Introduction: No, it’s not the Robert Frost poem I have in mind here. It’s instead Solomon’s writing in Proverbs: “Do not envy a man of violence/and do not choose any of his ways,/for the devious person is an abomination to the LORD,/but the upright are in his confidence” (Proverbs 3:31-32).

Questions:

• Why might the Lord speak through Solomon’s pen that Christians are not to envy a man of violence?
• Why is wisdom rooted in not choosing any of the violent and devious person’s ways?

Answers:

• True to the form of Hebrew literary parallelism, the second half of the construct answers the first section’s question. As to why might the Lord speak through Solomon’s pen on whom not to envy, it’s because we’re mimetic by nature. We all look to examples. I have certain men I esteem more than others. And those men had their men whom they emulated. We’re all imitators. Anyone who says he/she isn’t is dishonest. Imitation is not bad in and of itself. It’s about imitating the proper role models.
• As to why we’re not to envy the man of violence or the devious person, it’s because the moral character of such people is that of rottenness. God calls them an abomination in verse 32 of Proverbs 3.

Encouragement/takeaway: In Scripture, we are told by the apostle Paul not only whom to imitate, but also why: “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1). We’re to have wise, proper, godly paradigms, the ultimate of whom is Christ for the believer. In the same way that Solomon taught whom not to emulate (and also why not to emulate certain types of people), Paul taught the same thing, but in positive language. The wisdom should be clear: those we choose to emulate reveals a lot about our own values and what we deem important. Are those values wise, biblical, and redemptive or are they foolish, anti-biblical, and corrupting? This is the issue, or, to return to the title, the matter of the road taken.

Introduction: We live in a world of simulacra, emojis, and memes. Depth can be hard to find. It’s the age of shallowness, that’s certain. But there is at least one emoji I admit to relishing: it’s the one of having one’s mind blown. It looks like this:

I use it often when, paradoxically, something is mind-numbingly stupid. I just shake my head and go, “Lord, have mercy.” Or as older generations were wont to say, “Bless your heart,” a genteel way of saying you’re less than bright.

Questions: Have you ever heard folks say, “God is love”? Sure. Some folks might even allude to the actual text from 1 John 4. The entire verse 8 reads, “Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.” But the first part of that verse, much less the larger context of the entire passage, is usually dropped, and all we hear is the “God is love” part, clipped from the rest of the context.

But when’s the last time you heard that God hates, too? I’d wager it’s not often, if ever. But guess what? God does hate. His hatred pervades Scripture, in fact. Here’s just a small sample:

• Proverbs 6:16-19 lists more than half a dozen things God hates:

There are six things that the Lord hates,
seven that are an abomination to him:
haughty eyes, a lying tongue,
and hands that shed innocent blood,
a heart that devises wicked plans,
feet that make haste to run to evil,
a false witness who breathes out lies,
and one who sows discord among brothers.

• In Psalm 5, David writes, “You [God] destroy those who speak lies; the LORD abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man” (Psalm 5:6).

Proverbs 8:13 says, “The fear of the LORD is hatred of evil/Pride and arrogance and the way of evil and perverted speech I hate.”

Encouragement/takeaway: Here’s the point, dear ones. It’s a good thing that God hates because it’s hatred of evil that reveals God’s utter holiness. If He did not abhor what is evil, He would not be good. Hell, therefore, is a good thing, because it demonstrates God’s holiness and hatred of evil and His love of righteousness.

To return to the above reference to the emoji of having one’s mind blown, that’s why I appreciate that particular simulacrum. It reveals how utterly shallow it is when people say utter “God is love, love, love” bromides divorced from the biblical witness. God is love, yes; but God loves holiness and abhors sin. That’s why God’s hatred is a good hatred. “Brothers, do not be children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature” (1 Corinthians 14:20).

Bottom line up front: Confidence in the Unchanging God

Intro: This morning I was reading Psalm 4. It is one of the many poems David penned. Psalm 4 hinges upon the issue of confidence, of where the wise person places his confidence. Is it in himself/herself? Is it in government? Is it in fellow sinners?

Great Question: “How long will you love vain words and seek after lies?” (Psalm 4:2b) That’s just one more thing to love about Scripture. It shows us as we really are, not as we would like to think we are. What do I mean? Here David is lamenting the undiscerning sheeple who mock the godly. David is saying that even though he (as God’s man) is mocked, his confidence is in God, not in the undiscerning masses, the sheeple, those who lack discernment and wisdom.

And in verses 4-5, David writes, “Be angry, and do not sin; ponder in your own hearts on your beds, and be silent. Selah. Offer right sacrifices, and put your trust in the LORD.” In other words, look to the Lord. Why? Because God is the fount of all wisdom.

It’s why the half-brother of the Lord Jesus penned his wisdom: “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good, fruits, impartial and sincere” (James 3:17).

Encouragement/takeaway: Where do you find in the world system that kind of fruit? We don’t. That’s because the world system largely rejects biblical wisdom, opting instead for headlines, power, and pride. But David, a forerunner of the Christ of God, knew the fount of all wisdom. He wisely put his confidence not in the fickleness of men, but in the unchanging holiness and wisdom of God. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.

Bottom line up front: Context, context, context.

Introduction: This morning, I was in Romans 8 as part of my reading. Romans 8 is one of those chapters that is often quoted. To be more precise, one verse of Romans 8 is often quoted. It is, of course, Romans 8:28: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” That’s a line packed with solace and encouragement for believers. But verses are to be read in their proper context. Paul didn’t just plop that one line down in sacred Scripture devoid of context.

The Big Picture: The big picture of Romans 8 hinges on the work of God the Holy Spirit in the lives of Christians. That life is contrasted with the lives of unbelievers who are, by definition, devoid of the Holy Spirit. As Paul writes earlier in the same chapter, “For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God” (Rom 8:6-8).

The Holy Spirit in Context: Like countless believers throughout the history of the Christian faith, I, too, love Romans 8. But the context is crucial if we’re to have an accurate hermeneutic, an accurate understanding of what is being taught. This is so vital when it comes to our prayer lives. Have you ever struggled to pray? Asked another way, have you struggled to articulate your heart’s cry properly? Here’s why I ask: the underlying assumption in this text is that even Paul struggled in this area. Why do I say that? Let us listen to Paul’s words again from Romans 8: “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Rom 8:26-27). 

Encouragement/takeaway: Over the next few days, families will gather across the table, will perhaps see the people most precious to them. But there will also likely be loneliness and emptiness felt over the holidays, too. For the Christian, he has God the Holy Spirit that is interceding for him. If there’s an empty chair at the table, if there’s a family ripped apart by divorce, if there’s been a death, hospitalization, or incarceration, etc. you may struggle to articulate what’s deep within your soul. But God is with you if you’re a believer. “The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps 34:18). It can be so easy to say “Happy Thanksgiving,” but yet have sadness deep in your spirit, but let us remember the context of Romans 8 and what Paul was teaching: the believer is not alone and God the Holy Spirit intercedes for us to the God who came to seek and to save, even and especially when we cannot express what we so viscerally feel.

Introduction: For over a year now, I have taught line-by-line through the gospel of Matthew’s 28 chapters. This Sunday, Lord willing, we’ll complete our study. What are some big takeaways from these many days, and weeks, and months of study in Matthew? I’ve chosen to crystallize the main themes down to the following:

• Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promises
• The gospel is both outward-focused/missional and inward-focused/discipleship/depth
• Truth divides believers from unbelievers
• God knows all things and all people through and through; there is no hiding from God
• The resurrection of Jesus from the dead is the hinge of history
• Those who have ears to hear will hear (grace); those who refuse to hear receive justice. No one receives injustice. It’s grace or justice, but never injustice from God

As I’m working through the last parts of Matthew 27 and the brief Matthew 28, it all comes full circle:

Jesus has fulfilled his mission in precise, specific detail.

Jesus commands Christians to go both outward via missions and inward via depth and discipleship.

Believers are known by their fruit (they remain in Christ and among Christ’s people); unbelievers depart, just as Scripture teaches (1 John 2:19-21).

Christ is shown always and everywhere to be sovereign in knowledge and power. He knew who’d betray him; he knew Peter would have a horrible night replete with three denials; Christ knew he’d rise from the dead three days after his betrayal, crucifixion, and burial. He promised it would all happen and it did–in precise detail.

Jesus has received all authority because he rose from the dead. If one rises from the dead, he’s God’s warrant.

Many, many people believe the gospel and are saved. And many refuse to believe and receive justice (Mt 7:21-23).

Encouragement/takeaway: I’m excited about teaching Sunday because it’s the greatest possible good news there is. Paul said it is the good news (εὐαγγέλιον) of “first importance” (1 Cor 15:3). That’s why believers gather together in homes and halls, schools and assemblies, congregations and gatherings across the planet, week in and week out. It’s of “first importance,” this truth of redemption.

Bottom line up front: “The end depends upon the beginning.” Not necessarily.

Introduction: One of my all-time favorite movies is The Emperor’s Club. Why? Well, it strikes a lot of my bells. Mr. Hundert is a classics teacher. He’s steeped in Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Sophocles, Homer, Shakespeare, Dickens, and more. He loves teaching. He loves the best ideas of history. He loves precise language. He’s the stereotype of an old-school English/classics teacher.

And Mr. Hundert teaches his heart out–to young men, young men filled with ambition. A question pervading the film is, How will the students use and employ that ambition? Will they do it with honor? Will they turn out to be good men? Or will they turn out to be evil men? Will they grow to live lives of integrity? Will Mr. Hundert’s labors bear any fruit via the lives of his students as they go on to make a mark with their lives?

Kevin Kline is the actor who portrays Mr. Hundert. And one of the lines I remember as if etched upon my skeleton is this: “The end depends upon the beginning.”

Scripture’s Connecting Tissue: In Paul’s second letter to the saints of Corinth, he writes, “For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Cor 10:4-5).

That’s strong language, is it not? Warfare, divine power, destroying strongholds, destroying arguments, and taking thoughts captive. That’s about as militaristic as you can get linguistically.

Teaching: But here’s the great irony. In The Emperor’s Club, the issue is integrity and honor, and how our beginning shapes and/or determines our ends. Does the beginning determine our end? Thanks to God, no; not necessarily. Paul’s beginning and early life were consumed by Judaism, law observance, spiritual pride, legalism, and putting Christians to death. But God. Christ gripped him and redeemed him. And Paul was utterly changed, redeemed, ransomed, and equipped to be the Christian church’s greatest evangelist, discipler, missionary, church planter, pastor, and theologian. Saul of Tarsus became the apostle Paul. His beginning did not determine his end. His end did not depend upon his beginning. Why? Because of God’s grace towards him.

Encouragement: I think I am going to see if I can stream The Emperor’s Club tonight in order to watch it again, to be reminded that sometimes folks turn out worse than we’d hoped, sometimes better than we’d believed, and sometimes, thanks to God, they turn out as vessels of redemption. Because of the gospel, we don’t have to be determined by our beginnings. We can overcome them via the gospel. And the ends are so much greater. We see that God uses even our crooked timber to build straight lines. And we can go back and thank the Mr. Hunderts of the world for sowing seeds of wisdom even when we were unwilling or stubborn recipients.

Introduction: Sunday, I had a long drive to speak at a church in my state. The location was near where I grew up. It’s in the farm belt section of our state, where there are more rows of peanut fields than there are apartment complexes and subdivisions. After I exited from I-75 south to take secondary state highways to the town, that 1.5 hours on those country roads fired my heart’s language. In the early morning, the sunlight fell like a benediction upon the fields—some fallow, some with cotton, some with tobacco, some with sorghum, some with corn that had been harvested. Deer were abundant, as were the turkeys. Tall pine plantations lined the highways at several stretches. At other places, hardwood bottoms held that mystery and beauty that pulls my soul’s strings like few other visions. I don’t miss the gnats, but I do miss the rural sights and sounds and scents and simplicity. Down there, the hustle of Atlanta’s aggressive drivers seems a world away, and the only gunshots one hears are one’s own because you’re an outdoorsman, or because your neighbors harvested venison that afternoon.

I preached the homily at the church, enjoyed fellowship with the saints, spoke to elders and deacons and saints of shared memories of fun times in the region. It was so good to be back–to feel again that pace of country life and country ways with country people. My spiritual cup overflowed.

As I packed up my POV to make the 4-hour drive back to north GA, I had lots of windshield time to think and reminisce. The section from 2 Corinthians 9 came to my mind: “The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully” (2 Cor 9:6). Now that I’m the older guy, I look back on the soil in which I was reared. Little country churches like that played a huge part in shaping my identity, my love of rural things, rural ways. And in this season of Thanksgiving, scores of faces washed across my imagination, of men and women who sowed seeds into my life. And Paul’s words were so viscerally true. Many, many seemingly small people were hugely impactful people. How? By sowing bountifully into a shy, introverted little boy in south GA decades ago, a boy who loved the land, the country ways, and the way the sun’s rays throw golden lances over alfalfa fields.

Encouragement: We never know the impact we might have upon people—sometimes years and years from now. That is, the ripples may not be visible for sometimes great spans of time, but they’ll eventually show. May they be ripples of blessing and gratitude for the seeds precious people sowed in loving ways, but ways that came forth as benediction.

Bottom line up front: “That’s How the Light Gets In”

Introduction: One of my favorite songwriters is Leonard Cohen. He died in 2016, but his songs remain. “Hallelujah,” e.g., has been covered by countless performers. In Cohen’s song “Anthem” he has these wonderful lines:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

You can add up the parts
But you won’t have the sum
You can strike up the march
There is no drum
Every heart, every heart
To love will come
But like a refugee

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in

“That’s how the light gets in” is the refrain. Cohen was steeped in Scripture. I have a volume on my shelves at home of Cohen’s poetry. He had the mind of a theologian, the spirit of a poet, and an imagination set aflame by the muses.

How does the light get through? Well, it’s rooted in the fact that our world is spiritually broken. There are chinks in the armor. There’s a crack in everything, you see. Because this is a fallen world, we groan. “For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom 8:22-23).

That’s how the light gets in, you see. Because we’re all spiritually broken, we need to be made whole. And how does that happen? Is it by bootstrap theology where we, Stuart Smalley-like, self-talk spiritual bromides in the mirror, muttering, “I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And doggone it, people like me”? Um, no. Al Franken was hilarious as that character from SNL but that’s abysmal theology. Life’s too serious a matter for sweater vest sentimentality.

What Scripture Says: So, back to the question: How does the light get in? You remember the ending of Matthew, don’t you, when Jesus was crucified between two robbers?

And over his [Jesus’] head they put the charge against him, which read, “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.” Then two robbers were crucified with him, one on the right and one on the left. And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross” (Mt 27:37-40).

Just when all seemed darkest, when the good appeared vanquished by Satan and the powers of hell, when darkness descended, guess what was happening? The light was breaking through, you see. How do we know? Well, the bodily resurrection occurred three days later, of course. But even before then, we have this marvelous verse 54 in Matthew 27:

When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and sad, “Truly this was the Son of God!” (Mt 27:54). See what was happening? A hardened soldier, a Roman military man accustomed to witnessing crucifixions, was converted. Why? The light was breaking through, you see. That’s how the light gets in—one soul at a time.

Encouragement: Cohen’s song ends this way:

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in
That’s how the light gets in

Are you battling the darkness? That may be a good sign. Know why? Because that’s when the light gets in.