I am unashamedly addicted to the wide array of books at our local Barnes & Noble store. The good news is that I purchase very few of them, but that doesn’t keep me from browsing and reading the newest in each of many genres. Genre? No, it is not pronounced with a hard ‘g’ but, being of French derivation, the ‘g’ sounds more like ‘zh’ and the ‘re’ in the final syllable is itself barely enunciated, hence, ‘zhawnruh. Ok, but what does it mean and how does it help me as I dive into the book of Revelation?

Let’s go back briefly to my weekly perusal of books at B&N. I spend most of my time in the section labeled “non-fiction” and rarely give the newest “fiction” books more than a passing glance (aside from the newest novel from John Grisham). Across the aisle are teen-aged romance paperbacks, science fiction, poetry, and works of literature. The history books cover everything from ancient times to the present day. Then there are the sections devoted to self-help, mystery, children’s books, sports, art, religion, biography and any number of other topics and themes.

Each of these many literary expressions, in addition to several others, constitute their own particular “genre” or type and style of literature. One would never think it helpful to read a book on the history of World War II in the same way one reads Winnie the Pooh. Science fiction authors employ language and imagery far different from the typical romance novel.

So, why is this important to know? The reason is that reading the book of Revelation requires a vocabulary and worldview different from what one employs when reading a biography of Abraham Lincoln or even the book of Romans. Many have forgotten this when they open their Bibles to the Apocalypse of John. They never think twice about the different hermeneutical principles required for understanding the extensive symbolism of the last book of the Bible as over against those necessary when perusing this week’s Wall Street Journal.

Failure to keep the genre of Revelation in mind largely accounts for the many bizarre interpretations to which it is regularly subjected. The symbolism of apocalyptic literature simply cannot be read in the same literal or wooden manner that one employs when reading historical narrative. Once we are in touch with the unique nature of this book, the words in Revelation 1:3 make sense. There John encourages us with these words: “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near.”

To put it simply, God wants you to understand this remarkable book and promises that those who read it and hear it (and properly interpret it) are blessed! Perhaps you’ve been told that Revelation is too complex and its imagery too bizarre to be of any practical spiritual benefit. John thinks otherwise and assures us that hearing and heeding its teaching will reap a blessing otherwise unattainable.

This is why Michael Rowntree’s book is so important and why I am exceedingly happy to write this Foreword. Many of you have likely had a bad experience with Revelation. This may have come from a well-intentioned pastor or professor who largely ignored the historical context of the book or tried to tie its interpretation to current events in the world around us. Or perhaps you were subjected to a barrage of exegetical details and insights into the Greek text that left you frustrated and confused. Then, of course, there are those books and sermons that minimize the force of John’s language for no other reason than that it comes in the form of admittedly strange images of ferocious beasts, locusts, scorpions, dragons, and serpents.

Michael studiously avoids these many pitfalls in trying to make sense of Revelation. His is not a technical treatment accessible only to those who read Greek. And yet, he does not avoid or carefully navigate around the more challenging images. But neither does he engage in the sensationalistic approach taken by so many whose primary concern is how many books they can sell.

There are several reasons why you should devote yourself to a close reading of this book. In the first place, Michael is a superb writer. His prose is lively and punctuated with just the turn of phrase or analogy that makes reading his book a sheer delight. His numerous illustrations serve well to enlighten the reader to the many bizarre images and controversial topics in Revelation. And he has an uncanny ability to make sense of Revelation in its original context while simultaneously making application to the contemporary scene in which we find ourselves. His is the best combination of exegesis and application.

In addition, Michael does an excellent job of explaining the difficult and challenging statements in Revelation. He does so with profound theological insight and awareness of how the entire Bible plays into the meaning of the apocalypse. Revelation is filled with interpretive complexities and Michael bravely unpacks them in a way that makes sense for the contemporary Christian. He writes with profound insight into the controversial texts and demonstrates how they serve to exalt the ultimate and decisive triumph of the Lord Jesus Christ. After all, Revelation is fundamentally about God’s final victory, through Jesus Christ, and the consummation of his sovereign reign over all of creation.

One of the more perplexing realities in reading Revelation is the structure of the book and its thematic development. Tracing its focus from one chapter to the next can be tremendously frustrating. Michael is to be commended for providing a clear and intelligible account of how each chapter of Revelation relates to all the others.

You may be wondering about Michael’s understanding of the various eschatological systems of thought. Does he believe in a rapture, and if so, when will it occur? What about the so-called “Great Tribulation”? Will it be precisely seven years in length? And what of the Antichrist and of Israel’s role in the end times? And will non-Christians be tattooed with 666? And everyone will want to know his view of the millennium. I won’t spoil the party by giving away Michael’s perspective (and trust me, he has one; indeed, the correct one in my humble opinion!), but will simply assure you that regardless of which view you embrace, this book will inform you, challenge you, and I hope persuade you of the proper interpretation of all things related to the return of our Lord.

If you’ve studiously avoided Revelation, convinced that it is unintelligible to the average Christian, this book is for you. In fact, it is for both the uninitiated lay person and the seasoned scholar. I’ve studied and written about Revelation for nearly half a century and I can honestly say that this short volume has contributed to my understanding as much, if not more, than the most dense and technical commentaries. Revelation 1:3 rings ever so true to me because of Michael’s book. If you long for the “blessing” promised to those who read, hear, and obey Revelation, this is the place to begin.

This is the glorious person who, in spite of often being grieved by human sin, preserves and upholds and sustains saving faith in our hearts so that we don’t slip away from Jesus and down the slope into eternal damnation. And he does this every moment of every day even when we ignore his presence and presumptuously take his mercy for granted.

This is the majestic person who gently but powerfully opens our eyes to behold wonderful things in God’s Word (Ps 119:18).

This is the breathtaking person who enlightens the eyes of our heart (Eph 1:15-18) so that we might comprehend the majesty and mercy of our calling in Christ Jesus and the hope we have for an eternity in God’s presence.

This is the awesome person who lovingly restrains our sinful impulses and opens our eyes to see the beauty of God in a sunset and, contrary to everything we deserve, enables us to behold the saving grace of Jesus in his redemptive work.

This is the stunningly beautiful person who remarkably and inexplicably supplies us with encouragement and consolation and confidence and joy and peace and hope.

This is the splendid person who never grows weary of turning our attention to and riveting our sight upon the all-satisfying splendor of Jesus, even when our heart instead feels drawn to dwell on the sordid and joy-stealing filth of this world.

This is the precious person who keeps our hearts united to Christ when we feel tempted to give ourselves over into sexual immorality, who continually supplies us with strength to say No to greed and envy and unforgiveness and say Yes to the real joy of purity.

When we pause and think deeply about what is being said when we speak of grieving the Spirit or quenching the Spirit, we discover something more than merely an inadvertent slip of the tongue or a seemingly careless sin. The Holy Spirit is truly God and is deserving of our utmost adoration and exaltation. I pray that the Spirit himself will guide, direct, and illumine our minds to properly grasp the glory of his personality and power.

“Take away the dispensation of the Spirit, and his effectual operations in all the intercourse that is between God and man; be ashamed to avow or profess the work attributed unto him in the gospel – and Christianity is plucked up by the roots.” (John Owen, Pneumatologia: A Discourse concerning the Holy Spirit, in The Works of John Owen, vol. 3, ed. William H. Goold [Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, 1965], 8).

Southern Baptists in the 1950’s and 60’s were rarely known to be involved in what had come to be known as charismatic renewal. We all believed in the Holy Spirit, but little was said of him or his ministry aside from his work in producing what is known as the new birth. If our Pentecostal and charismatic brethren were ever mentioned, and it was quite rare for them even to be noted in polite conversation, they were held up for ridicule and disdain. They were known as “gibberers” in my house, those who regularly spoke in mindless and meaningless gibberish.

It wasn’t until the summer of 1970, following my freshman year at the University of Oklahoma, that I had my first encounter with charismatic Christians. Although he wasn’t enthusiastic about it, my father granted me permission to participate in a summer evangelistic project in Lake Tahoe, Nevada, sponsored by what was then known as Campus Crusade for Christ (now CRU). Most of the 35 or so who were present worked a job during the day and engaged in either a Bible study or street and beach evangelism at night. I worked the entire summer at a Shell gas station across the street from the place where all of us lived. There wasn’t much excitement in that, except for Fridays, when the motorcycle gangs from Sacramento and San Francisco would descend upon that resort city. Their first stop upon entering the outskirts of Tahoe was to fill up at my service station. I thank God for the courage and opportunity to share the gospel with a few of them before the summer ended.

My perspective on the church and Christians as a whole was profoundly shaken that summer. This was due, in no small measure, to a visit I made to the campus of the University of California, Berkeley. You must remember that this was the late spring, early summer of 1970. It was a time of hippies, the Viet Nam War and its protestors, the Kent State shootings, hallucinogenic drugs, and the emergence of what came to be known as the Jesus movement. While in Berkeley I spent a couple of days with those who called themselves the Christian World Liberation Front, or CWLF. Let me assure you that nothing in my nineteen years as a Southern Baptist from Oklahoma prepared me for the radical, off-beat approach to Christianity that I encountered there! Although my exposure to the CWLF was brief, I was challenged in a positive way to be a bit more open and tolerant of those who worshiped and lived out their life in Jesus in ways that differed from my own.

My spiritual life was deeply impacted at the close of my summer in Tahoe when I attended a meeting at which Lutheran pastor Harald Bredesen was scheduled to speak. I had never heard of him prior to that night but soon learned that he was one of the early leaders of the charismatic movement. In the course of the evening he mentioned a book by John Sherrill entitled They Speak with Other Tongues. The story he told of Sherrill’s experience wasn’t even remotely similar to my life in God. But he had my attention. I stayed after the Bible study was over and spoke with Bredesen for a few minutes. He gave me a copy of Sherrill’s book and I read it immediately.

In almost complete defiance of my spiritual experience to that point in time, the issue of speaking in tongues immediately became an obsession with me. As my time of ministry in Lake Tahoe concluded, I returned to the University of Oklahoma to continue my studies as a sophomore. My plans at that time were to join the staff of Crusade following graduation. Little did I realize that Crusade’s “unofficial official” policy regarding charismatic experience was quite negative. Speaking in tongues, as I would soon discover, was off limits.

For the first two months of my sophomore year I followed the same routine every night, Monday through Sunday. At 10:00 p.m. each night I would walk two blocks from my fraternity house to the playground of the McKinley Elementary School where I would spend anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour praying earnestly that, if the gift were real, God would give it to me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was praying for. Nevertheless, for several weeks I spent each night pleading with God for some indication of his will for me concerning this gift.

I can’t say that I ever expected anything to happen. My skepticism toward spiritual gifts like tongues was deep-seated and pervasive. As already noted, my education and experience in Christianity, at least to this point, was decidedly cessationist. One thing is certain: I was not “primed”, so to speak, either psychologically or spiritually, for what eventually happened.

One night in October of 1970, as I sat at the foot of a large tree in that school playground (the tree, by the way, is still there!), quite without warning, my normal, somewhat routine, prayer was radically interrupted. It’s important for you to understand that I didn’t experiment with speaking in tongues. I made no attempt to pray “banana” backwards over and over again. Often people instruct those without the gift simply to start speaking whatever syllables or words pop into their minds. I did nothing of the sort. I made no conscious effort to alter my speech patterns.

It was as if my normal English prayers were hijacked by the Spirit. I suddenly began speaking forth words of uncertain sound and form. Once again, I didn’t start out by consciously muttering a few senseless syllables which then gave way to a more coherent linguistic experience. It was more like a spiritual invasion in which the Spirit intruded on my life, interrupted my speech patterns and “gave utterance” (Acts 2:4).

There was a profound and utterly unexpected intensification of my sense of God’s nearness and power. I distinctly remember feeling a somewhat detached sensation, as if I were separate from the one speaking. I had never experienced anything remotely similar to that in all my life. While this linguistic flood continued to pour forth I carried on a separate dialogue within my own mind: “Sam, what are you saying? Are you speaking in tongues?” It was the first time I had ever experienced the sensation of thinking in one language while speaking in another.

I realize how odd this may sound. To some, it will strike them as delusion. Trust me when I say that I completely understand that reaction. The closest thing I can come to describing what happened is that it felt as though the veil between my life on earth and the realities of heaven had been removed. The sense of the supernatural invading the natural was virtually tangible. More than half a century has passed since that October evening and nothing I’ve seen, sensed, or felt during that time can remotely compare with what I experienced on the playground of that elementary school.

My initial reaction to something so unfamiliar and new was a strange mixture of both fear and exhilaration. I don’t recall precisely how long it lasted, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes. I was confused, but at the same time felt closer to God than ever before. At the time I didn’t have theological categories to describe what happened. In hindsight, I’m more inclined to view it as a powerful filling of the Holy Spirit rather than Spirit baptism (although I’m open to being convinced otherwise). Having said that, I must confess that when I look for words to describe it the only thing that comes to mind is immersion and saturation, a sense of being inundated or flooded with the presence of God.

Those who’ve had a similar experience know why I struggle to describe what happened. My relationship with God to that point had been largely, if not entirely, intellectual. I’m not questioning the reality of my salvation (I had been truly born again for over a decade before the events of that October evening). I’m simply saying that aside from a few emotional moments in church as a young boy, and the miraculous healing of a migraine headache when I was eleven years old, I had no tangible awareness of a dimension of reality beyond what I could encounter through the five senses. But on the night in question it was as though the barrier that separated my being from the being of God was lifted. My spirit was engulfed by the Spirit of God. Neither before nor since that day have I felt so directly, empirically, and undeniably in touch with the realm of the supernatural.

Although the onset of tongues was unexpected, I consciously chose to stop speaking. I jumped to my feet, returned to my fraternity house filled with excitement, and called a friend who was on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ. I didn't tell him what had happened; only that I needed to speak with him immediately. Thirty minutes later I sat down in his car and said, “You'll never guess what happened tonight.”

“You spoke in tongues, didn't you?” he asked, almost deadpan.

“Yes! How did you know? It was great. But I don't understand what it means.”

This man cared deeply for me and had no intention of offending me or obstructing my Christian growth. But what he said next affected me for years to come.

“Sam, you do realize, don't you, that you will have to resign your position as student leader and give up any hope of joining staff when you graduate. Campus Crusade doesn't permit people who speak in tongues to hold positions of authority. Of course, if you don't do it again, there's no need for us to tell anyone. Everything can be the same as it was before.”

I was crushed and profoundly confused. I remember feebly and fearfully trying to speak in tongues the next night, but nothing happened. Not wanting to forfeit my position in the ministry on campus, I concluded that it must have been something other than the Holy Spirit. I never thought it was demonic, although many of my friends did. I explained it away as a momentary emotional outburst that I'd be better off forgetting. I rarely spoke of the incident in the years following, fearful of the disdain of my friends who looked with suspicion on anyone remotely associated with or showing interest in the gift of tongues. Needless to say, I didn't speak in tongues again for twenty years!

I think it’s important to point out that deep within I always knew that the experience was a genuine encounter with the Spirit of God. My agreement with those who explained it (away) by appealing to psychological factors was prompted less by conviction than by my fear of incurring their ridicule or, worse still, losing their friendship. I also believe that my attempt to write it off as a momentary, one-time phenomenon, better left in the past, was offensive to God and a clear instance of quenching the Holy Spirit.

Following graduation in May of 1973 my wife and I immediately moved to Dallas, Texas, to begin my study in preparation for ministry at Dallas Theological Seminary. I loved my time at Dallas. The fact that my theological trajectory has taken a different turn from what I was taught at Dallas does not in any way diminish the respect I had then and have today for the education in God’s Word that DTS provided. But the entire faculty was committed to the belief that certain spiritual gifts such as speaking in tongues were restricted to the first century of the early church. I was taught in virtually every class that once the first generation of apostles died out, so too did the gift of tongues. Out of respect for my instructors, I embraced this perspective and taught it faithfully throughout the first fifteen years of my public ministry. But all the while my personal experience from several years earlier was lingering in the back of my mind and haunting me with the reminder of what God had done.

I have written elsewhere of my transition from a cessationist who regularly mocked charismatic practices to a continuationist who not only believes in but regularly pursues and practices the full range of spiritual gifts. But I digress.

Slightly more than twenty years subsequent to that October experience in the McKinley school playground, in November of 1990, I attended the annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in New Orleans, Louisiana. While there I spent time with Jack Deere, a close friend and former classmate at Dallas Seminary. Jack is the author of Surprised by the Power of the Spirit and Surprised by the Voice of God (Zondervan), both excellent biblical refutations of cessationism. Jack taught Old Testament and Hebrew at Dallas for twelve years before being dismissed because of his embrace of continuationism. At the time of our visit in New Orleans he was serving as an associate of John Wimber at the Anaheim Vineyard in California.

At dinner one night, I shared with him my journey and told him about what had happened back in the fall of 1970, hoping to gain additional insight into the nature of my experience and what God’s will for me might be. He then reminded me of something the apostle Paul said to young Timothy: “For this reason I remind you to fan into flame [“kindle afresh”; NASB] the gift of God which is in you through the laying on my hands” (2 Timothy 1:6). Jack then laid hands on me and asked the Lord to kindle afresh in me this gift he had bestowed so many years before.

This verse in 2 Timothy is important. It tells us that one may receive a spiritual gift only to neglect and ignore it. The imagery Paul uses is helpful. He describes a spiritual gift in terms of a flame that needs to be continually fanned. If it is not understood and nurtured and utilized in the way God intended, the once brightly burning flame can be reduced to a smoldering ember. “Take whatever steps you must: study, pray, seek God's face, put it into practice, but by all means stoke the fire until that gift returns to its original intensity.”

I took Paul's advice to Timothy and applied it to my own case. Every day, if only for a few minutes, I prayed that God would renew what he had given but I had quenched. I prayed that, if it were his will, I would once more be able to pray in the Spirit, to speak that heavenly language that would praise and thank and bless him (1 Corinthians 14:2,16,17). Unlike my first experience with tongues, I didn't wait for some sort of divine seizure, but in faith began simply to speak forth the syllables and words that he brought to mind.

More than thirty-five years have passed now since God renewed his precious gift in my life. Praying in the Spirit is by no means the most important gift. Neither is it a sign of a spirituality or maturity greater than that of those who don’t have this particular gift. On the other hand, no gift of God is to be despised or ridiculed or suppressed. If no less a man than the Apostle Paul can say, “I thank God I speak in tongues more than you all” (1 Corinthians 14:18), who are we to despise this blessed gift of God?

To be continued . . .

[Adapted from my book, The Language of Heaven: Crucial Questions about Speaking in Tongues (Charisma House, 2019)].

These are extremely important questions, but our focus is on emotions or feelings or affections in worship and the degree to which they are visibly and audibly expressed in our corporate praise of God. Sadly, too many Christians tend to gravitate to one end of the spectrum or the other. Some focus almost entirely on feelings and judge the success or failure of a Sunday service based on how high their emotions were elevated. Other believers focus almost entirely on facts and consider feelings to be altogether irrelevant. Some hanker after the mountain-top experience of emotional ecstasy while others simply want to be informed of some new and insightful theological truth. They usually end up attending either the First United Church of Christian Feeling or the Orthodox Assembly of Christian Fact.

The result, all too often, is that one church bears a striking resemblance to a Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus while another is more like a Sunday visit to the county morgue! It seems that we are confronted with a choice between the frenzy of unbridled chaos, on the one hand, and the rigidity of immovable concrete on the other.

So what does the Bible have to say about our affections, our deepest and most intense desires, and the feelings that characterize and accompany them?

Look at what Jesus said in his rebuke of the religious leaders of his day.

“You hypocrites! Well did Isaiah prophesy of you, when he said: ‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men’” (Matt. 15:7-9).

There is a lot here, but I want you to see that genuine, God-honoring worship includes as an essential element the coming alive of feelings and affections for God. When affections or feelings for God are absent, worship is dead. But what kind of affections? I would include here such things as joy, gladness, fear, awe, reverence, trembling, gratitude, love, exultation, delight, humility, brokenness, contrition over sin, heart-warming satisfaction, and a fervent, white-hot passion or zeal for God. Consider these biblical texts:

“But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult in you” (Ps. 5:11).

“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and exult in you” (Ps. 9:1-2a).

“Be glad in the Lord, and rejoice, O righteous, and shout for joy, all you upright in heart!” (Ps. 32:11).

“My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips . . . for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy” (Ps. 63:5,7).

“But the righteous shall be glad; they shall exult before God; they shall be jubilant with joy! Sing to God, sing praises to his name” (Ps. 68:3-4a).

These are but a handful of dozens of similar texts where the engagement of the whole soul in joyful, glad-hearted enjoyment of God is described. There are texts such as Psalm 5:7 that speak of reverential fear in our worship:

“But I, through the abundance of your steadfast love, will enter your house. I will bow down toward your holy temple in the fear of you” (Ps. 5:7; the psalmist clearly felt no inconsistency in speaking of his “fear” of the God whose “love” for him is “steadfast”).

There is a consistent emphasis on gratitude in the psalms:

“Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name” (Ps. 100:4; see Ps. 103:1-5).

Love is also often the focus in worship:

“Love the Lord, all you his saints!” (Ps. 31:23a).

Passion and hunger for God are essential in worship:

“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water” (Ps. 63:1).

If the reality of God and his saving grace for us in Jesus Christ is displayed and explained and understood and we do not feel in our hearts things such as gratitude and joy and love and hunger for more and longing and hope and fear of offending this great and gracious God, then we can go through all the motions of which the body is capable and sing to the heights of musical excellence and still not worship God in a way that truly honors him.

I realize that this scares some people. They are terrified of emotionalism. But let’s be clear: emotionalism is the artificial manipulation of heightened feelings for the sake of the feelings themselves. What I’m advocating is the awakening and intensification of heart-felt affections by means of biblical truth for the sake of God’s glory. Here is how John Piper explained the significance of our Lord’s statement that we worship God “in spirit and truth” (John 4:23):

“Worshiping in spirit is the opposite of worshiping in merely external ways. It is the opposite of empty formalism and traditionalism. Worshiping in truth is the opposite of worship based on an inadequate view of God. Worship must have head and heart. Worship must engage emotions and thought. Truth without emotion produces dead orthodoxy and a church full (or half-full) of artificial admirers (like people who write generic anniversary cards for a living). On the other hand, emotion without truth produces empty frenzy and cultivates shallow people who refuse the discipline of rigorous thought. But true worship comes from people who are deeply emotional and who love deep and sound doctrine. Strong affections for God rooted in truth are the bone and marrow of biblical worship.”^[1]

We must be careful neither to manufacture feelings when they aren’t really there nor suppress them when they are awakened. So let me go on record once again about the relationship between biblical truth and heart-felt affections:

For emotional heat to be holy, it must be the product of theological light.

Spiritual feelings must arise as the fruit of our perception of spiritual realities.

High and noble thoughts about God are inseparably linked to deep and pleasurable feelings for God.

Worship is neither a mind trip nor an emotional binge. It is a biblical blend of our highest and most noble thoughts about God and our deepest and most passionate desires for God.

So we must never be afraid to enjoy God! The primary problem today is that far too many professing Christians enjoy everything in life except God. But listen to the psalmists once again:

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore” (Ps. 16:11).

“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings. They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights” (Ps. 36:7-8).

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Ps. 37:4).

“Praise the Lord! For it is good to sing praises to our God; for it is pleasant, and a song of praise is fitting” (Ps. 147:1).

Before we leave this topic of the pleasures of praise, we need to look closely at a genuinely remarkable, but easily misunderstood exhortation in the OT. It is the one we find on the lips of David in Psalm 37:4. Let’s look at it in its broader context.

“Fret not yourself because of evildoers; be not envious of wrongdoers! For they will soon fade like the grass and wither like the green herb. Trust in the LORD, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday. Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him; fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, over the man who carries out evil devices! Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath! Fret not yourself; it tends only to evil. For the evildoers shall be cut off, but those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land” (Ps. 37:1-9; italics mine).

To “delight” in the Lord is closely related both to what precedes in v. 3 where David calls on us to “trust” in the Lord and to what follows in v. 5 where we are called on to “commit” our “way” to Lord. Likewise, the same God-centered focus continues as we are told again in v. 5 to “trust in him” and in v. 7 to “be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.”

All these exhortations that have God as their focus are set over against the tendency to “fret” yourself over evildoers and to be “envious” of them. Instead of fretting over the prosperity of sinners we are to trust in God, delight in God, and commit our way to God. And that only makes sense if there is more gladness and peace and joy and comfort and delight in God than there is in all the riches amassed by human effort.

I once asked John Piper how we avoid reading this text as an endorsement of the prosperity gospel or a gospel that uses God to get goodies, so to speak. In other words, what prevents us from seeking our joy and satisfaction in God as a pathway to laying hold of other desires of the heart? In other words, how do we avoid making God a tool or instrument or means for the pursuit of joy in something other than him?

He responded in a private email by saying that the “desires” of the heart must be desires that are satisfied in more of God in more and more ways. If that were not the case, we would not truly be delighting in God as an end in itself but only using God to get what we enjoy more than what may be found in him alone. He wrote to me: “I often say that the desire of the heart that we get is God himself. True. But the text implies plurality, and so I am willing to say that we get more of God in more ways when we delight in him. It does not promise that all we can conceive of enjoying will come to us, but that our desires to taste more of God in many ways will be arranged according to God’s wise and loving plan.”

We should also note that if your delight is wholly in God then your desires will not be for anything that would diminish his centrality in your soul. You won’t want anything that has the potential of turning your heart to trust in anyone but him. If your “desires” are for the stuff of this world that would detract from your complete satisfaction in God, then you aren’t truly delighting yourself in him.

But why joy? Why do the biblical authors, such as David, make delight or joy in God so central to our relationship with him? Is it not enough simply to obey God or fear God or worship God or believe in God? Why joy? Why delight? Why does it matter so much?

Not long ago a blogger criticized Christian Hedonism for insisting that we come to God and praise God for the joy to be found in him. He said that we should worship God simply because God deserves to be worshiped. Well, of course he does. No one disputes that point. But Christian Hedonism directs our attention to the how of worship. How is God most glorified in his people? And I would insist that God is most glorified in his people when they experience in themselves, by God’s saving and sanctifying grace, the affections of joy, delight, and satisfaction that God himself experiences in God himself. So, there is obviously something special about joy.

So, let’s resist any temptation to relegate joy and delight to a place of secondary importance. We must also resist the tendency among many to describe joy as little more than the unintended effect or result or inadvertent fruit of some other Christian duty. Instead, let joy in God, delight in God, not in his gifts but in God himself, be the focus of our efforts through the power of the Holy Spirit. For in our delight and joy in God is God most gloriously glorified in us.

[Adapted from my book, Understanding Worship: Biblical Foundations for Delighting in and Feasting on God (Zondervan, 2025)]

[1] John Piper, Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist (Colorado Springs: Multnomah Books, 2011), 81-82.

The first question concerns the issue of deliverance ministry. Here it is.

“I get the fact that there are examples of deliverance in the Gospels/Acts that should suffice to teach us that such is possible today. But how do you explain the absence of any teaching in this regard in the Epistles?”

The questionnaire is correct in saying that the numerous examples of deliverance in the Gospels and Acts are sufficient to teach us that we should engage in this ministry today.

But deliverance from demonization is not entirely absent from the Epistles. Consider 2 Corinthians 2 and 10, Ephesians 6, James 4, 1 Peter 5. Although these texts don’t specifically speak of deliverance, they do command us to resist the Devil and to avail ourselves of the armor of God.

Also, there was no need to expand on deliverance since that had been addressed in the gospels and Acts. We should also remember that virtually all the epistles are ad hoc documents, written to address particular concerns in the church in that city. None of them claim to be comprehensive treatments of every theological issue. Thus, we should not expect them to do what it was never their intention to address.

The second question is derived from Gordon Fee's statement (quoted by Leanne Payne): “There is no Pauline evidence for the phenomenon known in contemporary circles as 'personal prophecy' whereby someone prophesies over another as to the very personal matters in their lives. . .Prophecy seems to be a strictly community affair, for the sake of the community's corporate life.”

I completely disagree. 1 Corinthians 14:3 says prophecy is to edify, encourage, and console. That sounds like it would apply to individuals. Also, later in 1 Cor. 14 Paul describers an unbeliever coming to the church where prophetic ministry exposes the secrets of his heart and leads him to repent. I know of no text that says prophecy is only for the community’s corporate life. And what is the “corporate community” if not a collection of individuals who compose it?

Of course, every spiritual gift can be used in both an individual and corporate manner. In the absence of a text that actually says what Fee and Payne contend, I think prophecy is immensely helpful in an individual context.

Consider also the prophetic warning issued to Paul in Acts 21. Also, Ananias prophesied to Paul as an individual in Acts 9. Also, what about the prophetic words given personally to Timothy as described in 1 Timothy 1:18 and 4:14? These latter texts would clearly refute what Fee/Payne are saying.

So, yes, both deliverance ministry and personal prophetic ministry are to be welcomed into the life of the local church.

A few years ago, I was visiting Wayne Grudem at his home in Phoenix. He shared with me how he and his wife, Margaret, were re-thinking their view on divorce and remarriage. We had a long and engaging conversation about it. At first, I struggled with his suggestion that there are additional grounds for divorce beyond adultery and abandonment. Later that year Wayne delivered a paper at the annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society setting forth his new view. He then asked Crossway to release a new and updated version of his book, Christian Ethics (2024), in which he defended what you are about to read.

Wayne (Christian Ethics, 818-28) directs our attention to 1 Corinthians 7:15 –

"But if the unbelieving partner separates, let it be so. In such cases the brother or sister is not enslaved. God has called you to peace.”

The Greek phrase translated, “in such cases”, appears nowhere else in the NT. However, it does on occasion appear in Greek literature outside the Bible. Grudem cites examples from Philo, Lysias, and Euripides. Grudem believes that is clear from how the phrase is used elsewhere that Paul “implies that divorce is a legitimate possibility not only in cases of desertion by an unbeliever, but also in other circumstances that are similar to but not necessarily exactly like desertion” (820) “In such cases” thus suggests that Paul is saying that divorce is permissible “in this and other similarly destructive situations” (that is, situations that harm or destroy a marriage as much as adultery or desertion)” (820). We might even translate this phrase, “in cases similar to this.”

Grudem is not saying that divorce is legitimate in every case in which a spouse claims to be abused. Rather, he is saying “that there are some cases in which the abuse (whether physical or verbal/emotional) has damaged the marriage as much as adultery or desertion would damage it, and ‘in such cases’ in 1 Corinthians 7:15 would apply and divorce would be legitimate” (822).

Grudem’s point is that Paul is alluding to other instances that are similar to adultery and desertion and serve to destroy a marriage. What might those “instances” be? Although he doesn’t claim to provide an exhaustive list, he suggests that it is reasonable to mention a few: abuse of children, and extreme, prolonged verbal and relational cruelty (by which he means “treatment that is destroying the other spouse’s mental and emotional stability could be so severe that it would fall into the category of ‘in such cases’ and would be a legitimate ground for divorce”) (822). He also mentions credible threats of serious bodily harm, incorrigible drug or alcohol addiction, incorrigible gambling addiction, and incorrigible addiction to pornography.

Wayne is fully aware of the sorts of objections that some might bring against his view. He mentions four of them and provides a brief response to each.

First, “In a case of abuse, why not just counsel lifelong separation without divorce?” His answer is that “this would be leaving the abused spouse ‘enslaved’ to the marriage and the abusing spouse, but Paul says such a spouse is ‘not enslaved’ [see 1 Cor. 7:15] in situations like this” (825).

Second, “This will open the floodgates to many needless divorces in marriages that could be saved” (825). Grudem responds: “My answer is that I am not advocating for ‘needless divorces.’ Genuine efforts to save the marriages should be attempted first. But allowing for these additional possible grounds for divorce will save thousands of sincere Christian believers from suffering horrible abuse for decades” (825).

Third, “Staying in an abusive marriage is a better way to give a witness to society about the goodness of God’s plan for lifelong marriage” (825), to which he replies: “leaving an abusive marriage with the blessing of the church is a better way to give witness to society that God is pleased when we can help to rescue those who suffer unjustly” (825).

Fourth, “Sometimes God calls his children to endure suffering. In fact, Peter says, ‘If when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God’ (1 Pet. 2:20).” Again, Grudem responds:

“I agree that God sometimes calls his people to endure suffering, but there is more to the story. God also rescues his people from suffering and calls them to escape from suffering when possible. ‘I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery’ (Ex. 20:2). ‘And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil’ (Matt. 6:13). ‘When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next’ (Matt. 10:23). ‘Were you a bondservant when called? Do not be concerned about it. (But if you can gain your freedom, avail yourself of the opportunity)’” (1 Cor. 7:21).

In summary:

“Several examples from extrabiblical literature show that the expression ‘in such cases’ (en tois toioutois) often refers to a variety of situations that are similar to but clearly not identical to the specific situation. This suggests that Paul considered divorce a legitimate possibility not only in cases of desertion by an unbeliever, but also in situations that similarly brought extensive and severe damage to the marriage” (825).

Am I now persuaded of Grudem’s new view? Yes.

Taken from Martin Luther’s Doctrine of Christ, by Jan D. Kingston Siggins (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1970), 136-37.

I will always be grateful for the way Robert cared for my parents during his time as interim pastor of First Baptist Church, Duncan, Oklahoma. Sloan was on the faculty at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Ft. Worth when we first met him. He would drive from Ft. Worth to Duncan, in southwest Oklahoma, every Saturday night and preach on Sunday morning and night during a time when our church didn’t have a senior pastor.

Whether at lunch on Sunday after church, or on Sunday night following the service, Robert and his wife Sue would typically come to our home for a meal. The conversations were stimulating and my parents enjoyed every minute of their time together.

When my father died in 1982, Robert drove to Duncan to perform the memorial service. My mother was forever grateful to him. As best I can recall it was either in the fall of 1983 or 1984 that my mother and I joined Robert as he led a trip to Israel. He preached at every location and led us in prayer each day. It was a wonderful experience and was my only trip to Israel.

Robert often talked of his experience studying under J. I. Packer, one of my theological heroes. He didn’t agree with Packer’s Calvinism (nor mine!) but always spoke highly of him.

Robert and his wife, Sue, were married for 56 years. They had seven children and twenty-six grandchildren. He will be sorely missed, but I rejoice for him as he is now in the presence of the Lord and my parents.

We continue in Luke 10 where it says, “the seventy-two returned with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!’ And he said to them, ‘I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions [standard biblical language for demonic powers], and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you’” (Luke 10:17-19).

We are now prepared to ask a critical question: “Do we, the church, have this same authority today? Or was this a temporary endowment?” My answer is: “We have even greater authority!” I say this for several reasons.

First of all, remember that this commission and the authority and power it entailed was given to the 72, not simply to the 12. It isn't possible to restrict this authority to a select few. Jesus' selection of 72 is surely in anticipation of the world-wide mission of the entire body of Christ. The 72 were not uniquely gifted or specially called people with high office or position in the body of Christ. They were ordinary followers of Jesus, just like you and me.

Second, we live and operate on this side of the cross, subsequent to the defeat of Satan. In other words, their authority and power, prior to the cross, can hardly be regarded as equivalent to ours, subsequent to the cross.

Third, similarly, we live and operate on this side of Pentecost. In other words, we operate with the fullness of the indwelling power and presence of the Holy Spirit. They did not. We have also received the fullness of divine authorization as stated in the Great Commission (Matt. 28:18-19).

Fourth, Christians often forget or fail to fully appreciate the fact that we have been raised up and seated with the exalted Lord, under whose feet all principalities and powers have been subjected (Eph. 1:19-2:7; Col. 2:9-10).

Fifth, and finally, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. In other words, the evidence of authority is the exercise of authority. One need only read numerous texts of the authority and power operative in the early church, following the ascension of Jesus, to see confirmation of this point (I suggest you read closely Acts 5:16; 8:7; 16:18; 19:12-16; 2 Cor. 10:3-4; Eph. 6:10-13; James 4:7; 1 Pt. 5:8; 1 John 2:13-14).

Praise God for this impartation of authority! May we faithfully depend on the name and power of Jesus, through the Spirit, to help facilitate the freedom of so many who are oppressed by the enemy.

But what is it that makes the gospel something more than news? Why is it “good” news? Indeed, why is it “better” news than anything else you might discover? And could it be that the biblical gospel is in fact the very “best” news imaginable? Clearly yes, and here is why.

The gospel is fundamentally about something that has happened. It is an accomplished event, an unalterable fact of history. Nothing can undo the gospel. No power in heaven or earth can overturn or reverse it. But as a settled achievement it also exerts a radical and far-reaching influence into both our present experience and our future hopes. Central to why it is the “best” news imaginable is that the glory of what God has already done in and through Jesus transforms everything now and yet to come.

This gospel is not only the means by which people have been saved, but also the truth and power by which people are being sanctified (1 Cor. 15:1-2); it is the truth of the gospel that enables us to genuinely and joyfully do what is pleasing to God and to grow in progressive conformity to the image of Christ. Thus we must never think that the gospel is solely for unbelievers. It is for Christians, at every stage of their lives. There is nothing in the Christian life that is “post” gospel!

It would not be an exaggeration to say that the gospel is the gravitational center of both our individual experience and the shape of local church life. We see this in numerous biblical texts. For example, the gospel is Christocentric: it is about Jesus, God’s son (Mark 1:1; Rom. 1:9). Both Mark (Mark 1:14) and Paul (Rom. 1:1; 1 Thess. 2:2) describe it as the gospel “of God” insofar as he is its source and the cause of all that it entails. Humans do not create or craft the gospel: they respond to it by repenting of their sins and believing its message (Mark 1:15) concerning what God has done in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

The gospel, then, is “the word of truth” that proclaims our “salvation” (Eph. 1:13). It is marked by grace (Acts 20:24), which is to say it is the message of God’s gracious provision, apart from human works, of all that is necessary to reconcile us to himself both now and for eternity. Indeed, the gospel is the foundation, pattern, and power for how we respond to unjust suffering (1 Pet. 2:18-25; 3:17-18), the way we relate to our spouse (Eph. 5:25-33), how we use our money (2 Cor. 8:8-9; 9:13), the manner in which we forgive those who’ve sinned against us (Eph. 4:32; Col. 3:13), and the zeal with which we serve others (Mark 10:43-45; 1 John 3:16-18). This “good news” of what God has done in and through Christ’s death (1 Cor. 2:2) and resurrection (2 Tim. 2:8) brings peace (Eph. 6:15), life, and immortality (2 Tim. 1:10) to those who receive it.

These truths are of paramount and eternal importance, for to “distort the gospel of Christ” (Gal. 1:7) or to preach one that is “different” from or “contrary” to what the apostles made known (Gal. 1:6-7) is to come under a divine curse (Gal. 1:9).

So, how does the gospel change us? Of what practical, daily importance is it? Many Christians live in an “if / then” relationship with God. If I do what is right, then God will love me. If I give more money to missions, then God will provide me with a raise at work. If I avoid sinful habits, then I will be spared suffering and humiliation. It’s a conditional relationship that is based on the principle of merit.

The gospel calls us to live in a “because / therefore” relationship with the Lord. Because we have been justified by faith in Christ, therefore we have peace with God (Rom. 5:1). Because Christ died for us, therefore we are forgiven. Because Christ has fulfilled the law in our place, therefore we are set free from its demands and penalty. This is an unconditional relationship that is based on the principle of grace.

If we are to understand the gospel rightly we must keep in mind five foundational truths.

First, the gospel is rooted in the call of Israel and is consummated in the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, who is the fulfillment of the types and shadows of the old covenant. As such, the gospel must never be thought of as an abstract, a-historical idea, as if it were disconnected from or unrelated to the concrete realities of life on earth. The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus are thus to be seen as the pivotal chapter in the unfolding story of God’s redemptive purpose for humanity.

Second, the gospel is not what God requires. The gospel is what God provides. There is of course, an intrinsic demand built into the gospel. The good news that is proclaimed calls for a response of faith and repentance. But our faith and repentance are not themselves the gospel. Our personal testimony is not the gospel. We cannot be the gospel but we bear witness to it.

Third, the gospel is not an imperative, demanding things you must do. The gospel is an indicative, declaring things God has done. Again, of course we do things because of the gospel. But our doing things isn’t itself the gospel.

 Fourth, the gospel is not about human action. The gospel is about divine achievement. Or again, the gospel is about God’s provision, not man’s response. The gospel is not a moralistic Do! The gospel is a merciful Done! There are undoubtedly multiple consequences of the gospel that extend beyond its impact on the individual and his relationship to God. The gospel invariably issues a call for human action. Among the implications or results of the gospel are the cultivation of humility (Phil. 2:1-5), the pursuit of racial reconciliation (Eph. 2:11-22) and social justice (Philemon 8-20), a commitment to harmony and peace among men (Rom. 15:5-7; Heb. 12:14), and the demonstration of love one for another (1 John 3:16, 23). But we must never confuse the content of the gospel with its consequences, or its essence with its entailments.

Fifth, whereas the gospel is God’s redeeming act in Jesus on behalf of sinful men and women, we must not overlook the fact that it is only because of the gospel that we have a sure and certain hope for cosmic transformation. The good news of God’s saving act in Christ is thus the foundation for our confidence in the ultimate triumph of God’s kingdom (1 Cor. 15:20-24), the end of physical death (1 Cor. 15:25-26; Rev. 21:4), the defeat of Satan (John 16:11; Col. 2:13-15; Heb. 2:14; 1 John 3:8), the eradication of all evil (Rev. 21:4, 8), and the removal of the curse that rests on our physical environment and the consummation of God’s purpose for all creation in the new heavens and new earth (Rom. 8:18-25).