Over at The Pangea Blog, Kurt Willems offers some provocative thoughts on Chris Tomlin’s “Our God is Greater”:

I agree with every line of this song. Nothing about it is theologically untrue in any way. But I think that singing “Our God is Greater” might make God seem less great….

To call God “great” is more than appropriate, but calling God “greater” invites a competitive and confrontational tone. So, in this sort of cultural climate, I make the claim that singing songs about how “our God is greater” actually makes God less great. Two reasons come to mind as to why this might be so.

The two reasons Willems proffers are: first, that it essentially proclaims that the Christian narrative should be central to society – a stance he clearly sees as imperialist and which he conflates with American nationalism; and second, that the proclamation of God as greater may be offensive, especially in an increasingly pluralistic and post-Christian culture.

I should note, right off the bat, that Willems thinks the theology of the song perfectly accurate (and says as much explicitly). More, I believe he is coming from the right direction as he approaches this question: he wants to make sure that God is most glorified and that people are drawn to him. We couldn’t agree more on those aims, but we differ quite a bit on whether this song, and the sentiments it expresses, will be salutary or detrimental in the pursuit of those goals. Read on, intrepid explorer →

Martyn Lloyd-Jones once famously defined preaching as “logic on fire.” I am afraid that in most churches, the preaching is more like logic in tepid bathwater, or emotional claptrap on fire. Neither is particularly helpful.

In the church circles I frequent, preachers have the logic part down. I might have a quibble here or there with an interpretive point, but these are quibbles and matters of personal taste. These pastors recognize the importance of truth and labor to communicate that truth to the congregation. Praise God for pastors who care that their congregations apprehend the truths of Scripture, and who care that the men and women in the seats walk away with some idea of how to put God’s commands into practice.

In my experience, though, the other half of Lloyd-Jones’ equation often goes missing. Read on, intrepid explorer →

It occurred to me, as I thought about the post I put up last week as a response to Tullian Tchividjian’s Jesus + Nothing = Everything that a reader might come away with a negative impression of the book. That is not a great outcome for a book response, and it highlights the potential issues with the sorts of off-the-cuff remarks I offered there. (That, in fact, is part of the reason it is filed under its own category, “Book Responses,” instead of the main “Book Review” category.) So: an addendum, which comprises a clarification and nearly a correction to the previous post. Read on, intrepid explorer →

In an interesting piece in The Atlantic last week (“Life Without Sex: The Third Phase of the Asexuality Movement”), Rachel Hill highlighted David Jay and his organization, the Asexuality Visibility and Education Network:

But what all asexual people have in common — and what defines asexuality as an orientation — is that, while they may have a desire to connect with other people, asexuals have no desire to connect with them sexually. Asexual people are not the same as celibate people: it’s not that they are purposefully or unintentionally abstaining from sex they would otherwise like to have, but rather that they have no interest in it.

The article is fascinating on several levels: its examination of asexuality as a “sexual orientation,” its exploration of the idea that for some people, sex just isn’t that important (however odd that may seem in our society), and its recognition that a sex-defined culture is perhaps not always beneficial. Read on, intrepid explorer →

The mystery and the wonder of this day too often vanishes from our minds. We celebrate today the most wondrous eruption of reality, and for us it has become ordinary, a ritual shorn of its profundity and mystery. That God should break into his creation as one of the mortals, suffer a wretched death as the reward for perfectly acquitting himself before God and man, and then come bursting forth from the grave in which they buried him is not only extraordinary, not only supernatural; it is as earth-shaking as the convulsions that tore the veil at his last breath. Read on, intrepid explorer →

Most of us feel regret, to some extent or another, after we sin. Whether it’s being rude to a friend, fantasizing lustfully, envying a neighbor’s car, or gossiping, we all know the way our conscience pricks us in the aftermath. We often respond – rightly – with regret over our actions.

Then, having regretted our sin, we call it a day. We move on.

And a day, or an hour, or a minute later, we’re doing the same thing again.

Regret, as it turns out, is not the same as repentance. Read on, intrepid explorer →