1.  Move to your front yard. Think about where you're more likely to see your neighbors, and then spend your free time there. Read a book or enjoy your dessert on your front step. Move the game of catch from the backyard to the front.
   
   
2.  Take advantage of moving season to welcome newcomers. Lend a helping hand or bring over a meal.
   
   
3.  Participate in Community Events. From taking your children to the park to pursuing your local farmer’s market, there are dozens of opportunities to connect with people in your community.
   
   
4.  Plan a barbecue or picnic. Organize a cookout with your whole block to get conversations started. Or invite just one family over and spend an evening getting to know them.
   
   
5.  Participate in VBS. Whether you participate by serving in an official role or simply inviting your neighbors to VBS, this summer ministry provides a way to connect with parents and their children.
   
   
6.  Plant a garden or join a community garden. Ask the expert gardeners for their tips. Share your extra zucchini with the neighbors.
   
   
7.  Wash your cars and offer to wash your neighbors' cars too. This is a great way to get your kids involved in serving your neighbors.
   
   
8.  Start a book club. You don't even have to be reading a Christian book to start meaningful conversations about life and death or about values and beliefs.
   
   
9.  Invite your neighbor along on adventures. Taking your restless kids to a museum or park? Invite a neighbor to come along.
   
   
10.  Ask a neighbor to pick up your mail or check on your plants while you're on vacation. That simple display of trust can deepen a relationship. When you get home, invite them over for dinner.
    
    
11. Go on a neighborhood walk. Take an evening stroll with your family and determine to stop to talk to anyone who is out.

In The Meaning of Jesus (Harper Collins, 2000), coauthor Marcus Borg claims that the essence of Easter is that “Jesus was experienced” (p. 129). Borg asks: “Does the truth of Easter depend upon the empty tomb and appearance stories being historically factual in this objective sense?” He answers: “I see the empty tomb and whatever happened to the corpse of Jesus to be ultimately irrelevant to the truth of Easter.” Rather, Borg sees the “appearance stories” as the result of “developing tradition” and as true only as “metaphorical narratives” (p. 130).

“My argument” he continues, “is not that we know the tomb was not empty or that nothing happened to his body, but simply that it doesn’t matter. The truth of Easter, as I see it, is not at stake in this issue” (p. 131). “The truth of Easter does not depend upon something having happened to Jesus’ corpse” (p. 132). According to Borg, the Easter narratives found in each of the four gospels are meant only to stress the importance of a Christian’s continuing experience of Jesus’ influence after his death.

How discordant these words sound against the harmonious assertions of the Bible. The Apostle Paul stressed to the church at Corinth that his apostolic message hinged on the bodily resurrection of Jesus (1 Corinthians 15:1-2). Paul asserts that Jesus died (verse 3). The reality of his death was confirmed by the burial of his corpse in a tomb (verse 4). Paul then asserts that Jesus arose from the dead in fulfillment of prophecy (verse 4). The confirmation of his resurrection was his physical appearance to numerous followers, in a variety of groupings, and at various times and places (verses 5-7).

The structure of Paul’s argument in 1 Corinthians 15 indicates that the eyewitnesses of Jesus’ resurrection confirm that event in the same way the burial of Jesus’ body confirms his death. If the resurrection narratives are to be taken metaphorically, 1 Corinthians 15:5-7 serve only to deceive the reader. But if words ever mean what an author intends them to mean, verses 5-7 renounce any metaphorical interpretation of the resurrection narratives.

Having defended the historical death and resurrection of Jesus, the Apostle Paul then labors to say that this history is anything but ancillary to the faith. Rather, Paul continues, “if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain” (verse 14). Far from claiming that the physical resurrection of Jesus is “ultimately irrelevant” and “doesn’t matter,” the Apostle says, “For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins” (verses 16-17). Paul could not be more clear: Without the bodily resurrection—without “something having happened to Jesus’ corpse”—there is no Christian faith and there is no forgiveness of sin.

To the contrary, Paul proclaims that “in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (verse 20). Jesus does not merely live in the hearts of his followers as we continue to experience his influence in some sort of enlightened spiritual reality. Rather, Jesus broke the chains of death so as to secure the final resurrection of his people (verses 35-56). This liberation is historical and corporate, not merely metaphorical and existential.

If Christ’s resurrection is merely metaphorical, as Borg claims, what possible importance could Paul assign to a “firstfruits” aspect of Jesus’ resurrection? Paul is not doodling with words here. He is saying that Jesus, as the first one to triumph over death in the flesh, thereby secured the bodily resurrection of those who unite with him by faith (cf. Romans 8:23; Colossians 1:18; 1 Thessalonians 4:14).

The Apostle is not composing a narrative for the entertainment of the Corinthian church. He writes a letter of earnest instruction—the contents of which are ill-fitted to a metaphorical reading of the resurrection narratives. The Apostolic witness, proclaimed authoritatively less than two months after Jesus’ death (Acts 2:14-41) and in fulfillment of centuries of prophecy, asserts that Jesus physically died to pay the penalty of sin and rose bodily from the dead to secure the salvation of those who turn from their sin and trust in his provision (Acts 2:22-24, 38-40).

This good news inspires the joyful celebration of Christ’s followers worldwide. Some are singing right now. As the planet spins, we will soon have our opportunity. In the end, the song will go on for all eternity.

When it comes to Bible translations, similar differences of opinion arise—but these differences of opinion carry far greater significance. Most Christians have a favorite translation of the Bible, and any suggestion to deviate from that translation would likely be met with hesitation, if not outright resistance. That response is not necessarily bad, but it could be misguided. In coming to favor or love a particular translation, especially after years of memorizing, reading, and studying from that translation, many conclude that their translation is the best translation. All others are bad.

When we approach Bible translations we must avoid the tendency to declare one translation to be the best. In his recent book Authorized: The Use and Misuse of the King James Bible, Mark Ward argues, “English speakers are looking for the wrong thing when we look for best. We need to look instead for useful” (Ward, 127). Instead of trying to find the best translation—one that we will use in every situation—we should be determining which translations are the most useful in differing situations.

For instance, using the same translation for your personal study and for your evangelism efforts may not be advantageous. Imagine that you are trying to share the gospel with someone who is learning English as a second or third language. The KJV or the NASB may not be the most useful for that encounter. Perhaps the NIV or the NLT would be easier for that individual to understand—more useful.

Ward goes on to argue, “We need to ask: Which English Bible translations are useful for preaching? Which are useful for evangelism? Which are useful for reading through in a year? Which are conducive to close study? How about for reading to kids? For memorization? We can even get very specific in our search for useful. Which English translation is most useful for evangelizing this person I just met? Which one is most useful for reading through this year, given that I just read a more formal or more paraphrastic version last year?” (Ward, 127).

In order to determine which translations will be useful for differing situations, we must understand the spectrum of Bible translations. Every translation falls somewhere between two general categories: formal equivalence (a focus on form) and functional equivalence (a focus on meaning). Each category has inherent strengths and weaknesses, but these strengths and weaknesses have more of an impact on usefulness than on quality.

Formal Equivalence

Translations in this category are frequently referred to as literal, or word-for-word translations. While they are not strictly word-for-word, they do seek to prioritize the form of the original languages into the English translation. A formally equivalent translation generally seeks to translate the same Hebrew or Greek word(s) with the same English word(s). This style of translation generally retains the original terms for weights and measurements, original metaphors, and follows Hebrew and Greek grammar and syntax.

An obvious strength of a more formally equivalent translation is that the translators make interpretive decisions less frequently. Ambiguous and difficult passages are translated more literally, instead of being smoothed out for readability and help in interpretation. Of course, this also means that formally equivalent translations are more difficult to read. Translations that fall into this category include the KJV, NASB, ESV, and CSB.

When picking a translation for careful study, formally equivalent translations will be the most helpful. Although they will be more difficult to read, you will be able to work through difficult interpretive decisions, recognize literary markers, and follow logical arguments more accurately. Churches will generally pick a translation in this category for preaching and teaching so that the word can be studied and explained carefully and thoroughly.

Functional Equivalence

Translations in this category are sometimes referred to as thought-for-thought translations because they focus more on the meaning of a text than on the wording or the form of the text. This style of translation tends to be more readable because it reflects more modern English grammar conventions and word usage. More interpretive decisions are made and ambiguous and difficult passages are clarified and simplified. Translations that fall into this category include the NIV, NLT, and NET. Both the NLT and NET include helpful footnotes that include more literal renderings of phrases that are translated in an especially functional way.

When picking a translation for general reading (such as for a yearly Bible reading plan), functionally equivalent translations prove helpful. If you read through a more formally equivalent translation last year, you might consider reading a more functionally equivalent translation this year, and vice versa. This style of translation may also be more useful for reading with your children, or with people who are unfamiliar with the Bible.

While much more could be said about Bible translations regarding both philosophy and practice, here are a few practical tips for utilizing the wealth of Bible translations that are available to us:

1. Read the preface and translator’s notes at the front of the Bible. These notes will help you to know where the translation falls on the equivalence spectrum. These notes often include information relating to translation philosophy, translation issues, textual footnotes, and even information about the people involved in the translation committee.
2. Pick a primary translation that you use for careful study and for memorization. There’s nothing wrong with having a go-to translation; in fact, it will probably aid in memory and study.
3. Regularly compare multiple translations in your Bible study. While you may have a go-to translation, pull out other translations to read alongside it. This can be done easily with free Bible apps and websites.
4. Use different translations for different purposes. Try to determine which translation will be the most useful for studying the Bible with your next door neighbor, for reading to your children, or for evangelizing that person you just met. Consider which translation will be most useful for incorporating God’s word into every aspect of your life.
5. If you have questions about a translation, ask someone! If you aren’t familiar with a translation, ask a pastor or someone you trust. While there are many excellent translations, there are translations that are not faithful or true (e.g. the New World Translation, made popular by the Jehovah’s Witnesses).
6. Thank God regularly for the abundance of Bible translations that are available. Translating the Bible takes hard work and extensive education. Thank God for the people he has gifted with language skills, education, and the desire to translate his word.

May God bless you as you seek to know him through his word.

For further reading:
How to Choose a Translation for All Its Worth
Authorized: The Use and Misuse of the King James Bible
How to Understand and Apply the New Testament (Chapter 3: Translation)

Bible Translation Abbreviations Key:

KJV – Kings James Version
ESV – English Standard Version
NIV – New International Version
CSB – Christian Standard Bible
NLT – New Living Translation
NASB – New American Standard Bible
NET – New English Translation

It seems that the idea of playing games often never gets any further than just “having fun” or “filling time.” Is that really all that playing games is about? Do we play games with the kids and together as adults at Eden Baptist just to have fun or burn energy so we can sit still later? Is it merely a self-indulgent pastime that gets the wink because of our humanity? What happened on the football field some forty years ago stirs up a host of thoughts that energize my passion to go beyond this shallow consideration of games. As young lads, we thought we were just having fun, but there was much more happening on that football field. An old man with a silly game of football from his childhood lodged in his head certainly tells us something about our humanity. It’s something we need to consider—it will change the way we play the game.

Games are a powerful tool in bonding souls, influencing the next generation and reaching the lost. Games build bridges that otherwise would be very hard to build. The Bible clearly teaches us to be bound together in love (Col 3:14), to influence the next generation for God (Deut 6:6-25) and to reach the lost (Matt 28:19-20.). It is our job to make these things happen and games can be one of the most effective tools to help accomplish these ends.

Bonding Souls

In our culture, we move quickly from one responsibility to another, then tuck away to the safety of our homes between trips. Our interaction with the assembly can easily follow this harmful pattern. A healthy church must be joined in soul by worshipping, eating, talking, laughing, crying, working and, yes, playing together. The comfort and openness of a healthy family are developed by the dynamic exchange of activities.  Although I would not say that games are the most important element here, I do say that a good game tears down barriers and opens the soul in unique ways. So as we contemplate involvement in church activities we must realize a broomball activity is not really about broomball.

Influencing the Next Generation

Probably one of the most important aspects of playing together is the bridge it creates between generations. As a young person, I was surprised to find out that my Pastor was really a down-to-earth, interesting guy. On a road trip, I saw a side of him that laughed and played. He was real! This revelation gave me a deeper appreciation of him and his teachings. I have since realized that those I remember best from my childhood and those who influenced me most were the adults that played with me. I am sure that in all my school years I had several outstanding school principals, but the only one that I knew existed was the one that punted us the football during recess. It is very unlikely that you will influence the next generation unless you play with them.

As a church body, we must do what we can to break down generational barriers. Whether it is the men of the church building a rope swing and launching the kids into the river or the ladies ripping “lifety” bands off fleeing young potato bandits, the eternal payback is overwhelming. The true person is often exposed and genuine holiness is lived and taught in ways that are otherwise virtually impossible. Not only do these games create a wholesome memory that will moor a young soul; they open the door to the heart of the next generation.

Reaching the Lost

Games also open doors and build bridges to the lost. Any visitor from a foreign country would struggle with language and cultural differences. A good game provides a unique avenue of interaction and communication that could never be reached in conversation. As we bring lost and un-churched friends into our assembly, we have a significant cultural barrier in much the same way. Games are probably one of the most effective ways of overcoming this. Exciting and interesting games may be the only thing that brings a kid back to YWAP or Teen Group a second time thus allowing God’s Word another door of opportunity. This should not be an excuse for lackluster teaching but neither should we apologize for the effectiveness of a good game.

Conclusion

One of my early wrestling coaches always asked me after a match “Well, what did you learn?” This insightful coach helped me see beyond winning and losing to realize that every match was an opportunity to develop. When it comes to games, we must ask these questions to move us beyond our natural shallow perceptions toward ginormous opportunities to serve one another.

Music and the Christmas season will forever be linked. Even as the repository of Christmas carols become less and less familiar to younger generations, it amazes me how so much biblical truth is “fair game” when presented through music during the Christmas season. As long as this open door to our culture remains, using the music of Christmas to deliver the gospel to open hearts makes perfect sense.

Every Christmas season is a special time of year at Eden. Not only is the building decorated beautifully, but our church family has unique musical opportunities to proclaim the gospel story in song.

First, the adult and children’s choirs work for about three months toward delivering a Christmas program designed to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. While this event brings great joy to our own church family as the children sing several songs and various musical groups sing, it also provides a great opportunity for local friends and family to hear the truth of Jesus Christ proclaimed through the vehicle of music.

Second, on what typically is a very cold December evening, our church gathers annually for the purpose of singing Christmas carols around our city. We visit several nearby assisted care facilities, as well as the homes of elderly members within our church body. As we sing one carol after another we often see their eyes filling with tears as their hearts are warmed with the reminder of a Savior who was born to save people from sin.

In both of these venues, we sing the well-known invitations “let every heart prepare him room” and, “Come to Bethlehem and see Him whose birth the angels sing, Come adore on bended knee Christ the Lord the newborn King” What an opportunity we have to publicly call sinners to repentance through the powerful vehicle of music. Just as the Scriptures adorn the coming of Christ with music and poetry, may God also use us to continually adorn the gospel story as His Church never ceases to "proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called us out of darkness and into His glorious light” (1 Peter 2:9).

As the years passed, I lost my love for Narnia. I was like Queen Susan who became too keen on being “grown-up.” Later, as C. S. Lewis wrote to his Goddaughter Lucy in the dedication of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, I became “old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” I read through the each of the books every September while I was in college. It was then that my love for Narnia, and for Aslan, deepened. Finally, during my senior year, I read Joe Rigney’s Live Like a Narnian: Christian Discipleship in Lewis’s Chronicles. Rigney helped me to breathe deeply the Narnian air so that by knowing Aslan there, I might know Jesus better here.

One of the most profound lessons I learned from my Narnian friends was about suffering and the sovereignty of God. So often I felt misunderstood, left alone in the pains of childhood—sometimes real and sometimes imagined. But I was not the only boy who felt that way. One Narnian, Shasta, felt the same way.

In The Horse and His Boy, Shasta, along with a young girl and two talking horses, raced across the desert on an unfortunate errand—to warn King Lune of an impending attack. On his journey, a lion chased after them, wounding his newfound friend, Aravis. Finally, Shasta makes his way to King Lune and gives him the warning, only to fall behind and get lost. As he rides through a foggy, mountainous path, he begins to reflect on all the pain and sorrow that he has experienced.

He has no friends, no family. He was raised as an orphan by a man who adopted him simply to use him as a servant. After escaping that horrible life, he found himself in danger, pursued by enemies and lions, hungry, cold, and all alone. In his loneliness, thinking about his hardships, he suddenly feels a creature walking beside him. Unable to bear the presence of this unknown and unseen creature any longer, he whispers out, “Who are you?”

“One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep . . . “I can’t see you at all, said Shasta, after staring very hard . . . “Oh, please – please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world!”

Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, . . . “Tell me your sorrows.” The warm breath of the Thing comforted Shasta, so he went on to tell of all the hardships of his life and the journey to King Lune.

“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.
“Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you that there were at least two the first night, and—“
“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the Lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”

Amazed at this great creature, Shasta was “no longer afraid that Voice belonged to something that would eat him, nor that it was the voice of a ghost. But a new and different sort of trembling came over him. Yet he felt glad too.”

As he rode on listening to the Voice, the mist and the darkness disappeared, replaced by the singing of birds. Night was finally over. Shasta then looked over to see a Lion, even larger than his horse, walking beside them.

After one glance at the Lion’s face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn’t say anything but then he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything.

The High King above all kings stooped towards him. Its mane, and some strange and solemn perfume that hung about the mane, was all round him. It touched his forehead with its tongue. He lifted his face and their eyes met. Then instantly the pale brightness of the mist and fiery brightness of the Lion rolled themselves together into a swirling glory and gathered themselves up and disappeared. He was alone with the horse on a grassy hillside under a blue sky. And there were birds singing.

As Rigney so helpfully summarizes, “In this moment, Shasta discovers that behind a frowning providence, Aslan hides a smiling face . . . As he says to Aravis later, Aslan ‘seems to be at the back of all the stories’” (Rigney, 124–125). Aslan really is behind all the stories. For if we come to see that “there is a God in heaven, there is no such thing as a mere coincidence, even in the smallest affairs of life” (Piper, 37). Your sorrows are no accident and they are no happenstance. Behind the frowning providence of our pain is God’s smiling face. He does not bring us into suffering alone or without purpose. Quite the opposite. Though we may not see it now, God is with us and is working to bring about our pain for his glory and our good (Romans 8:28–29).

Perhaps you have found yourself disenchanted with the God of the universe, disbelieving even, because of your pain and your sorrows. The path to healing does not lead away from the God who permits your pain. You must not, like Shasta, ask God to go away and count yourself the unluckiest person in the world. Instead, you must gaze into the glory of God, willing yourself to believe in his goodness, even when you cannot see it.

In our adventure into Narnia, Shasta realized the good. He saw the blue skies. He heard the birds sing. But he didn’t get to pick when the good came. We must rest in the sovereignty of God, trusting his timing, knowing that the good will come—even if it never comes in this life. To resist the Lion is to run from hope and rest. To embrace the Lion, in all his mystery, is to lock into the good purposes of God, no matter how dismal circumstances appear.

Like Shasta, we might try to interpret events as lucky or unlucky, as if that is all there is to it. But when we come face to face with the Lion, we know that it isn’t “luck at all really, it was Him. And now I’m in Narnia.” Venture into Narnia and join Shasta in reveling in the all-sufficient goodness of God. 

There is, however, a way to narrow down the psalms to help match them to the rhythms of life. Just as modern songs can be classified into genres—the blues, jazz, pop—these ancient songs can be classified into genres as well. Many genres have been proposed, ranging from dividing the psalms into just a few categories to dividing them into dozens of categories. Perhaps, though, classifying them into just a few categories will be of the most help in syncing the psalms with daily life. Mark Futato suggests three genres that do just that. He proposes that the psalms can generally fall into three categories: 1) Hymns, for when all is well. 2) Laments, for when something is wrong. 3) Thanksgiving, for when what is wrong has been set right.

Hymns are those psalms with praise God for his goodness. They follow the movement of life when all is well. The hymn generally follows a pattern of 1) an invitation to praise God because all is well, 2) praise of God for who he is and what he has done, 3) and an affirmation of fidelity to God or a final invitation to praise God.

Psalm 29 provides a helpful example of a hymn. The psalm begins with an invitation to praise God (29:1-2). In this case, the invitation is to the heavenly beings. Following the invitation to praise God comes praise for who God is and what God has done (29:3-10). Here, the psalmist praises God with vibrant figurative language, both for his nature and for his works. The hymn closes with an affirmation of God's goodness in the form of a benediction or petition (29:11).

The lament mirrors the movement of life when something is wrong. In this movement, the psalm begins more negatively and ends more positively, as does the book of Psalms as a whole. Laments generally follow the pattern of (1) an address, identifying God as the recipient of the psalm, (2) the complaint, where the writer identifies the object of trouble, (3) an expression of trust in God, (4) a cry for deliverance, (5) an expression of assurance in God's ability to deliver, and (6) an offering of praise to God for his goodness.

This form can be seen in Psalm 3. The psalmist immediately addresses Yahweh (3:1), expresses the complaint (3:2), expresses confidence in God along with a cry for deliverance (3:3-6), gives assurance that God will indeed deliver him (3:7), and ends the psalm with an offering of praise (3:8).

Thanksgiving psalms express thanks for when wrongs have been righted. This setting right of wrong is always attributed to God. These psalms generally have three sections: (1) giving thanks, (2) remembrance of past help in time of need, and (3) a final expression of thanks. Futato points out that the middle section may include content that appears to be a lament, so psalms of thanksgiving can be confused with psalms of lament.

Psalm 30 is an example of a psalm of thanksgiving. The psalmist begins by giving thanks (30:1) and immediately shifts into the middle section, where the psalmist not only remembers the past difficulty, but also the past help provided by Yahweh (30:2–10). This section is the lengthiest part of the psalm. If one were to skim over verse one, he or she might think that this is a lament psalm. However, the lament is actually remembering a lamentable situation with the goal of highlighting the outcome of God's character in action coming to the rescue. Finally, the psalmist gives final praise to God (30:11-12).

While the psalms can, and should, be read with meaning as a collection, each psalm carries significant individual meaning. This is one reason that psalms should be read individually, instead of reading multiple psalms in a row. In order to connect to the specific sub-genre represented by the psalm, the psalm needs to stand alone. As such, the sub-genres help us grasp the meaning of the psalm, both through its function and its form. The sub-genres of the hymn, lament, and thanksgiving psalms help readers relate the psalms to each corresponding movement in their own lives.

So read the psalms, pray the psalms, memorizing the psalms, sing the psalms, and meditate on the psalms—do this in every season of life because the psalms are made to match every rhythm of your life. When all is well, read and pray and sing a hymn psalm. When something is wrong, let the lament psalms channel your response. When God makes your wrongs right, join in with thousand before you in reveling in a psalm of thanksgiving. This, in part, is why God gave us the psalms.

For more on the Psalms, see the following:

Mark D. Futato, "Psalms," in A Biblical-Theological Introduction to the Old Testament: The Gospel Promised, ed. Miles Van Pelt (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016)

Gordon D. Fee and Douglas Stuart, How to Read the Bible Book by Book (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2002)

But can the categories ever merge? More pointedly: Can the bad and the ugly become the soil from which good sprouts? When we suffer life-altering ugliness, our souls naturally scream: “Never!” Nothing good can ever come of this!” The mere suggestion causes us to recoil. But I’d like to suggest that this natural response is more a matter of choice than necessity. Choosing to seek the good that may spring from the soil of ugly life experiences is an invaluable life-skill and the source of remarkable joys.

Make no mistake, ugly happens and ugly is ugly, not good. On January 25, 1972, I was a 9-year-old Philadelphia kid in love with basketball. A schoolmate approached me with a somber face. He was a thoughtful friend who knew I had roots in Minnesota and he broke the news to me with all the bearing of one reporting the death of a mutual friend.

The Minnesota Gophers men’s basketball team had instigated an on-court brawl at the end of their game against the Ohio State Buckeyes. OSU center, Luke Witte, had been beaten to the ground and his head kicked and stomped on as he lay helpless on the hardwood. With blood streaking a face that would require 29 stitches, a semi-conscious, concussed Witte was hauled off the floor in a stretcher as Minnesota fans booed and threw objects at him.

This event, which Sports Illustrated covered under the title “An Ugly Affair in Minneapolis,” proved ugly in a life-altering way. Three OSU players were hospitalized. Witte spent the first 24 hours of his stay in ICU. The effects of his injuries were life-long and arguably career-shortening. To this day, his vicious beating identifies him wherever he goes.

It also marked Marvin “Corky” Taylor wherever he went. Taylor was the Gophers’ player who delivered the initial blows that sent Witte to the floor and ignited the infamous brawl. Until the day of his death in 2012, Taylor could never escape the linkage of his reputation with that vicious assault.

But out of that ugly soil, both Witte and Taylor made the choice to seek good. Following a brief NBA career, Witte became a Christian pastor and chaplain who determined neither to dismiss, nor to be embittered by, what he had suffered that inhospitable night in 1972. At some point, Witte and Taylor began to exchange letters and emails. Then, in their early 50’s, Taylor invited Witte to fly to the Twin Cities and spend a couple of days together at Taylor’s Plymouth home.

Let that sink in. The victim became a guest in the home of the perpetrator. The man who once harmed, now extended a hand of welcome hospitality. The man once harmed, chose to graciously grasp that hand.

Joined by Clyde Turner, a teammate of Taylor’s who participated in the 1972 debacle, the three men viewed the troubling videos of the incident in Taylor’s basement. That is to say, they chose to face the ugliness head on. Ugly was ugly and no one pretended otherwise.

They then discussed their differing views of that game and the brawl. They bemoaned the bitterness that had consumed others. Most importantly, they chose to forgive and reconcile. As Witte’s visit drew to a close, he hugged Taylor and Turner. On the occasion of Taylor’s death in 2012, Luke Witte expressed his deep sorrow and the privilege that was his, as he put it, “to call Clyde and Corky my friend.”

The reconciliation process was not easy, nor was it quickly accomplished. But Witte’s response to Taylor’s death proved that remarkable beauty had emerged from the ugliness. Witte made a choice concerning how he would respond to the wrong he suffered. And to this day he rejoices to discuss his ordeal when asked about it. On such occasions he does not spew bitterness but speaks of the wonder of forgiveness. Citing Genesis 50:20, he rejoices that God took an incident intended for evil and turned it into good. Out of very ugly soil came forgiveness, reconciliation, friendship, and peace.

Seeking the good in the ugly is not a natural skill. Nor is it ever an evasion of the realities of one’s suffering. It is, however, a choice that can ultimately be made as one stands on the foundation of a sovereign God big enough to marshal evil, and so magnificently good as to infuse beauty into everything he touches (Genesis 50:20; Romans 8:28-29). It is a choice that mirrors God’s own reconciling work as he extends an inviting hand to lawbreakers and offers them forgiveness and friendship (Romans 6:23).

Although written from a cessationist perspective, this book is not solely an argument for cessationism. More accurately, this book is a primer on the spiritual gifts. Understanding this book primarily as an argument for cessationism or a defense against continuationism would be to misunderstand his intentions in writing and to misread the tone of the book as a whole. In fact, readers may be surprised by how charitably he navigates these two positions and how beneficial his work is, even for those who may disagree with his position. Of course, Schreiner interacts with conservative continuationists, such as Wayne Grudem and Sam Storms, but does not outline or interact with their views in depth.

After briefly interacting with the charismatic movement as a whole, he begins by focusing on defining the spiritual gifts listed in the New Testament. He defines them as “gifts of grace granted by the Holy Spirit which are designated for the edification of the church” (16). His definition rules out spiritual gifts as a measure of spirituality, an indication of Spirit baptism, or a means for self-edification and self-glorification. Additionally, he recognizes in his definition and listing of the gifts that the New Testament may not provide an exhaustive list. However, he rightly notes that while additional gifts may be genuine spiritual gifts, it is striking that Paul does not mention any of them (17).

Perhaps somewhat unique to Schreiner is his identification of the gift of wisdom and the gift of knowledge as the gift of teaching. The most immediate implication of this identification is that when Paul speaks of knowledge coming to an end he is referring to the gift of teaching (21). A secondary implication of this identification is that many gifts may overlap in definition, lacking a clear distinction in identity (20). This makes clearly recognizing and defining the gifts difficult.

In the next two chapters, he points out ten truths about spiritual gifts. These truths have to deal with the purpose and exercise of the gifts, as well as the identification of the gifts in and the reception of the gifts by individuals in the body of Christ. Here Schreiner engages pastorally, particularly encouraging those who feel inferior in their gifting and ability in serving Christ’s church. He writes,

“If you think, I don’t have any gifts. I am of no value to anyone, your thinking about yourself is off-center. God has given you faith, and he created and made you to be a significant help to others. Don’t reject what God has done in your life by putting yourself down. We may feel that our gifts are insignificant or unimportant, but we are mistaken. The contribution of every member of the body matters . . . If you are feeling inferior about your role in the body, then your feelings, as are our feelings so often, are off-track” (40).

On the other hand, Schreiner warns against pridefully embracing spiritual gifts in self-service while simultaneously ignoring those with less visible or impactful giftings. “Such pride is irrational and self-destructive. Even if we don’t realize it, we desperately need every part of the body” (42). Though he addresses these and other pastoral concerns relating to spiritual gifts in the church, he also addresses theological issues, such as the timing and scope of Spirit baptism. Without diving deeply into theological minutiae, he convincingly argues for Spirit baptism as an instantaneous, initiatory act at conversion (53).

Chapter five addresses six frequently asked questions relating to spiritual gifts, such as Does every Christian have a spiritual gift? Are the gifts supernatural or are they just natural talents that we enjoy? And Why should we seek the gifts at all, since they are sovereignly given by God? He does not provide extensive answers to these questions, but what he does provide at least begins to help one think through these common questions.

Chapters six through nine begin a turn in focus to more pointedly write from a cessationist point of view as the gifts of prophecy and tongues come into consideration. Here he works through the definition of the most debated gifts, beginning with prophecy and ending with tongues. He lists arguments for a contemporary understanding of prophecy and tongues (championed in conservative evangelicalism by Wayne Grudem) and responds to each briefly.

Schreiner points out that even those who claim to be continuationists deny that the gifts of prophecy and tongues operate the same way that they did in the New Testament. In so doing, continuationists actually espouse a form of cessationism (161-162). He understands conservative continuationist definitions of prophecy to refer more accurately to impressions that one might receive from God. He avers that those who think they are prophesying are more likely relaying something that God impressed on their heart. He explains,

“It is better to characterize what is happening today as the sharing of impressions rather than prophecy. God may impress something on a person’s heart and mind, and he may use such impressions to help others in their spiritual walk. It is a matter of definition; what some people call prophecies are actually impressions . . .” (118).

This clarification helps explain the reality behind a claim to prophecy, especially when that prophecy fails to come true or fails to accord with the Scriptures. Unfortunately, Schreiner has less of an explanation for those who speak in ecstatic utterances. He concludes, “It doesn’t follow that what they are doing is necessarily evil, but neither is it the same thing as the gift we find in Scripture” (131). Other than briefly mentioning J. I. Packer’s theory that contemporary tongue-speaking may be a form of psychological relaxation (130-131), he offers no further explanation of this phenomena.

In the final two chapters, he concedes that there are unconvincing arguments for cessationism, such as the identification of “the perfect” in 1 Corinthians 13 as the closing of the canon (147-148). However, he believes that there are good arguments for cessationism that can be discerned from Scripture, deduced theologically, and evidenced historically (156).

There is no need to detail his arguments here, as he does not really add anything new to the argument for cessationism in these chapters. Nevertheless, the clarity of his argument helpfully moves past technical language to focus on the foundational role of the apostles and the prophets, the definition of the gifts, and the lack of indication in the New Testament that miraculous gifts must be normative in the Church until the return of Christ (155).

His argument for cessationism focuses on the gift of prophecy, seeking to defend the canon of Scripture from the implications of contemporary understandings of the gift of prophecy. While he also argues for the cessation of the gift of tongues, he concedes that if one claiming to exercise the gift of tongues does not make a claim to new revelation, the role of tongues is less important to his argument (163). In either case, he believes there are good reasons to think that prophecy and tongues have ceased (163).

He clarifies that a cessationist position does not mean that there is lack of belief in God’s abilities to work miracles in the present age; in fact, cessationists do and should pray for them (164)! He goes on to clarify that he believes that God may be pleased to grant the same signs and wonders as seen in the New Testament to cutting-edge missionary situations. This is why he defines his position as a “nuanced cessationism” (165). Even in those situations, though, he urges Christians to investigate such stories, recognizing that God generally shows his grace in ordinary ways, not in dramatic healings and the like (166).

Fittingly, Schreiner ends his work by recognizing that he may be wrong about the spiritual gifts and by confessing that love for one another is greater than unity in a cessationist perspective. He writes, “If I have the right view of gifts, but I don’t have love, then I am nothing” (172).

Schreiner meets his objective in this book. He has provided a readable work on the spiritual gifts that not only addresses the cessationist/continuationist debate, but rightly teaches about the spiritual gifts in the life of the church. Scholars will certainly recognize Schreiner’s careful work and general readers will benefit from his contribution. Both cessationists and continuationists will benefit from this book (not to mention those who aren’t sure what they think). Though I have not read exhaustively on this topic, I have read widely enough to know the current conversation on this topic and to conclude that Schreiner’s book is the first that I would recommend to someone with any questions relating to the spiritual gifts in the life of the church.

Trials 101. My wife was pregnant with our first child. The moment I found out, I was the happiest person in the world! Words cannot describe the moment you realize you're a dad. My wife had an app that notified her of the number weeks and how our baby had developed, and we would pray for each part of the development process. But as we made it to the OBGYN's office, the doctor was concerned that our baby's heart was not beating which then led to hours and hours of testing and ultrasounds. The joyous expectations of meeting our baby were dashed with a very painful miscarriage and sleepless nights. We don't know why God chose to take our little one, but in the midst of it all, we've been able to share in the sufferings of many who have experienced similar griefs. In times of our darkness and pain, God shed the light of his comfort on us through His word and his people. Although the life of our little one was short, we hope that the grace we experienced through this trial will be a means to comfort others (see 2 Corinthians 1:3–7).

Rest 101. In the midst of the hustle and bustle, I've learned to rest in my Sovereign God. There is nothing wrong with working hard, but working with no plans to rest will burn you out quicker than you know it. Sometimes we forget that we're human, and God designed us to work and to rest.  Just as we work to the glory of God, we must also rest to the glory of God. This means taking time for yourself and the family to refocus and recalibrate and trusting that God is at work, even when you're not.

Vocation 101. I would have never written the story of my life the way it's transpired. For a while, I've sensed God's call for me to serve Him in ministry. But the path to that end did not always make sense. In my mind, it would have made so much more sense to move from Bible college to seminary and pastoral internship and then ministry. Instead, God had a better path for me. After college, I pursued two Master's degrees while working as a security guard, then a barista, then serving, then marketing, and then working as a leasing agent at an apartment complex. Some of the jobs were enjoyable and others not so much. But in the midst of this journey, I've cultivated many skills––skills like organization, teamwork, finances, problem-solving, and even working with difficult people. I'm not sure how all these skills will play out in ministry, but I know God did not waste any moment of my life up to this point. There is purpose and meaning in it all, even when it doesn't make sense at first.

In a longer path than I thought it would take to get from point A to point B, God has recently called Rachel and me to serve at Bayview Church on the Island of Guam. In the coming months, I will transition from "leasing agent-seminarian" to a youth minister discipling teens, young adults, and the church at large.

Moving 101. Minnesota will always have a piece of our heart. In a span of 6 years, we've gained deep friendships and invaluable experience from Eden Baptist Church. Our lives have been encouraged and challenged by the brothers and sisters we've served along. And in the midst of trying to be a blessing, we've gained unexpected blessing in return as we've been encouraged and challenged by godly men and women (and even children!) who have invested in our lives on a number of levels. I'm starting to realize what the apostle Paul meant when he longed that he and the church would be "mutually encouraged" (in Romans 1:12).

In the coming weeks, Rachel and I will be saying "farewell" to a chapter of our lives and "hello" to another. The goodbyes are bittersweet. And I'm certain there will be tears along the way. But we know that God will use the pain and joy, heartache and mundane to build his Church and sanctify his people from the snowy banks of Minneapolis to the sunny beaches of Guam. And every step of the way, we are confident that "He will hold us fast."