Shouldn’t Be There In The First Place

25 November 2025

Zach McCartney has published “A Plea for Biblical Scholars” wherein he asks for more biblical studies scholars. We need a generation of fresh, believing scholars, he says, to step in and protect hapless seminary students who are being led astray by the materialist assumptions of their biblical studies textbooks.

Now, biblical studies scholars who actually believe the Bible are a Good Thing and there should be more of them. Thus far, Mr. McCartney and I agree. A seminary student has a right to expect that his textbooks won’t poison him; I agree there, too.

But these students he’s talking about — what are they doing in seminary? A Christian man who’s going to be led astray by basic materialism has no business in any grad school, still less in preparation for the ministry. Who are these people? Where is their discernment? Where is their courage? Who thought it was a good idea to send them to seminary? Inquiring minds want to know.

I also want to know about the institution that uses such texts as if they are reliable resources for their students. We’ve talked before about the relationship between materialistic doubt and academic respectability, but it’s worth revisiting here. Our academic institutions frequently define success and prestige in the same way as their secular counterparts. As a result, your average Christian scholar needs the approval of the academic guild far more than the approval of the Church. Whatever norms the secular academic world cooks up for itself therefore come seeping into the Church by way of our schools — and it happens a lot faster in schools devoted to “excellence!” Discerning Christians may be called to redeem such institutions, but until that effort is successful, we have no business funding them. Moreover, we ought to be policing the incentives that shape our career academics. People who are unwilling to forego the praise of the secular elite have no business in the Christian academy at any level.

As with our mentoring crisis generally, the solution here is mainly small-scale. Churches must be most interested in discipling whatever students, faculty, or administrators that are within the fold. You don’t need a fancy campus ministry with a bunch of big, well-funded events (not that there’s anything wrong with that) nearly so much as you need 30 ordinary Christian men willing to disciple one college student each.


An Orphanage for Pastorlings

18 November 2025

Seminaries serve an important function: they train up leaders whose churches are simply not adequate to the task. This is the same function that orphanages serve. But we think ill of parents who—simply because orphanages exist that will take in their kid—decline to do the job themselves.

In today’s churches, we think it’s normal. Why?

It’s not because the Bible taught us to think so. The first-century church raised up its own leaders. “The things which you have heard from me among many witnesses, commit these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also” (2 Timothy 2:2). That verse was given to a man in church ministry. Today, you’ll find that verse all over seminary websites and literature, but Paul intended it to be obeyed in the context of the church.

It’s not that the New Testament is somehow opposed to academic preparation; it says nothing of the kind. But the New Testament knows nothing of “preparation for ministry” that is abstracted from the local church context, taking place outside the local church and away from the oversight of local church leaders. That’s not a thing in the New Testament—and for good reason.

Is our way better? Consider that the seminary is famously unable to prepare its students for the realities of practical ministry. “They don’t teach you that in seminary!” is a very common joke among seasoned ministers, but for the guys in their first couple years of ministry, it’s not funny.

Imagine walking up a nice suburban sidewalk, knowing that on the other side of the front door you’re about to knock on, there’s a young widow and three kids whose dad is never coming home. And they don’t know about it yet; you’re the one who’s going to tell them. And nobody ever taught you how to do it. Nobody even mentioned that you’d have to.

That’s a sign of pretty serious dysfunction. Seminary-trained pastors, answer me this: would you go to a doctor whose med school prepared him for practicing medicine as poorly as your seminary prepared you for ministry?

Why do seminaries fail so terribly? I think it’s pretty obvious. A seminary is two principal things: classroom and library. Naturally, it gravitates toward the things classrooms and libraries are good at. Doing the rough work of discipling people through the dust and mud of daily life, becoming a generalist in the varieties of human misery along the way—that doesn’t fit well into semesters. In most academic programs, you can’t even flunk someone for having weapons-grade empathy but no discernment or vice versa, no tolerance for disagreement among teammates, or other critical failures of personal development, and still less for lack of personal spiritual maturity. In other words, there’s a fairly obvious mismatch between the tools a classroom brings to bear and the task of preparing someone for ministry, and an even more obvious mismatch between what the classroom can assess and the needs of real practitioners.

You know what I find particularly maddening? As a culture we know exactly how to solve for that mismatch. In trades where practical know-how is everything, from electrician to doctor, we solve that problem reliably with a relatively simple formula. We use academic study to give the trainees sufficient background knowledge to get them started, and then put them into the field for supervised practical experience. Practical performance is graded, tests with meaningful feedback are frequent, and the trainee is expected to improve rapidly, because their future opportunities hang in the balance. We don’t let them practice independently until they’ve been through that gauntlet and prevailed.

And it works. Our electricians and our plumbers and our doctors graduate into their trade able to practice competently. What we do with our pastors, at this point, is analogous to putting a guy through the first two years of med school—the classroom part—and then sending him out to practice medicine with no support at all. We’ve no right to be surprised by the results.


Why Me?

11 November 2025

Usually we associate “Why me?”with self-pity.

  • The car breaks down: “Why me?”
  • A pipe breaks and floods your bathroom: “Why me?”
  • You come down with a wicked head cold right before you have to give a big presentation at work: “Why me? Why now?”

The answer to those questions is always the same: “Why not you?” The incarnate Son of God was lied about, subjected to a sham trial, mocked, whipped, nailed to a tree and tortured to death, and you want your life to be easy? Get over yourself.

But there’s another time we think “Why me?”

  • God puts it into your heart to lead an initiative to feed the homeless in your city: “I don’t know…I mean, I’ve never done anything like that before…All these other people are so much more qualified.”
  • Your friend is sick, and it crosses your mind how great it would be to pray boldly for her healing: “I can’t do that. Besides, what if it doesn’t work?”
  • The best company you know is hiring for your dream job, and you hesitate to put in an application: “I’m sure there’s, like, a thousand people applying for the job, and why would they pick me anyway?”

Do you hear the “Why me?” behind all those questions?

The answer to both versions of “Why me?” is the same: Why not you? The incarnate Son of God did not let Himself be tortured to death so that your life would be easy. He did it so that you would grow holy and mature, fit for the good works that He planned for you to do. When God built you in your mother’s womb, He built you with a purpose, and He means to see it done.

The Son of God did not allow Himself to be tortured to death because He had nothing better to do that particular Friday. He took all your sin and weakness to the cross so it could die there. He rose from the grave so that you would know that no matter how bad the problem seems right now, there is resurrection on the other side of it. He is ready, right now, to walk with you into the life He intends you to live.

“Why me?” wants to avoid real difficulty, preferring a life of petty comforts and hollow victories over sham obstacles. “Why me?” will settle for a life of mediocrity and smallness.

But you were born for a place in God’s great purposes.


Map and Mountain

4 November 2025

It is foolish to set two good things at war with one another. Many Christians do exactly this with sound doctrine and supernatural experience. People who talk as though we should focus on one at the expense of the other are advocating for a deeply subchristian existence, no matter which way they lean. Happily, many of them don’t really practice what they preach — by the grace of the Holy Spirit, lots of folks find their way to doing the right thing despite their professed beliefs, for which all thanksgiving! But how much better would it be if we got the beliefs straightened out?

Sound doctrine — every last shred of it — relies entirely on supernatural experiences. From creation ex nihilo through the plagues of Egypt, Joshua’s long day, water into wine and right on to the resurrection of Jesus, supernatural miracles are the beating heart of the actual Christian faith. Will it all stand up to reasonable examination? Of course. Can you domesticate it with logic? Not a bit. Saul of Tarsus didn’t reason his way into Christianity. Nor did Blaise Pascal, nor Anthony Bloom. From biblical times right on to the present day (and on to the New Jerusalem), actual encounter with the living God is more than an exercise in logic; it is the thing that the sound doctrine is about.

Running your finger along trail on the topo map and climbing to the top of the mountain are related endeavors, and you climb best and make fewer errors if you’ve paid attention to the map. But they’re still not the same thing, and someone who’s paid less attention to the map, but actually climbed the mountain, knows some things that those who only read the map have never guessed at. “Which one is more important?” is a foolish, foolish question to ask.

If you don’t have the thing itself, then you have what the Pharisees had, and what Jesus was at war with. If you have it, but refuse to account for it in your theology, then you live a split spiritual life, acting on visceral instincts you can’t explain and won’t admit to, while theology remains an exercise in map-reading at the kitchen table — intellectually interesting, no doubt, but that’s not what the map is actually for. It’s doubly silly in that you’re actively trying to climb the mountain but refusing to admit that’s what the map is about.

We were made for better. Sound doctrine teaches us to expect the Holy Spirit to operate; every part of Scripture resounds with this message — only people who have been catechized by something other than the Bible think actually experiencing God is “debatable.” Nobody ever obediently read the book of Acts and then scoffed at supernatural experience. Scripture never teaches us to think that any gift ceases short of heaven, and the history of the church proves this out, if you bother to actually read the history.

Growing up in the Bible Church movement, I’ve been a rock-ribbed sola Scriptura guy my whole life. I didn’t really wake up to the reality of the Spirit’s present ministry until my 30s. I’ve served in significant capacities in two charismatic churches over the years, so I know a bit about that corner of the world. Charismatics, as a rule, lack exegetical rigor. But then, so do most theological conservatives; the far majority will prioritize party-line doctrine over actual exegesis. The Bible Church folk at least usually care about getting the exegesis right. You won’t hear those folks scoffing at how “boring” it is to “live out of a book.” You’ll hear plenty of charismatics say stupid things like that.

On the other hand, you’ll hear no shortage of Bible Church folks blithely asserting that “sound doctrine” is all you need to live the Christian life — as though ideas were enough and God’s actual presence in your life were immaterial! Honestly, it’s embarrassing. The New Testament flatly asserts the reality of mystical experience over and over, from John 17:3 to Gal. 2:20 to Rom. 8:10-11. It’s just impossible to live biblical spirituality without God’s actual intervention. And He does intervene; frequently people even recognize it, but through a variety of cognitive strategies, manage to keep their participation in tangible spirituality a secret from their theologizing.

Spiritual experience and theology are not natural enemies, and shouldn’t be set at odds with one another. “Which is more beneficial?” is a stupid question, a false question. You can’t live an intelligent Christian life without both.

You need sound doctrine to map the world. But when you’re beside a hospital bed, counting seconds since the last breath and looking at your watch in case you need to give the nurse time of death, sound doctrine just doesn’t get it done alone. “Peace that surpasses understanding” really exists, and talking about it is not the same thing as having it. (If you think it is, bookmark this post. Come back and read it again when your providentially ordered life teaches you otherwise.)


Can a Christian do Energy Work?

28 October 2025

Some while back, a friend asked me about energy work. Isn’t it all some new age mumbo-jumbo, after all? Or is there more to it than that? This was my answer.

Moving into bodywork was…well, it was a surprise. I expected to spend the rest of my life in the study and classroom, doing exegetical work more or less full-time. But God has an infinite capacity to surprise.

I remain a theologian, and I want to be able to offer a theological account of what’s going on as I work with a client in my new capacity. Doing that work has proven to be an adjustment. By comparison with the exegete’s calling, stepping out to theologize about what happens on the massage table felt a lot like walking a tightrope across the Grand Canyon with no net. Being an exegete by training and inclination, I was not much given to wandering out into areas that the text of Scripture didn’t explicitly address. Or so I thought…  But as I have come to grips with my new calling, I have begun to notice all the ways in which I was already plowing the fertile fields of general revelation, ways I was blind to because I just thought of them as “the way things are done.”

As a teacher, I had no qualms about showing a new preacher how to set up a 3-point topical sermon. That’s certainly not a particularly biblical structure; it’s just something that works well, and gives newbies a starting point. There’s nothing unbiblical about it, of course. It’s craft knowledge, discovered by working in my calling in God’s world, and paying attention to what works and what does not. There are any number of other teacher tricks — use of slides and visual aids, intelligent use of assignments, questions, discussion, and so on — that are likewise discovered in the doing, and then passed from master to apprentice, down the generations. I learned many of them from my teachers, discovered some on my own, and I pass them on to my students in their turn, which is all as it should be.

The same dynamic of craft knowledge applies to everything. Scripture tells us much, and it is authoritative. But in most fields of endeavor, special revelation walks us right up to the edge of the field, legitimizing the inquiry — and there it leaves us to explore. Scripture teaches us that the physical creation is real, and good, and worthy of our study, and then leaves us to study it. It doesn’t tell us that the oak tree has several different kinds of tissue in it, nor that all those tissues are composed of complex molecules, nor that those molecules are composed of atoms, nor that the atoms are made of protons, neutrons and electrons, nor that those particles break down into still more elemental particles, and so on. All that, we have to find out by examining the oak tree. Scripture gives us warrant for the examination, but it doesn’t tell us what we’re going to find.

And so it is with my work. Scripture tells me that the body is real, that it can be ill or healthy, but precious little about how to get it from the former state to the latter. That, we have to learn by exploring the fertile fields of God’s general revelation in the world. And by consistent and careful examination, by honest experiment, we have learned a whole lot — and we have a lot more to learn. Likewise, Scripture tells me that the spirit is real, which brings me to your question about energy work.

For pretty much any subject, I find the best way to begin is at the beginning, which is to say, in Genesis. The foundations of biblical anthropology are in those first few chapters. We first learn that we are designed to be God’s miniature self-portrait, His signature on the work of art that is the universe, which means we — male and female as a married team — are responsible to cultivate and guard the world. Thus far the first chapter. In the second chapter, we discover our composition: God compounded man from dust and breath. Dust is the material part that returns to the earth when we die. Breath is the immaterial part, the spirit that returns to God who gave it. But crucially, in the expression “dust and breath,” what is meant by “and”? In the complex interaction between physical and spiritual, there’s a lot we don’t really understand.

Our exploration of general revelation helps here, but it only takes us so far. We are learning that cells respond to very subtle influences — magnetic fields long thought to be so weak as to be indistinguishable from background noise, for example, or inputs as small as a single photon. It turns out that the human hands generate magnetic fields and electromagnetic radiation that is certainly strong enough for a body to respond at the cellular level. (See Oschman’s Energy Medicine: The Scientific Basis, 2nd ed., for a treatment of the physical science. Thanks to Flexner and his blinkered minions, we are a century behind on really exploring the field, so it’s maddening in spots, but it’s also really intriguing. The Healing Touch Program also maintains a research archive at healingtouchresearch.com, and they’re pretty good about keeping it up to date.) So that’s one thing we might end up meaning by “energy work:” instinctive manipulation of very subtle physical electrical, magnetic, and photonic inputs. 

But as a Christian, I see no reason to stop there. The things which are seen are not made of things which are visible, and we’re not just talking about subatomic particles here — electrons are visible in principle; it just takes a really expensive set of glasses to see them. But behind all that, behind the physical matter and energy, is something…other. Something spiritual in nature, that manifests in physical reality, but is prior to it and cannot be reduced to it.

In the language of the Eastern Church, everything that exists is made of God’s divine energies. Not His essence — that way lies pantheism or panentheism — but His energies, which flow from His being. There was no pre-existing material; it is all made by Him, and it all exists in Him — in Him we live and move and have our being, as both the pagans and Paul affirm. All that is, is the spoken word of God. He spoke, and it is, and He upholds all things by the word of His power.

And so when there is a person on my massage table, there is dust and breath, body and spirit. Following the biblical anthropology, I can use my body to work on their body, relaxing hypertonic muscles, releasing trigger points, and so on. Could I also use my spirit to work on their spirit? It seemed a hypothesis worth exploring, and upon experimentation, I find that it works. Moreover, when I set to work with that intention, and invite God to enter into the work and accomplish His will for my client’s well-being, I find that He shows up, and very interesting things happen. With some clients, it all happens quietly (because they’re not ready to be prayed over out loud), and with others, I come all the way out of the closet. We pray together, and God moves. I’ve seen everything from physical healings to spiritual turnarounds on my table. In all modesty, I’m good at what I do, but I’ve seen God do things that go way beyond anything I could accomplish.

So this is a very long way round to answering your question. As best I can tell, my energy work is partly manipulation of subtle physical energies that we’re only beginning to study, partly my spirit working on my client’s spirit in much the same way that my body works on his body, and partly the Holy Spirit (or whatever delegated angelic powers may be at work) responding to my prayer of invitation to do what the client and I are unable to do on our own.

I need to emphasize that the above is a description of my energy work. I make no guarantees about someone else’s work. Certainly the process is open to demonic manipulation, and some energy workers directly invite it. Others address their requests to “the universe,” which is sending your request into the spirit world addressed “To Whom It May Concern” — a dangerous practice if ever there were one. Lots of entities out there that might answer that request, and not all of them friendly. Some seem to address their requests to God without quite knowing who they’re talking to — “to the unknown god,” as it were. It is my pleasure, in that instance, to make the introductions. As with Paul’s experience in Athens, I find that most people aren’t too excited to have the veil of divine anonymity ripped away. But some want to hear more, and they’re the ones I came for.

The possibility of demonic intervention makes a lot of Christians nervous, and they want to be able to set up some kind of wall to separate our work from the bad stuff. A lot of people want that separation to be a matter of technique, as if you could photograph the difference between us and them — but no. There are doctrines of demons, but we don’t differentiate our teachers from theirs by their teaching techniques; we discern the content and results of the teaching. You don’t tell the difference between Moses and Jambres by technique — they both threw a staff on the ground that became a snake, both poured out water that became blood. It’s not the technique that distinguishes us; it’s which outlet your power cord is plugged into. We are made to live in partnership with God; nothing could be more natural than a human being seeking spiritual help in an endeavor. We shouldn’t be frightened by partnership with spiritual power. That admittedly leaves us with no escape from the task of actual discernment. But in my experience, the difference between God and a demon is not particularly subtle.

In my practice, I work spirit-to-spirit under God’s authority, and by His leading. The Scriptures lead me to expect that this might be a fruitful endeavor, practiced in service to Christ and under His Lordship, and I find that it is. I have seen wounded bodies restored and broken hearts healed. Some of that work was a stunning demonstration of human possibility. Some of it was plainly beyond my ability — and yet it happened nonetheless, thanks be to God. As with physical healing, not everything I try works — so I remember what does, and what doesn’t, and I try to do more of what does next time.

I look forward to growing in craft knowledge as I go. I already have a fairly good stock of knowledge that I couldn’t back up with a verse, any more than I could put a verse behind quenching O1 tool steel at 1475 degrees. But O1 hardens best when quenched at that temperature all the same, and likewise for what I’ve learned about energy work.

Well, I had better stop. I’m sure this was far thicker of an answer than you were really asking for, but I didn’t think I could do your question justice with less. Perhaps as I grow, I’ll be able to make it simpler.


Losing Ground with Style

21 October 2025

Every common rock is disease-free, but we do not call rocks healthy or well on that account, because we intuitively recognize that health is more than the absence of disease; it is the presence of vitality.
Health is not an accident; it is a gift from God. As with any gift, health calls for gratitude, and gratitude cannot be merely spoken. A child who says “Thank you” to his grandmother for the hand-knit sweater and then never wears it is polite, but not grateful. Saying “Thank you” is appropriate as far as it goes, but embodying real gratitude requires right use of the gift.

Every gift has its right use. A sweater should be worn; an album should be played; a toy should be played with. Even that most generic of gifts, money, is meant to be spent — as is our health. The gift can be stewarded, but not hoarded. We are all spending our capital, and in the end, our last creditor drains the account. In N. D. Wilson’s unforgettable phrase, “death by living” is the best we can hope for. So the question is not whether we will spend our health, but how — and how quickly.

Healing is the art of slowing down, of losing ground with style. We all move toward the edge of the cliff where our last creditor is waiting. Healing is helping someone spin away from the edge this time, helping someone dance two steps forward for every three steps back, helping someone dance instead of just being inexorably dragged toward the edge, clinging in vain to a bean-sprout sandwich. He who saves his life will lose it, as the rabbi said. Might as well dance.

Healing takes in the whole person. It is not enough to say that we require words for the spirit and touch for the body. A living soul is made of dust and breath, body and spirit, coextensively. You have never touched a living body without putting your fingers on a soul. When you touch a spirit with a loving word, watch what happens to the body — pupils dilate, posture and muscle tone shift, cheeks flush, breathing changes. Sometimes a word heals the body. Sometimes a touch heals the spirit.

But in reality, we do not heal people. Healing is a mystery, a gift. A surgeon can align bones and stitch up a wound, but we say that he set the bone and closed the wound, not that he healed the injury. He can bring the pieces into proximity with one another, but he cannot make the skin join, the blood vessels reunite, the fascia reconnect, the fracture remodel. A counselor can cause thoughts to meet that had been carefully hidden from one another, but he cannot reach in and fill the place where someone tore a hole in his client’s spirit. We remove barriers. We align the parts, hoping for wholeness. We create an opportunity, a container in which someone can receive healing, if it is given to them. And we wait, sometimes for seconds, sometimes for weeks. The work is too fine for any hands but God’s.


Wanting vs. Needing

14 October 2025

What people need and what people want are frequently two different things. In ministry, the observation “That’s not what the sheep want” gets used to justify all kinds of defections. “I’d love to teach more Bible, but it’s not what the sheep want!” “I’d love to have more prayer in our church, but that’s not what the sheep want.” “I’d love to care more for the poor, but that’s not what the sheep want.”

The sad fact is, these things might be true. But it’s the shepherd’s job to lead the sheep where they need to go, not where they want to go. They have their own will and they get to make choices, but that doesn’t relieve us of our responsibilities. If they’re headed the wrong way, we chase them down and turn them toward what they actually need. If their desires are disordered, it’s our job to help them want the right things. Let’s get to work!

I have to admit, leading the sheep toward what they need is a lot harder than giving them what they want. Bright-eyed guys coming fresh out of seminary and hoping to just be good shepherds and make a living wage at it may well be disappointed, and it’s discouraging to see ear-ticklers prosper while good shepherds struggle. But remember Who we’re following: foxes have holes, etc. While there’s nothing wrong with making a paycheck in pastoral care, that’s a relative rarity across the sweep of history and cultures.

Even in our prosperous times, shepherding work is mostly not what churches pay for, at least in my experience. My pastor father was a great shepherd, in a place where they certainly had the means to pay him. He got paid for teaching Christian school and media distribution; the shepherding he did–which was a lot–he did on the side, for free. I once served a church for two years with the title “Pastor of Discipleship and Ministry Logistics” and got zero support for the discipleship side of things. Nobody above me on the org chart ever asked how discipleship was going — not my boss, not any of the elders, nobody. My spending request for curriculum (a whopping $60) was turned down; I ended up buying what I needed out of my own pocket. I got plenty of support and accountability around making sure the bulletin got done and we didn’t run out of copy paper, though. Part of the answer here is to adjust your expectations; churches, like sheep, don’t always want what they need. Helping them want what they need is the job.

That particular church is where I learned this lesson the hard way. They’d hired me because they knew they didn’t know how to disciple or shepherd. They wanted me to bring those skills to the church, and I did. I expected them to support me intelligently in the task. I look back at that now and think, “Well isn’t that cute!” Of course intelligent support is a reasonable thing to want, but it’s very naive to expect people that don’t understand your job to support you well. Of course they didn’t know how to support me, for the same reason that they needed to hire me in the first place — they didn’t understand discipling or shepherding! The wise course of action would have been to actively train the leadership in how to support my work. Instead, I was struggling to do my job in spite of them, and was therefore constantly frustrated at the lack of support. As I say, that was the place where I learned this lesson. Feel free to profit from my error: go thou, and do un-likewise.

But mostly, that’s not a problem shepherds have. Most of the shepherds in Christ’s flock, most of the time, support themselves. Even Paul did, sometimes — if he’s not too good to make tents, who are we to balk at it? I can tell you, self-supporting ministry comes with a certain kind of freedom. If you’re self-supporting and you have a small network of godly men who will provide wisdom and accountability for your work, you don’t need anybody else’s approval. Just go forth and shepherd, and be glad you have the time to do so! During a big chunk of that two-year stint I mentioned above, I was tracking my time in 15-minute increments. Since I found the practice helpful, I continued it for a while after I left that position. Fun fact: in the weeks after I left, I spent *more* time shepherding than I had when I was on a church payroll, ostensibly being paid to shepherd and make disciples. Fewer distractions, you see. No marathon staff meetings. No copy paper to order. No bulletins to make. Just people who needed pastoral care. So I cared for them.

Effectiveness comes from focus. Focus is mainly about what we don’t do.


Whining About the Bulletin Board

7 October 2025

Over the past several years, I’ve noticed a number of people asserting their right not to be argued with on social media. The rant typically goes something like this:

“I’m posting MY opinions on MY personal page. I’m not here to debate you; don’t come up on MY page and argue with me. You got something to say, feel free to post your personal opinions on your personal page.”

I’m not gonna mince words here: this is a bratty, stupid, morally incoherent position, despite its pretense of even-handedness. A public statement has a privilege (people see it) and a cost (people get to respond to it). A private archive has a privilege (immunity to criticism) and a cost (nobody sees it). The rant above attempts to claim the privileges of both a public statement and a private archive while paying the costs of neither. Let’s break it down:

There’s an important sense in which “my personal Facebook page” doesn’t exist. When we’re talking about a blog or a website, it makes a lot of sense to talk about “my personal page;” people have to intentionally navigate to your page to see it, and when they do, they can’t complain about what they get. It’s your page, after all. But that’s not how social media works. When someone logs onto their social media feed, they don’t have to navigate to your “personal page” to see your content; it gets served up to them in their feed. Which means your “personal page” isn’t some private archive of your thoughts; it’s a public bulletin board where you post your thoughts so the algorithm can share them with the world.

And let’s be honest, you know this. The reason you post something on Facebook rather than a blog/website because you want more people to see it. So you are setting out the reap the benefits of airing your opinion publicly. That’s fine; there’s nothing wrong with that. But you can’t wimp out when it comes time to pay the costs. Basic conversational norms dictate that if you get to speak to me, then I get to reply. It’s not a one-way street.

If you just wanted a private archive of your thoughts, you can certainly do that. And if I’ve somehow hacked my way into your private diary and I’m replying, you’re totally within your rights to complain. But when you post on social media, that’s not what’s happening.

Somebody will say, “but I use my personal Facebook page as my private archive,” but that’s like saying “I use my F-250 as a bicycle” and then getting salty when someone doesn’t like it that you’re driving down the bike path. You’re attempting to assert a right to use your Facebook page in a counterfactual manner, and attempting to get everybody else to join you in your pretense. You don’t have a right to that.

Now, depending on your platform, you may have the ability to delete the comments you don’t like, but that doesn’t change the moral nature of the situation. You will state your opinion to the world, someone will respond, and you’ll delete it. They’re the reasonable person who gave a public response to a public statement, and you’re the dictatorial twit that censored it rather than replying. You’re hardly the first person to notice that it’s easier to exercise power than reason. If that’s who you want to be…good luck with that.


Waorani, Ayore,…University?

30 September 2025

Is Charlie Kirk a martyr?

I’ve seen some well-intentioned brothers questioning whether “martyr” is the appropriate word for Charlie. The answer is a hearty and unequivocal yes. He understood — as many Christians do not — that loving your neighbor means seeking the common good. To that end he spoke on political matters, because seeking the common good is what politics is about (at least if you’re a discerning Christian). In the process, he publicly and unashamedly preached the gospel of Jesus Christ on college campuses across the country. He moved easily from discussions of homosexuality, gender, taxation, and family into the gospel, because he correctly saw that they’re very directly related. In this he was like the Apostle Paul, who also spoke to those topics and moved easily from them to the gospel and back.

And he was killed for it. That’s the definition of martyrdom, if St. Paul counts as a martyr.

If you think he should have stuck with just preaching about Jesus, heaven and hell, the promise of eternal life, the cross, and so forth…a lot of people agree with you. So you got that going for you. But that’s not what Jesus did, and it’s not what Paul did. So there’s that.

My first thought, when I heard the news, was “I hope they like those card tables and ‘Prove me wrong’ banners, because there’s gonna be a lot more of them.” To my eye, this is a moment analogous to the murder of Jim Elliot and his friends by the Waorani, or the five New Tribes missionaries by the Ayore. A whole generation of young men have just decided what they want to be when they grow up. The people who were rejoicing at Charlie’s death have no idea what they’ve unleashed.

You no longer need to go halfway around the world to some remote jungle to risk your life for your faith. You can do it at the university campus just down the street. So let’s get to it.


Why Church?

23 September 2025

An acquaintance recently posted this meme:

This is a seriously dumb stance to take. It’s not an either/or thing.

But — whoever wrote the meme — let’s give him his due. I understand why church attendance feels irrelevant to a lot of people. For too many of us, church is Christian karaoke, a TED talk, and lying about how great your week was over bad coffee and stale donuts in the foyer. We don’t see those people in between Sundays, and in bigger churches, we won’t see the same people week to week even on Sunday. It’s not hard to see why that seems irrelevant.

That is irrelevant. But that’s not what church actually is.

So get a better church. Start obeying what the Bible says to do when we’re together: use your gifts to edify one another (1 Cor. 12-14), sing the Psalms to one another (Eph. 5:18-21//Col. 3:16), do good to one another and share (Gal. 6:10, Heb. 13:15-16). Can’t find a church like that? Don’t worry about it — find yourself a couple other believers who also want to obey these commands together. Get together and support one another. See where it goes.

A gathering like that isn’t irrelevant to your impact on the world; it’s where you get patched up from last week and armored up to go out into spiritual battle this week. It’s where you find answers and moral support for the hard things you face. It’s the people who pray for you when you’re headed into something tough; the people who show up at your door with a big pot of chicken soup when you’re sick; the people who will give you a ride home from the hospital after an outpatient surgery.

You need these people. If you don’t have them, you’re missing one of the great blessings of the Christian life. And not to put too fine a point on it, you’re disobeying one of the basic commands in the Christian life (Heb. 10:24-25).

Now if you’re one of four guys posted to a radar station in the Aleutians, and you’re the only Christian, then it’s not your fault you don’t have fellowship. You’ve been providentially prevented, and that’s on God. He’ll see you through it; take your time in the Cave of Adullam and turn a profit on it as best you can. But let’s be honest, that’s not most people.

Most Christians don’t have fellowship because they aren’t seeking it. They aren’t even trying to obey the instructions God clearly gave. If that’s you, there’s no better time to start obeying. Find yourself a few people and get to it!