a new relationship between God and the world.”

Certainly, Christ is the Victor. Jesus did triumph over the evil powers of the world, and he most certainly overcame sin and death. Our greatest hope is that he rescues us and reconciles our relationship with God.

Yes, Jesus is a conqueror—and a conqueror like no other. Christians celebrate Easter—Resurrection Sunday—for just this reason. In fact, we gather to worship Jesus as Lord every Sunday for just this reason.

The problem isn’t that Jesus really is a conqueror. The problem is when we transform him from a conqueror on his terms into a conqueror in worldly terms.

Jesus is not a conqueror in the way the world understands conquerors. Jesus is not a political or military conqueror. He never aligned himself with or overthrew Caesar, Herod, the Sanhedrin, the Zealots or any other political body. He never led soldiers armed with literal swords into battle. He never even called down a legion of angels, despite his ability and the taunts to do so.

Yet, there are those today who would have us believe a Constantinian Jesus is the true Jesus. In a vision, the Constantinian Jesus promised the Roman emperor military victory if an image of the cross went ahead of his armies.

Whether Constantine really saw such a vision, whether he really did convert to Christianity, the cross of Christ has gone before armies ever since.

‘Meanest, toughest son of a gun’

The battles in which Christianity has been engaged in America today are legal, cultural, social and political more frequently than military. We can agree with Paul that these fights are against the powers and principalities of this world, but we’re not ready to believe those forces aren’t flesh and blood.

We still pray—that most spiritual of fights. And we also spread hateful memes or lash out with our own angry condemnations on social media. We cut off relationships with friends and even family who disagree with us. We give undying support to those who promise to conquer our earthly foes in Jesus’ name.

Evangelical Christians are frequently political conservatives, and so they tend to provide the easiest examples of Christians involved with politics. Over the last 10 years, more than one conservative evangelical has called for a conquering warrior and a masculine Christianity.

For example, in 2016 Robert Jeffress, senior pastor of First Baptist Church in Dallas, contradicted Max Lucado’s assessment of then-candidate Donald Trump as indecent.

Jeffress said: “When I’m looking for a leader who’s gonna sit across the negotiating table from a nuclear Iran, or who’s gonna be intent on destroying ISIS, I couldn’t care less about that leader’s temperament or his tone or his vocabulary.

“Frankly, I want the meanest, toughest son of a gun I can find. And I think that’s the feeling of a lot of evangelicals. They don’t want a Casper Milquetoast as the leader of the free world.”

Other Christians want more than a strong leader. They want complete dominion.

‘Have dominion over … the earth’

Dominion theology, in general, is the belief the church is to have dominion—power and control—in this world now. A more thorough explanation can be read here.

Some adherents of dominion theology would have us believe Christians—specifically, Christians who hold to a strict conservative reading of the Bible—should be in key positions of influence, if not outright power, throughout society.

Lance Wallnau, a leading proponent of this view, lists “seven mountains” of culture Christians should occupy: “church; family; education; government and law; media (television, radio, newspaper, Internet); arts, entertainment, [and] sports; commerce, science and technology.”

The aspiration is wrapped in evangelistic language: Transform the world with the gospel. But the dominionist idea is grounded in at least one error: Jesus never instructed us to take key positions of influence in this world. In fact, he rejected that temptation when it was presented to him.

Which takes me back to where I started.

Who do we say Jesus is? A conquering warrior or a crucified lamb?

Some among us would have us reject the crucified lamb in favor of the conquering warrior. They would have us take, hold and exert earthly power.

Yes, Jesus is King of kings and Lord of lords. In that respect, he is a conqueror. But not without also being “the lamb who was slain,” “slain from the creation of the world.”

And his call to us is not to conquer this world, but to deny ourselves, take up our crosses and to follow him.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

How do you determine if someone is preaching or teaching? What makes the difference?

Have you ever thought someone was more of a teacher than a preacher, and why? What would have led you to feel it was preaching instead of teaching?

Years ago, a pastor friend of mine asserted, “All good preaching contains an element of teaching, and all good teaching partakes of the spirit of preaching.”

In a Crossway article about preaching, Alistair Begg and Sinclair Ferguson quote Westminster Seminary professor John Murray as indicating this difference between preaching and a lecture: “Preaching is a personal, passionate plea.”

Murray’s assertion may help us get to the root of the issue, but I believe there is more.

Why do people think some are teaching rather than preaching, and why is that a problem?

Teaching and pastoral ministry

Not all preachers are pastors, but for this part of the conversation, let’s think about pastors.

Ephesians 4:11-13 lists the office of pastor-teacher and asserts the work is to equip believers toward maturity in Christ.

Pastors are doing what the Bible calls us to do when we teach.

Paul tells Timothy to preach and to teach, and the apostolic pattern in Acts includes both preaching and teaching.

The Old Testament prophets and John the Baptist focused on preaching (proclaiming), but they also gave instruction to their hearers on occasion.

Jesus taught extensively about the kingdom and life as kingdom-people, but he also proclaimed (preached): “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news” (Mark 1:15 NIV).

Those who are unhappy that a pastor teaches fail to understand the biblical pattern and mandate and ought to appreciate the opportunity to get quality biblical instruction.

In all fairness however, I have thought a person was more teacher than preacher and have, at times, wanted preaching more than teaching—something that moved me emotionally, spiritually and practically, in addition to providing good biblical information.

Let’s explore some possibilities.

Assumptions about preaching

Occasionally, I make homemade chili. What makes good chili is more involved than this, but the primary difference between goulash without macaroni and chili is chili powder.

If you were to ask, “What one or two ingredients make it preaching instead of teaching,” some of the response would come from assumptions about preaching.

First, there is an assumption about the purpose of a church service and the nature of preaching in that setting.

I believe some are of the earnest conviction that a basic, evangelistic message to present the gospel and call for salvation is the only thing that qualifies as preaching. Preaching ought to point to Jesus.

But think about the situation where people are not bringing the lost to church yet. Plus, Ephesians 4 calls us to develop Christians by equipping them. Now, this wrong assumption about preaching is convenient for saved church attenders, because it means they do not need to engage with the message.

Second, there may be a resistance to teaching when people see “getting saved” as the sum total of the Christian life, rather than understanding the call to discipleship and the need for teaching that leads us to become more Christlike.

If there is a resistance to receiving instruction in God’s word, then a person needs to figure out why.

Third, it may be people assume week-to-week preaching ought to jump from topic to topic and passage to passage, leading them to believe sermon series—particularly Bible book series—are teaching rather than preaching.

There is a difference between teaching a book of the Bible and preaching it, but assumptions may lead people to feel a preacher is teaching instead of preaching.

Fourth, people make assumptions about the use of notes, the use of humor or personal stories, the style of delivery and the amount of biblical information used to support the sermon’s points. One example would be they may equate preaching with speaking passionately without notes.

Fifth, people may make assumptions about what constitutes preaching because of a lack of exposure to certain types of preaching. For those accustomed to topical or devotional preaching, sermons that are expository, textual or thematic may seem more like teaching.

A few more observations about what might make the difference

Here are some additional elements that might make the difference between preaching and teaching for people.

• When the preacher provides a great understanding of the history and meaning of the passage but no actionable items, it may feel as if the sermon is more teaching than preaching.

• When the preacher mentions the biblical principles but fails, as we might say, to “put street clothes” on the principles, it might feel more like a lesson than a sermon.

• When the spirit of the preaching is too distanced—more head than heart—and it seems not to stir the preacher’s own passion, it might seem more like teaching than preaching. The Bible tells us to love God with our mind, but I suspect people are looking for heart—albeit an informed heart—in the preaching.

• When the sermon informs without an effort to persuade or provide a plea for action, people may feel it is teaching more than preaching.

• When the hearer’s heart is not right, it might seem more like teaching than preaching. A listener with a hard heart, a cold spirit or an unteachable mindset is unlikely to be moved by the preaching, regardless of its quality or style.

Goal of preaching and teaching

The ministry of God’s word ought to include preaching and teaching, since hearers need accurate biblical instruction and a call to action based on that information. The goal of both forms of communication is an encounter with God in his word that produces Christlike followers of Jesus.

There may be considerable overlap between preaching and teaching in the oral ministry of the Scriptures. Listener, have the grace and flexibility to let your expectations be stretched. Preacher/teacher, be sound in your content and passionate in your plea.

Ron Danley is pastor of First Baptist Church in Jefferson and blogs at Pastor Ron Danley, where this adapted article first appeared. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

RE: Editorial: Church in 21st century looking more like 19th

In your recent editorial, you state, “The number of people training for pastoral ministry has dropped precipitously over the last 20 years.”

In churches from Virginia to Kansas to Texas, I also have observed this decline. Are we in the local church providing an environment in which our children and youth are open to and able to hear God’s call to pastoral ministry?

Local congregations of the past were intentional about educating our children and youth through Sunday school, Girls in Action, Royal Ambassadors, Acteens and Challengers in which they studied Scripture and learned of Jesus Christ’s mission, Abraham, Moses, Esther, Paul, Priscilla and Aquila, and others God called and sent for specific purposes.

In recent years, however, these educational ministries seem to have fallen out of favor. Finding adults willing to teach our children has become increasingly difficult. Numbers of families valuing Bible study for all ages have declined, as evidenced by decreasing Sunday school attendance in favor of small-group adult Bible study.

Where do our children learn the importance of listening for God’s call? Who encourages them to recognize God’s voice calling in the night as Eli taught the child Samuel?

Have we in the local church lost sight of our responsibility to pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out more workers and then to train and equip them for the task? Do we disciple our people, not just for day-to-day living, but to listen for and obey God’s call to full-time ministry?

Do we understand and teach ministry means a willingness to serve and trust God’s provision wherever he leads?

These are questions burdening my heart after more than six decades of serving Christ in five states, as well as overseas, now teaching young adults and praying for young families.

Judy Braswell
Monahans, Texas

I spend a lot of my week counseling married couples. There is a reason for this. Satan hates marriage. He does not want anyone to make any commitment except to please oneself.

The Bible forewarns: “Those who marry will face many troubles in this life” (1 Corinthians 7:28).

If we follow the Lord and seek him above all things, we can overcome every trouble, every trial. In Christ, we can do all things.

Every couple has struggles. The happiest marriage you can think of has trouble, conflict, stresses, hardships, disappointments, friction, conflict, needs, bills, health issues, communication and intimacy issues, and unmet dreams.

Each person thinks they are the only ones facing such things. They look out their window at a family playing in the yard with a nice car in the driveway. They drive down the street to see another couple their age or younger in a much bigger home. They return from the mailbox with a handful of bills they can’t pay.

The husband turns to the wife and says, “You’re spending too much.”

She is hurt, because she cuts every corner she can and does without so many things her peers easily obtain.

The wife turns to the husband and says: “You’re not making enough money. In fact, I make more money than you.”

He is humiliated.

What they do not see is even the wealthy spend more than they have. Athletes with million-dollar contracts file for bankruptcy almost daily.

The No. 1 cause of divorce once was in-laws. Today, the No. 1 cause of divorce is money, or the lack thereof. We want. We think our wants are needs. When our wants and needs aren’t met to our satisfaction, we become dissatisfied and turn on the ones we love, the ones who love us most.

Love and money

A lady from another church called to meet with me. This happens often. Maybe I’m easier to reach, or more likely, they are embarrassed for their pastor to know their struggles. If they only knew, pastors face the same problems as those in the pews. So, no embarrassment ever is warranted.

The woman told me she is thinking of leaving her husband. She makes more money than he does. They live paycheck to paycheck at best. Often the paychecks can’t cover the month’s bills.

Her mother told her to ditch the guy. Her best friend told her the same. They both told her the wife never should be the breadwinner, and life should be easier. She should be able to take trips, buy things, live in a nice home and have a life of bounty. She wanted my opinion.

Several times in sharing her plight, she had to stop to compose herself. The one thing she kept telling me: “I love my husband. What’s more, he loves me like no one has ever loved me in my life. I am just sick of the struggle.”

I prayed before I answered. Two things came to my mind. One, this woman has something money cannot buy.

Marilyn Monroe—the biggest, wealthiest star of her era—said all she ever wanted was to be loved. She was used by many—movie producers, athletes, businessmen, even a president—but never really loved.

I believe Marilyn would trade all she had to have what this young wife had found—a husband who truly, unconditionally loved her.

Love and provision

The second thing that came to my mind: Who is the breadwinner?

Sometimes husbands make more money. Sometimes the wives make more money. But truly, God is the Giver of all we have.

Speaking of bread: During the Great Depression of the 1930s, the government gave out bread to the poor. People would stand in line to get their family’s portion.

Sometimes the man went. But he wasn’t the breadwinner or the bread provider. He was the bread picker-upper.

Sometimes the wife went. She wasn’t the breadwinner, nor the bread provider. She was simply the one who picked up what was given.

Everything we have comes from God. Sometimes the husband picks it up. Sometimes the wife, but God is the One who provides it.

Love and grace

I walked around the porch of our cabin on our farm the other day. I just began to thank God for giving me a job, for giving me a wife, for giving me a house, for giving me a farm, for giving me our cows, for letting me preach, for giving me books to write and companies to publish them, and for giving me you to read what I write.

Everything we have comes from God. Rejoice in God. Be thankful for what and for who he gives to us. He is the Bread of Life. God is all we need. Everything else simply is grace.

Johnny Teague is the senior pastor of Church at the Cross in West Houston and the author of several books, including his newest The Lost Diary of Mary Magdalene. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.