So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world. (1 John 4.16-17)

This passage speaks of confidence for the day of judgment, meaning the assurance we will not be surprised or disappointed (to drastically understate the gravity of the situation) when God passes final judgment on us, and sends us to our eternal home.  In short, it’s confidence of personal salvation and a place reserved in heaven.

That’s great, because many people have a keen awareness of their own guilt, and struggle to forgive themselves for sins they’ve committed.  They know their own shortcomings, and know that what they deserve is punishment, not reward.  It’s not good to live life in this world in constant, crippling fear of judgment.

Yet, anyone who looks around and pays attention will quickly see that confidence can be taken too far.  A person who lives in complete rebellion against God can claim to know in his heart that he is saved.  A person who has gone through the motions of obedience at one time, or even lived a fruitful Christian life for decades, may feel so assured of his salvation that he either begins to overtly disobey God’s instructions with no fear of retribution, or simply stops doing the hard work of struggling to remain on the right path in daily life.  For the most part, it’s obvious to this person that things like theft, adultery, and murder are still off limits, but it becomes easier and easier to make excuses about what are perceived as lesser sins—a white lie, some small cheating on taxes, a little refusal to help those in need, a minor pornography habit, and other such things.  It may not be as overt as that.  Self-promotion, judgment of others, and arrogance are just as harmful, and just as damaging to one’s relationship with God.  When John brings up the sins of Diotrephes in 2 John 9-10, he doesn’t have a list of blatantly immoral behaviors to condemn, but instead says that he “likes to put himself first,” that he “does not acknowledge [the apostle’s] authority,” and when someone disagrees with him, he “puts them out of the church.”  This is a man with too great a measure of confidence.

We can see the same thing, perhaps more easily, in the fleshly attitudes toward everyone’s favorite topic, the coronavirus.  At one extreme, there are people confident that the virus is a scam—that it either doesn’t really exist, or carries no potential for harm.  They’re confident.  They know in their hearts they are perfectly safe.  But the virus doesn’t care about their confidence, and some people who’ve denied COVID-19 is real, have ended up dying from it.

At the other extreme, there are people confident that the virus is the greatest threat the world has ever seen, and the only way any of us will survive is through a series of difficult and painful societal practices,  some of which haven’t been scientifically shown to have much effect, and yet are preached as the saviors of mankind.  These people are also confident.  They know in their hearts that we will all be perfectly safe, as long as we do exactly as they say.  But the virus doesn’t care about their confidence, either.  Some of the people who’ve preached the gospel of masks, lockdowns, social distance, work from home, school from home, no church, no Thanksgiving, no friendship, no fellowship, and no freedom, have ended up dying from the virus they said they could control.

Most people aren’t at the extremes, of course.  They’re somewhere in the reasonable middle, trying their best to make wise decisions.  But there’s a constant pull toward the extremes, and neither one is any good.  The same is true in the religious context.  It’s obvious that the extremes can’t both be correct; in fact, neither is. 

It’s bad enough to do this where lives are on the line.  It’s a far, far worse problem when souls are at risk.  It’s uncomfortable to be in the middle, dealing with difficult decisions and disagreements, and there’s a similar pull toward the extremes, both of which are overconfident.  On one side, there are people so confident in their understanding of God’s grace, that they see no danger, and no reason to fear judgment.  That won’t stop God from passing judgment, though.  On the other side, there are people so confident of their own total righteousness that they have no patience for dissent, and ample judgment of their own, for anyone who comes to a different conclusion about anything.  Perhaps they’re right more often than not, but they’re not perfect, and they don’t have God’s judgment under control.

Both of the extremes have confidence in themselves, and that’s the real problem.  We ought to have confidence, as John told us in the passage with which we began.  But if our faith is in ourselves, we’re missing the boat.  Put your confidence in God.  Recognize your own shortcomings and disappointing track record, and do your best to make good decisions now, using the tools he’s given us.  There’s a “because” in the verse we’ve been examining, which we’ve ignored until now: “because as he is so also are we in this world” (1Jn 4.17b).  Are you as Jesus is?  That’s how you can assess yourself.  Have confidence in him, and do your best to follow his example in humility.

Jeremy Nettles

The February 14 edition of this bulletin considered the use of the church’s money.  It was clear that God has not been silent on that matter, and of course we ought to obey him, regardless of what we may want to do, and regardless of our own judgments, which may be in conflict with God’s.  The New Testament showed us several ways in which the church ought to use its money; but how should it get that money in the first place?

First and foremost, there is no authorization in the Bible for the church to become a profit-seeking business.  It has nothing to sell, but has the most valuable commodity in the world to give.  It exists not to enrich people physically, but spiritually.  Its purpose isn’t to make a living, but to share the means of securing eternal life.  The only way we see the church acquiring money in the New Testament is through voluntary donations, and that’s how it ought to remain.

Yet, further questions arise: who can contribute, and when, and by what method?  Here, the scriptures aren’t as informative as we might desire, and we may wish to avoid crossing a line we didn’t even know was there.  That quickly leads to a point where we would forbid anyone but a local member to give money to the church in any form but cash, and at any time but during the Sunday morning assembly.  Is that necessary?

The Scriptures aren’t completely silent here, but even so it’s easy to get wrapped up in debates like how many angels can dance on the head of a pin—a check isn’t really money, and in any case the transaction won’t be processed until Wednesday, and so have I really contributed on Sunday as I ought?  Even if I make my contribution in cash, will God be upset with me if the collection doesn’t get deposited into the church’s account that day?  And oh dear, banks aren’t open on Sundays!

It’s obvious we’re getting into the weeds here, and we haven’t even consulted the relevant passages, yet.  “On the first day of every week, each of you is to put something aside and store it up, as he may prosper” (1Co 16.2).  This is an excellent precedent for us to follow.  It should be noted, though, that not all of the details of that passage necessarily apply to all Christians today.  For example, within the same verse we learn that Paul was planning to come soon to receive the gift,  “so that there will be no collecting when I come.”  Well, clearly we shouldn’t be expecting a long-dead apostle to show up at services next week.  Additionally, the funds being collected were to be carried to Jerusalem (v3); but again, that pertains to the specific scenario of the Corinthian church and the churches in Judea at that time, and is not a mandate for us.  That doesn’t mean we should ignore what the passage says, but it does mean we should keep in mind that Paul is giving specific instructions at a time and place we don’t share—context matters!

There are many other examples throughout the New Testament.  We can read about the collection for the saints in 2 Corinthians 8 & 9, but there is no mention anywhere of the timing involved.  We see many more indications of the church collecting and distributing funds for helping needy Christians and carrying on the work of the church, but aside from the instructions considered above, there is never another indication of when it was done, or when it ought to be done.  The closest thing we have to a time-stamped example of contributing to the church would be at the very beginning of the church in Acts, when a brief discussion of the believers’ generosity to each other is followed by the phrase “day by day” (Ac 2.46.)  Specifically, it refers to a different activity, attending the temple, but the passage leaves us with the impression that all of the actions mentioned in the context were done day by day, not just those listed in verses 46 & 47.

As for acceptable forms of contribution, we’ve complicated the issue with modern innovations, but perhaps the easiest way to see the broad discretion God has granted us, is to observe the examples of Aquila and Prisca, who hosted the church in their own homes in Rome and Ephesus (Ro 16.5, 1Co 16.19, Gaius, who did the same at Corinth (Ro 16.23), Philemon in Colossae (Phm 2), and Nympha in Laodicea (Co 4.15).  This is what we might call an “in-kind” contribution, which has tangible value, but requires no actual money to change hands.  Paul mentions each of these with approval, and extends greetings to or from them as if it’s not only normal, but good that they are doing this.  That being the case, it would be silly to argue that we today are prohibited from making our contributions to the church in any form other than currency.

It’s impossible to address every concern, because there are infinite concerns.  It’s generally best and most straightforward to simply contribute in whatever way is most convenient for you and for the church, at the Sunday assembly.  It emphasizes community and follows the example of 1 Corinthians 16, even though the fine details aren’t meant to be mandatory for all.

But let’s not get distracted from the behavior God wants to instill.  He’s trying to cultivate generosity in brotherly love and in zeal for Christ’s kingdom.  Don’t let petty and divisive arguments over means and methods take away from the work of God, when God himself has not bound those burdens on any of us.

Jeremy Nettles

God is routinely accused of undervaluing life.  Sometimes this is because of the untold number of people killed in the flood in Genesis 7.  Of course, since the chief reason given was that “the earth was filled with violence” (Ge 6.11) and God wished to put a stop to it, it’s clear that between mankind and God, he was the one to value life more highly, and he was willing to take an extreme course in order to salvage it before it destroyed itself.  A less extreme gripe with God’s rules is that he tolerated slavery under the Law of Moses, which pretty much everyone today recognizes as an affront to human life and dignity.  Of course, they won’t mention that God imposed tight restrictions on treatment of slaves, or that they were to use it mostly as a social safety net for those who couldn’t otherwise provide for themselves.  He commanded,

“he shall serve you six years, and in the seventh year you shall let him go free from you. And when you let him go free from you, you shall not let him go empty-handed. You shall furnish him liberally out of your flock, out of your threshing floor, and out of your winepress. As the Lord your God has blessed you, you shall give to him. You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God redeemed you...” (Deuteronomy 15.12-15)

Who cares more: God, or the person who, with the benefit of centuries of historical hindsight and nothing to lose, proclaims, “I would definitely have been an abolitionist, if I’d lived during the time of slavery”?  

Those who pass judgment on God in this way are deeply confused.  They understand that life is precious, but they don’t realize how they came to know this.  They didn’t reach that conclusion on their own; it was told to them, indirectly of course, by God.

Many examples demonstrate that this idea did not come from man.  One is Herod’s massacre of the innocents.  The wise men, whom he’d sent to find the baby they predicted would be king of the Jews, were warned not to report back to Herod, so they skipped Jerusalem and went back home.

Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men. (Matthew 2.16)

The truthfulness of this account is questioned, or outright denied by many, who are happy to assert that it never happened, mostly on the grounds that no other contemporary source mentions it.  So?  It would hardly be the only historical event for which we have only one witness.  Why, then, have they decided it isn’t true?  Because it’s just too awful!  Surely no one would actually commit such a horrible act, and if they did, the public outcry would be enormous, and some trace of that would survive!  Since it doesn’t (so the reasoning goes) it must be made up.

However, it’s not that simple.  It’s true that no obvious archaeological evidence has been found to corroborate Matthew’s account.  It’s also true that no other contemporary author whose work survives mentioned this heinous crime.  To conclude from this that it didn’t happen, however, is laughably naïve.  To begin with, the numbers involved here are tiny.  The population of Bethlehem at the time was about 1,000 at the most.  Based on typical population distributions, we’d expect about 2.5% of the population to be under the age of 2, about 25 kids.  Of these, about half would be male, so our very rough estimate is 12 or 13 boys who fit the criteria.  Considering that more than a quarter of all babies died before reaching a year old, and a further 20% or so died before the age of 15, it’s not as if a dozen small bodies, not necessarily buried together or with any tell-tale signs of their cause or time of death, would stand out among the archaeological excavations, even if any of them were located.  At the risk of sounding callous, it’s a drop in the bucket.

Then there’s Herod’s moral character, or lack thereof.  Just for starters, he had his favorite wife and three of his favorite sons executed for dubious reasons.  This guy was not nice.  Does that mean his soldiers would have carried out the order, if he gave it?  Well, this leads into the most important fact to recognize: infants were killed fairly often in the ancient world.  Reading through the works of Josephus, about these very same people during the very same time period, in the very same region, one notices the nauseating regularity with which armed men slaughtered women and children—including infants—after a successful siege.

In the modern world, and even without straying into the topic of abortion, the massacre of innocents is not unheard of.  The most glaring example would be the roughly 1.5 million Jewish children murdered in the holocaust, but because “the intention of man’s heart is evil from his youth,” (Ge 8.21), that’s just one instance among many.

Mankind does not value life so highly, after all.  God, through his law, his judgments, and his Son, has taught us that we should.  Let’s accept his instruction, and then show him some respect, rather than finding fault in his own application of the principles he’s taught us.  He told man long ago, in Genesis 9.5,

“And for your lifeblood I will require a reckoning: from every beast I will require it and from man. From his fellow man I will require a reckoning for the life of man.”

Jeremy Nettles

There are plenty of common mistakes people make when they read the Bible. One of them is to make the unwarranted assumption that God approves of everything that appears in it.  On the most basic level, this is easy to disprove—no one would seriously suggest that Satan’s lie in Genesis 3.4, “You will not surely die,” has God’s approval.  It’s a direct contradiction of what God had just said in the previous chapter, and is used to tempt Eve into sin.  Yet, there it is, in the Bible.  It’s easy enough to avoid this pitfall where Satan is directly involved, but what about when the actions are performed by men and women throughout the whole book, many of whom belong to God’s chosen people?  

Often the text tells us whether God approves.  Cain and Abel provide an easy example: “And the Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, but for Cain and his offering he had no regard” (Ge 4.4-5).  But in the absence of such a clearly stated judgement, often readers get the wrong idea.  For example, due to God’s general approval of people like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, they may assume everything these men did had God’s approval, unless it is clearly stated otherwise.  Nowhere in the text does God mention to Jacob that his acquisition of four wives is a problem.  Does that mean God is approves of polygamy?  Of course not!  To begin with, the pattern he clearly established with Adam and Eve was monogamy.  God gave occasional hints that it was wrong, whether by his words (Ge 17.18-19, 21.12) or by the volatile family dynamics that resulted (like Joseph being sold into slavery by his half-brothers), but didn’t choose to focus on it at that time.  Yet, it was wrong then, and is wrong today.

Jumping forward in the story, we come across Gideon.  This unlikely and unambitious judge of Israel did a lot to clean up his nation, in terms of their oppression at the hands of their neighbors, their departure from worshipping God, and even their own internal divisions.  He even shunned the great power the Israelites offered him—after saving the nation, he said, “I will not rule over you, and my son will not rule over you; the Lord will rule over you” (Jdg 8.23).  This is a truly rare occurrence, and the decision speaks well of Gideon.  Yet, he did accept payment for his services to the nation, and while that was certainly justified, what did he do with the gold they willingly gave him?  It was worth roughly a million dollars, in today’s money and at today’s prices, and that sum would go much, much farther in daily life in such an agrarian—and comparatively primitive—society.  He’d be set for life, including a substantial amount to pass down to his (many) sons.  Instead, he turned the whole collection into an ephod—this isn’t exactly an idol, and could have been perfectly harmless, but we’re told very briefly that it “became a snare to Gideon” because the people worshiped it as an idol (Jdg 8.27).  How exactly did this “snare” him?  We’re not told.  But it’s an indicator that, even if the initial action was acceptable, the way Gideon handled what followed did not meet with God’s approval.

Let’s consider another example in the book of Judges, this time one of the roughest stories in the whole Bible.  When the men of Gibeah demand access to a visiting Levite in order to sodomize him, it’s not difficult to figure out who are the bad guys in this story.  This leaves us to assume that the people under siege inside the house are the good guys, but just two verses later, the master of the house tells the predators outside,

here are my virgin daughter and [my guest’s] concubine.  Let me bring them out now.  Violate them and do with them what seems good to you, but against this man do not do this outrageous thing. (Judges 19.24)

Most readers are probably still horrified at this suggestion, but often come away with the impression that, since this is coming from one of the good guys, his suggestion is somehow a more acceptable alternative to what the bad guys were planning.  When we step back for a moment and assess the whole situation, it quickly becomes obvious that raping a woman is no less serious an offense than raping a man.  They’re equally despicable, and suddenly it seems the story isn’t about the good guys and bad guys, but about the bad guys and the worse guys!

This doesn’t mean that everyone in the Bible is vile and depraved; it means they’re people, just like the people in the world today.  Yet, we tend to think of them as “the mighty men who were of old, the men of renown,” to borrow from Genesis 6.4.  Instead of attributing physical prowess to them, we attribute moral prowess, and that’s not accurate, or fair.  These people were guilty of sins, including truly horrible ones.

This doesn’t mean we should ignore their achievements, or the relationships they cultivated with God—recognition of their faults isn’t an excuse to assert our own moral superiority.  Rather, it shows that the problems we face today are not new, and reminds us that God still uses and even loves seriously flawed people.  That’s good news for us, because we have many flaws of our own.  Of course, you shouldn’t imitate the faults of these “mighty men.”  Instead, you should take advantage of redemption in Christ, and let him take even someone as sinful as you, cleanse you, and use you to accomplish important work for his kingdom.

Jeremy Nettles

The Bible tells us we ought to help those in need, both in the Old Testament moral principles (e.g. De 24.20-22) and in several notes in the New Testament, perhaps most clearly in James 1.27:

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

In this verse, James makes it clear he’s not talking about the church as a body taking care of orphans and widows, because the next phrase is “keep oneself unstained from the world.”  It’s an individual mandate, and while the church is made up of individuals, there’s a difference between individuals making their own choices to do good deeds, and the church doing it on their behalf.

Sometimes we see Christians in the New Testament making contributions, and churches sending money to other churches for this sort of purpose (e.g. Ac 11.27-30, 1Co 16.1-3, 2Co 8.1-4, 9.1-12, Ro 15.25-28).  We also see individual Christians contributing to this sort of work locally (Ac 2.44-45, 4.34-37).  However, we never see churches sending money to outside organizations.  If he saw these practices today, Paul might ask, as he did in 1 Corinthians 6.4, “why do you lay them before those who have no standing in the church?”  That passage concerns a different matter, lawsuits, but it’s a similar instance of taking something that the church should handle itself, and putting in the hands of outsiders.

Furthermore, a feature common to practically all of the passages in the New Testament that concern the church’s money is this: “for the saints.”  This phrase appears in 1 Corinthians 16.1 and 2 Corinthians 9.1, while in 2 Corinthians 8.4 it’s “the relief of the saints,” and “aid to the saints” in Romans 15.25.  In Acts 11.29 it’s “relief to the brothers,” and the passages in Acts 2 and Acts 4, noted above, are both clearly about the distribution of money and other help to members of the church.  It’s the same for the service of the widows in Acts 6, and Paul’s instructions that the church should help support elders and destitute widows in 1 Timothy 5 also pertain to members of the church, and so do the many passages that say the church ought to finance its ministers—preachers, teachers, and evangelists—when needed.

But while there are numerous indications that individual Christians ought to perform acts of charity, even to outsiders (e.g. Mt 5.42, Mt 19.21, Lk 6.34, Ro 12.20, Ep 4.28, 1Ti 6.18, He 13.16), there is not a single instruction or example in the New Testament to the effect that the church should provide financial assistance to outsiders.  On the contrary, Peter explicitly denied this to a needy man who was not a Christian:

Seeing Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked to receive alms. And Peter directed his gaze at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver and gold, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!”  (Acts 3.3-6)

This passage comes just after we’re told that the first crop of Christians took care of each other financially.  As an apostle Peter surely has access to the church’s funds, but he doesn’t share with them with this outsider—he focuses on the church’s real ministry to the world, which is sharing the gospel, and gives him a much greater gift—the message preached to him and the crowd for the rest of the chapter, and backed up by a miracle, a gift of healing from Jesus himself.

The idea of the church supporting outside organizations, or even making direct payments to needy outsiders, is not one found in the Bible.  It’s our duty as individuals to be generous even with non-Christians, but the church has a more important role in proclaiming Christ.  The aim is to save their souls, not just their bodies.

Sadly, this issue divided the church in the mid- to late-20th century, with those on the more conservative side of things labeling the practice “institutionalism.”  Labels like this one often do plenty of harm themselves, because they discourage consideration of the real moral dilemma involved, and instead encourage tribalism and the write-off of anyone who disagrees.  It turns into sectarianism, a practice Jesus condemns in Luke 9.49-50, and Paul in 1 Corinthians 1.10-17.  The Jews in the first century were divided into sects, and throughout Acts, Luke labels them αἱρέσεις-haireseis-“divisions.”  We even learn (in Ac 24.5, 24.14, and 28.22) that Jewish outsiders considered Christians to be just another αἵρεσις-hairesis at first.  It’s not too difficult to see how this term evolved into our modern English word, “heresy.”  

Unfortunately, most members of congregations on the more liberal side don’t see the problem, let alone see it as a “heresy.”  They usually have no idea there’s controversy over the practice, and see it as an important aspect of both their service to their communities, and their outreach efforts, since it doubles as advertising.  But that doesn’t make it right.  There ought not to be divisions in the church.  But as God told the Israelites among the first set of laws at Sinai, “You shall not fall in with the many to do evil” (Ex 23.2).

Jeremy Nettles