The Fellowship of the Unashamed -- Is This for You?

When Paul wrote "I am not ashamed of the Gospel for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes..." (Rom 1:16), he took an unyielding, unequivocal stand for the Gospel and became a marked man by ungodly people. But Paul knew the power of the gospel  because  it radically transformed him and it also bring a fallen world from sin and death to victory and eternal life in Christ.. If you've been touched by the power of this gospel, you have no excuse to be ashamed and every reason for hope and joy. Because in Him you have your true identity, legacy and destiny. Life out now who you really are in Christ Jesus.

Dr. Robert Morehead tells the story a young man from Rwanda who was forced by his tribe in 1980 to renounce Christ or face death. He refused to renounce Christ, and he was murdered on the spot. The night before he had written the following commitment which was found in his room: Can you make this kind of commitment for the Gospel of Christ and become a member of the Fellowship of the Unashamed?

"I am a part of the fellowship of the Unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit Power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won't look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I am finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals.

"I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don't have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by presence, learn by faith, love by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power.

"My pace is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear.

I cannot be bought, compromised, deterred, lured away, turned back, diluted, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

"I won't give up, back up, let up, or shut up until I've preached up, prayed up, paid up, stored up, and stayed up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I must go until He returns, give until I drop, preach until all know, and work until He comes.

"And when He comes to get His own, He will have no problem recognizing me. My colors will be clear for "I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes.." (Romans 1:16)."

These "No Matter What the Cost" disciples of Jesus Christ are the ones who consider the cost of God's call on their lives and then with perfect freedom and with a clear understanding that this road will be very difficult - overwhelming at times - they choose to answer by saying, ’Here am I Lord! Send me’ (Isaiah 6:8)

The Fellowship of the Unashamed are also the ones who like Paul in Phillippians 3:5-11 boldly proclaimed:

"But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ.  What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith.  I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead."

Dave Brown, WACMM Director and Pastor-at-Large

Why Am I Still Struggling Against the Same Sins?

If you, as a disciple of Jesus, find yourself, five or ten or even fifty years after you started following Jesus, still weak in the same areas of life, still struggling with lust or anger or greed or hatred, then welcome to
the Club of Discipleship, commonly known as The Church.

No, we are not here to excuse one another. But we are here to introduce ourselves, week after week, with the likes of: “Hi, my name is Chad and I’m a sinner.”

I’ve struggled with (name-your-weakness). I have good days and bad days. Sometimes I have days from hell, where I think the devil must have me in a chokehold. Other days, I seem to do well. But even then, there’s always the nagging temptations, the subtle allurements. 

If I find myself outwardly abstaining from this or that wrongdoing, all too often that’s where my heart dwells or my mind daydreams. What’s even more maddening is that when I do well and think I’m making some strong progress, I begin to feel proud of myself and—bam!—all of a sudden now my soul is flexing its muscles of arrogance and self-righteousness.

Good God, it’s frustrating. It drives me nuts. I can’t escape from my own worst enemy—myself.”

Welcome to discipleship. Welcome to the Christian life. Welcome to Jacob’s life.

And welcome, too, to the Jesus who responds to each of us by saying, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:28-30).

One of the things we will learn from our Savior is that he did not call us to become witnesses to a complete life transformation in which we are now better than other people. Rather, he called us into a living relationship with himself and the Father through the power of the Spirit in which our true identities are now completely secure in Jesus.

Even when we fail? Yes. Even when we sin that same sin again? Yes. Will he continue to call us to repentance? Yes. Will he continue to discipline us as a father does his child? Also, yes.

Every disciple of Jesus wishes for freedom from sin in this life. But we are in this life; thus, we are still at war with ourselves, at war with the sinful nature that doesn’t tuck its tail between its legs and flee when we become Christians. It declares war.

But Jesus has won and, in him, we too have won. In fact, in him, we are more than conquerors. We are beloved. And Christ’s consistent grace over time proves that he is never going to change from being the Friend and Forgiver of Sinners.

(An excerpt from Limping with God: Jacob and the Old Testament Guide to Messy Discipleship by  Chad Bird) 

 

 

“Live Your Truth”: How Hedonism Leads to Chaos

“You shall be like God, knowing good and evil,” the serpent told Eve. Our contemporary culture loves to give us similar advice. Who can be sure what God really said? Better to choose your own identity, express your own personality, construct your own social media profile. Decide what’s right for you, what brings you happiness, peace of mind, security—a sense of flourishing. No one can judge you. “You will not ‘surely die.’” Such warnings are just the toxic voice of external authority trying to suppress your own inner voice. You be you. Live your truth.

This advice is not only wrong but cruel. No one speaks of “my truth” and “your truth” when it comes to matters of fact. We accept authority and objectivity on such matters. It would be cruel—even criminal malpractice—if one’s physician distorted or denied the evidence for a life-threatening diagnosis because it was considered toxic or disempowering to the patient. But the problem is that most people in our culture—and judging by surveys, many of us Christians—do not live as if the claims of Christ are matters of fact rather than simply personal value judgments. The heart is where my truth comes from. Consequently, my truth is that I am a decent person, deserving of good things in life, and I have every right to be deeply frustrated when those good things don’t come my way. There is nothing more offensive to our pampered Western selves than to be told, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9).

Hedonism, the pursuit of pleasure above all, does not have to be expressed merely in grotesque antinomianism. It is motivating us whenever we think that the chief end of humans is to be happy. Even secular studies like The Trouble with Passion (University of California Press, 2021) by sociologist Erin Cech demonstrate the downside of the follow-your-passion message, showing that the pursuit of happiness as an end in itself leads inevitably to depression, anxiety, and anger.

The truth is that our hearts, as Augustine famously said, were made for rest in God. He is the only one worthy of our passion, and when we rest in him, he gives us callings to serve our neighbors, where we find genuine purpose and meaning—and yes, pleasure.

Our own “truth” leads to delusion, conflict, and despair in this life and destruction in the next. What we really need is the truth. We need the One who said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” Let’s live as if we really believe that it is the truth that sets us free.

by Michael Horton (Professor of Systematic Theology and Apologetic at Westminster Seminary)

Men's Ministry is Every Sunday Morning

If you do a Google search looking for help to do men’s ministry, you’ll find the preponderant emphasis is on pragmatism – doing stuff that works, that gets results. Like many churches, ministries to men have adopted and relied upon business and marketing tips, techniques, strategies, methodologies, and programs to attract and retain men rather than to teach, prepare, and equip men in the gospel for their life purpose and role.

I’m not trying to disparage or dismiss biblically grounded programs that can help build a culture of discipleship and manly servanthood, but they should align with and reinforce what is proclaimed on Sunday mornings.

What concerns me is that many churches and their ministries to men overlook the core discipleship program the New Testament prescribes: the corporate worship gathering. In fact, few churches see their men’s ministries as an extension and derivative of the Sunday assembly.

Sunday worship service is more fundamental to Christian growth than any grafted-on program. The Sunday gathering is the primary tutor and discipler of a local congregation, particularly its men because of what it proclaims and the pattern it sets.

The “gathering” is what gives fuel to anything else we do. It is the launching point. It must be prioritized that way. And if the gathering is done right, it makes far more than attenders.

We gather on Sundays to worship God and to be grown by Him through His Word—His life-creating, life-maintaining, life-sanctifying Word (John 1:3-4; Heb. 1:1; John 17:17; 2 Tim. 3:16). Scripture regulates the service as it is read, sung, and preached (1 Tim. 4:13; 2 Tim. 4:1–3), we proclaim its truths (Col. 3:16), pray its hopes (Eph. 6:18), visualize its message through the sacraments (1 Cor. 11:26; 10:21); and learn to see and savor Christ.

A Sunday morning gathering isn’t a production or show. It’s not marked by entertainment, pageantry or sophistry. There is but an audience of One – the only true God worthy of our praise, trust and allegiance. It is the place where we are served the most important, nourishing meal of the week.

In other words, the corporate worship gathering prepares and equips us to be ambassadors of God’s Kingdom called, empowered to disciple, evangelize and love one another. Other gatherings within the church during the week supplement and deepen what we hear, say, and do on Sundays.

Discipling flows from the pastors to the people from Sunday to every other day of the week. Every discipling conversation, every Bible study, every counseling appointment, and every evening of family worship echoes the Word as its taught and modeled on Sundays. This is the basic shape of biblical ministry: the church gathers and then scatters; the saints rest and then work; the pastors preach and then the people present, portray and protect the gospel. One discipling event leads to and orders the rest.

Prioritize the Sunday gathering. Read Scripture there knowing that God uses it to save souls and sustain faith, and model what ought to be done when they leave the building at home. Do multiple readings. Read whole chapters. Recite Scripture corporately.

Pray in your gathering. Pray knowing it increases our trust in God and intimacy with him. Pray with and for one another: praising God, confessing sin, pleading for the lost, lifting-up neighboring churches, and interceding for our brothers and sisters by name.

And preach. Preach knowing God speaks through His Word to raise the dead, stir the idle, encourage the weak, feed the hungry, and mend the wounded. Exposition of Scripture will leave us better equipped to teach one another.  Interpret Scripture with Scripture.

How does a church begin to make disciples? Through its corporate gathering. While the gathering isn’t sufficient to bring believers to full maturity in Christ, it’s the engine that drives all those other good, God-besotted efforts.

Adapted from Foolproof Discipling From Corporate Worship By John Sarver

 

Why Do We Easily Choose the False, Fleeting and Faddish?

The Christian life begins with spiritual astonishment at the glory of the gospel and the goodness and beauty of Christian truth, with the wide-eyed surprise of the infant brought into a new world of grace. 

But over time, our eyes grow heavy and our tastebuds dim—and that’s when errors creep in. Spiritual sleepiness results in a sagging sense of God’s love and diminished commitment to pass on the faith to the next generation. We become sluggish with the Scriptures; bored with the Bible; drowsy toward doctrine. Overfamiliar with the truth, we gravitate toward “exciting” new teachings or practices that promise to awaken us from spiritual slumber. And error—always dressing itself up as more attractive than truth—seizes opportunity when we are most prone to wander.

Why do we so easily lose our wonder at truths that have informed and inspired Christians for generations? How is it we find ourselves no longer wowed by old truths? Why are we drawn toward theological error? To better understand our susceptibility to this spiritual malaise, we should take a closer look at our context, to see the forces at work—in our world, in our churches, and in us—that diminish our devotion.

Cultural Chaos

We begin with the anxiety and unsettledness of these chaotic times, a result of political polarization, technological advances, and worldwide disasters. We are inundated by information (and disinformation), flooded by various views and opinions ranging from the absurd to the abstract, which make it difficult to discover what sources are credible. Anyone can grab a megaphone and shout down those who would deviate even slightly from whatever new orthodoxy unites a particular community or political party. We don’t know who, if anyone, we can trust.

For Christians, this sense of disorientation is magnified by the shifting moral landscape. No longer can we expect religiosity to be respectable. Long-held beliefs and values drawn from Christian doctrine are now “extreme.” Assumptions shared by nearly everyone a few decades ago are suddenly beyond the pale. As fewer and fewer people identify with a religious tradition, those who adhere today to institutional forms of religion fall further outside the mainstream.

In generations past, respectable religiosity and cultural Christianity presented their own set of challenges to true faith and practice. The way of Christ is never easy, and believers in every era are prone to forget their first love (Revelation 2:4). In our era, the danger of abandoning our first love manifests itself through the pressures of a society where Christianity is not the norm, and common Christian beliefs and morals no longer seem plausible. In the midst of constant flux, “stability” is now regarded with suspicion. Like everything else, faith is caught up in the whirlwind of change.

Church Confusion

Meanwhile, many churches are in a stupor—bewilderment drains the energy of the believers who attend. Congregations and denominations are embroiled in conflicts that resemble the world of hardball politics. Widespread disillusionment has settled into the church following the scourge of sex abuse scandals, abusive leadership patterns, and institutional coverups of atrocities committed by some of the world’s most trusted and admired faith leaders.

Hypocrisy has bolstered the anti-institutional sentiments of many toward the church, leading to an explosion of new religious options and narrowly tailored spiritual experiences. Cultural observer Tara Isabella Burton says many people are trading institutional religion for intuitional spirituality: “a religion decoupled from institutions, from creeds, from metaphysical truth-claims about God or the universe . . . but that still seeks—in various and varying ways—to provide us with the pillars of what religion always has: meaning, purpose, community, ritual.”

In response to this crippling confusion, some Christians call for the updating and improvement of the faith for a modern era. Others disavow aspects of historic Christianity but try to hold on to a few preferable parts. Several high-profile leaders have renounced the faith altogether. Meanwhile, large swaths of once-faithful churchgoers have quietly closed the door and just slipped away.

Christian Complacency

What happens to those who are left, the rank-and-file Christians who love their families and cherish their churches? In every generation, we face the danger of longing for the past while fearing the future. And this mix of nostalgia and fear leads us into a state of complacency—a mission-less faith. We file in and out of the sanctuary week after week, content to recite the same words with our lips, but our hearts remain unstirred by the truths we confess, and we are less likely to invite others to believe the good news.

Complacent Christianity causes compartmentalization—a convenient separation of Christian truth from the beliefs that frame our day-to-day activities.

Christianity becomes just one aspect of a busy life. What we believe, we’re told, isn’t as important as how we live. And even then, it’s fine if our life choices don’t line up with Christian teaching as long as our faith helps us be true to ourselves and keeps us from hurting anyone.

What’s missing from this scenario is any sense of Christianity as a mission that requires obedience to a King, a rollicking adventure that brings us face to face with opposition, as we proclaim something bigger and more satisfying than personal preference. Christianity’s call to costly obedience may not appear on the surface as heroic or radical—we may experience seasons of stress as we struggle to raise our kids, clock in and out of an unfulfilling job, and do our best to serve the believers in a church filled with problems—but we must remember that the pathway of repentance and faith imbues even the smallest acts of self-sacrifice with eternal significance. The mission remains, and it stands in contrast to a complacent Christianity that would domesticate the faith and dampen its revolutionary passion. In countless ways that may not seem obvious to us or others, we are to rebel against the rebellion of a fallen world and witness to the rule of the risen Jesus over the universe.

The Diagnosis

I’m convinced that one of the primary causes of this spiritual malaise is our loss of confidence in the truth and goodness of the Christian faith. In every generation, we risk losing our wonder at the glory of Christian truth and the enduring witness of the church. Amid chaos and confusion, we can easily turn our focus on ourselves and, as a result, forget God. It’s as if we have inherited a vast estate—sprawling grounds surrounding beautiful buildings filled with priceless heirlooms—but we stay cooped up in a broom closet, complacent and bored, with no desire to explore all that we’ve been given in Christ.

We’ve been here before. Chaos and confusion are not new. Every generation faces these challenges, for different reasons. The key to renewal is not to do away with the aspects of Christianity we find unsettling in our time. (After all, if Christianity is true, we ought to expect every culture to come into conflict with its claims at some point or another.) Neither should we ignore new challenges and wave away hard questions about what we believe and why.

No, the key to renewal is to return to the only truth that is reliable and sturdy when so much in the world seems fleeting and faddish: the gospel of God delivered once for all to the saints. The gospel is the royal announcement that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, lived a perfect life in our place, died a substitutionary death on the cross for our sins, rose triumphantly from the grave to launch God’s new creation, and is now exalted as King of the world. This announcement calls for a response: repentance (mourning over and turning from our sin, trading our agendas for the kingdom agenda of Jesus Christ) and faith (trusting in Christ alone for salvation by the power of the Spirit). Much more can and must be said about this good news and its impact on us and on the world. I’ve merely scratched the surface of what J. I. Packer used to tell his students is “the biggest thing that ever was”; ancient truth, ever new. The way forward is to reach back, to find renewal in something old—foundational truths tested by time, a fount of goodness that refreshes and satisfies, long-forgotten beauty from the past that lifts our eyes above the suffering and sorrow of the present.

The Thrill of Orthodoxy

What the church needs today is to recapture The Thrill of Orthodoxy

We need the “old, old story” of “how a Savior came from glory.” We need to be part of a courageous choir of Christians—reawakened to the beauty and majesty of the Christian melody, committed to right belief and right worship. To join our voices with the apostles of two thousand years ago, singing the one song that by the power of the Spirit still resonates today.

 

By Trevin Wax,  an adapted excerpt from his new book "The Thrill of Orthodoxy"