Strong Enough to Dance

9 September 2025

I recently read a rant that started off “Horses built for war don’t dance at weddings.” It then goes on for many paragraphs about how men who are seeking the truth aren’t cut out for bread and circuses, how the system wants you frivolous and weak. When the day everyone thought would never come finally arrives, the author promises, the war horses will be ready. I’d link to the rant so you could read it for yourself, but I’ve already forgotten the guy’s name. (Just as well, I think.)

This is a man who has seen the problem, but doesn’t understand the solution. King David danced. Israel danced on the banks of the Red Sea. Psalms 149 and 150 (which we are all commanded to sing) teach us to praise the Lord with dance. But it’s not just Scripture: at the right times, warriors in every human culture feast and dance and sing. I’ve trained alongside people from the Army, Marines, various SWAT teams, British SAS, road patrol deputies in the Kentucky backwoods where backup is 45 minutes away — they feast. They dance and sing — not always well, but they seem to enjoy it.

But this fellow is too busy being The War Horse to dance at a wedding. He’s too serious to take a lesson from Scripture or history or culture. Don’t be like him. God has called us to be sober-minded, but this is the opposite of sober-mindedness. This is Being Very Stern, and looking at yourself in the mirror while you do it. It will make you grim, ungodly, brittle, and weak. God doesn’t want you to just be strong enough to fight; He wants you strong enough to dance.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Don’t Poison Yourself

8 April 2025

Overrealized eschatology is poison. I recently found myself in a couple of conversations about the way in which “pessimistic” premillennial eschatology is said to create people who don’t care about the material conditions in which their neighbors live, because fixing this world is “polishing the brass on a sinking ship.” That kind of premillennialism is trash, and I say that as a premil guy.

I’d love to say that description is a caricature, a straw man. It’s not, quite. Evangelists for other eschatological positions certainly overplay it (and they’ll answer to their Maker for slandering their brethren when the time comes), but these people really do exist. The antidote to that sort of nonsense is simple and biblical. Here are four key pieces:

1) The Dominion Mandate was given to Adam and Eve, repeated to Noah and his descendants, and is still in force for Noah’s descendants today. So live fruitfully in every direction; fill the earth and subdue it. Exercise godly dominion over whatever God has placed within your reach. This is God’s will for your life, and no eschatological position relieves you of your duty.

2) Seek first the kingdom of God, *and His righteousness.* The consummated kingdom may be future, but God’s righteousness is revealed in the gospel in this age, and realized every time we obey Him. Premillennialism does not give anyone in government an excuse for promoting policies that Jesus doesn’t like. If you’re a voter, that applies to you. Dealing in reality means making trade-offs, and that’s fine, but you should be aiming for God’s righteousness.

3) Psalm 2. When the headlines tell us that the kings of the earth are taking counsel against the Lord and His Anointed, God thinks it’s hilarious. We can do our best Chicken Little imitation, or we can join Him in laughter. We should, and the psalms give us the vocabulary for that. Sing them, pray them, read them, get them deep into you.

4) Love your neighbor. If you love your neighbor, then you can’t be indifferent about a war that kills a bunch of your neighbors. If you love your neighbor, then you want his sewers to keep working. And so on — yes, the elements will melt with a fervent heat, but until they do, love your neighbor already!

It’s not really that hard. However you think this all ends, you don’t get to ignore how God told you to live today. That’s true for the impatient postmillennials who are smuggling crates of AKs for the theocracy they’re hoping to usher in next Tuesday, and it’s true for impatient premillennials who want to ignore the Dominion Mandate and the Greatest Commandment because God chose to make the world out of flammable ingredients. People like that are idiots, and we shouldn’t pick either our ethics or our eschatology based on idiots.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Hospitality as Alchemy

18 February 2025

I’ve been meditating recently on the parable of the unjust steward, found in Luke 16:1-13. Since Jesus Himself calls the guy unjust, obviously it’s not the cheating that Jesus is recommending. What does Jesus want us to take away from this?

The steward has a short window of opportunity where he has access to his master’s accounts, and he makes the most of his temporary access to make friends for the long term. We find ourselves in a similar situation. Everything you have can just disappear (as some of our brothers and sisters in California recently found out). But while you have it, what are you doing with it?

We can squander the goods we have, or we can use them to lasting effect. Few things are as fungible as a warm meal. The scraps you don’t eat will be cold in an hour and inedible in days; what you do eat will end up in your toilet in a day or two, depending on your intestinal transit time. But that meal, that future poop, shared with someone else, becomes an expression of love and care. Applied to someone at the right moment, that very transitory matter becomes a lifelong conviction that they’re loved.

The alchemists of old expended enormous effort trying to turn lead into gold. In hospitality, we do something much more spectacular, and we succeed at it! We transmute the basest of matter into something better than gold: the pleasure of God and the care of His image. So go forth and be hospitable to someone who can’t pay you back.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Second Part of the Lesson

12 November 2024

In Deuteronomy 8, Moses is preparing the generation that is about to enter Canaan. Other than Joshua and Caleb, the oldest of them are just shy of 60. They are now facing the challenges their fathers balked at, all the reasons that they have been wandering in the desert these past 40 years. At this crucial juncture in their lives, Moses reminds them of the lessons they have learned during their years of maturation in the desert.

“So He humbled you, allowed you to hunger, and fed you with manna which you did not know nor did your fathers know, that He might make you know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the LORD.” (Deuteronomy 8:3)

You got hungry in the desert, Moses reminds them. This is not idle wishing for luxuries; food is a legitimate need. Their legitimate need was going unmet. Fathers had nothing to feed their crying children. Mothers with nursing infants had nothing to eat themselves; how would they feed the baby? This was no accident, Moses says. It was not poor logistical planning on God’s part. He knew exactly what He was doing. God could have fed you at any moment; he could have made sure you never missed a meal. He could have made sure you had enough food for breakfast and second breakfast and elevensies, and lunch, and afternoon tea, and….

God allowed you to be hungry. That’s the first part of the lesson. Then what? “…and fed you with manna which you did not know, nor did your fathers know.” When you were days into the desert with nothing edible in sight, your belly gnawing at your backbone…food miraculously fell out of the sky. And not just any food; something you’d never seen before, something so unexpected that you named it “What is it?” (That’s what “manna” literally means in Hebrew.) When you asked God for food, you had something in mind–a loaf of bread, a cucumber, whatever–but this wasn’t it. This…this is entirely different than anything you imagined. Reflecting on this moment, Asaph will later write:

“He had commanded the clouds above,
And opened the doors of heaven,
Had rained down manna on them to eat,
And given them of the bread of heaven.
Men ate angels’ food;
He sent them food to the full.”
(Psalm 78:23-25)

Angels’ food. I was talking through this passage with my daughter yesterday, and she said, “I wonder what the nutrition facts are on manna?” It had to be pretty nourishing, since it seems that at times they had nothing else to eat. And it tasted “like wafers made with honey” according to Exodus 16:31. That’s pretty good for health food! That’s the second part of the lesson: God meets your needs, miraculously, in a way you never imagined.

Now comes the punchline. Why would God choose to do it this way? Why not just feed them to start with? “…that He might make you know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the LORD.” God is not teaching you that you don’t really need bread; you do, actually. He’s teaching you that in the end, you can’t just live on bread. You need Him! And not just a little of Him: every word that comes from His mouth. You need food, make no mistake–but you need the food He is going to provide. Nothing else will do.

In other words, you need to humbly depend on God, which is how Moses introduced the thought to start with: “He humbled you….”

Now fast-forward to Jesus’ day. After His baptism, Jesus is led by the Holy Spirit into the wilderness for 40 days of fasting. We often imagine that Jesus spends the fast in serene communion with the Father, and then faces three temptations at the end, but no. Luke records that Jesus was “being tempted for 40 days by the devil.” The three temptations recorded at the end of the fast are the grand finale, the crescendo of 40 solid days of spiritual attack.

In a masterpiece of biblical understatement, both Matthew and Luke record that at the end of the fast, “He was hungry.” Imagine you’d found Jesus in the desert just at the halfway point, 20 days into His fast. He’s had nothing to eat for almost 3 weeks. He’s already going to be looking gaunt and emaciated, yes? What would you say that He needed at that point? Food, of course! And you wouldn’t be wrong–somebody who hasn’t eaten in nearly 3 weeks desperately needs a meal.

What is God doing about Jesus’ legitimate need? He’s waiting. He’s humbling Jesus, allowing Him to be hungry. At the pinnacle of that hunger, the devil hits him with “If You are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.”

We’ve talked about this temptation elsewhere, so I won’t repeat all that here. But I saw something new in my most recent pass through this passage, and I think it’s worth pointing out. Jesus quotes from Moses’ speech in Deuteronomy: “Man does not live by bread alone; but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.” He’s drawing on the narrative resources of His people to read the situation He’s in; that much I knew. But Jesus hasn’t experienced the second part of the lesson yet. He’s still in part one, literally starving in the wilderness. Because Jesus knows the story of His people, He has learned from their experience. Knowing where He is in the story, He can anticipate what will come next. The angels’ food is just around the corner. So He hits the devil with the punchline, and when He has triumphed over all the temptations, Matthew tells us, “angels came and ministered to Him.”

What do you think they brought Him to eat?

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Posted by Tim Nichols

The Hidden Costs of Disobedience

20 February 2024

Well over a decade ago, I was challenged by another pastor to become a psalm-singing Christian. The New Testament said to (Eph. 5:19, Col. 3:16, Jam. 5:13), and I wasn’t one, which seemed like something I should fix. I had no idea where to start, but I dug around and found a few resources. Armed with a few CDs (remember those?) and a psalter/hymnal, I dove in. Not being much of a musician myself, I shared the idea with some friends who were, and the result was a partnership that invested long-term in singing the Psalms, and doing it well. We’re still at it.

Back in those early days, we had no idea what the benefits of psalm-singing would be. We just knew that God said to do it. As we shared the idea with other people–especially worship leaders–a pattern quickly emerged. They could see the obstacles and costs of adding the Psalms to their repertoire, and they could see the benefits of continuing to do what they were already doing. But they had a hard time seeing the benefits of psalm-singing, and an even harder time seeing the costs of their current practice.

Anytime you’re contemplating a change, you are not contemplating it from some blissfully neutral limbo. What you’re doing now has costs. If those costs are so baked into your thinking that you can no longer see them, you won’t be able to make an honest assessment of the proposed change. When that’s the case, it’s time to get fresh eyes on the problem.

But when we’re talking about direct instructions from God, fresh eyes are kind of a moot point. You should be obeying because God told you to. You don’t need to assess whether obedience is worth the costs; by obeying, you’ll be doing better than you could know. But obedience is hard, and there are times when you’ll wonder, “Why am I doing this?” At those times, it can be helpful to look back and ask yourself if you can see the costs of your former disobedience.

In the case of psalm-singing, I can tell you that I’ve come to pray more often and more deeply, I’ve grown more emotionally honest, and I know how to talk to God and other people in ways I couldn’t before. Leithart was right: “Worship is language class.” You learn how to talk.

Sometimes, the Scriptures themselves will peel the scales off your eyes. I had this happen to me a couple decades ago reading Hebrews 3. “Exhort one another daily, while it is called ‘Today,’ lest you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.” The straightforward command is that believers should encourage one another every day. I remember thinking to myself, “I don’t even see another Christian some days.” I realized that in modern life, we are more separated from one another than they were back in the day, and despite all our communication technology, it’s harder to connect.

Well, so much the worse for modern life! Since when do we accept “We don’t really live like that now” as a valid reason to ignore a command from God? If we need to modify our form of life so that we are able to obey, then we should do so, trusting that God will make it worth our while.

I’ve been at it for a couple decades now, and I can tell you: He has. Lack of fellowship was hurting me more than I knew back then. I was lonely, in my own head too much, immature. It was hard to see that at the time, because I was used to it. Two decades later, I’ve been blessed with a place in some of the best communities I’ve ever seen, or even heard about. From my current perch, it’s easy enough to see what I was missing back then.

Far more than these two specific items from Hebrews and the Psalms, though, the point I want to make here is…what else is there? How many direct biblical instructions are out there that we could merely obey, and reap the blessings? Let’s go find them!

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Whose Faith Follow

12 September 2023

Once upon a time, I was a doctrine wonk. I honestly believed that if we just got the doctrine right, we would live well. My community valued correct exegesis and theology, and invested enormous effort in doing them well. As one of their fair-haired sons, and I got paid to research, write, and teach at seminary. It was a geek’s dream job, and I loved it….  

<cue spooky music>

…then the whole community tore itself apart. Some of the best exegetes and theologians I knew went for each other’s throats. I’d love to say that I stayed above the fray, but I didn’t. My personal loyalties were with one side, but I also thought they were exegetically and theologically more correct…at first.

I quickly began to realize that the conflict wasn’t actually about doctrine. That’s a big claim, but it’s true. The doctrinal differences were not entirely insignificant, but there was ample room for everyone involved to continue working together. A number of close observers and secondary participants, myself included, suggested ways to move forward, but there was a problem we couldn’t solve: the principals didn’t want unity. The doctrinal difference was a smokescreen, a way to make the conflict respectable. The real problems were personal and relational: abundance of offense, lack of repentance and forgiveness, and lack of sufficient emotional maturity to address the personal conflicts.

I slowly began to realize that even if the problem were primarily doctrinal, we were handling it poorly. As I dug into Scripture looking for instructions and patterns for handling this kind of conflict, I kept coming back to Acts 15. This chapter is the first big doctrinal conflict in the Church, and the pattern that it sets upholds the unity of the Body of Christ as a cardinal doctrine and practice for Christians. I’ve written on this at great length elsewhere, so I’m not going to belabor the point here. Outward unity that is visible to observing unbelievers is Jesus’ prayer to the Father for us, it is the manner in which we win the world, and without unity right down to the practical level of seating arrangements at supper, we are not being straightforward about the gospel. It’s a big deal. 

Once I had gotten this far, God moved me to Englewood, Colorado, to see unity in practice. 

In Englewood, I met a group of pastors who got along. They prayed with and for each other. They blessed each other’s ministries. Every once in a while, they preached in each other’s churches. They gathered their churches once a year for a joint worship service. Were they all the same denomination? Not even close. We had Messianic Jews, Southern Baptists, Assemblies of God, Dutch Reformed, Anglican, Bible church guys, nondenominational, Missouri Synod Lutheran, and more. With far less common doctrinal basis than my seminary faculty had, the Englewood pastors created a far greater obedience than we had ever dreamed of. What was I to make of that?

“Remember those who rule over you, who have spoken the word of God to you, whose faith follow, considering the outcome of their conduct.” The author of Hebrews 13:7 is talking specifically about our relationship to our local church leaders, but the principle applies. Pay attention to the outcome of your leaders’ conduct. Follow the faith of those whose fruit is good; do not follow the faith of those whose fruit is bad. 

So what did the Englewood pastors have that my seminary faculty did not? There actually are some relevant doctrinal pieces here, but that’s another post. The first and most important common element wasn’t doctrinal at all. It was obedience, straight up the middle. Jesus wanted us to be one, and they set out to find a way. They knew they weren’t going to be able to iron out every little doctrinal difference, and they were looking for ways to obey anyhow. Turns out, when we start looking for ways to obey instead of reasons not to, a lot of things are possible.

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Posted by Tim Nichols

Two Kinds of Hard Obedience

21 July 2020

We are Christians. We must seek to obey Scripture. We must particularly obey those passages which seem “hard” to us. There are two kinds of hard obedience, and two corresponding kinds of resistance.

The first kind of hard obedience is pretty well understood: we all know what to do and why to do it, but it’s just difficult. For example, a lot of Christians have a problem with drunkenness. Even when they decide to get sober, it is usually a significant struggle. In this kind of hard obedience, everybody understands very clearly why a good Christian needs to be sober. The hard part comes in the day-by-day slog of doing it.

The common resistance to this kind of hard obedience stems from laziness and/or despair. The drunk doesn’t believe he has the strength to really do it. Lacking hope, the whole thing seems impossibly hard. If he gets on the wagon anyway, he’ll start to build some hope…and that’s where the laziness often gets him. Staying sober is just so much work. So he slacks off, goes dry drunk, and then relapses.

But there’s a second kind of hard obedience that is not primarily about the difficulty of doing it. For example, we’re told three times in the New Testament to sing Psalms. Do we obey? Mostly, no. Why not?

Is it because it’s very hard to find tunes and singable settings and so forth? Not really. First of all, if you bother to really look, all that stuff is out there. Second, even if it weren’t, we have a multi-million dollar Christian music industry devoted to solving the logistical problems of generating and delivering Christian music to the end user. Hundreds of songs are written, recorded, and broadcast every year. Most of you reading this routinely learn new (or at least new to you) songs in church already, not to mention what you pick up off the radio. If our problems with Psalm-singing were merely logistical, we’d be well on our way to obedience in a couple months. (And don’t blame the music-industrial complex for our disobedience; they’re producing what we’re willing to buy. If we wanted albums full of Psalms, rest assured, they’d be delivering.)

It’s not hard for us because there’s anything especially difficult about doing it. In this case, the matter is hard for us because we don’t see why we should. We already have songs we like. The psalms are so long. They don’t fit our musical culture. They talk about things that you can’t sing about on Christian radio. And what about all that “slay my enemies” talk?

In other words, we are so far gone, we can’t even see the sense in obeying. We have been so disobedient for so long that the disobedience has become normal to us, and obedience has become impossibly weird. Why would anyone even want to do that? This is exactly what the author of Hebrews called “being hardened through the deceitfulness of sin.”

And there’s only one thing to do at that point: a practice I call “mere obedience.” Just do the thing. Obey, however ineptly to start with. Settle in for the long haul. Get better at it as you go. Trust that in due time, your obedience will bear fruit, and the reasons for the command will become very clear. It has been my experience that this is the case.

I can tell you now a bunch of reasons why we should sing Psalms. But I didn’t know any of those reasons when I started singing Psalms. I just started singing because the New Testament said I should. It was awkward at first and I had no idea what I was doing. But God was kind, and I grew, and the blessings began to roll in. In hindsight it all seems so inevitable…but only in hindsight.

I began praying the Lord’s Prayer seriously out of mere obedience too (“When you pray, say…” from Luke 11:2). And literally speaking blessing to people I meet (Luke 10:5). And a host of other things that I didn’t know the benefits for until I had been doing them a while. They’ve all proven fruitful.

So what obedience is God setting before you?

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Posted by Tim Nichols