“Even before there was a New Testament to appeal to as the written authority for Christian faith and practice, the implicit apostolic faith of early Christianity revolved around the scandal of the deity of Christ. The reason Christians held on to it tenaciously in the face of pagan ridicule and Roman persecution as well as all kinds of attempts to water it down was that it was the linchpin of the gospel. If it were removed in any way, then the hope for eternal participation in God’s own life and for forgiveness and restoration to the image of God would fall apart. The gospel itself would be wrecked.”

Roger Olson, The Story of Christian Theology (Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 1999), 150.

We do not want ordinary men. Ordinary men cannot win the brutally pagan life of a city like New York for Christ. We want quiet fanatics.”

John Heuss, Our Christian Vocation (Greenwish, 1955), pages 15-16.

HT: Ray Ortland

But upon looking at it closer and being guided by my Greek professor, Dr. Varner, there is no contradiction, but rather a nice complement. One of the keys to understanding the complement is to correctly understanding how each author uses their terms. The following chart is my attempt to clarify those terms.

Does that make sense? Leave a comment if something is confusing or seems wrong.

Aubrey Malphurs, Planting Growing Churches For The 21st Century (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004), 30.

My dad and brother had come down for the Shepherd’s Conference last week. We had a great week together. The times at SC will always be great memories for me because I get to spend them with my dad, brothers, and other close friends and it is such a privilege to be in an environment where we are all challenged in our faith and our ministry.

Dad caught a red-eye flight on Sunday night to North Carolina to help Ian evaluate a seminary. Nathaniel flew out Monday morning. He was flying out at 6:20am from LAX, which was right around the corner from my surgery center.

So at about 4:20am, Bernie, Nathaniel and I hopped in Bernie’s new rig and headed to the airport. We dropped Nathaniel off about hour before his flight and then went to a McDonald’s so that Bernie could get a bite to eat. My orders were to refrain from eating or drinking anything after midnight before my surgery, so I was limited to simply smelling the egg mcmuffin goodness.

Since we rose so early, Bernie and I were quite tired. We drove the parking garage outside the clinic and napped for a little over than an hour, before checking in at 8:15am.

Not long after checking in, they took me into the pre-op room and had me change into a studly blue gown which came with matching booties and hair cap. Nothing quite says “MAN” like a medical outfit.

The kind ladies, Penny and Georgann, proceed to prepare me and my knee for the time our life.

Before anything else, they had me write “yes” on the shin that I was having surgery on with an arrow pointing up the leg toward my knee. California state law requires this. In talking with Nathaniel the night before, he suggested that I sign my leg with the name “Sarah Palin.” But unfortunately, a name was not what they wanted.

Next came the white tights. Yes, tights. One went on my left leg and the other would go on my right after surgery. They are to prevent blood-clotting in the legs. Very fashionable indeed.

Next came the IV. “Are you good with needles?” Georgann asked. “Only if I don’t look at ‘em.” I replied. I looked away as she tapped and squeezed my arm, making the veins pop out. She then poured something on my hand that froze the top of it temporarily as she shoved the needle up the vein between my middle and ring finger.

One of benefits of surgery is that it gives you new and awkward experiences. That was certainly true when Georgann shaved my leg – high up the thigh to midway through the calf. Now I was laying there with my left leg in white tights and my right leg awkwardly shaved.

They hooked some heart monitors to my chest and then I laid there for about three hours before being wheeled into the anesthesiologist. During those three hours, I dozed off a little, but I also had to battle some anxious thoughts that arose in my heart. With needles already in me, a girl a couple beds over weeping from pain, and the anticipation of what was coming, I was feeling a bit worried. I knew I was anxious because my heart rate was going up on the monitor.

These feelings drove me to the Scriptures. I was able to have my iPhone with me during those hours leading up to surgery, so I clicked on the Logos app and went to Psalm 43 and just started reading Psalm after Psalm. Through the words of the living God, the Spirit gave my soul incredible rest and confidence. Here are a couple of the verses that I ran across:

Psalm 43:5 – “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.”

Psalm 44:25-26 – “For our soul is bowed down to the dust; our belly clings to the ground. Rise up; come to our help! Redeem us for the sake of your steadfast love!”

Psalm 46:1-3 – “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling.”

Psalm 46:10 – “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”

Through these nuggets of truth and the prayers of the saints the Lord sustained me and mercifully calmed my heart.

After much waiting, I was wheeled into the operating room and they then sedated me and injected a nerve block into my leg, which is the equivalent to getting your mouth numbed at the dentist. Then the anesthesiologist put a mask on my face and said good-bye.

I was woken up in the recovery room by another nice lady and immediately scarfed the crackers that she offered to me. After my snack and a complicated visit to the little boy’s room, I was discharged and placed in the back seat of Bernie’s car for a groggy ride home, during which I talked to my mom and Audrey. I think they remember those phone calls better than I do

Thank you to all who have been praying for me. God has and is surely answering them. I am not resting at home with many exercises and such required of me all day long.

So the question is, how will they stop such dancing from taking place? How do they plan on corralling such lust?

The article stated a several different methods schools are trying:

• implementing dress codes
• canceling dances
• having students sign contracts that outline acceptable behavior and apparel
• turn on the lights during dances
• having a wristband system to enforce compliance

But the one method that stood out to me was a school in Minnesota who is telling high school students to dance like Grandma’s watching. The reasoning behind this measure is such: “Kids may not care about offending or annoying their parents, but it’s a different story with grandma.”

Now, I suppose that many young people would act differently if their grandma was watching, but I think that totally misses the point.

All of these methods simply want students to act differently. They don’t show any concern for the heart of the students. The engine that is causing teens to dance lewdly does not stop operating when grandma starts watching or when a contract is signed. The fires of lust that drove them throw their hips into someone else are still raging.

If we are to really help teens turn from the lust of their hearts, then we need to connect them with the gospel. Only the gospel can change a student’s desire. Only the gospel can motivate someone away from the allure of sin.

Making teens stop inappropriate dancing is like taking the bad fruit off a tree and concluding that the problem is solved. But if the bad tree still exists, then the bad fruit will continue.

It is sad that young people dance differently because grandma is watching (even though she isn’t), rather than dancing like God is watching (because He is). “No creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” (Heb. 4:13)

Though there be not money in our wallet,
nor gifts under the tree,
my dad has lost his job
and my family has to move,
a loved one has passed away
and my friends have all rejected me,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD;
I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the deer’s;
he makes me tread on my high places.

This fall I read A Praying Life by Paul Miller and now I’m re-reading it, and one of the things that he emphasizes is that we need to come to our Father bringing the messiness of life. We should be like children and just blurt out what is on our hearts and minds. We cannot be ashamed for what we ask. God simply wants us to ask.

So I went to my heavenly Father and expressed my dependence and helplessness in finding the pen. I prayed knowing that if God wanted me to have that pen, then He would reveal it to me. The request seemed silly, but that lost pen was weighing on my heart.

Tonight, God answered those prayers and I found the pen in a pair of pants from earlier in the week. The recovered pen was a big reminder that God cares about the small things.

Thank you for the tender rays
Of the moonlight that softly says
That One above is watching near,
While we sleep on a night so clear.
Cold inside and out,
If you we are without.