Text: “Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him” (2 Tim 2:3-4, ESV).
Context, Context, Context: The apostle Paul was writing this epistle to his son in the faith, Timothy, in the mid-60s of the 1st century A.D. And Paul had one overarching theme: perseverance.
Reason for Writing: Why did God inspire Paul to write this epistle about perseverance? Because hardship and trials are to be expected. They’re inseparable from soldiering—especially if we are Christians. We have our commander’s mission, but Christians are likewise called to honor the Lord in everything we do, and in the manners in which we serve. Our character should redound to the glory of God. We are to be salt and light amidst the moral decay and cultural rot.
Our aim, Paul writes, “Is to please the one who enlisted him” (2 Tim 2:4, ESV). In our parlance, we might say this is nothing other than mission focus. It’s being on guard against mission creep, where distractions and loss of focus can threaten to derail us from keeping the main thing the main thing.
Encouragement: In another epistle, the same apostle Paul wrote, “And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Gal 6:9, ESV). All this comes from a man who counted the costs, finished the race, and inherited the crown fashioned by the greatest Commander. Let us persevere in the mission and in the great commission.
Intro: Currently at church, I’m beginning a 12-week series through the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes. For many years, it has been my favorite book of the Bible. Why? To some degree, it is because it is literary and poetic in genre. It’s not a straightforward narrative of a battle, or crossing a body of water, or healing a leper, or epistolary literature about how the New Testament church is to be governed. None of that. Ecclesiastes is part of the wisdom literature. It’s more nuanced. It’s written by a man who went from hero to zero many times, and then back again—Solomon. Solomon was wise beyond his years. He gained unprecedented wealth and reign. People traveled just to come see Solomon’s Temple, his riches, his kingdom, etc.
Segue: But then you get a book like Ecclesiastes. And what you find there is a series of mood pieces and reflections upon a life that has seen many highs and many lows. In Ecclesiastes 1, for example, we read the following:
I said in my heart, “I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.” And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after wind.
For in much wisdom is much vexation,
And he who increases knowledge increases sorrow (Eccl 1:16-18, ESV)
Teaching: The paradox is striking. Here’s Solomon, wise beyond all other men, and we would think his mood would be one of joy. His heart, he writes, “has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge” (v. 16). And yet he found that they—though noble and proper pursuits—were also vanity/wind/hebel (Hb.). Even in wisdom, Solomon was well acquainted with sorrow. Because he saw into the heart of the matter, he grieved over it. That’s what he means by, “And he who increases knowledge increases sorrow” (v. 18b). It’s much more convenient to skate upon the surface of life, to doomscroll from one image to another, to plug your ears with earbuds conveying only the views with which you agree. Postman wrote years ago a wonderful book, Amusing Ourselves to Death. I have found it prophetic. How? Well, we’re living in a time when many have entertained themselves into imbecility. Ask a person what shade of red lipstick Taylor Swift is wearing today, and he or she would be engaged. But ask a person the last deep book he/she read, and enjoy the hum of crickets.
That’s what Solomon’s driving at; he understands viscerally the fallenness of the world—that wisdom entails more than a taste of sorrow, because human fallenness is the most empirically verifiable reality. Solomon knew it, and that’s part and parcel of wisdom—learning to admit the reality of fallenness in this world.
Encouragement: Learning to live with the paradox of wisdom is less easy than one might wish for. There is wisdom in hoping for good from ourselves and others. At the same time, however, there is wisdom in being realistic about human nature and knowing the condition of the flocks with which we are dealing.
There’s a great narrative in the Old Testament book of Joshua that resonates with Soldiers. It is found in Joshua 6. It teaches many fundamental theological doctrines but what I want to focus on here is simple: the value of quiet consistency.
Context, Context, Context: Reading things in their proper context is essential. The big picture overview of the book of Joshua is that it’s set in the 1400s B.C. It centers upon Israelite conquest of Canaan, the so-called promised land. The book as a whole is about God’s covenant faithfulness and the Lord himself is the ultimate Warrior-King.
Quiet Consistency: Joshua was the human typology of the warrior-king-leader of a covenant people, those who believed. It had nothing to do with race or tribalism. It had everything to do with those who believed God versus those who did not. God commands Joshua to “march around the city” of Jericho for six days (Josh 6:3). Then on the seventh day, Joshua and the others are to “march around the city seven times, and the priests shall blow the trumpets” (Josh 6:4). A battle strategy? Hmmm. Most of us, especially military types trained in tactics, techniques, and procedures might have balked: “Really, Lord? This is the plan?”
But that was God’s order. The people obeyed. They blew the ram’s horn, marched, marched, and marched some more. On the seventh day, they marched around Jericho seven times and shouted, and the wall of the city collapsed. Rahab and her family, those who believed God, were spared.
Encouragement: Regardless of how many times I read this history, I am struck at what God reveals about the importance of obedience and trust in him. This divine battle plan overturns any boasting in human military strategy. It’s a way of showing that what is required of the Christian is trusting the Lord rather than trusting human machinations. It’s about quiet obedience in a godly direction.
When I got home after work, CJ had prepared one of my favorite meals–breakfast for supper. Scrambled eggs with onions, crispy bacon, biscuits, and grits. She poured grits over my eggs, I added my Cholula, crunched up the bacon, and I was in heaven.
We ate, chatted about the day she had and I had had, watched a program we both enjoy, and then I said, “I’m going to go hike a bit.”
“Okay, love.”
I laced up my hiking boots and struck out for the hills. They did not disappoint. I walked the ridges and then made my way down to a creek, and then back up the hills to our home.
I said in my heart, “Come now, I will test you with pleasure; enjoy yourself.” But behold, this also was vanity. I said of laughter, “It is mad,” and of pleasure, “What use is it?” I searched with my heart how to cheer my body with wine—my heart still guiding me with wisdom—and how to lay hold on folly, till I might see what was good for the children of man to do under heaven during the few days of their life. I made great works. I built houses and planted vineyards for myself. I made myself gardens and parks, and planted in them all kinds of fruit trees. I made myself pools from which to water the forest of growing trees. I bought male and female slaves, and had slaves who were born in my house. I had also great possessions of herds and flocks, more than any who had been before me in Jerusalem. I also gathered for myself silver and gold and the treasure of kings and provinces. I got singers, both men and women, and many concubines, the delight of the sons of man (Eccl 2:1-8, ESV).
BLUF (Bottom Line Up Front): Know the condition of the well from which you drink.
Context, Context, Context: Ecclesiastes is part of the ‘wisdom literature’ in Scripture. Its goal? Wisdom–to lead the wise from fruitless pursuit of wisdom under the sun to true wisdom in the Son. Solomon is a magnificent case study. He went from hero to zero many times. But he, in my view, finally got it right. Wisdom drives the Christian pilgrim to Christ, wisdom personified and incarnated.
Connection: Who among us has not played the fool? Haven’t we all been like Eliot’s Prufrock at least once? I certainly have-more than once. Who among us has not fallen prey to pursuing stuff, promotion, popularity, power, wealth, status, etc., only to find we felt worse after the shine wore off?
Encouragement: Solomon is one of my enduring favorites from history. Why? Because he’s an “Everyman.” He ‘gets us’ to use modern parlance. He’s shot through with our sins, our patterns, our fallenness, our proclivities.
But here’s the good news: Chapter 12 is coming. Why’s that important? Because Solomon finally seemed to get it into his own stubborn head. Anybody else out there have the honesty to admit we’re all a lot more like Solomon than we differ from him? We pursue stuff, promotion, the approval of the sheeple, wealth, etc. There’s really no end to our idols. But what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world but forfeits his soul (cf. Mt 16:26)? The question answers itself.
This morning I completed another reading through the Old Testament book of Isaiah. It is 66 chapters of absolute sovereignty. In the book, the prophet Isaiah writes in the 700s B.C. of his (God’s) incomparable name. He pronounces, through the life and ministry of Isaiah, his (God’s) absolute sovereignty.
How does God do that? Mainly through pronouncements/oracles of cursing and blessing. It’s God’s way of showing that the earth is his and the fullness thereof. He is not in need of anything or anyone. God, as I tell the saints at church week in and week out, is the hero of the story.
Creation>Fall>Redemption>Restoration.
That’s the overarching pattern in Scripture and in history.
We are creatures; God is the Creator.
We are fallen due to our sin nature.
God the Son became incarnate in order to redeem his bride (the true church) from all ages. Abraham is in the true church; Moses is in the true church; Ruth is in the true church; Peter’s in the true church; and Christians from all ages are in the true church because they are grafted into the seed of promise (Christ).
Then God restoresall things in the consummation. The story comes full circle. The first Adam failed; the last Adam (Christ) succeeds. A new Jerusalem comes down; Eden is once again made perfect by the work of the triune God.
When I was wrapping up Isaiah’s book again this time, I was struck by a passage in the last chapter:
All these things my hand has made, and so all these things came to be, declares the Lord. But this is the one to whom I will look: he who is humble and contrite in spirit and trembles at my word (Is 66:2, ESV).
To whom does God look? To the one who is humble and contrite in heart. Who is it that does God’s will perfectly? Abraham? No. David? No. John? No. Peter? No. Paul? No. You? No. Me? No.
You see the pattern? All of us have fallen–and continue to fall–short (Rom 3:23). God is the hero. Over and over again, God gets the glory. Our duty and joy as Christians is to herald that truth, to strive to live it out as salt and light, to preserve the good, and to expose the darkness in faith that God does–always and forever–what is right.
“The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises” (Eccl 1:5). Hemingway’s novel The Sun Also Rises takes its title from this verse. In Hemingway’s novel, the narrative centers on the moral dissipation of post-WWI characters. There’s no paucity of wounded men and women, trying to cope with their existential struggles to kill their wounds.
The problems, however, persist. Why? Because rather than turning to God, they turn away from God. They get angry at the God they reject. Where’s the wisdom in that? It’s folly, of course. You get angry, but rather than returning to the Author of life, you curse and flee. And the end result of course is nihilism and self-destruction.
The goal of Ecclesiastes is to teach us pilgrims to return to God. Rather than hiding behind contemporary fig leaves and attempting to hide from the holy, the wise pilgrim will admit that his biggest problem is his own sin. And the cure for that is not a pill, or thing, or activity; the cure is Christ and his gospel.
Over the last few days, I’ve been privileged to witness the passing of leadership from one great leader to another. It’s interesting when you really pay attention to people. You can get a glimpse of their true nature—who they really are. When we honored COL Stone, he didn’t make the day or event about himself. He referred to God, to his own mentors, and to his brothers in arms, to his family, to his friends, and to all the Soldiers with whom he has served for nearly three decades. How can one not be moved by such words? He has now left his own legacy, just as many did before him, and many will do after him.
Question: What does it mean to leave a noble legacy? Many things, of course. Overcoming adversity; resilience; improvements; victories; accomplishments, etc. But I think one of the things we should emulate is selfless service. It’s a spirit where the team and the mission require that each Service Member be mindful that his/her actions reflect upon the whole team. It’s that culture where the small decisions each of us makes ripple out and across the surface and under the surface. It’s leaving things better than we found them. It’s leaving it all on the field for the sake of honor at having done our best. We all have bad days; let us concede that. But the overcomer is the one who does not lose sight of the legacy he/she aims to leave.
I’ve been privileged to serve under and alongside many, many fine leaders. COL Stone was one of those. May his tribe increase. May we continue to learn from such men and, as Scripture says, honor those to whom honor is due (Rom 13:7).
Currently I’m reading several books simultaneously. One is a long novel of nearly 1,000 pages. I have heard from fellow readers that it’s one of their favorites. After sitting on one of my shelves for years, I finally decided now was the time to read it. I’m halfway through it, but it is a behemoth book. I’m a pretty fast reader but this one is taking me quite a bit of time.
But it got me to thinking. I asked myself, “If you had to pick ten books (regardless of genre) that have impacted you most profoundly, what would they be?”
Spoiler Alert: I could not limit it to ten, so . . .
Here’s what I came up with (not necessarily in order of importance):
Hamlet (Shakespeare)
Julius Caesar (Shakespeare)
Macbeth (Shakespeare)
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (Joyce)
Absalom, Absalom! (Faulkner)
The Brothers Karamazov (Dostoyevsky)
The Complete Short Stories (O’Connor)
All the Pretty Horses (McCarthy)
The Road (McCarthy)
Suttree (McCarthy)
The Crossing (McCarthy)
David Copperfield (Dickens)
Great Expectations (Dickens)
Crime and Punishment (Dostoyevsky)
Stoner (Williams)
The Catcher in the Rye (Salinger)
Madame Bovary (Flaubert)
Your thoughts? Do you have books that you really have never been able to shake, books that you can’t now imagine not being part of you?
Today after one of the breakout sessions, a sweet spirit seemed to have been sent among several of us through the morning. It seemed to come from both outside of us and from within us. Walls began to come down. We spoke not of our educational or professional pedigrees. Rather we began with questions like, “So, what’s next for you, Craig?” or “So, what’s God calling you to, Gary?” or “How do you guys define ‘calling'”?The questions came regularly, and so did the ruminations. It was iron sharpening iron. That’s what Solomon called it: “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another” (Pr 27:17).
We had lunch together. We ate our chili dogs and salads and drank our coffee and water. We spoke of our ministries. Some were in hospital chaplaincy. Others were military chaplains. Others were prison chaplains. Some others of us were pastors/elders and/or professors or teachers. The group was chock-full with years of experience in ministry and its myriad locations. We were all sponges–both absorbing what we were hearing and also being squeezed so that we poured into one another. My intellectual, emotional, and spiritual cups were being filled by these brothers.
Later as I drove back to billeting, I came across a creek, pulled my vehicle over, got out, and went and took in the sight and sounds of the creek I’ve crossed multiple times this week. Why? To give thanks, in short. To thank God for his common grace. To quote one of the great catechisms, “God’s providence is His completely holy, wise, and powerful preserving and governing every creature and every action.” In other words, no accidents. This is not a random cosmos. We are creatures (hence, there is a Creator) who are gifted with intellectual capacities in order to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. And one of the ways God’s providence plays out in history is via simple yet profound things like deep and kind conversations among fellow pilgrims on the way.
I stood on the bank of the creek and snapped another picture and spoke my heart silently over the sounds of the waters. Just to say, Thank you for today, Lord.
Thank you that I have new contacts in my phone, men I can call and who can call me, fellow ministers/chaplains/pastors who can hug me and say, “I get it. I truly do. Let’s walk together.”
I’m back now, and headed to PT in the gym. Got to sweat of the child dog from lunch. But I take us back to wise words penned by another who likewise understood the need for encouragement: “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal 6:2). To my fellow brothers, thank you for making this theology visible.