Life
David Platt Frightens Me
Ever hear anyone complain that academics are divorced from reality?
That theorists would simply collapse in shock if they ever stepped down from their ivory tower into the dirty world of human beings?
That some professors are educated beyond their usefulness?
That scholars are cut off from emotion, compassion and spiritual devotion?
Granted, there’s a lot of truth behind these complaints.
Intellectuals tend to elevate the mind over the heart, making the pursuit of doctorates more important than people.
But not all academics fall to this temptation. Take David Platt for example.
Educated to the Hilt
At first glance, you could level those accusations at David Platt.
He earned two undergraduate degrees from the University of Georgia. He followed that up with three advanced degrees.
But he wasn’t finished.
He added a doctor of philosophy from New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary [NOBTS] to his curriculum vitae.
He then served as dean of chapel and assistant professor of expository preaching and apologetics at NOBTS.
The man is a highly accomplished academic. [And as an arm-chair intellectual, he scares me.]
Naturally, you’d expect his book Radical to read like a professional journal. But it doesn’t.
Entering the Dirty Business of Human Beings
Here’s what can’t be missed: Platt gets around.
His book is shaped by his overseas mission trips to places like India and Indonesia.
It’s influenced by his time as pastor at the Church at Brook Hills.
And it’s predisposed to sound a lot like John Piper–the quintessential scholar-turned-pastor–who obviously impacted Platt.
All this serves to make Platt firmly grounded in the dirty business of human beings, compassionate to the bone and ridiculously eager to make disciples.
Which in turn makes Radical a book anyone could read.
In fact, it’s almost simplistic. Sometimes redundant. It’s Richard Wurmbrand meets Kevin DeYoung.
You won’t get lost in this book. Neither will you have to re-read any sentences. In fact, you’ll almost get bored.
But at that moment when you’re tempted to close the book, Platt pulls you back in. He does this in a handful of ways.
Radical: Sticky from Experience and Education
He might draw out a beautiful analogy about the church being a troop carrier turned luxury liner.
Or a gripping story about a young, intelligent woman killed in a bizarre bus accident while she served Palestinian refugees in Egypt.
Or a potent scene where believers in China begged him to teach them the Old Testament…and ten days later to teach them the New.
While all these things make for a good read we have to remember that Platt argues from a very simple platform: the gospel of Jesus Christ.
A platform he demonstrates you don’t need a degree to preach. Or a doctorate to understand.
Just a heart that hungers to lose it’s will in the will of God and no longer desires anything for himself–except the glory of God.
And it’s just this kind of heart that drives the hardcore academic David Platt.
Theology Will Keep You from Committing Suicide
A systematic study of what the Bible says about a particular topic is theology proper.
It’s a pursuit every Christian must vigorously and regularly engage…
Because it’s the means by which we answer the hard questions of life.
Questions like who am I? Why are we here? What is God? What happens when I die? Do I have a soul?
Questions no one is immune from. And questions science ultimately can’t answer.
NIH Director Francis Collins put it this way:
Belief in God was for me anyway, a much more defensible, plausible position. Not something I could prove but something that made great sense and also provided a powerful answer to some of the biggest questions we all ask of our selves and that science can’t really help us with. Like why am I here? And what does life mean anyway?
Without thoughtful, coherent answers to our big questions, life makes no sense at all.
It would be nice if we could simply stop asking those questions. But that’s impossible. We are forever curious. We constantly ask these questions.
We are natural born theologians.
To look for the answers outside of Christ, however, leads to confusion. All other disciplines lead to dead ends. Isolation. Incoherence.
As Gene Fant said at the Evangel blog, “A secularist worldview is hopelessly fractured…. There can be no meaningful interpretive key for knowledge because there is only disintegration and brokenness among the various stakeholders.”
Theology, on the other hand, offers us a relentlessly unified, comprehensive answer to the hard questions: Christ is lord over all.
Listen: If our questions go unanswered, everything remains in the air. Everything becomes unanchored.
Without theology, despair looms. Without theology, suicide knocks at our door.
Heavy prices to pay for not believing in God.
Thus theology leads to relevance. In fact, while regarded as a rather stuffy, arid discipline, it’s the cornerstone on which a Christian must build AND maintain his life.
There is no choice. We must use our minds in this pursuit. Let me know what you think.
Death Lessons: What You Can Learn When Someone Dies
Seventy years from now more than likely you will be dead.
Don’t worry: So will I.
Some of us will die earlier than others [before we reach fifty].
Some will live longer [well after we turn ninety].
See, as humans, we all share this in common–death.
But we also share something else: When we are dead all of the things in our head–our thoughts, dreams, ideas, feelings–will be gone from this earth…
Lost forever to this world. And the people we leave behind.
Why the Morbid Mood?
Yesterday I learned about the death of a distant uncle. A man who I hadn’t seen in twenty years, but for good reasons meant a lot to me.
During a brief time of vulnerability, he took me, my mother and sister into his fold. But during that brief time he taught me how to work hard, hunt and think.
He even gave me a beautiful rifle.
Unfortunately, after a short period of time we parted ways and I never spoke to him again.
I regret that.
And so this morning I found myself a bit tired, wistful and nostalgic. A wee bit indifferent to the world but profoundly interested in hugging my children and embracing my wife.
It’s a classic introvert defense to news heavy on the death of people close to you.
Furthermore, streaming through my thoughts this whole time is an acute sense of our mortality–and the selfishness of living in one’s own head…an introvert’s favorite place to be.
12 Lessons We Can Learn from the Death of a Loved One
So in order to combat that, here are some reflections–commands, really–on how to indulge in the little time we have left in this world–whether you are an extrovert or introvert–and make the most of the time you have with your people.
It applies to us all. Enjoy.
Talk. Nurture deep conversations with meaningful people like your spouse, children, best friends and neighbors. Do this relentlessly.
Journal. Record your thoughts, feelings and ideas. Document tough questions. Sketch out your answers. The point: Be liberal so people can learn something about you when you die.
Pray. Nurture a deep, never-ending conversation with God. Pour out your soul to Him. Ask him for help. Plead with him to teach you how to be more like Christ.
Confess. Shed secret sin by rehearsing the gospel daily, pleading with God for forgiveness and asking an exclusive set of godly men and woman to hold you accountable.
Blog. Share your thoughts, feelings and ideas with a wider audience. Or keep it private and simply share it with family you are geographically separated from.
Contemplate. Think about your past. Evaluate your present. Plan your future. And once you contemplate, share it with others–in a conversation, on a blog or in your journal.
Write. Lubricate lines of communication with a regular letter or email. For times when you can’t pick up the phone or sit down in front of someone. Do this daily.
Slow Down. Resist invitations to do more. Simplify. Enjoy life. Enjoy your spouse. Your friends. Your children. Your home. Your car. The path through the woods. The lake. The clouds. The cross of Christ.
Create. Take those thoughts and ideas and give them life. Write songs. Sculpt statues. Paint portraits. Design cartoons. Build houses.
Play. Go sledding or fishing. Rock climbing or wind surfing. Teach your son to throw a ball. Twirl with your daughter in the den. Uncork a bottle of wine with your wife and watch her trounce you in a game of Scrabble.
Obey. Do when the Holy Spirit nudges. Don’t hesitate. Call that friend. Skip work and run away with your children to the beach. Visit that dying uncle. Share the gospel with a shop clerk.
Love. Grieve with the suffering. Laugh with the jubilant. Talk with the lonely. Listen to the gregarious. Give to the earthquake-shattered. Evangelize the hostile.
As you can probably tell, when I say indulge, I’m speaking about pouring yourself out for others. Giving away EVERYTHING in you to those you love AND to those you don’t love…
To those you know–and to those you don’t know. What you want is to say at the end of your life you held nothing back.
See, it’s worth forcing ourselves outside of our shelters [skulls, homes, churches, nations] and subduing the earth in Christ and for Christ.
Not only is it a biblical mandate, but it also provides for a rich, meaningful life. One that is perilously short.
Don’t waste it.
The Trick to Finding Your Spiritual Gift
The moment you become a Christian God gives you a marvelous gift–the Holy Spirit.
In other words, the moment you believe…God comes to live in you.
He becomes your guide, teacher and power supply for everything you will do for the glory of God.
That’s true for every Christian.
And since the spirit of God lives in us, the New Testament teaches us to behave in certain ways towards the Holy Spirit.
For example, we are encouraged to walk, to live, to be filled, to pray, to manifest the fruits of the Spirit and to use and exercise the gifts of the Spirit.
We are also warned not to grieve, resist or quench the Spirit.
The Christian life is a Spirit-dominated existence. A Spirit-directed existence. A Spirit-controlled existence.
And when we allow the spirit of God to dominate, direct and control our lives, marvelous results occur. Here are six:
Holiness. Constant sanctification.
Joy. Constant satisfaction and contentment.
Liberty. Constant sense of freedom from danger or anxiety.
Confidence. Constant sense of reliability and courage.
Security. Constant sense of protection and favor.
Victory. Constant sense of strength.
But there’s one more: ministry–a constant service to the body of Christ.
An Other-Minded Approach
A Spirit-dominated, Spirit-directed and Spirit-controlled life results in personal benefits, yes, but also in corporate benefits as well.
When we are dominated by the spirit, we are naturally able to serve others. It’s an other-minded approach.
See, when you walk in the spirit of God, your gifts are ministered to me. And as I walk in the spirit, my gift are ministered to you.
As we live and move and have our being in the Spirit, the spirit of God operates through us so we serve the body of Christ and radiate his glory so that people will see and believe.
This is subduing the earth. And it’s crucial. Especially when it comes to finding out your spiritual gifts.
How Do You Know Your Spiritual Gifts?
Frankly, that’s not the issue.
It doesn’t really matter if you’ve defined your gifts. What matters is that we walk in the spirit.
The trick to finding out your spiritual gifts is not defining them and then doing them…but simply getting on your knees and begging the Spirit to dominate, direct and control you…
And if you do that, then he will do what he will do and you can eventually look back and say, “Oh, now that’s what I do.”
That, my friend, is the trick to finding out your spiritual gifts. Make sense? And can you think of any other benefits that result from a Spirit-dominated life that I haven’t listed? Let me know.
What Is the “Post-Evangelical Wilderness”?
I asked myself the same question the other day when I read Chaplain Mike’s post My Post-Evangelical Wilderness.
Basically Mike is explaining what life is like as a Christian in an environment he feels is dysfunctional and theologically shallow.
This is how Mike put it:
“For years, I’d had a growing dissatisfaction with evangelicalism’s lack of tradition, historical perspective, reverence and order in worship. I resisted its programmed approach to spiritual growth, its bourgeois commitments that blatantly disregard the NT emphasis on sacrificial service and inclusion of the poor and disenfranchised, its “temple” mentality that has little sense of serving Christ in daily life and instead revolves around what happens in the institution and its programs.”
Can you relate? I can. But I didn’t at first.
Yes, his commentary splendidly sums up my feelings of the evangelical church. But I don’t really feel like I live in a “post-evangelical wilderness.” Let me explain.
A Problem with Independent, Local Churches
Mike’s angst isn’t rooted solely in his disappointment in the old evangelical order. He’s also a pastoral casualty of an independent church.
He mentions and I think rightly puts his finger on the ecclesiastical problem of independent, local, non-denominational churches: no overarching governing body to lend support when a church goes under or a pastor needs a job.
It’s a rough and lonely world, indeed. You are on your own.
Mike learned this lesson firsthand and found himself without a job–and a church home. No wonder Mike feels like a stranger in a strange land.
And at the end of his post Mike explains this is what living in the “post-evangelical wilderness” means to him. [By the way: He's since found a job he loves but not a church he loves.]
He then goes on to ask “What does it mean to you?” That’s when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
My Harsh and Compassionate Response
Even though I relate to Mike now, at first I couldn’t. I knew he got one thing right: There is a generation parting. Call it “evangelical” if you must and I certainly feel like I live a wilderness…
But I wouldn’t identify it as “post-evangelical wilderness.” There’s just way too much going on to tie up our Christian life in this neat package.
Also, by saying “post-evangelical wilderness” we are implying there once was an “evangelical paradise,” a notion I think will make us all snicker.
Mike’s post was a bold one. He opened up. Became vulnerable. But you know what? I kind of thought Mike was whining.
So I mentally hashed out my response–I isolated his problems and presented the solutions in my patented curt approach.
So very man of me. And unregenerate.
But fortunately my conscience wouldn’t allow me to leave it at that. I knew God was nudging me to go further…to step into Mike’s shoes.
So I did my best at proposing a second, compassionate response. I can’t say I succeeded. You be the judge. Here are my original thoughts:
Couple things come to mind when I hear “post evangelical wilderness.” First, cop out. Second, phase of life.
Cop out: I think we’re all pretty much frustrated with the dysfunction of the human race. Paul’s approach to dealing with dysfunction in the church? Laying down the truth. Believers in persecuted nations would love to have a dysfunctional church to worship in. As you can probably tell, this is my harsher side coming out.
Phase of life: This is my softer side coming out. I can only imagine Paul got very, very disillusioned with the persistent dysfunction of the church, too. Indeed, you can sense that in his second letter to Timothy. And I imagine all of us go through phases in which we feel lost and let down by the “church.” But let’s not forget the invisible church. Elijah was reminded when he experienced his lonely, dark winter of spiritual discontent that God had preserved 7,000 others just like him. Fortunately we live in an age that allows us to connect with vibrant, merciful believers around the world who can encourage us when our own local church isn’t.
Chin up, Mike. God loves you and wants you to fight.
Don’t get me wrong: I love neat phrases like “post-evangelical wilderness.” And as cognitive beings who love solving problems, we have a bent for them.
[See this Dug Down Deep review for another example.]
But anytime we align ourselves with a movement–whether post-evangelical or Emergent or New Calvinism–we are in danger of becoming dogmatic, entrenched and ultimately dysfunctional in the eyes of the next generation…something I’d love to avoid…if possible.
Your Turn
So tell me…am I dead on? Or way off? Also, do you see yourself in a “post-evangelical wilderness”? And what does that mean to you? Also, got any solutions for the independent, local churh? I’m curious. Leave your thoughts–brutal and all–in the comments.
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