There’s a mistaken, but sadly quite common idea about parenting, that parents play a vital role guiding children and building them up into healthy, mature, and responsible adults, until they leave the house.  This last bit is the trouble.  We hear it from the parents themselves during the troublesome teen years, when Dad is likely to angrily spout something like, “as long as you live under my roof, you’ll obey my rules!”  The implication is that, once you leave home and earn your own living, you won’t have to obey Dad anymore.  It may even be given biblical support.  “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” (Ge 2.24).  Buried within the point  about marriage, we can see the presumption that the man will have grown up in his parents’ home, and that he ought to one day leave it and make his own way.  Additionally, “we have had earthly fathers who disciplined us and we respected them” (He 12.9).  This is put in the past tense, as if the relationship between fathers and their adult children in the audience no longer involves discipline.

So far, this is all fine.  The relationship does change, when children become adults.  But it’s not a complete reversal of what it used to be, nor does the change occur like the flip of a light switch.  In fact, this relationship never remains static for long—parents have to carry around their infants, and the mothers even nurse them, but no one expects this to continue until the child reaches adulthood! 

Children are supposed to grow—in stature, in virtue, in knowledge, in understanding, in responsibility, and many other qualities.  In each new phase, the parents must change the way they interact with their children, in order to effectively provide what their children now need, which is different from what they needed months or years prior.

So, does this continual growth and change mean that parents’ influence over their children should be cut off, when they grow up?  Far from it!  Isaac was forty years old, when his father arranged his marriage (Ge 25.20, 24.2-4).  God’s grievance against the high priest and judge Eli had little to do with Eli’s own behavior, and much to do with his sons’—who were already serving as priests (1Sa 1.3).  Their age is unknown, but given that one of their offenses was that “they lay with the women who were serving at the entrance to the tent of meeting” (1Sa 2.22), it’s safe to say they had reached sexual maturity.  Why was God upset with Eli?  Because “he did not restrain them” (3.13).  Although they were grown men, and Eli was “very old” (2.22), unable to physically overpower his sons, God held him to account for failing to put a stop to their behavior.

Jesus teaches us about this, too.  He accused the Pharisees:

“For God commanded, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘Whoever reviles father or mother must surely die.’ But you say, ‘If anyone tells his father or his mother, “What you would have gained from me is given to God,” he need not honor his father.’” (Matthew 15.4-6)

He didn’t mean children living at home; rather, he meant grown children whose parents need their help, but don’t get it.  That shouldn’t happen!  In contrast, consider the example of Jesus himself, when his mother asked him to intervene in an embarrassing situation for the hosts of a wedding.  Never mind that he was “about thirty years of age” at the time (Lk 3.23)—he’s the Lord of all creation!  Even after he told her, “My hour has not yet come” (Jn 2.4), she knew he would do what she asked, telling the servants, “Do whatever he tells you” (v5).

Of course, this doesn’t mean that parents get to boss around their adult children forever; as noted earlier, the relationship is supposed to change.  But grown children should still honor their parents, seek their counsel, and work to repay their many years of love and sacrifice.  Parenting doesn’t end, when the child grows up.  Parenting is forever.

This is important as we seek to live after the pattern God has designed; but it’s even more important for spiritual reasons—it teaches us what to expect of spiritual parentage.  Paul told the Christians at Corinth,

For though you have countless guides in Christ, you do not have many fathers. For I became your father in Christ Jesus through the gospel. I urge you, then, be imitators of me. That is why I sent you Timothy, my beloved and faithful child in the Lord, to remind you of my ways in Christ, as I teach them everywhere in every church. Some are arrogant, as though I were not coming to you. But I will come to you soon, if the Lord wills, and I will find out not the talk of these arrogant people but their power. For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power. What do you wish? Shall I come to you with a rod, or with love in a spirit of gentleness? (1 Corinthians 4.15-21)

Consider the tone in which Paul addresses his spiritual children.  Even though they were mature enough for their father to leave them unattended for a time, he maintained his position of authority over them, and spoke to them in harsh terms, with the ability to back them up.  We’ve established that parents are owed love and respect even by their grown children, and that extends to the spiritual realm, as well.  But even here, it’s just a tool to point us upward, to our heavenly Father.  No matter how long we live; no matter how much we accomplish, no matter how badly we want to be out from under his watchful eye, we will always owe him honor.

For [our earthly fathers] disciplined us for a short time as it seemed best to them, but he disciplines us for our good, that we may share his holiness. (Hebrews 12.10)

Jeremy Nettles

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever. (Revelation 22.1-5)

It is often noticed that the Gospel written by Luke, whom Paul called “the beloved physician” (Co 4.14), is focused on Jesus’ work of healing.  But while this is certainly true, considering the author’s technical knowledge and vocabulary, it’s not apparent from a surface-level look at the Gospels, because the number of healings recorded by Luke is in the same range as Matthew and Mark (while John’s focus is elsewhere).  It’s not that the claims about Luke are false; rather, the story of Jesus’ ministry on earth is so tightly tied to his healing, that it’s tough to tell the story without it!

As is the case with speaking in tongues, handling venomous snakes, or receiving new revelations from the Spirit of God, there are still some today who claim to possess healing power through Jesus.  And, as is the case with those other so-called “charismatic” gifts, it is extremely difficult to prove a blanket, sweeping negative, and it’s presumptuous and dangerous to tell God what he can and can’t do; but at least we can say that God gave advance notice that this sort of gift is not forever:

As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away. (1 Corinthians 13.8-10)

Additionally, while there are two recorded instances of God very clearly dispensing such gifts through the direct outpouring of his Spirit (Ac 2 & 10), in other cases this had to be passed on by the Apostles (see Ac 6.6ff, 8.14-18, 19.6; also Ro 1.11).  A couple of oddities appear, such as Timothy (1Ti 4.14) and Paul (Ac 9.17); taken alone, one could easily understand these to support the ongoing prevalence of miraculous spiritual gifts.  On the other hand, they’re also consistent with the interpretation we’ve already been building—that God chose a limited number of instances to directly bequeath these gifts—on his Apostles and the very first Gentiles to come to Christ—and otherwise, they were only passed on by the Apostles (most of whom were on the council of elders at Jerusalem for a time).

And yet, while these gifts in general, and healing in particular, dried up with the deaths of the Apostles and the fulfillment of their purpose in validating the message in the church’s infancy, there is still an obvious need for healing, today!  And, as so often happens, the physical is designed to teach us about spiritual things.  Jesus’ most common miracle was to heal.  On occasion he fed people despite having no obvious source for food; a few times he provided financial assistance to his disciples; countless times he demonstrated a supernatural knowledge of people’s hearts and thoughts; he showed his power over various simple aspects of the physical world.  But even this considerable list is absolutely dwarfed by the number of people whose ailments he healed.

And he went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought him all the sick, those afflicted with various diseases and pains, those oppressed by demons, those having seizures, and paralytics, and he healed them. (Matthew 4.23-24)

Even people in perfect health can appreciate what Jesus was doing.  We all have loved ones, and as time progresses and they age, we see their strength decline and come to realize that they are vulnerable and will one day succumb to one physical ailment or another, and die.  More than that, even the most self-centered person in the world has to eventually face his own mortality and recognize that he will die.  Even when we reconcile ourselves to this fact, death is still an ugly, evil thing.

But the physical isn’t the whole story.  Deep down, whether we’ll admit it or not, each one of us knows there’s something wrong with him.  None of us has maintained perfect spiritual health through a full life in this world of sin, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Ro 3.23).  We know we were made for a purpose, and we know that we’ve disappointed our maker, damaged our own souls through rebellion against him, and rendered ourselves unfit for anything but destruction.

Yet, Jesus still offers healing.  We pray for physical healing routinely, in faith that he hears, cares, and will grant us what we need—even if it’s not what we want.  But more importantly, the soul of each person needs to be healed—to be made whole.  The vision of heaven given to John includes an image of the tree of life, whose leaves are “for the healing of the nations.”  Take the leap of faith, into a watery grave of cleansing, rejuvenation, and healing.  Your physical body will one day die; but Jesus promises to heal your soul, rescue you from death, and give you an eternal home with him.

Jeremy Nettles

…and if you are sure that you yourself are a guide to the blind, a light to those who are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of children, having in the law the embodiment of knowledge and truth— you then who teach others, do you not teach yourself? (Romans 2.19-21)

Not everyone wants to teach.  It can be a thankless job, one that opens you up to relentless criticism.  If the students mess up, it’s easy to blame the teacher, regardless of whether the students wish to learn, or expend any effort at all in order to do so.  But it can also be extremely rewarding to teach, leading to selfish gain—there is substantial prestige awarded to some teachers, and that feeling of influence—let’s face it, of power over others—can be worth more than money, to some.  Our broad-sweeping English word, master, comes from the Latin magister, which refers to a teacher or tutor.  Outside the context of the Gospels, we think of disciples primarily as followers or adherents, but again, the word comes from the Latin discipulus, which means a student or pupil.  It’s easy to see the appeal Paul mentions in the Romans 2 passage above.  When people ask you for advice, answers, or instruction, it makes you feel accomplished and powerful.  Jesus points this out concerning the scribes and Pharisees, saying that “they love … being called rabbi by others” (Mt 23.6-7).  Rabbi, of course, literally means “my great one,” but in common use had come to mean, “my teacher.”

Perhaps this illustrates why so many people continually offer unsolicited advice, on every topic, to everyone around them.  Yet, in the context of the most important matters in the world, James gives us a stern warning:

Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness. (James 3.1)

There’s some debate over what this stricter standard means—is James talking about the same thing we noticed earlier, that teachers are unfairly criticized for the performance of their disciples?  Or, is it about the judgment of God falling more harshly on those who presume to teach?  There’s no reason both can’t be true!  When the judgment comes from men, perhaps we can write it off as comparatively unimportant; but when it’s from God, we can’t brush it aside so easily!

Why would God hold teachers to a standard any different from everyone else?  Simple!  As Paul asked, “you then who teach others, do you not teach yourself?”  We don’t expect anyone to be perfect, but teaching always involves some amount of judgment: no, that’s wrong.  Here’s the right way.  And it’s easy for us to recognize that there’s something perverse about passing judgment on others, when the self-appointed judge is guilty of the same offense.  This is what Jesus was getting at, when he said, “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged” (Mt 7.1-2).  Just a few verses later he follows it up: “first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye” (v5).  It’s not always unfair to hold a teacher responsible for his pupils’ actions.  If he won’t put his own teaching into practice, or if he failed to teach them properly, and certainly if he taught them falsehood and lawlessness, should we be surprised that God is upset with him?

This teaching business seems awfully dangerous!  Although we might be enticed by the prospect of sharing our considerable wisdom, correcting everyone else’s mistakes, and receiving honor for it, we are at the same time duly warned by Paul, by James, and by Jesus himself against it!  But that’s not the whole story.  We shouldn’t swear off teaching entirely, worrying only about ourselves.  James says “Not many of you should become teachers,” but by no means does he mean “none of you”!  On the contrary, we often have a responsibility to teach!  “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord” (Ep 6.1).  Not every father is responsible for teaching everyone else’s children, but their own fathers are obligated to do so!  Additionally, Paul tells Timothy, “what you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses entrust to faithful men, who will be able to teach others also” (2Ti 2.2).  If we wanted to get out of the responsibility, perhaps we’d point to Timothy’s position as a minister of the church, and conclude, well of course he ought to be teaching, it’s his job, and we pay him to do it so we don’t have to!  There’s an element of truth there; yet what was the stated goal in teaching these faithful men?  They are expected to teach others!  Jesus also gave an instruction like this, the great Teacher telling his disciples, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Mt 28.19). 

We live in a culture that is increasingly similar in spirit to that of the scribes and Pharisees, which encouraged extremes.  More and more, whatever is not compulsory is considered to be forbidden, and vice versa.  Although the application of that principle looks drastically different in many respects today, it’s the same principle behind much of our modern confusion.  But in many areas, the proper approach is moderation—engaging in a behavior when it is right, wise, and prudent, and otherwise avoiding it.  Too often, we’re either afraid to teach and run to the extreme of refusing to do so, or else we’re convinced we must teach everyone about everything, and run to that extreme, instead.  Instead of looking at it as a danger, a chore, or our unique gift and achievement, let’s see it for what it is—a risky responsibility—and carefully work to fulfill it.

Jeremy Nettles

Christians face a difficult and often frustrating balancing act, in the effort to keep doctrine pure.  On one hand, the risks involved in failing to address such a problem are obvious, and there are multiple commandments in the New Testament to deal with false teaching quickly and decisively.  For just one example,

For there are many who are insubordinate, empty talkers and deceivers, especially those of the circumcision party. They must be silenced, since they are upsetting whole families by teaching for shameful gain what they ought not to teach. (Titus 1.10-11)

It doesn’t get much clearer than that!  There are also examples that show us the consequences of failing in this responsibility.  Even before considering that we must all one day stand before the judgment seat of God, the results of these heresies have direct and immediate consequences in this life.

But false prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you, who will secretly bring in destructive heresies, even denying the Master who bought them, bringing upon themselves swift destruction. And many will follow their sensuality, and because of them the way of truth will be blasphemed. And in their greed they will exploit you with false words. (2 Peter 2.1-3)

Yet, as horrifying as these consequences are, and as much as they motivate us to uproot any such destructive heresy, we must also acknowledge that simple misunderstandings are liable to cause just as much havoc!  For example, after helping to conquer the promised land under the direction of Joshua, the tribes who’d settled on the other side of the Jordan set up an altar before crossing over back to their homes. 

And when the people of Israel heard of it, the whole assembly of the people of Israel gathered at Shiloh to make war against them. (Joshua 22.12)

Fortunately, they had the good sense to send a delegation to ask just what was the intent behind this, along with an admonition,

“do not rebel against the Lord or make us as rebels by building for yourselves an altar other than the altar of the Lord our God.” (Joshua 22.19)

They soon learned that this altar was “not for burnt offering, nor for sacrifice, but to be a witness between” the Israelites on each side of the river, to remind them of their shared heritage and covenant with God (vv26-27).  It must have been somewhat embarrassing to the gathered armies, to realize they’d gone to such trouble in preparing for a civil war, over an imagined offense; but what a relief!  Think of the bloodshed and the lasting divisions that would have resulted, if they'd acted with any more haste, or if they’d been unwilling to admit their mistake and back down!

It gets worse.  What if you’re wrong, and don’t admit it, or even acknowledge the possibility?  Gamaliel—no Christian!—gave good advice to the Sanhedrin, when he said of the newly-established church,

“if this plan or this undertaking is of man, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them. You might even be found opposing God!” (Acts 5.38-39)

We can see a similar example—with Peter again stuck in the center of the strife—when he fielded the damning accusation, “You went to uncircumcised men and ate with them” (Ac 11.3).  It’s sad to say, but versions of this controversy lasted, among Christians, for many years—one holding that “there is neither Jew new Greek” (Ga 3.28), and another insisting, “Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved” (Ac 15.1).  Eventually it was sorted out, and today almost no one can fathom that there would be disagreement on this point.  But how many people fell away, were pushed away, or forged ahead down a path of their own making, over this issue?

We’d like to think we have it figured out, in our day and age—after all, during those days God was still giving additional revelations to his people, and so it’s more understandable that some questions remained unanswered, or insufficiently answered.  But today?  God’s Word is unchanging!  How could there be doctrinal disputes?  And yet, one has only to look back at the divisive behavior of Christians when covid hit, to see that it’s very possible for brothers and sisters, reading the same Word of the same God, could reach opposite conclusions and flatly condemn any who didn’t see it their way.  Do you think that’s the only area where such doctrinal disagreements could occur?

We should strive for doctrinal purity, but we should also take to heart Jesus’ rebuke:

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. You blind guides, straining out a gnat and swallowing a camel!” (Matthew 23.23-24)

Camels and gnats were both unclean, according to Leviticus 11; was Jesus advocating for ignoring the rule that pertained to insects, in favor of the one pertaining to mammals?  No; but he used this ridiculous metaphor to illustrate that they had misplaced their focus.  Let’s not make the same mistake!  As Paul reminds us, when we engage in these controversies, we run a risk.  If we’re wrong—and even if we’re correct, but go about the argument improperly—we may create a stumbling block for a brother, and thus “destroy the one for whom Christ died” (Ro 14.15).  What are your priorities?

Jeremy Nettles

Then Gideon said to God, “If you will save Israel by my hand, as you have said, behold, I am laying a fleece of wool on the threshing floor. If there is dew on the fleece alone, and it is dry on all the ground, then I shall know that you will save Israel by my hand, as you have said.” And it was so. When he rose early next morning and squeezed the fleece, he wrung enough dew from the fleece to fill a bowl with water. Then Gideon said to God, “Let not your anger burn against me; let me speak just once more. Please let me test just once more with the fleece. Please let it be dry on the fleece only, and on all the ground let there be dew.” (Judges 6.36-39)

In the book of Judges, as a general rule, the more text is devoted to telling us a judge’s story, the more we can see his moral shortcomings.  This reflects the condition common to all mankind, that

The Lord looks down from heaven on the children of man,

        to see if there are any who understand,

        who seek after God.

They have all turned aside; together they have become corrupt;

        there is none who does good,

        not even one. (Psalm 14.2-3)

While it would be unfair—and unrighteous—to pass judgment on Gideon and ignore our own sins, Gideon’s story was written so we would learn from both the good and the bad.  In the passage quoted above, we find Gideon asking God for a sign, not once but twice in as many days!  We can tell that even Gideon knows he’s treading awfully close to the line with God, because he prefaces his second request with, “let not your anger burn against me” (v39).  Considering that God has already given him exactly what he requested, we’re left wondering why the first sign isn’t enough for him to believe.  It doesn’t appear that he doubts God’s power, only his will to help Israel—as he asked the angel prior to this incident, “if the Lord is with us, why then has all this happened to us?” (Jdg 6.13). 

What’s that?  Oh, yes, an angel of the Lord spoke to Gideon!  Not only that, but Gideon made a request of the angel: “If now I have found favor in your eyes, then show me a sign that it is you who speak with me” (v17).  The angel provided what was asked, and “Gideon perceived that he was the angel of the Lord” (v22).  That first sign strengthened Gideon’s wobbling knees enough that he obeyed his orders and tore down his own father’s altar of Baal and attendant Asherah idol, replacing them with an altar to the Lord.   But despite making it safely through this first ordeal among his own people and even amassing an enormous army to fight the oppressing Midianites, he again became reluctant to put himself at the front of the conflict, and asked for the two signs of the fleece, with which we began. 

Despite the reminder that each of us has his own shortcomings, we’ve been looking at Gideon’s repeated requests for miraculous signs in an unfavorable light.  And that’s in keeping with the words of Jesus, who on more than one occasion said things like, “An evil and adulterous generation seeks for a sign” (Mt 16.4; see also Mt 12.39ff).  But, on the other hand, isn’t it understandable that we should be skeptical about outlandish or fantastical claims to be an angel of the Lord, or even the Messiah?  The Spirit himself says,

do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world. (1 John 4.1)

Yet, he also told the Israelites, “You shall not put the Lord your God to the test” (De 6.16) and, getting back to Gideon, he admitted he wished to “test just once more with the fleece” (Jdg 6.39).  It’s not that God expects us to have an innate ability to discern instantly between his Spirit and those that tell us lies in his name; he gave Israel a straightforward test to determine whether a prophet really spoke for God: wait and see whether his predictions come true (De 18.22).  In the early church, he gave some the supernatural “ability to distinguish between spirits” (1Co 12.10).  But the point is this: when he’s already given you plenty of reason to trust him, don’t push him to do more.  This was Jesus’ gripe with the scribes and Pharisees who showed up and demanded he given them miraculous signs in addition to the countless healings and exorcisms he’d already publicly performed.

That brings us back to Gideon, once again—wasn’t that exactly the same thing he was doing?  God provided one sign; he asked for a second.  God obliged, and Gideon—knowing he was now on thin ice—requested a third.  But even that isn’t the end of it.  We don’t read of Gideon asking for more signs; but all the same, God gave him one.  He told Gideon,

“Arise, go down against the camp, for I have given it into your hand. But if you are afraid to go down, go down to the camp with Purah your servant. And you shall hear what they say, and afterward your hands shall be strengthened to go down against the camp.” (Judges 7.9-11)

We may find fault with Gideon’s weak faith and persistent need for reassurance—and make no mistake, that’s why they’re recorded for us!—but God is more gracious than we are, and strengthened Gideon to do the task he’d appointed, with yet another sign—this time, an unsolicited one.  Does that mean we should “despise the riches of his kindness, restraint, and patience” (Ro 2.4, CSB)?  Certainly not!  But take note of the abundant proofs he’s already provided for us, even before we could ask!  It’s more than we deserve, giving us in his creation and his Word ample evidence of his power, righteousness, faithfulness, and love.  We shouldn’t demand additional signs of him; instead, we should look to those he’s already given, and placing our faith, our souls, and our daily choices into his hands, not our own.

Jeremy Nettles