I invite you to check out this article, written by my mentor, Dr. Russell D. Moore, which he posted yesterday.

What do you make of his view of heaven?

I’ve been thinking a lot about evangelism here lately. And my heart has been pricked to share the gospel more. Perhaps one of the best authors on the subject is Will Metzger, who wrote Tell the Truth (which I recommend you go out and purchase; it will revolutionize the way you view and do evangelism). He has some great insights about how to share and not share the gospel, which you can find here.

Happy evangelizing!

Although we are sinful and the image appears (in the words of author Will Metzger) “defaced,” nevertheless the image of God “is not erased.” Pause a moment and let that reality hit you in the face—the image of God within us is defaced but not erased. In other words, there is something very special about being human. We are not dogs, we are not aliens; rather, we are human beings. And part of what it means to be human is to image forth who God is.

One implication of this is that we use our hands to create something. Creativity is a gift from God; indeed, God is creative, and thus it makes sense that his creatures, who are made in his likeness, are creative also.

Now of course some people will argue that this analogy has nothing to do with a nine-to-five job. But actually, I propose that such an analogy (God’s creativity, our creativity) has everything to do with your eight-hour workday—and much more. In fact, I would say that our creative-ness as human beings is very telling of who we are and what we should do.

Interestingly, only in the last 150 years have we shifted to a standard cookie-cutter workday. This, in my opinion, has merely served to devalue what it means to be human. Why? It is because people see their job as the only calling there is. But what about the young mother who stays at home with her kids? Obviously, she does not bring home a paycheck. But does this mean that her labor is in vain? Or what about the elderly gentleman who volunteers at his church or at a local soup kitchen? Is he getting paid? Probably not.

And yet there is something profoundly beautiful about the person, young or old, who does something with his (or her) hands. Ironically, for many people, what happens at the end of a hard day’s work is them coming home to a TV and a remote (which is not exactly what I have in mind when I speak of using one’s hands).

As a society, I believe we have forgotten (though I hope not forever) what it means to be truly human. As image-bearers of God, it is critical that we find ways, even invent ways, of using our hands for the common good. And all this is for the glory of Christ, who himself took on human flesh and became like one of us (though without sin), in order that through his death and resurrection we might be reconciled to God.

Now what shall we say? Are all jobs God-glorifying? Unfortunately, in such a brief post, I cannot discuss all the various viewpoints. I must simply leave this to your own conscience.

On a more pressing note, though, we must take heed to the wise writer of the book of Ecclesiastes when he says that we should enjoy our toil (Eccl. 2:24), which is God’s gift to us (3:13). As image-bearers of our Maker, we need to remember that he is a happy God (1 Tim. 1:11; note the meaning of the word “blessed” in other places of Scripture, such as the Beatitudes in Matt. 5).

It is important to see that in the beginning, after he created something in Genesis 1, God called it “good.” No doubt he was pleased at the work of his hands. You might even say that God took pleasure in what he did (see Ps. 115:3). And we too, as those who are made in his likeness, ought to find joy at the work of our hands. Not because we worship our creation (for that would be idolatry), but because it says something about who we are as humans, namely, image-bearers of our Creator.

So find joy in your work. Do it well. And do it all for the glory of God (1 Cor. 10:31).

This is an important question indeed. Everyday all over the world people are waking up, rolling out of bed, and heading off to work. Some of them enjoy their job, while others do not.

Now of course, one could easily argue that such a discussion is irrelevant. After all, for many people it is not merely a matter of “choice.” Rather, working full-time (or even part-time) is a “must,” that is, if the family wants to have food on the table.

And yet for the Christian, the notion of work should take on an even greater force. As ambassadors for Christ, we ought to view all things in light of the lordship of Jesus, including work. So what then shall we say about this? What can we say about this? Obviously, the Bible as God’s holy Word serves as our guide. So what does the Bible say about work?

First, let us remember that the Bible is not simply a big book with 66 unconnected smaller books. Now certainly it is true that the Bible is composed of 66 smaller books. And these include works of history, poetry, prophecy, etc. But we must never forget that these parts make up a greater whole. They are not disconnected; rather, they are unified. As such, we can be sure that there is an overarching storyline that runs through the entire Bible. And that theme is Jesus Christ.

Therefore, if we are to understand any subject, whether work or sex or money, we must go all the way back to the beginning. And what a grand beginning it was indeed. God had just created the heavens and the earth, including the sun, moon, planets, birds, fish, reptiles, and animals. Then what does he do? He creates man in his own image and puts him in a garden and gives him a job to do. In Gen. 1:28, God (in what is often dubbed the “cultural mandate”) commands man to be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over all the fish, birds, and animals. This was man’s lot: to be a vice-regent for God Almighty over the created order. Man is to work and keep up the garden (Gen. 2:15)—and this under the loving authority of his Maker. Man is not seen as independent from God.

However, what happens next is truly horrifying and graphic in nature. The serpent comes and deceives man into thinking that he doesn’t really need God. The snake’s lie is all too irresistible. And the man bites.

Sin enters the world. Man loses his innocence. The perfect relationship that man formerly had with God is shattered. The blessings upon the earth are now replaced with mind-numbing curses. Most notably, man’s work becomes a wearisome burden; bread is to be won at the cost of pain and sweat. Instead of lush fruits and vegetables for enjoyment come thorns and thistles; the ground is cursed.

Centuries later we run into a group of folks who are enslaved to the people of Egypt. The once flourishing Israelites are now forced to a life of bitterness as they are afflicted by Pharaoh’s heavy burdens (Ex. 1:11). Their job stinks; they are charged with making mortar and bricks. “Hurry! Hurry!” their masters shout. You can almost hear the cracking of the whips. The task is almost more than they can bear. And yet God hears and sees the plight of his people; God knows their pain. And so Yahweh remembers his covenant by sending them a deliverer who will rescue them from the hand of Pharaoh by way of the Red Sea.

And yet even after Israel escapes Egypt, work is not done away with. To the contrary, in Deuteronomy 28:1-14, God promises the people blessing in their work if only they obey him and not turn to the right or to the left. And he warns them of guaranteed curses and destruction if they disobey (Deut. 28:15-68). Ultimately, the people—despite all the pleadings of Isaiah and the other prophets, time after time—disobey God, and their land is completely ravished by their enemies as a result. They are taken into captivity. And ironically, while in exile the people of God are exhorted to work hard and plant vegetation and build homes for themselves (Jer. 29).

It is no accident that work and job are an integral part of the cosmos; God designed it that way. And yet what are we to make of our present sufferings? What are we to make of rotten situations? How should we handle bad bosses? Or crass colleagues? What is the point of this painful toil? Why does the American workplace seem so futile?

The Apostle Paul understands our dilemma; he knows that something has gone afoul. The preacher to the Gentiles recognizes that creation itself is waiting to be liberated (Rom. 8). But liberated from what? Paul writes that “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (v. 21)—and not only the creation, but we ourselves also eagerly await “for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (v. 23).

Do you see it? Can you sense it? We’re moving toward something. Our lives are not static; rather, they are in motion. But it’s not a Something we’re destined for; rather it’s a Someone. And that Someone is Jesus.

Friends, if you are a child of God, then you have been bought at a price; you were purchased by the blood of the Son. The law which once stood opposed to you and called out for your death, is no longer your enemy. Condemnation no longer belongs to you. Though you formerly were rebels and accursed of God and far away, now in Christ Jesus you have been brought near as blessed saints of the Most High. The curses that you deserved fell on Jesus instead. The wrath that was stored up for you was unleashed on Him. It was the will of the Lord to crush Him (Isa. 53:10). And now, by grace through faith, you are a child of the King.

Now this doesn’t mean, of course, that you should sit around and do nothing. And it also doesn’t mean that you should try to avoid anything that may cause you pain and sweat and suffering. On the contrary, it is the very cross of Christ that empowers us to do what would otherwise be difficult. It is because of the Son’s perfect obedience to the Father on our behalf that we can live not for self but for God and others.

Does this mean we ignore the thorns and thistles that this life brings, acting as if they aren’t really there? Do we simply pretend that pain is joy and joy is pain? No, but we do strive to live with a gravity about us that recognizes that this isn’t all there is. We are commanded to walk by faith and not by sight (2 Cor. 5:7). We may not have all the answers, but we are confident that His ways are higher than our ways. And we are sure that a day is coming when every tear will be wiped from our eyes and there will be no more pain and no more suffering. On that day, says the writer of the book of Revelation, the tree of life will yield its fruit each month. And the leaves of the tree will be for the “healing of the nations” (22:2). And “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” (v. 3).

“Surely I am coming soon,” our Savior says.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

Next week: Why authority matters.

I couldn’t tell you whether we won or not.

Indeed, it was one of those forgettable kinds of days. The fall weather was…well…I’m not really sure.

And if I remember correctly, it was our opening game of the eighth grade football season, and we were playing on the road.

The team was all suited up and ready to go. A fine group of athletes, they were. And there I was also, wearing my football pads, helmet, and #50 white jersey.

Now I was no fool; I knew I wouldn’t be starting. More than likely, I would remain on the sidelines for the entire game. That, of course, was not news to anyone.

But what was surprising, at least to me, was spotting my dad in the sparsely attended crowd of spectators.

I was shocked.

Had I been the starting quarterback, running back, or star linebacker, I might understand a father traveling a couple hours to watch his son play. Or I might even be able to imagine a dad going and seeing his offensive lineman of a son perform, if it were his first time to start.

But that’s just it—there would be no playtime for me that day. There would be no special performance. Heck, I would have given anything just to carry someone’s clipboard that day.

And yet there he was—my dad—attending a game I would never play.

Why?

Because he cared.

Sure, I was no Deion Sanders (my position was cornerback). I wasn’t even Deion’s backup’s backup’s water boy.

And yet, my father was involved.

Not because he had nothing better to do (he was a pastor). Nor because I was an only child (I have four sisters and one brother).

No, my father was a busy man and the leader of his household. And yet he made time to be involved—very involved—in the lives of his kids.

And for this reason, I argue that fathers matter.

Not because football attendance is down. Not because kids need people to show up at their sporting events in order to make them feel good inside.

No, the reason fathers matter is because God has made them to matter.

You see, all throughout the Bible we are shown a picture of a heavenly Father who is guiding and instructing his children. Whether in the Garden (with Adam) or in Egypt (with the Israelites), God is demonstrating his love for people. He is giving them commands. He is showing them the right way.

But he is not simply dishing out ultimatums and then returning to his far-off and distant control room, waiting nervously for what might happen next and aloof to the world around him. Rather, he is a God who acts on behalf of his people. He is a God who walks and talks in the cool of the Garden. He is a God who comes down and sees his people in their suffering and rescues them from the mighty hand of Pharaoh. This is a God who is there and, in the words of Francis Schaeffer, “not silent.” We see this most notably in the person and work of Jesus Christ.

In Christ we have a God who has entered our world in a radical way. He took on human flesh—a God with fingernails and eyelashes. He became one of us.

And he cares. Each of our problems and concerns are of great significance to him.

He is intimately involved.

And for this reason (and many others), fathers matter.

They matter because they are image-bearers. God has given us earthly fathers so that we might have a better picture of what it means to be loved and cared for by our heavenly Father.

We need fathers who, like my dad, show us something about what it means to be involved in another’s life.

We need fathers to attend football games and cheer, even if their sons never play a single down.

And yet we would err greatly if we concluded, in light of this, that we should thus become a bunch of pleasure-seeking materialists.

On the contrary, the Bible calls us to turn away from the love of money and possessions and all that is of this world.

And yet in my last article I argued that God is for, and not against, the material world. Am I now doing a flip-flop in my viewpoint?

Not at all.

How then do we resolve this seeming conundrum?

First of all, we must remember that in the beginning God created the world and all that is in it, and he called it “good.” And then he commanded the man and woman to be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and birds of the air and animals of the ground (Gen. 1:28). In other words, man was called to exercise a kind of vice-regency over God’s creation. They were to subdue it; they were to have dominion over it.

But what happened?

The serpent comes along and entices them with fruit. And they bite. Whereas the man and woman were called to rule over the animals, they end up bowing down to a snake.

Enter sin into the human race.

A little over a thousand years later, a small Hebrew nation was delivered from the hands of an Egyptian king via the Red Sea. God was with these people. He gave them food from the sky, water from the rock, and shoes that fit better than a pair of Nikes. And yet the Israelites never could seem to get their fill. They always complained; they always wanted more, declaring that it would be better for them (despite all that God had so graciously given them) to return to Egypt than to remain with Moses.

Egypt always seemed like the right solution. After all, manna apparently gets old after awhile.

If you fast-forward to the prophet Isaiah’s day, and to Jeremiah’s time as well (less than a century after Isaiah), you will notice that the people of Israel once again seek the enticements of Egypt. They are always looking for something other than the one true God Himself.

And this is our dilemma as well.

Though we have been entrusted by God to rule over his created order, nevertheless we have opted instead to bow down to the creation rather than the Creator. We have decided that the one true God of the universe is not as appealing as the stuff we can hold in our hands. We have turned the Maker’s handiwork into a shrine and found greater pleasure in material wealth than in the master Craftsman Himself. And this is a great tragedy.

And thus we need help.

Jesus Christ came to seek and to save what was lost (Luke 19:10). He came to offer up himself on a cruel, bloody cross in order that we might be forgiven and brought near to God. He died in our place and rose again that we might die to sin and live to righteousness.

And this should affect every aspect of our daily lives. It should influence the way we talk, the way we dress, the kinds of stuff we watch on TV and the Internet, and even how we spend our money and utilize our possessions.

Our lives should be radically different from that of the world. Yes, we are still in the world. And yes, we are still part of the created order. And yes, we certainly make use of, and even have dominion over, parts of the created order.

But we refuse to bow down to the creation. We will not chase after material goods. We will not seek their glory.

Now does this mean that we must adhere to a poverty gospel? In other words, as followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, are we to rid our homes of all that we own and never go to the store again?

Not necessarily.

But it does mean that we are to be very careful in how we view our stuff and the acquisition of stuff.

Must we always only eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? Or, simply eat pork and beans?

Probably not.

But frankly, in a land flowing with milk lattes and honey buns, we are rarely at risk of going too far in saying no to all that is set before us. On the other hand, we are in danger of always giving in to our temporal desires, always seeking that extra helping at the buffet line, that free refill at McDonald’s, that last handful of potato chips. And in an age where technology reigns supreme, we are hard pressed to say no to things like an extra hour of television, movies, or the Internet. In a time when personal popularity means so much, we are far removed from turning down a half-off sale at Macy’s or The Gap.

And yet what we ought to be doing is asking ourselves: Am I content with what I have? What am I seeking? Am I seeking Christ? Where is my identity found? Is it in the things of this life? Or, is my identity hidden in Jesus?

Next week: Why work matters.

The Bible clearly teaches that Jesus Christ “became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).

Now isn’t that interesting? Have you ever considered the ramifications of Christ taking on human flesh?

For starters, of course, it means that Jesus shared in our humanity, so as to become a faithful high priest, who would serve as a mediator between God and us.

And yet it is quite remarkable that even after Christ’s resurrection, he was given a glorified body. And he ate fish for breakfast with his disciples (John 21).

As Christians we oftentimes attempt to categorize our lives into that which is spiritual versus that which is material.

What really matters, we think, is the spiritual. The material is simply a byproduct.

And this kind of attitude shows up when referring to our physical bodies: “This body is simply my earth-suit,” we sometimes say. “But what really counts is my spirit.”

Unfortunately, an overemphasized discussion of the spiritual realm can cause us to do something that the Bible never intended, namely, forsake our humanness. As those who are created in God’s image (though paradoxically we know that God is spirit), we have a kind of dignity about us. We are not ghosts; we are not celestial beings. Rather, we are humans.

And there is something very special about what it means to be human, the apex of God’s creation. Notice that God was at work; he was getting us ready for something. Or, should I say, someone? At just the right time, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was born to the virgin girl Mary. Jesus was an infant, a toddler, and then a young man.

He was fully human. Take a whiff of that, if you dare: The Son of God became a man. And perhaps even more shocking, after his rising from the dead, he remained a man.

And we too, when our bodies are resurrected on that last day, will be fully human.

And yet somehow, in the thick of things, modern Christianity has seemed to largely ignore the importance of our physical bodies.

Of course, this is nothing new. Even the first-century believers, many of whom had no doubt seen the Lord (or at least knew those who did), had to deal with this kind of proto-Gnosticism (which simply states that the spiritual is everything and the material means nothing). Why else would the Apostle Paul have to warn the Corinthian Christians to stay away from prostitutes? Might it be because some of them, in their zeal for spiritual greatness, disregarded the material aspect of reality?

After all, they asked, what difference does it make what we do with our physical body? It’s just a body, right?

Understandably, however, this kind of mentality led some of them to commit sexual immorality.

And why wouldn’t it? If our bodies mean nothing, then heck, we can sin all day long. After all, it’s not me who slept with that prostitute—just my body, and it has no real significance anyway.

And yet the Bible boldly comes to us and says, “No, your body does in fact matter. And what you do with it does matter.”

And yet more and more in Christian circles we get so caught up in issues of the “spiritual” nature that we forget about the physical. Ironically, however, we love to talk about heaven and its physical beauty. We sing about golden streets and crystal seas. But have we ever imagined a world, as described in the Book of Revelation, which will consist of trees and rivers and animals? The New Jerusalem, as best as I can understand it (though I freely admit my conceptual limitations), will be a real place. Real people. Real activities. And we will be really human. Not angels. Not celestial beings. Not ghosts.

But humans.

In the meantime, we must see our physical body as it really is—the temple of the living God. And what we do with it truly does matter.

This is why I am vehemently opposed to cremation.

In recent times, cremation has become quite popular. And to the credit of its proponents, cremation is generally cheaper than other burial rites. Compared to being buried six feet under, you save a little money. So in that regard, it is good to know that people want to be good stewards of the money that God has given them.

The only problem is, our physical bodies really do matter—and how we deal with them posthumously says a lot about what we think of God’s purpose for our bodies. If all that matters is the spiritual—and nothing more—then who cares? In that case, you can do as you please.

But the fact of the matter is, all of history points to something very significant—that is, God joining himself with humanity in Jesus. And this should tell us something about the way God views humanity in general—including our bodies.

Interestingly, cremation itself has, for thousands of years, been a merely pagan ritual. The Hindus and Buddhists, for example, believe that the human body is of no significance. Why else would the relatives of the deceased in India, in an attempt to send their loved ones to an eternal bliss, burn the bodies? Why else would monks in China’s Tibet chop up the flesh of the dead and feed it to the birds of the air? It is because, in their estimation, the human body is not important.

Until recently, Christians, on the other hand, have always viewed the human body as having great significance. They have always seen it fitting for their loved ones to have a proper burial—because they understood that the material really does matter.

And even further back in history, we find that the Jews also saw the value of the human body and its proper burial. How else would you explain why it was such a disgrace in ancient Palestine for a person to be left unburied after his or her death? Is it not because God had a special purpose for the human body? And why was it so disturbing when God decided to destroy his enemies and leave their bodies uncared for? Was it not because he was pronouncing a curse upon them? After all, was it not a terrible thing, even in an unbeliever’s eyes, for someone to be left unburied once he or she died?

And all of this is precisely because the human body matters. And it matters because Jesus, the God-man, is Lord, even over our bodies. Even over our skin and blood.

Next week: Why we shouldn’t become materialists.