Through the Gates of Splendor

In 1956, Steve Saint was five years old when his father, Nate, flew a Piper Cruiser plane with
four other missionaries into the jungles of Equador and dared to make contact with the most dangerous tribe known to man, the Waodani (whoa-DONNY) also known as “Auca,” or naked savage.

After several months of exchanging gifts with the natives, the five men were speared multiple times and hacked to death with machetes.

One of the men in the tribe that fateful day was Mincaye (min-KY-yee). Years later Steve found out that Mincaye actually delivered the final spear that ultimately killed his father. (Three of the six warriors from that day are still alive.)

Today they consider themselves family and harbor no resentment. Steve says he has never forgotten the pain and heartache of losing his dad.

“But I can’t imagine not loving Mincaye, a man who has adopted me as his own, and the other Waodani,” says Steve, who made his first trip into Waodani territory when he was 9 years old.

By 1956 Steve’s Aunt Rachel had been living in the jungle but not with the Waodani for several years. Rachel loved her younger brother (Steve’s dad) like a son, but even after he was killed, she continued to live with the Waodani until her death in 1994. Her affection for them was a major influence in Steve’s life. He visited her every summer.

When he was 14, Steve and his sister, Kathy, decided to be baptized and chose a couple of Waodani to perform the baptism in the same water next to the beach where their father was killed. After Rachel died, the tribe asked Steve to live with them. (Steve and his family lived in the jungle for a year and a half.) “What the Waodani meant for evil, God used for good,” says Steve. “Given the chance to rewrite the story, I would not be willing to change it.”

Many are confounded by the relationship Steve has with Mincaye. He says that a USAToday reporter commented that if he were in Steve’s shoes, he could “forgive Mincaye, maybe. But love him, that’s morbid.” Steve says that their relationship doesn’t make sense unless you put God in the equation. Even though his dad’s death was painful, Steve says Mincaye would not have adopted him and he would not have been part of the mysterious, stone age Waodani world. Also thousands of people, who were stirred by the missionaries’ deaths, would not have dedicated their lives to helping take the gospel to unreached groups like Waodani all over the world.

BTW -- "End of the Spear": Ready for Heaven

 The movie The End of the Spear (highly recommended and available on many streaming platforms) tells the true story of five missionaries who gave their lives to reach the violent Waodoni tribe in the jungles of Ecuado. Led by Nate Saint, the missionaries were eager to reach the Waodoni people before they all died off from their intertribal warfare and vicious revenge killings.

There is one poignant scene in the movie where Nate prepares for his adventure to the Waodoni. His family gathers around him on the dirt airstrip in front of their house. As he kisses his wife goodbye, his son, Steve, looks at the gear in the plane and notices a rifle. Obviously worried, he turns to his father and asks, "If the Waodoni attack, will you use your guns? Will you defend yourselves?"

Nate looks his boy dead in the eye and responds, "Son, we can't shoot the Waodoni. They're not ready for heaven. We are."

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." – Jim Elliott

The world wasn’t ready for what Erika Kirk said.

Her husband had just been assassinated. The wound was fresh. The cameras were rolling. And instead of rage, bitterness, or vengeance, she spoke one word the world cannot comprehend—forgiveness.

Everyone expected anger. What they heard was grace.

And immediately, the objections came rushing in:

• “She can’t truly forgive—it’s too soon.”
• “She’s acting like she’s offering absolution of sins.”
• “Only God forgives sin. What does she think she’s doing?”
• “I doubt her sincerity. She’s just saying what people expect her to say.”

But Scripture—not emotion, tradition, or public opinion—must have the final word. Let’s put these objections to rest once and for all.

Forgiveness According to Scripture

Forgiveness is not a vague feeling, nor is it rooted in psychological relief. Forgiveness is a decisive, God-centered act of obedience, grounded in the Gospel of Christ. It is vertical before it is ever horizontal.

Vertical: Only God forgives sins. “I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins” (Isa. 43:25). That eternal pardon is only found in Christ’s finished work at the cross.

Horizontal: Believers are commanded to extend forgiveness to others, as an act of obedience to the Lord who has forgiven them. “Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you” (Eph. 4:32).

This doesn’t erase justice or consequence. Forgiving an offender doesn’t cancel courts, trials, or prisons. But it cancels the personal debt we are tempted to hold onto in bitterness and vengeance.

Common Misunderstandings

1. “She’s offering absolution of sins.”

When people hear someone say, “I forgive,” they sometimes confuse it with the act of absolution—as if the person is claiming divine authority to wipe away sin. That’s not what Erika Kirk did. She never claimed to remove guilt before God, nor did she assume God’s prerogative.

The Bible is clear: “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Mark 2:7). Only Christ, by His death and resurrection, offers pardon before the throne of heaven. Yet Christians are commanded to forgive one another on the horizontal plane, reflecting God’s forgiveness toward us (Eph. 4:32).

When Erika proclaimed forgiveness, she wasn’t offering divine pardon. She was obeying Jesus. Like Christ, she chose to release the debt of personal vengeance.

2. “It’s too soon.”

This objection is rooted more in human reasoning than in the Word of God. People assume forgiveness requires the passing of time, the cooling of emotions, or the completion of grief. Scripture gives no such timeline.

Jesus prayed for His executioners while the nails were still in His hands: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Stephen forgave those who were stoning him to death while the rocks were still striking his body: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60).

Forgiveness doesn’t wait until “it feels right.” Forgiveness is an act of the will, empowered by the Spirit, grounded in obedience. Erika followed her Savior’s pattern—extending forgiveness even when the wound was fresh.

3. “Only God forgives.”

This objection contains a half-truth. Yes, only God forgives sins in the eternal, judicial sense. No man or woman can clear the guilty before God—that’s the glory of the cross alone. But this truth doesn’t cancel the horizontal call to forgive others.

When Jesus taught His disciples to pray, He included: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Matt. 6:12). Paul echoed: “Forgive each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive” (Col. 3:13).

God’s forgiveness and our forgiveness are not identical—but they are inseparably connected. Erika’s act of forgiveness was not a rival claim to God’s authority. It was a reflection of His mercy.

4. “She must not mean it.”

Skeptics question sincerity, assuming public words of forgiveness are for show. But Scripture reminds us: obedience isn’t validated by public perception—it’s validated before the Lord. Jesus didn’t say, “Forgive, but only if people believe you really mean it.” He commanded His disciples to forgive: “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times” (Matt. 18:22).

Forgiveness can be spoken through tears, mingled with ongoing hurt. But sincerity is not judged by outsiders. It’s judged by the God who knows the heart.

Forgiveness as Both an Act and a Process

When Erika said the words “I forgive,” that was a powerful and obedient first step. Forgiveness begins with a decision of the will—choosing not to hold on to bitterness or vengeance. But Scripture also shows us that forgiveness is a process God works in His children over time.

Paul writes: “As the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive” (Col. 3:13). That command requires a decisive response in the moment. Yet every believer who has walked through deep wounds knows this: the initial act of forgiveness must be carried forward daily. Jesus told Peter to forgive “seventy-seven times” (Matt. 18:22), because our hearts need constant surrender when old pain resurfaces.

So Erika’s proclamation does not mean her grief is finished or that the struggle of forgiveness is behind her. It means she has planted the seed of obedience. Over time, through tears, prayers, and reliance on Christ, God will water that seed and grow the fruit of forgiveness in her heart.

Forgiveness is both a moment and a journey. The moment proves obedience; the journey proves endurance.

Forgiveness and Justice

Forgiveness does not erase the call for justice. Scripture holds both together. “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God… for he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God’s wrath on the wrongdoer” (Rom. 12:19; 13:4).

Forgiveness releases personal vengeance, but it does not cancel accountability. Courts may still prosecute. Laws may still punish. Justice still matters. Forgiveness and justice are not enemies—they meet perfectly at the cross. There, God punished sin fully while also pardoning sinners completely.

A Long Line of Witnesses

Erika’s obedience places her in a long line of Christians who chose forgiveness in the face of unspeakable evil. Corrie ten Boom forgave a former Nazi guard who once stood watch at the concentration camp where her sister died. Elisabeth Elliot returned to minister among the very tribe that killed her husband.

What unites these testimonies is not human strength but Christ’s power. As Paul says, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). Erika’s words of forgiveness stand in that same stream of costly obedience.

The Danger of Bitterness

Scripture not only commands forgiveness—it warns against its opposite. “See to it that no root of bitterness springs up and causes trouble, and by it many become defiled” (Heb. 12:15). Bitterness poisons the soul, spreads like wildfire, and destroys families and churches.

Forgiveness, though costly, guards the heart from that corruption. Erika’s choice to forgive was not only obedience—it was protection from bitterness’s deadly grip.

The Power of Forgiveness

Forgiveness is one of the clearest demonstrations of the Gospel in action. It silences Satan’s schemes, it confounds a watching world, and it reminds the Church that vengeance belongs to God, not to us.

Erika’s act of forgiveness does not minimize the evil done to her family. It magnifies the grace of the God who forgives us an eternal debt we could never repay.

Closing Counsel

If you doubt her words, look in the mirror. Who do you need to forgive? Have you obeyed Christ’s command to forgive those who wounded you? Are you waiting until it “feels right”? Are you confusing forgiveness with excusing evil?

If you have never received the forgiveness of Christ yourself, start there. You cannot give what you have never received. At the cross, God’s justice and mercy meet. Repent of your sin, trust in Jesus, and know what it means to be forgiven forever.

Forgiveness is not weakness. It is spiritual warfare.

Erika’s proclamation does not end the grieving process, nor does it eliminate the demands of justice. But it does declare something the world desperately needs to hear: forgiveness is both an act and a process. The act plants the seed. The process waters it with tears, endurance, and faith.

And in that seed lies resurrection power—the power that raised Jesus from the dead, the power that overcomes evil with good, the power the world still cannot understand.

By Virgil Walker serves as a Teaching Pastor at Redeemer Bible Church in Gilbert, Arizona,  co-host of the Just Thinking Podcast and a popular commentator who explores a wide array of cultural issues through the lens of a Biblical worldview.

 POSTSCRIPT:

Erika's testimony has inspired others to imitate her example.

For instance, actor Tim Allen posted that for decades, he has struggled to forgive the drunk driver who killed his father when Tim was only a boy. Compounding the trauma, Tim was in the car himself. After watching Erika’s speech, he was able, finally, to let his anger go. 

 Another man posted a TikTok video saying he was stirred to do the same for a man who killed his brother in a drunk brawl. (Impossibly, someone then left a comment on the video that allowed them to meet and reconcile in person.) 

When We Must Walk Alone

It is better to take refuge in the Lord
      than to trust in man.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord
      than to trust in princes. (Psalm 118:8–9)

You did not choose solitude.

You never thought you’d have so few friends by your side — especially now. In your moment of need, you’re left only questions. Trials fill the skies with arrows — you’re deserted in the dark. Where did they go?

This friendless path is well-worn.

Many of the faithful have traveled it before. Moses into the wilderness. Daniel into the lion’s den. David to face the giant. Elijah to challenge Ahab. Jeremiah into a pit. Micaiah to give the prophecy. Samuel to rebuke a king. Esther to make her request. John the Baptist into his cell. Paul to stand trial. Stephen to his stoning. John to his island. Saints have been made to stand, and often stand, alone. And none like our Lord on his way to the cross.

Many in ministry know this road. How quickly relationships within the church can burn the heart near to ashes. The church door is revolving. Members come and go; sometimes it’s hard not to take it personally. Grief and anger and self-pity mingle. We ask ourselves, “Many a man proclaims his own steadfast love, but a faithful man who can find?” (Proverbs 20:6). We cry, “Save, O Lord, for the godly one is gone; for the faithful have vanished from among the children of man” (Psalm 12:1). Our strength all but dries. How can we go on much longer?

Life can be lonely for a man of God. Not at all times, but at crucial times. And this is often God’s doing. He strips his men of even faithful friends in pivotal moments. Those who have been beside us for countless battles cannot go with us there. A day arrives when God shall again prove himself enough. Dependence upon man is chastened that the man of God might rest fully upon his Rock and his Redeemer. Paul illustrates:

At my first defense no one came to stand by me, but all deserted me. May it not be charged against them! But the Lord stood by me and strengthened me. . . . So I was rescued from the lion’s mouth. (2 Timothy 4:16–17)

When lions prowl and friends fumble their farewells, the Lord stands by our side. And the lion’s mouth is shut.

Enfeebling Friendship

Tired saint, God is doing something in your loneliness; trust him. God is toughening you. God is teaching you. God is transforming you. The caterpillar must go into that dark place where none can follow to reemerge something higher.

“Life can be lonely for a man of God.”

Charles Spurgeon, no stranger to this sanctified confinement, calls what God is doing in such seasons the discipline of desertion. God strikes us through human mutability, soft betrayals, or unrequited love. Sails we relied upon fall.

What is God doing? He is teaching us vital lessons — lessons Spurgeon warns us not to forget.

Look back at that courageous hour, and now that you are surrounded by a goodly company of friends, think whether you have as simple a trust in God now as you manifested then. If you judge that you have, prove by your actions that you can still dare to go forward under difficulties, unshackled by dependence on an arm of flesh. The discipline of desertion ought not to have been lost upon you, you ought to be all the stronger for having been compelled to walk alone. The friendship of your fellows has been a loss rather than a gain if you cannot now wage single-handed battle as you did in former times. Are you now become slavishly dependent on an arm of flesh? If so, chide yourself by the memories of braver days.

Friendship can be enfeebling — if we let it. Brotherhood should be galvanizing and Godward, but if we let slip our faith-filled ruggedness, if the hands of our courage lose their callouses, if our firm trust in God depends on friends, our strength stagnates and withers.

God Is Our Strength

Isn’t this reflection summed up beautifully in Psalm 118? This may be the last song Jesus sang before his bloody, lonesome passion:

It is better to take refuge in the Lord
      than to trust in man.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord
      than to trust in princes. (Psalm 118:8–9)

Men can be trustworthy and princes just — yet our Lord is always better. He is our fortress and our strength. He is untiring, unshakable, unfaltering. But we forget. The prince has done so much for us. So, our Lord rebukes all fleshly aid and leaves us only the bare and omnipotent arm of God.

Do you know this solitary road? Are you walking it now? Learn its lesson. Rest, trust, and wait on God.

Refreshing are the days when an Aaron and a Hur hold up our arms. Bright are the moments when Jonathan stands by our side. Better to have a fellow with you when you fall because he can pick you up — except at these times. These are times of testing, times of pruning, times of forging — some of the best times, in the end. Here, he makes soldiers. Here, he sharpens our service. Here, he reveals his all-sufficiency.

by Greg Morse,
a staff writer for Desiring God and graduate of Bethlehem College and Seminary. He and his wife, Abigail, live in Saint Paul with their son and three daughters. Read more about Greg.

Voddie Baucham’s Departure and the Changing of the Guard

The shocking death of Voddie Baucham on September 25 was another in a series of blows that have rained down upon us in 2025. From James Dobson to John MacArthur to Charlie Kirk to Voddie Baucham, [and previously from J.I.  Packer, R.C. Sproul, Tim Keller et al] the church has lost a number of leading voices that have been used mightily of God. In any given year, losing one man who had the influence of these four would have been a significant loss, but losing four in such a short space of time is enough to send our heads reeling and cause us to wonder what God’s plans are as we look to the future. While we cannot know what God is doing, for whenever God does one thing He does ten thousand, what seems obvious in this moment is that we are witnessing a changing of the guard.

History has seen such moments many times before. We might think of the moment that Moses knew his time had come and handed off the leadership of the nation of Israel to his protege, Joshua. Or we can look back to the changing of the guard when King David appointed his son Solomon to be king in his place. In the New Testament, a significant changing of the guard occurred when the Apostle Paul knew his departure to heaven was at hand, so he handed over the ministry to Timothy, who was to lead a new generation of preachers. Because of our finitude and mortality, the changing of the guard is inevitable. Indeed, it is part of God’s plans to glorify His Son through the church. No preacher, pastor, counselor, apologist, or Christian lives forever in this world, and eventually our time on this earth ends, and God raises up a new generation to take our place.

One of the most comforting realities to young men in the ministry is the old guard. For young man in seminary and starting out in pastoral ministry, knowing there were men like John MacArthur and Voddie Baucham taking a stand for truth without compromise helped put wind in their sails and steel in their spines. Men like MacArthur and Baucham were used of God to help set the direction for biblical churches, and they served in one sense as guardrails for young men in ministry trying to figure out how to preach the Word and be faithful pastors. With Baucham’s race now run, it seems clearer than ever that the guard has changed. The young men who looked up to and followed the lead of MacArthur, Baucham, and others, are not young men anymore, and it’s time now to step up and lead.

Paul’s instructions to Timothy as Paul came to the end of his race give three principles for men in ministry who are now seasoned veterans called to lead in the days ahead. These principles help set the course for biblical ministries and ensure that the new guard remains just as faithful as the old.

The first principle is that we must be bold rather than afraid. Paul reminded Timothy, “For God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but of power and love and self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7). The same Holy Spirit who enabled John MacArthur to be faithful for 56 years of ministry, and the same Holy Spirit who gave Voddie both the courage to stand against the tide of our culture and to weep tears of sorrow over the lost – that same Spirit indwells the next generation of preachers and leaders in the church. The Spirit we have been given is not one that incites fear or who leads us to be timid. The Spirit gives us power and love and self-discipline. The Spirit makes us bold in our ministries for the sake of Christ. Baucham was bold for truth, and so must we be as we think about carrying on the ministry in his absence. Many temptations toward timidity, compromise, and fear will come, but the Spirit within us is able to make us stand and to make us strong.

The second principle is that we must be faithful rather than popular. Paul charged Timothy to “preach the Word” (2 Timothy 4:2) and to “fulfill your ministry” (2 Timothy 4:5). Paul knew the temptation to be popular was an ever-present danger. We might look at men like Baucham and MacArthur and see the vast numbers of people they influenced, the books they sold, their online presence, and the crowds that gathered to hear them speak at conferences, and conclude that the goal is to be popular. If we would be influential, then we must ensure that we have a large following to influence. And yet we see that Paul decried the pursuit of popularity because he knew the fickleness of the crowd. Most people are more interested in hearing what they want to hear than what they need to hear. Most people would rather hear a lie they love than a truth that convicts. Few people want to be pierced by the sword of the Spirit. They prefer to have their ears tickled and their own sinful desires affirmed. If you are willing to tell people they can live their best life now, that they are not sinners in need of repentance, that salvation demands nothing of them but whispering a prayer, you can build a massive following and a multi-site megachurch. People throng to be told how wonderful they are. But the faithful preacher is not called to be popular but truthful, not to say what people want them to say but to proclaim what God has commanded them to say. We miss a key element of Baucham’s ministry if we miss this: he was not influential because he was popular; he was influential because he was faithful to the Word of God. As John MacArthur said many times, our responsibility is to be concerned with the depth of our ministries while God will take care of their breadth. If the next generation of preachers will honor Christ and live up to the legacy Baucham, MacArthur, and others have left behind, we must strive to be faithful rather than popular.

Finally, when the guard changes, we need to be reminded that we must train the next generation because our time is limited. Paul told Timothy, “And the things which you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also” (2 Timothy 2:2). Paul had been faithful to train Timothy, so that when Paul died the ministry of the Word was in good hands. But Paul also realized that Timothy would one day be where Paul was, at the end of his race, needing to hand the baton to the next runner. It was imperative that Timothy train another generation of preachers to follow in his footsteps as he followed Christ. It was vital that the next generation learn to train yet another generation, because each generation comes and goes. The guard is constantly changing, and, like Timothy, we only are faithful inasmuch as we raise up the next generation to be faithful when our turn has ended.

The task that stands before us is monumental. In some ways, it feels like we are in Joshua’s shoes at the border of the Promised Land, called to lead God’s people now that Moses has gone. We might have a small idea of what Timothy must have felt when God called Paul to his heavenly reward. We grieve the loss of these dear brothers and these faithful men of God, but we also need to see what time it is. It’s time for the next generation to lead. It’s time for the next generation to take the baton and run with all that we have for the glory of Christ. We must be bold, we must be faithful, and we must train those who come after us. That’s what Baucham did. That’s what all faithful men of God do. May the new guard be found as faithful as the men who have gone before us

 

By Robb Brunansky who pastors Desert Hills Bible Church in Glendale, Arizona. He has his M. Div. from The Master’s Seminary and his Ph.D. in New Testament from The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.

The National Crisis of Fatherlessness

Every social crisis we face can be traced back to the same absent figure.

Over 18 million children in the U.S. grow up without a biological father in the home—that’s nearly one in four. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, children from fatherless homes are:

• 4 times more likely to live in poverty.
• 7 times more likely to become pregnant as teenagers.
• Twice as likely to suffer from obesity.
• More than twice as likely to drop out of school.
• And in some studies, as much as 85% of youth in prison come from fatherless homes.

Richard Baxter, the Puritan pastor, saw this danger centuries ago: “Keep up family duties constantly; if they are well done, you will have little cause to complain of public neglect. For he that prays daily with his family, shall have a church in his house.”

When fathers forsake that call, it’s not just the home that unravels. It’s the nation.

The Biblical Mandate

God’s design was never complicated.

“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4).

That’s the assignment. Fathers are to lead spiritually, discipline faithfully, and teach intentionally. Psalm 78 reminds us to pass the faith down to our children and to our children’s children.

John Owen put it plainly: “Be killing sin, or sin will be killing you.” The father’s first duty is to wage war against sin—first in himself, then in his household.

Fathers aren’t optional accessories to the family. They’re covenantal representatives, living pictures of God’s authority, protection, and provision. When fathers disappear, chaos doesn’t just creep in, it storms in. But when godly fathers stand firm, the effects ripple through generations.

And the stats back it up. Research shows that when a father actively practices his faith, about 70% of his children will remain in church as adults. But when only the mother does, that number drops to 15% or less. Fathers aren’t just influential—they’re decisive.

When Fathers Fail, Nations Crumble

History bears this out. Cultures collapse when family order collapses. Rome decayed long before the barbarians stormed its gates. Weimar Germany produced broken men long before Hitler offered them a counterfeit vision of strength.

Today, gangs act as substitute fathers. Activists and celebrities pretend to be surrogate dads. Politicians promise to “care” for the children while pushing policies that weaken the family even more.

Here’s the sobering reality: fatherlessness costs America over $100 billion every year in lost productivity, welfare, crime, and healthcare. But the true cost can’t be measured in dollars. It’s measured in souls.

And here’s the harder truth: even churches have failed. Too many pulpits avoid preaching on manhood, fatherhood, and responsibility because they fear offending fragile ears. But God never soft-pedals this truth. The health of the home determines the health of the nation.

Thomas Watson warned of this spiritual cowardice: “Ministers must not be silenced, but sinners must be silenced. It is cruelty to the soul to let people go sleeping in their sin and never to tell them.” If that’s true of preachers in the pulpit, how much more of fathers in their homes?

Hope for Restoration

Now, let me be clear—I wasn’t a perfect father. I made mistakes. I still do. But God’s grace covered my failures. His Word gave me a map when I was lost. And the prayers of a faithful wife and the hand of a sovereign God carried our family through seasons we could not have survived on our own.

That same grace is available to every man reading this.

The call isn’t to despair. It’s to repent. To step back into the role God has assigned. To lead your family, to protect your children, to disciple the next generation. You don’t have to be a hero to the world. Just be a father in your home. That alone would change the nation. That’s the thing about fatherhood—it echoes into eternity.

by Virgil Walker, serves on pastoral staff of Redeemer Bible Church, Gilbert AZ; popular podcaster and author; and blogs at Sola Veritas

You Become What You Read

We’ve all heard, “You are what you eat,” the principle being that your diet determines what you become. The same holds true for your reading intake. Like the plate, the page shapes us. If you imagine each book like a meal and each article a light snack, what you consume and digest day in and day out, over years and decades, molds your character. So, how do reading habits sculpt you into a particular kind of person?

Whom You Hang With

First, we must realize that though we often read by ourselves, we never read alone. When you open up a book, you sit down with an author. The book is fundamentally a technology of conversation; it fosters the meeting of minds across time and space. The written word captures something of the author and, when read, conjures him. “All writers, by the way they use language, reveal something of their spirits, their habits, their capacities, and their biases. . . . All writing is communication . . . it is the Self escaping into the open” (The Elements of Style, 97–98). In short, when you read, you hang out with an author.

This insight enables us to bring to bear the pervasive biblical principle that you become whom you hang out with. Your companions stamp their imprint on you. Habitually hanging with bad company will sand away the contours of good morals (1 Corinthians 15:33). On the other hand, when holy ones congregate, their love and good works spread like a good contagion (Hebrews 10:24–25).

Proverbs may have the most to say about the transformative power of companions. Befriend a wise man and end up wise; loiter around fools and you will contract folly (Proverbs 13:20). And Jesus says that everyone who follows a teacher — that is, watches his way of life and receives his words — will become like him for good or evil (Luke 6:40). This is the essence of reading. As Mortimer Adler explains, “Reading is learning from an absent teacher” (How to Read a Book, 16).

So, if our companions and teachers shape us, and if in every book an author offers us such company, is it any wonder books hold the magic that can make or break us, that can mold us into a Eustace or a Lewis? Yet we still have not said how this enchantment works. How do we become what we read? The books we read have a twofold effect: They train our desires and frame the way we perceive reality.

Books Condition Desires

“The diet of books we consume and the companionship of their authors change the way we see the world.” Books put pressure on our desires. They can teach us to want well or to want poorly, but none is neutral. Like living companions, authors act as mediators of desire; unlike them, they wield the particularly potent magic of the written word, inviting us to enter into their experiences, to participate in their worlds, to live with their characters, and to test-drive their worldviews. Books make the man because books catechize desires.

Books Frame Reality

The stories we embrace define us. Narrative scholars commonly assert that the stories we choose to read define who we are, but we also become the products of the stories we read. Stories reflect individual identity and have the power to modify it. This is also true for societies and nations. Stories form a chief means through which groups codify, preserve, and pass on their beliefs and values. (Recovering the Lost Art of Reading, 71)

Books put us face to face with authors. And every author presupposes things about man, the world, and God before the pen ever touches the page. Never neutral, they “do more than present human experiences; they interpret them” (Recovering the Lost Art, 59). Over time, the diet of books we consume and the companionship of their authors change the way we see the world. They can shrink our vision to almost nothing or expand it immeasurably. They can warp or straighten, drain or fill, color or desaturate.

Books provide the habitual furniture of the mind. They frame reality.

Befriend Good Books

How do books shape us? They shape us by putting us in close proximity to their authors — men and women who make certain things desirable, who see the world in a particular way, who are never neutral. In the pages of their books, we sit with them and eat from their table. We dwell with them. Alan Jacobs summarizes the effect well: “To dwell habitually with people is inevitably to adopt their way of approaching the world, which is a matter not just of ideas but also of practices” (How to Think, 63).

So, my friend, be careful what you read. Don’t malnourish your imagination. Don’t glut your passions. Attend to your diet. Single meals are not as important as habitual trends. A Twinkie (that fitness post on Instagram, that rant on Facebook, that thriller novel) is fine every once in a while; it might kill you if that’s all you eat. What to read comes down to maturity, discernment, and wise counsel. Your choice of companions is a matter of life and death (Proverbs 12:26). So choose wisely. Befriend good books.

This abbreviated article is by Clinton Manley is an editor for Desiring God and an adjunct instructor for Bethlehem College and Seminary. He and his wife, Mackenzie, have three children and live in Saint Paul.

No Country for Men

Someone asked this question of Chris Harper of Better Man

"Chris, you referenced that the majority of churches have women's ministries [approximately 80%], while men's ministries are less than 10%. Why do you think that number is so small?"

He gave this response:

1. Fear of Failure and Awkwardness

Many pastors/leaders don't know what to do with men. Women's and children's ministries feel natural—there's a long history of them, and they seem to "work." Men, on the other hand, are often less verbal, less likely to sign up for a "class," and more prone to disappear if something feels shallow or forced. The fear of putting effort into a men's ministry that fizzles keeps many churches from trying at all.

2. Low Expectations for Men

Culturally, we've lowered the bar for men. Churches often expect little more than attendance and financial giving. When men are treated as utility rather than disciples—cars need to be parked, checks need to be written, security needs to be provided—there's little vision for forming their souls. Without a compelling call to transformation, men remain passive, and ministries to men wither on the vine.

3. The "Family-First" Paradigm

In the past few decades, many churches have emphasized marriage and family ministries [which are reasonable and necessary], but often at the expense of ministry to men. The unintended effect: the church pours into couples and kids but never invests directly in men, leaving the leaders of those families underdeveloped.

4. Pastors Not Investing in Men

Most churches rise or fall on what the pastor emphasizes. If the pastor doesn't personally disciple men, it rarely happens elsewhere in the church. Men follow men. If they don't see their shepherd prioritizing the training of men, they won't expect it to matter.

5. Consumer Christianity

Many men have been conditioned by church culture to view themselves as "audience members," rather than soldiers. Consumer Christianity [sit, sing, listen, leave] strips the fight out of men. A consumer doesn't need training. A soldier does. If church is reduced to a weekly event, men's discipleship gets sidelined.

6. The Cost of Real Brotherhood

Real men's ministry requires risk: uncomfortable honesty, confrontation of sin, accountability, and commitment. That's messy. It takes time. It requires older men pouring into younger men [Titus 2; 2 Timothy 2]. It doesn't fit neatly into a program slot on the calendar. Many churches prefer safe events to costly brotherhood.

7. Satan Targets Men

There's also a spiritual reason: Satan knows if you cripple the men, you weaken the home, the church, and the culture. Undiscipled men become absent fathers, passive husbands, and compromised leaders. A church without men's discipleship is an easy target. Weak, broken men make weak, broken homes. Broken homes make broken churches. Broken churches fuel broken cities. 

By Chris Harper with Better Man 

Beware of Secular Sermons

As Christians, we often think of sermons as something exclusive to Sunday morning church services. We view sermons as a special type of expository exhortation, in which a pastor, standing in a pulpit and with a Bible open, delivers a spiritual instruction to a congregation. But this limited view prevents us from recognizing the countless other types of “secular sermons” that are being preached to us daily through our screens, advertisements, and entertainment.

Writer and researcher Kevin Simler offers a usefully broader definition of a sermon, which he describes as “any message designed to change or reinforce what a group of people value.”¹ By this definition, sermons happen everywhere, from Super Bowl commercials to Netflix shows, from social media feeds to corporate mission statements.

What makes these secular sermons particularly influential is how they create what Simler calls “common knowledge.” This isn’t merely information that we individually absorb; it’s an understanding that we know everyone else has also absorbed.

Think about a popular TV show that portrays religious believers as backward or hypocritical. The power isn’t just in how it might influence you personally but the fact that you know millions of others watched the same portrayal. You know that they know, and they know that you know. This shared awareness creates a powerful network effect that amplifies the message far beyond its initial impact.

Or consider when a major athletic brand releases a campaign featuring everyday people overcoming obstacles through perseverance and determination. The power of the message stems not just from inspiring you personally to purchase their products (though that is a main goal) but from your knowledge that millions of others also absorbed the same aspirational message. This shared understanding creates an unspoken social consensus that personal willpower and “just doing it” are the primary solutions to life’s challenges. The campaign functions as a secular sermon precisely because everyone knows everyone else has heard it, reinforcing individualistic values in ways that private, targeted advertising never could.

The moment we recognize this broader definition of sermons, we begin to see that our culture is filled with competing pulpits, each vying for influence over our values, priorities, and beliefs. A pastor may speak for an hour on Sunday, but secular voices are preaching to us for the remaining 167 hours of the week.

Here are seven secular sermons you might have encountered this week without even realizing it.

1. The Instagram Lifestyle Gospel

Scroll through Instagram for just five minutes and you’ll hear the persistent sermon that fulfillment comes through aesthetic perfection and curated experiences. The meticulously staged “day in my life” montages and sunset beach meditation posts preach a doctrine of self-actualization through consumption and experience-collecting. This secular sermon quietly challenges the Christian understanding that true joy comes from a never-ending relationship with God (Ps. 16:11) rather than endlessly collecting picture-perfect moments (Matt. 6:19–21).

2. The Corporate Brand Purpose Statement

Companies increasingly position themselves as moral authorities with purpose-driven messaging. Whether it’s a coffee chain promising community or an outdoor retailer preaching environmental stewardship, these brands are delivering sermons about what matters most in life. While the wording varies from one corporation to the next, the underlying message remains the same: ethical consumption is the primary way to effect change in the world.

3. The Algorithm’s Personalization Homily

Every time you open Netflix, Spotify, or your news feed, the recommendation algorithms deliver a sermon tailored specifically to you. The message it’s sending is that your preferences are sovereign and your individual taste should be your primary guide. This personalization subtly undermines the Christian notion of submitting to truth outside ourselves and joining a community with shared values rather than one based on “egocasting.”²

A pastor may speak for an hour on Sunday, but secular voices are preaching to us for the remaining 167 hours of the week.

4. The Celebrity Interview Confession

Late-night talk shows and podcast interviews with celebrities regularly feature intimate personal revelations framed as courageous acts of authenticity. These confessional moments preach that sharing one’s struggles publicly is the path to healing and that growth requires vulnerability but not accountability. This secular liturgy subtly replaces the biblical model of confession within community (James 5:16), transforming repentance into mere public disclosure.

5. The Superhero Film’s Redemptive Violence

The latest blockbuster likely contained an implicit sermon about how the world is ultimately saved through the right application of force by a morally righteous individual or group. This narrative of redemptive violence stands in stark contrast to the Christian story of a Savior who conquers through self-sacrifice and who commands love of enemies (Matt. 5:44).

6. The Health and Wellness Scripture

From supplement companies to fitness influencers, the wellness industry preaches a gospel of salvation through physical optimization. These sermons promote the idea that with enough discipline and the right products, we can achieve bodily transcendence and avoid suffering. Their not-so-subtle message is a direct challenge to the Christian understanding of various aspects of our physical life, such as mortality, respect for the elderly, and hope in a bodily resurrection (1 Cor. 15:42–44).

7. The Political Talk Show Liturgy

Whether left-leaning or right-leaning, political commentators deliver powerful sermons about who belongs in the moral community and who stands outside it. These secular liturgies form our understanding of neighbor-love more effectively than many Sunday sermons. Many ignore the commands of Jesus, such as the call to love even our enemies, and even attempt to reframe anti-Christian positions as biblical requirements.

Recognizing the Sermons Around Us

What makes these secular sermons so effective is that they rarely announce themselves as moral or spiritual instruction. Instead, they slip past our defenses through entertainment, convenience, or utility. As the late media critic Neil Postman warned, these messages can profoundly shape our theological plausibility structures—what we consider reasonable to believe about God, ourselves, and the world.

But we are not helpless to respond to these messages.

The first and most necessary step in countering their influence is simply recognizing them for what they are. When we understand that we’re being preached to through our screens, products, and entertainment, we can begin to critically engage with these messages rather than passively absorbing them.

Paul encouraged believers to “take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Cor. 10:5). In our media-saturated age, this means actively identifying and interrogating the secular sermons bombarding us daily. What values are being preached through your favorite shows? What vision of the good life is your social media feed subtly endorsing? What doctrines about human nature are embedded in the news you consume?

By naming these messages and examining them in light of Scripture, we reclaim our spiritual discernment. We’re called not just to avoid being “conformed to this world” but to be “transformed by the renewal of your mind” (Rom. 12:2). This renewal happens when we recognize competing gospels, actively counter them with biblical truth, and surround ourselves with fellow believers who help us see the water we’re swimming in.

The secular pulpits may be louder and more numerous, but they are not more powerful than the timeless truth of God’s word. As we become attuned to the sermons around us, we can respond with wisdom rather than being unwitting disciples of the culture’s ever-changing gospels.

Notes:

1. https://meltingasphalt.com/here-be-sermons/
2. https://www.thenewatlantis.com/publications/the-age-of-egocasting

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by Joe Carter (MDiv, Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary) is a senior writer for the Gospel Coalition, the author of The Life and Faith Field Guide for Parents, the editor of the NIV Spiritual Habits Bible, and coauthor of How to Argue Like Jesus: Learning Persuasion from History’s Greatest Communicator. 

Joe is a contributing author to Scrolling Ourselves to Death: Reclaiming Life in a Digital Age, edited by Brett McCracken and Ivan Mesa. He also serves as an associate pastor at McLean Bible Church in Arlington, Virginia.