Whether you admire President Trump or oppose him, whether you love America or are deeply critical of her, Christians must be careful not to fall into one of Satan’s oldest snares. The author of confusion delights in blurring the distinctions that God Himself has established. He is the father of lies, the accuser of the brethren, the sophister who twists truth just enough to make error appear righteous. He sets man against man, nation against nation, and even Christian against Christian, all while disguising confusion as spiritual discernment.
One of the greatest confusions of our day is the merging of the Gospel of Jesus Christ with the responsibilities God has given to civil government. Once those two are blended together, both become distorted.
Jesus commanded His disciples to love their enemies, bless those who curse them, turn the other cheek, and overcome evil with good. Those commands reveal the character of Christ’s followers and the nature of His Kingdom. They were never given as a blueprint for civil government.
Scripture makes this distinction plainly. In Romans 13, Paul says the governing authority “does not bear the sword in vain,” but is “the minister of God, an avenger to execute wrath upon him that does evil.” The very sword Christ forbade Peter to use in defending Him is the same sword God entrusts to civil rulers for the restraint of evil. There is no contradiction. There are simply two different callings.
Peter reached for the sword to prevent the Cross. Jesus rebuked him because redemption would not come through violence but through the sacrifice of the Lamb. That moment cannot honestly be turned into a universal prohibition against every lawful use of force by every civil authority. If it were, Romans 13 could never have been written.
Nor should we emphasize one aspect of Christ while neglecting another. Revelation presents the Lamb who was slain, but it also presents the returning King who judges the nations in righteousness. The Lion conquers because He first became the Lamb. The same Christ who died for sinners will one day judge the living and the dead. His mercy and His justice are never in conflict.
The Cross reveals God’s astonishing love toward His enemies by providing salvation through His Son. Yet the same Scriptures declare that those who reject that salvation will face His righteous judgment. Mercy and justice meet perfectly in the character of God.
History itself reminds us why God ordained civil government. Had the nations refused to oppose Hitler, the Holocaust would have continued unchecked. Had governments stood aside against ISIS, countless more innocent people would have been slaughtered or enslaved. Likewise, if a regime such as Iran’s wages aggression against its neighbors, governments do not sin by seeking to restrain that evil. Government was never commissioned to save men’s souls. It was commissioned to restrain evil in a fallen world.
War is always tragic, and Christians should never celebrate it. During the Second World War an estimated 1.8 to 3 million German civilians died through bombing, displacement, starvation, and the chaos of war. Every one of those lives mattered before God. Yet would anyone seriously argue that Winston Churchill or Franklin D. Roosevelt were guilty of genocide? Of course not. They were not seeking the extermination of the German people. They were leading nations against a regime that was itself carrying out genocide on an unprecedented scale. There is a profound moral difference between intentionally exterminating a people and the tragic loss of civilian life while defeating those who are committing such evil.
The church certainly has a prophetic responsibility to call governments to justice, righteousness, and accountability before God. But it must never confuse its ministry of reconciliation with the ministry of justice entrusted to civil rulers. Christ gave His Church the Gospel, not the sword. God gave governments the sword, not the Gospel.
The Kingdom of God is not advanced by military victories, political parties, or national greatness. It advances one redeemed heart at a time through the preaching of Christ crucified and risen. Yet that glorious truth does not require us to deny the separate sphere in which God has ordained civil authority to restrain evil and protect the innocent.
The devil delights in collapsing these distinctions. If he cannot persuade the Church to abandon the Gospel, he will entangle it in endless political confusion until believers can no longer distinguish between the mission of Christ and the responsibilities of Caesar. Some will baptize politics with Christianity. Others will condemn every exercise of civil authority by appealing to commands that were never given to governments. Both errors spring from the same deception.
The Cross reconciles sinners to God. The sword restrains evil in a fallen world. Confuse the two, and both the Gospel and God’s purpose for civil government become distorted.
Our calling is not first to defend a nation, nor first to condemn one. It is to exalt Christ, proclaim His Gospel faithfully, and refuse the subtle deceptions of the evil one, who is forever seeking to mix what God has separated. The Church must remain the Church, governments must remain governments, and Christ alone must remain Lord over both.
Thomas Paine wrote the immortal words, “These are the times that try men’s souls,” in December of 1776, when the American cause appeared to be collapsing. Washington’s army was retreating through New Jersey. Enlistments were expiring, men were deserting, and the hope of independence was fading. Paine understood that there are moments in history when a man can no longer hide among the crowd. He must look deeply into his own soul and decide whether that which he professes to believe is truly worth suffering for, standing for, and, if necessary, dying for.
The winter at Valley Forge would come the following year and would embody Paine’s warning in flesh and blood. It was the long, cold winter of discontent. Men were hungry, poorly clothed, and ravaged by sickness. Disease was virulent, despair was everywhere, and death walked freely through the camp. It was there, in the cold and misery, that lofty declarations were tested. The question was no longer whether liberty sounded noble when spoken beside a warm fire. The question was whether liberty was still worth possessing when the price was hunger, disease, loneliness, and the grave.
Truth has fallen in the streets. The foundations are being destroyed. That which was once openly condemned is now celebrated, while that which was once regarded as holy is mocked, despised, and increasingly treated as evil. The very language of truth has been corrupted. Words no longer mean what they once meant. Men demand the right to redefine reality itself, and a fearful generation bows before the lie.
The vandals and the Visigoths, figuratively, but only just figuratively, are at the gates, and they have destruction in mind. They do not merely seek a place at the table. They seek to overturn the table, burn the house, tear down its foundations, and condemn everyone who remembers what once stood there.
Yet the greater crisis is not merely outside the Church. The greater crisis is that much of the Church has neither the spiritual strength nor the moral courage to resist it.
Paine spoke of the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot, the man who loved the cause when the weather was pleasant but disappeared when the struggle became costly. The Church has her own summer Christians and sunshine saints.
They will sing of victory while victory costs them nothing. They will speak of the cross while carefully avoiding every road that leads to Calvary. They will proclaim Christ so long as Christ does not threaten their comfort, their reputation, their employment, their friendships, or their place within respectable society.
But these times will reveal every man.
The sunshine saint will shrink from the reproach of Christ. The summer Christian will compromise with the spirit of the age. The religious spectator will wait for some institution, some pastor, some movement, or some celebrated personality to tell him what to believe and how far he may safely go.
Yet the remnant cannot live by permission from men.
“If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?”
The answer is not that the righteous can do nothing. The answer is found in the following words: “The Lord is in His holy temple, the Lord’s throne is in heaven.”
When every earthly foundation is shaking, the throne of God remains immovable. When truth is cast down in the streets, Christ remains the Truth. When men tear down ancient boundaries, the Word of God remains forever settled in heaven.
The righteous must return to that which cannot be shaken.
We must know God for ourselves. We must hear His voice for ourselves. We must draw water from the wells of salvation for ourselves. We must possess an inward life strong enough to endure when every outward support is removed.
It is no longer enough to attend. It is no longer enough to observe. It is no longer enough to borrow another man’s convictions and repeat another man’s revelation. Every saint must know in whom he has believed.
Many Christians have been prepared for comfort, but very few have been prepared for conflict. They have been taught how to attend meetings, support ministries, follow programs, and listen to sermons, but they have not been taught how to stand alone before God.
They have been made dependent upon religious institutions at the very moment when those institutions are proving themselves incapable of meeting the crisis.
The machinery still operates. The lights still shine. The bands still play. The sermons are still delivered. The calendars remain full. Yet in many places the saints remain weak, passive, undiscerning, and utterly unprepared for the hour that has come upon us.
The veil was torn, yet men have busily sewn it back together. Christ died to create a kingdom of priests, yet the priesthood of all believers has been reduced to the ministry of the few.
This arrangement may survive in peaceful times. It will not survive the winter.
There comes a moment when every man must look into his own soul and ask the question that cannot be answered by his pastor, his denomination, his family, or his friends.
Is Christ worth the cost?
Is He worth the loss of reputation?
Is He worth the loss of comfort?
Is He worth the loss of employment?
Is He worth the loss of friends?
Is He worth imprisonment?
Is He worth death?
The early saints answered that question in the arenas, in prisons, in caves, beneath the sword, and upon the flames. They overcame by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives unto death.
We have sung their hymns, read their stories, and admired their courage. Now the question comes to us.
These are the times that reveal the remnant. These are the times when empty profession is separated from living faith. These are the times when the double-minded are swept away, the fearful retreat, and the faithful discover that Christ is sufficient.
The remnant must not retreat into silence. Neither must they place their confidence in politics, institutions, personalities, or movements. We are not called to preserve a religious culture. We are called to bear witness to the truth.
We must speak while truth is falling in the streets.
We must stand while the foundations are being torn down.
We must strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees.
We must warn those who are asleep.
We must encourage those who are standing alone.
We must become, once again, the royal priesthood Christ purchased with His own blood.
Valley Forge was not the end of the American struggle. The winter passed. The army that entered weak, hungry, divided, and diseased emerged disciplined and prepared for the battles ahead.
And so it shall be with the remnant.
The winter will expose us, but it will also refine us. The cold will reveal whether our faith possesses substance. The darkness will force our roots deeper into Christ. The loss of outward supports will teach us that the Lord Himself is our support.
God is preparing a people who cannot be bought by comfort, frightened by opposition, or silenced by the fear of men.
A people who know their God.
A people who love the truth.
A people who have counted the cost.
A people who have settled the question of whether Christ is worth dying for because they have already discovered that He is worth living for.
๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
These are not merely dangerous times. They are revealing times. They are separating times. They are purifying times. They are the times that try men’s souls.
The vandals are at the gates. Truth has fallen in the streets. The foundations are being destroyed. Despair and deception are virulent, and the long winter of discontent is upon us.
Yet the throne of God remains unshaken.
Christ is still building His Church.
The Spirit is still gathering the remnant.
Therefore, let every saint look deeply into his own soul and settle the question now.
Will we be summer Christians and sunshine saints, or will we stand with Christ when the cost of standing is everything?
Thomas Paine wrote the immortal words, “These are the times that try men’s souls,” in December of 1776, when the American cause appeared to be collapsing. Washington’s army was retreating through New Jersey. Enlistments were expiring, men were deserting, and the hope of independence was fading. Paine understood that there are moments in history when a man can no longer hide among the crowd. He must look deeply into his own soul and decide whether that which he professes to believe is truly worth suffering for, standing for, and, if necessary, dying for.
The winter at Valley Forge would come the following year and would embody Paine’s warning in flesh and blood. It was the long, cold winter of discontent. Men were hungry, poorly clothed, and ravaged by sickness. Disease was virulent, despair was everywhere, and death walked freely through the camp. It was there, in the cold and misery, that lofty declarations were tested. The question was no longer whether liberty sounded noble when spoken beside a warm fire. The question was whether liberty was still worth possessing when the price was hunger, disease, loneliness, and the grave.
Truth has fallen in the streets. The foundations are being destroyed. That which was once openly condemned is now celebrated, while that which was once regarded as holy is mocked, despised, and increasingly treated as evil. The very language of truth has been corrupted. Words no longer mean what they once meant. Men demand the right to redefine reality itself, and a fearful generation bows before the lie.
The vandals and the Visigoths, figuratively, but only just figuratively, are at the gates, and they have destruction in mind. They do not merely seek a place at the table. They seek to overturn the table, burn the house, tear down its foundations, and condemn everyone who remembers what once stood there.
Yet the greater crisis is not merely outside the Church. The greater crisis is that much of the Church has neither the spiritual strength nor the moral courage to resist it.
Paine spoke of the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot, the man who loved the cause when the weather was pleasant but disappeared when the struggle became costly. The Church has her own summer Christians and sunshine saints.
They will sing of victory while victory costs them nothing. They will speak of the cross while carefully avoiding every road that leads to Calvary. They will proclaim Christ so long as Christ does not threaten their comfort, their reputation, their employment, their friendships, or their place within respectable society.
But these times will reveal every man.
The sunshine saint will shrink from the reproach of Christ. The summer Christian will compromise with the spirit of the age. The religious spectator will wait for some institution, some pastor, some movement, or some celebrated personality to tell him what to believe and how far he may safely go.
Yet the remnant cannot live by permission from men.
“If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?”
The answer is not that the righteous can do nothing. The answer is found in the following words: “The Lord is in His holy temple, the Lord’s throne is in heaven.”
When every earthly foundation is shaking, the throne of God remains immovable. When truth is cast down in the streets, Christ remains the Truth. When men tear down ancient boundaries, the Word of God remains forever settled in heaven.
The righteous must return to that which cannot be shaken.
We must know God for ourselves. We must hear His voice for ourselves. We must draw water from the wells of salvation for ourselves. We must possess an inward life strong enough to endure when every outward support is removed.
It is no longer enough to attend. It is no longer enough to observe. It is no longer enough to borrow another man’s convictions and repeat another man’s revelation. Every saint must know in whom he has believed.
Many Christians have been prepared for comfort, but very few have been prepared for conflict. They have been taught how to attend meetings, support ministries, follow programs, and listen to sermons, but they have not been taught how to stand alone before God.
They have been made dependent upon religious institutions at the very moment when those institutions are proving themselves incapable of meeting the crisis.
The machinery still operates. The lights still shine. The bands still play. The sermons are still delivered. The calendars remain full. Yet in many places the saints remain weak, passive, undiscerning, and utterly unprepared for the hour that has come upon us.
The veil was torn, yet men have busily sewn it back together. Christ died to create a kingdom of priests, yet the priesthood of all believers has been reduced to the ministry of the few.
This arrangement may survive in peaceful times. It will not survive the winter.
There comes a moment when every man must look into his own soul and ask the question that cannot be answered by his pastor, his denomination, his family, or his friends.
Is Christ worth the cost?
Is He worth the loss of reputation?
Is He worth the loss of comfort?
Is He worth the loss of employment?
Is He worth the loss of friends?
Is He worth imprisonment?
Is He worth death?
The early saints answered that question in the arenas, in prisons, in caves, beneath the sword, and upon the flames. They overcame by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives unto death.
We have sung their hymns, read their stories, and admired their courage. Now the question comes to us.
These are the times that reveal the remnant. These are the times when empty profession is separated from living faith. These are the times when the double-minded are swept away, the fearful retreat, and the faithful discover that Christ is sufficient.
The remnant must not retreat into silence. Neither must they place their confidence in politics, institutions, personalities, or movements. We are not called to preserve a religious culture. We are called to bear witness to the truth.
We must speak while truth is falling in the streets.
We must stand while the foundations are being torn down.
We must strengthen the weak hands and make firm the feeble knees.
We must warn those who are asleep.
We must encourage those who are standing alone.
We must become, once again, the royal priesthood Christ purchased with His own blood.
Valley Forge was not the end of the American struggle. The winter passed. The army that entered weak, hungry, divided, and diseased emerged disciplined and prepared for the battles ahead.
And so it shall be with the remnant.
The winter will expose us, but it will also refine us. The cold will reveal whether our faith possesses substance. The darkness will force our roots deeper into Christ. The loss of outward supports will teach us that the Lord Himself is our support.
God is preparing a people who cannot be bought by comfort, frightened by opposition, or silenced by the fear of men.
A people who know their God.
A people who love the truth.
A people who have counted the cost.
A people who have settled the question of whether Christ is worth dying for because they have already discovered that He is worth living for.
๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
These are not merely dangerous times. They are revealing times. They are separating times. They are purifying times. They are the times that try men’s souls.
The vandals are at the gates. Truth has fallen in the streets. The foundations are being destroyed. Despair and deception are virulent, and the long winter of discontent is upon us.
Yet the throne of God remains unshaken.
Christ is still building His Church.
The Spirit is still gathering the remnant.
Therefore, let every saint look deeply into his own soul and settle the question now.
Will we be summer Christians and sunshine saints, or will we stand with Christ when the cost of standing is everything?
The tragedy of our generation is not that the world has become worldly. The world has always been worldly. The tragedy is that multitudes of Christians have become dependent upon religious institutions to mediate to them what Christ Himself died to give them directly. ๐๐ก๐ ๐ฏ๐๐ข๐ฅ ๐ก๐๐ฌ ๐๐๐๐ง ๐ญ๐จ๐ซ๐ง, ๐ฒ๐๐ญ ๐ฆ๐๐ง ๐๐ซ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐๐ฐ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ญ ๐๐๐๐ค ๐ญ๐จ๐ ๐๐ญ๐ก๐๐ซ.
The Lord Jesus Christ did not shed His blood in order to create another priestly class standing between Himself and His people. He died that every believer might enter boldly into the Holiest. Every saint has access to the throne. Every believer may eat of the hidden manna. Every child of God may hear the voice of the Shepherd. Yet modern Christianity has largely produced spectators rather than priests.
In many places, the simplicity of Christ has been exchanged for religious machinery. The gathering of the saints has become a production. Participation has become observation.๐๐ก๐ ๐ฉ๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฌ๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐จ๐ ๐จ๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ๐ฌ ๐ก๐๐ฌ ๐๐๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ง๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ฐ. The Headship of Christ has often been replaced by the practical headship of men.
๐๐ง๐ ๐ฆ๐๐ง ๐ฌ๐ฉ๐๐๐ค๐ฌ ๐ฐ๐ก๐ข๐ฅ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ซ๐๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ข๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ข๐ฅ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฒ. One man ministers while the rest observe. One man hears from God while the rest wait for instructions. This was never the pattern of the New Testament. When every member supplies, the Body grows. When only a few function, the Body becomes crippled. The greatest enemy of the royal priesthood is not persecution. It is passivity.
Many sacred cows have been protected for so long that men assume they must be biblical. They are not. The clergy and laity system is one of the greatest tragedies in church history. A professional class of ministers has arisen, and the t๐ก๐ ๐จ๐ซ๐๐ข๐ง๐๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฅ๐ข๐๐ฏ๐๐ซ ๐ก๐๐ฌ ๐ฎ๐ง๐๐จ๐ง๐ฌ๐๐ข๐จ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ฅ๐ฒ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ซ๐๐ง๐๐๐ซ๐๐ ๐ก๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง๐ก๐๐ซ๐ข๐ญ๐๐ง๐๐.The average Christian has been taught that ministry belongs to the experts. The New Testament knows nothing of this.
The early believers gathered under the direct government of the Holy Spirit. Every brother and sister had access to Christ. “Whenever you come together, each of you has…” (1 Cor. 14:26). Not one. Each. The gathering belonged to Christ and to His Body.
This is not a call to isolation. It is not a call to bitterness. It is not a call to division. It is a call to liberty.
There comes a moment when every believer must decide whether Christ Himself is enough. Can He teach you? Can He lead you? Can He speak to you? Can He sustain you outside of religious systems? The remnant throughout history has always answered, “Yes.”
There are always the few. The few who leave the camp in order to find His presence. The few who would rather meet in a home, a field, a forest, or a prison cell than remain where Christ no longer has the preeminence. They leave, not because they despise the Church, but because they love her too much to watch her remain in bondage.
God has often called His people into the wilderness. Israel. David. Elijah. John the Baptist. The early believers. Again and again, God separates His people from dependence upon men in order that they might learn dependence upon Himself.
The remnant are often misunderstood. They are accused of rebellion, pride, and division. Yet history bears witness that renewal almost always begins outside the camp.
The Lord still says, “Come to Me.” Not to a movement. Not to a denomination. Not to a personality. To Me.
I believe with all of my heart that a people are being prepared in these last days. A people who know their God. A people who have learned to hear His voice. A people who function under His direct Headship. A people among whom every gift can flourish.
A people who understand that the Church is not a building, an institution, or a denomination. The Church is Christ in His people.
The coming days may strip away many things. Buildings may be lost. Organizations may fail. Institutions may crumble. Yet the true Church cannot be destroyed. She can meet anywhere. She needs no cathedral. She needs no machinery. She needs only Christ.
๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
The question before every believer is this: Has Christ truly set us free? Or have we merely exchanged one religious system for another?
The remnant must recover what has been lost: the priesthood of all believers, the direct Headship of Christ, the liberty of the Spirit, the functioning of every member, and the simplicity that is in Christ.
The hour is late. The systems of men are shaking. The Lord is calling His people back to their spiritual roots. And there are always the few who hear His voice.
“Let us go forth therefore unto Him, outside the camp, bearing His reproach.” (Hebrews 13:13)
The call of this hour is not to another movement, another celebrity, another denomination, or another institution. It is a call back to Christ Himself. The remnant must once again become a kingdom of priests and a habitation of God in the Spirit.
Over many years I become convinced that many of our assumptions about church life deserve to be re-examined, not in light of tradition, but in light of Scripture.
The New Testament draws a distinction between office and gift. Elders (or overseers) are appointed to oversee the flock, guard sound doctrine, and ensure the health of the church (Acts 20:17, 28; Titus 1:5โ9; 1 Timothy 3:1โ7; 1 Peter 5:1โ3). Deacons serve in practical ways so that those entrusted with spiritual oversight are not diverted from prayer and the ministry of the Word (Acts 6:1โ4).
By contrast, Ephesians 4:11โ16 and 1 Corinthians 12โ14 describe the ministry gifts Christ has given to His Body. The emphasis is not on one man performing nearly all the ministry, but on the whole Body functioning under the headship of Christ. “Each of you hasโฆ” (1 Corinthians 14:26) presents a gathering in which believers contribute according to the gifts Christ has distributed, with everything being done decently and in order.
One of the striking features of the New Testament is that the most detailed description of a church gathering is found in 1 Corinthians 14. Paul concludes the chapter by saying, “The things which I write to you are the commandments of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 14:37). If that is so, then the pattern deserves careful attention.
Today, the vast majority of Protestant churches follow a liturgy centred on a single speaker, often leaving little or no opportunity for the participatory ministry described in 1 Corinthians 14. Yet nowhere does the New Testament explicitly replace that pattern with a sermon-centred gathering led by a “senior pastor.” The expression “senior pastor” itself does not appear in Scripture, while elders and deacons are plainly appointed.
This raises an important question: have we gradually exchanged the apostolic pattern for one shaped more by later history than by the Scriptures themselves?
The issue is not whether preaching is biblicalโit is. The issue is whether the gathered church is meant to be the ministry of one gifted man, or the orderly ministry of the whole Body under the oversight of faithful elders.
If the New Testament itself has altered the apostolic pattern, then let us gladly submit to that. But if it has not, then surely our responsibility is not to defend tradition, but to return to the Scriptures and allow them to shape the life of Christ’s church.
If 1 Corinthians 14 is the clearest New Testament description of a gathered church meeting, and Paul concludes by saying, “the things which I write to you are the commandments of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 14:37), what New Testament passage explicitly replaces that pattern?
If Christ gave apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors, teachers, and the other gifts for the equipping of the saints (Ephesians 4:11โ16; 1 Corinthians 12), how are those gifts intended to function if one person occupies almost the entire gathering each week?
According to the New Testament, is the primary purpose of the church gathering to receive biblical instruction from one speaker, or to experience the ministry and manifestation of the Holy Spirit through the members of Christ’s Body for the edification, equipping, and maturing of the saints?
In 1 Corinthians 12โ14, Paul teaches that the manifestation of the Spirit is given “for the profit of all,” and then describes how those gifts are to function when the church comes together. If that ministry is absent from the ordinary gathering, how are believers receiving the mutual edification and equipping that those chapters describe?
The one man system, over time, has largely shut down the functioning of the body and quenched the participation of the saints. When one man is expected to do all the preaching, all the leading, all the ministering, and all the hearing from God on behalf of everyone else, the rest of the body inevitably becomes passive. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐๐๐ต๐ผ๐ผ๐ฑ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฎ๐น๐น ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐๐น๐ผ๐๐น๐ ๐ด๐ถ๐๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ผ ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐น๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ด๐ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐น๐ฎ๐ถ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ฒ๐บ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ถ๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ด๐ป ๐๐ผ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ก๐ฒ๐ ๐ง๐ฒ๐๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ๐ป๐.
But the responsibility does not lie there alone.
Many among the congregation have become content with such an arrangement. They want to attend for an hour, tick the religious box, and then return to their lives until the following week.๐๐ถ๐ธ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ฒ๐น ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ผ๐น๐ฑ, ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐๐ถ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ฎ๐น ๐ ๐ผ๐๐ฒ๐. They would rather someone else ascend the mountain, someone else hear from God, and someone else bring back the word.
Yet this was never God’s intention.
๐๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐๐ ๐๐ผ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ด๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฒ.Every saint is called to seek the Lord for himself. Every member should be daily gathering manna, receiving some fresh word, some fresh insight, some encouragement from the Lord that could be shared for the edification of others. We are told to always be ready. But readiness implies preparation, pursuit, and personal communion with Christ.
Thus the problem is multifaceted. There are systems that have fostered passivity, and there are people who have willingly embraced it because it demands less of them.
And then there are the few.
There are always the few.
There are those who sit quietly among the congregation, year after year, with an increasing sense that something is missing. They cannot fully articulate it at first, but deep within they know that the biblical pattern has been lost. They know there must be more than this. They know that the body of Christ was never meant to be a gathering of spectators watching a few perform.
Eventually, many of these saints can bear it no longer. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐น๐ฒ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ, ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐๐ฟ๐ฐ๐ต, ๐ฏ๐๐ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐น๐ผ๐๐ฒ ๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ผ๐ผ ๐บ๐๐ฐ๐ต ๐๐ผ ๐๐ฒ๐๐๐น๐ฒ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐ฎ ๐๐๐ฏ๐๐๐ถ๐๐๐๐ฒ.They go searching for that which they know in their hearts to be true, a gathering where Christ is central, where every member can function, where spiritual gifts are exercised, where fellowship is genuine, and where the Lord Himself is free to lead His people.
For deep calls unto deep, and ๐ผ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐ฎ ๐ฏ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐๐ต๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐, ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐น๐ถ๐ด๐ถ๐ผ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐๐ถ๐ป๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ป๐ผ ๐น๐ผ๐ป๐ด๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐๐ณ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ผ๐๐น.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” (Jeremiah 17:9)
At first glance, this verse appears to stand in tension with God’s promise:
“A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you.” (Ezekiel 36:26)
Yet the two passages are not contradictory. It is my conviction that, while the believer has indeed received a new heart and a regenerated spirit through the new birth, he must still contend with the lingering influence of the old self-life operating through the soul and the flesh. The possession of a regenerated spirit does not remove the necessity of daily taking up the Cross, nor does the gift of a new heart eliminate the believer’s need for ongoing sanctification.
The deceitfulness spoken of by Jeremiah reminds us that the heart, as Scripture frequently employs the term, often refers to the comprehensive inner life of man and, at times, to the whole man himself. It is my conviction that Jeremiah is speaking of fallen man in his totality. The entire man,body, soul, and spirit,was corrupted through Adam’s fall and therefore stands in need of God’s redeeming and renewing work.
Yet, within fallen humanity, the soul, intimately allied to the flesh and the self-life, remains particularly susceptible to deception. The mind, will, and emotions, when operating independently of the regenerated spirit and the Holy Spirit, naturally gravitate toward self-rule, self-preservation, and independence from God. Consequently, the believer must learn not to trust the impulses of the natural man, but to walk according to the regenerated spirit under the government of the Holy Spirit.
This understanding sheds light on David’s prayer:
“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” (Psalm 139:23-24)
David’s prayer acknowledges that the believer cannot fully discern the hidden workings of the self-life. Only God, through His Word and Spirit, can expose those areas where self still seeks dominion.
This is precisely why the ministry of the Word of God is indispensable in the life of the believer:
“For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12)
The expression “dividing asunder” is translated from the Greek word merismos, derived from the verb merizล, meaning to divide, separate, distribute, apportion, or distinguish one thing from another. The emphasis is not merely upon dividing something in half, but upon making an exact distinction between things so intimately united that man cannot separate them by himself.
The idea conveyed is one of precise discernment and exposure. The Word of God penetrates so deeply into the inner life of man that it exposes what is truly soulish and what is truly spiritual. The imagery is surgical rather than destructive. It is the work of a Divine Physician, laying bare those hidden motivations and impulses that remain concealed even from the believer himself.
It is particularly significant that the writer (I believe it to be Paul) speaks not of the division of body and spirit, which would be self-evident, but of “soul and spirit.” These two aspects of man’s inner life have become so deeply intertwined through the Fall that only the searching ministry of the Word of God, illuminated by the Holy Spirit, can accurately distinguish between them.
The progression within the verse itself is striking. The Word pierces to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, then of joints and marrow, and finally discerns the thoughts and intents of the heart. Thus, the Word reaches the deepest and most hidden realities of man’s being.
The soul and the spirit, though closely intertwined, must therefore be separated. What has become deeply entangled through the Fall can only be distinguished and divided by the searching ministry of the Word of God illuminated by the Holy Spirit. The believer may sincerely believe that he is acting spiritually, when in reality he is merely acting from the self-life operating through the soul.
Thus, Hebrews 4:12 teaches that only the Word of God can accurately distinguish between that which proceeds from the soulish self-life and that which proceeds from the regenerated spirit. Such discernment is indispensable if the believer is to walk under the government of the Holy Spirit rather than under the subtle dominion of self.
An important aspect of this conflict concerns the relationship between the will and the emotions. It is my conviction that men are principally governed either by their will or by their emotions. The emotions, though God-given, belong largely to the realm of the soul and, when left unchecked, are often strongly influenced by the self-life and the flesh. Consequently, emotions frequently seek to lead man away from the will of God.
True obedience to God ultimately requires an act of the will. The believer must choose to submit himself to God, even when his emotions pull him in another direction. Spiritual maturity is therefore not measured by the intensity of one’s feelings, but by the steadfastness of one’s obedience.
The Garden of Gethsemane provides the supreme example. There, the Lord Jesus experienced the full weight of human emotion as He contemplated the Cross, even to the point that His anguish was expressed as great drops of blood:
“And he said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee; take away this cup from me: nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt.” (Mark 14:36)
The emotions of our Lord recoiled from the unspeakable sufferings that lay before Him. Yet even more profoundly, His human will shrank from drinking the cup that was set before Him. When Jesus prayed, “not what I will, but what thou wilt,” He revealed the reality of a human will that had to be consciously and deliberately surrendered to the will of His Father. It was only through this act of perfect submission that His will came into complete alignment with the Father’s will. Gethsemane therefore stands as the supreme example of obedience, demonstrating that true holiness consists not in the absence of conflicting desires or emotions, but in the surrender of the human will to the will of God.
This is not to suggest that all emotion is soulish or fleshly. The regenerated spirit itself possesses holy affections, produced and governed by the Holy Spirit. Indeed, the Scriptures call us to “rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep” (Romans 12:15). We are also exhorted to “comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God” (2 Corinthians 1:4). Such responses are not the product of the self-life, but rather the outflow of a regenerated spirit indwelt by the Holy Spirit.
The believer is therefore not called to emotional detachment, but to sanctified emotion. To love deeply, to grieve with those who grieve, to rejoice with exceeding joy, and to express compassion and tenderness are all part of the life of Christ manifested within the believer. God has not given His people “the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). These holy affections arise not from the fallen self-life, but from the regenerated spirit operating under the government of the Holy Spirit.
The question, therefore, is not whether emotion is present, but whether those emotions proceed from the self-life or from the life of Christ within. Emotions governed by the self-life often lead man away from God, whereas emotions governed by the Holy Spirit become powerful instruments for the expression of the love, compassion, and joy of Christ.
Empowered by God, the believer learns to overcome emotional reactions to any given situation and is led into the safe harbor of the will of God. Outside of His will there is a storm of indecision and anxiety, as the Scripture declares that the double-minded man is unstable in all his ways.
“A double minded man is unstable in all his ways.” (James 1:8)
The description of the “double minded man” in James 1:8 may be understood as illustrating the profound conflict that exists within the believer. The Greek word dipsychos literally means “two-souled,” suggesting a divided inner life. Such a man is unstable because competing principles are at work within him. The mind of Christ, operating within the regenerated spirit, draws him toward obedience, surrender, and faith. At the same time, the mind of the flesh, operating through the soul and the self-life, seeks independence, self-preservation, and unbelief. Until the soul is increasingly brought under the government of the regenerated spirit, where Christ rules supreme, instability and inward conflict will inevitably result.
The conflict described throughout this discussion finds perhaps its clearest expression in Romans 7, where the Apostle Paul speaks of the inward struggle experienced by the believer:
“For I delight in the law of God after the inward man: But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mindโฆ” (Romans 7:22-23)
Romans 7 encapsulates the very conflict we have been considering, the struggle between the regenerated inner man and the principle of sin still operating within the flesh and the self-life. Yet Romans 8 immediately presents the Divine solution to the Romans 7 dilemma.
“There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.” (Romans 8:1)
The first seventeen verses of Romans 8 repeatedly call the believer to walk according to the Spirit and not according to the flesh. The answer to the conflict is not found in self-effort, nor in attempting to reform the old self-life, but in living under the government of the Holy Spirit.
“For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit.” (Romans 8:5)
The believer is continually confronted with two realms, two minds, and two governing principles. The mind of the flesh remains hostile toward God:
“Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.” (Romans 8:7)
Yet the believer is not left powerless, for “the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death” (Romans 8:2). The Holy Spirit empowers the regenerated spirit, enabling the believer to progressively bring the soul and body under the government of Christ.
Paul therefore exhorts:
“For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live.” (Romans 8:13)
The Christian life is thus not lived by the power of the soul, nor by the determination of the flesh, but by walking in continual dependence upon the indwelling Holy Spirit. As the believer walks according to the Spirit, the self-life increasingly loses its dominion, and the life of Christ gains ever greater expression through the whole man.
“For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God.” (Romans 8:14)
The distinction between the soulish self-life and the regenerated spirit also sheds significant light upon our Lord’s solemn warning in Matthew 7:21-23:
“Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)
It is deeply instructive that, when these men stand before Christ, they present not a life of obedience, submission, and conformity to the Father’s will, but rather a catalogue of impressive works:
“Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?” (Matthew 7:22)
The issue was not necessarily the outward nature of the works themselves, for prophecy, deliverance, and mighty works may all, in certain circumstances, be genuine ministries. Rather, the question concerns the source and motive from which these works proceeded. The emphasis of Matthew 7:21 falls not upon performing works, but upon doing “the will of my Father.” Gethsemane stands as the supreme illustration of this principle. There, our Lord set aside every other consideration and surrendered Himself wholly to the Father’s will, praying, “Nevertheless not what I will, but what thou wilt” (Mark 14:36).
True spirituality is therefore not measured by the abundance of one’s activity, nor by outward manifestations of power, but by obedience born out of union with God and submission to His will. The will of God is discerned and embraced within the regenerated spirit under the government of the Holy Spirit. By contrast, religious activity may proceed from the soul, from the self-life, or even from fleshly ambition while still appearing outwardly impressive.
The tragedy of Matthew 7 is that these individuals apparently never experienced the searching ministry described in Hebrews 4:12. They desperately needed the Word of God to pierce to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, exposing the true motives and hidden intentions of their hearts before they stood before Christ. Had such Divine discernment been received and embraced during their earthly lives, they might have been brought to repentance, self-renunciation, and genuine submission to the will of God.
Matthew 7 therefore stands as a solemn warning to every believer. The great question at the judgment will not simply be, “What did I do?” but rather, “why did I do it,” and “was I doing the will of the Father, and from what source did my life and ministry proceed?” Only the searching Word of God, illuminated by the Holy Spirit, can answer that question rightly.
The Soul, the Spirit, and the Self-Life- This subject sounds overly theological, but it’s not, its of vital importance to sanctification.
It is my conviction that there exists a definite distinction between the soul and the spirit of man. While these terms are often used interchangeably by many Christians, I believe the Scriptures reveal a clear distinction between the two. This is not merely an academic matter, for it touches the very heart of sanctification and the Christian walk.
Scripture reveals that God created man as a threefold being:
“And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly; and I pray God your whole spirit and soul and body be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (1 Thessalonians 5:23)
All that God created was originally good, including man’s body, soul, and spirit. Yet through Adam’s fall, every facet of man’s being was corrupted by sin. The spirit of man died toward God and became incapable of true communion with Him. The soul became enslaved to the self-life, seeking its own rule and preservation apart from God. The body likewise became subject to corruption, decay, and death. Thus, the whole manโspirit, soul, and bodyโcame under the dominion of the old Adamic nature and stood in desperate need of redemption.
It is my conviction that the spirit of man is that faculty by which man communes with God. Prior to conversion, the spirit is dead toward God:
“And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins.” (Ephesians 2:1)
At regeneration, God imparts new life to the spirit:
“That which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” (John 3:6)
The regenerated spirit, indwelt and empowered by the Holy Spirit, is intended to govern the whole man.
I believe that soul and spirit, though closely intertwined, are nevertheless distinct. The Scriptures indicate this distinction:
“For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit.” (Hebrews 4:12)
The soul of man, though originally created by God, became deeply joined to the fallen life of Adam through the Fall. The mind, will, and emotions, once intended to serve God through the spirit, now naturally align themselves with the self-life and the flesh. Thus, the soul left to itself does not submit to the things of God, but seeks its own rule, satisfaction, and preservation. The Cross therefore deals not merely with outward sins, but with the entire self-life, bringing the soul under the government of the regenerated spirit indwelt by the Holy Spirit.
“For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace.” (Romans 8:6)
“Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.” (Romans 8:7)
The believer immediately discovers another principle at work:
“For the flesh lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other.” (Galatians 5:17)
I have intentionally rendered “spirit” with a lower-case “s.” The original Greek manuscripts did not distinguish between upper and lower case letters in the manner of modern translations. Consequently, capitalization is an interpretive decision made by translators and is determined by context. It is my conviction that Paul is describing the conflict within the believer between the flesh and the regenerated human spirit, which has been redeemed and empowered by the indwelling Holy Spirit.
Thus, this conflict is experienced within the believer as the flesh seeks to regain dominion over the regenerated spirit, while the regenerated spirit, under the government of the Holy Spirit, wars against the self-life and the flesh.
Expressions such as “soulish worship” are often used to describe religious activity that originates from natural enthusiasm, emotionalism, or human effort rather than from the Holy Spirit. Such worship may stir the emotions while leaving the spirit untouched.
However, it is important not to conclude that all emotion is soulish or fleshly. The regenerated spirit itself possesses holy affections. The woman who was forgiven much loved much, and her tears upon the feet of Jesus were not fleshly sentiment but the outflow of a spirit transformed by grace:
“Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much.” (Luke 7:47)
Likewise, Paul writes:
“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Timothy 1:7)
The spirit God has given His people is characterized by power, love, and a sound mind. Through the indwelling Holy Spirit, the believer possesses the very mind of Christ:
“For who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he may instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 2:16)
The Christian life, therefore, is not emotionless. Rather, the Holy Spirit produces holy affections that are centered upon Christ rather than self. The regenerated spirit possesses love, power, and a sound mind, while the mind operating within the soulish realm continually seeks independence and self-rule.
The flesh itself remains incurably corrupt:
“For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing.” (Romans 7:18)
Ultimately, the believer awaits not the perfection of the flesh, but its replacement, for corruption cannot inherit incorruption:
“It is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption.” (1 Corinthians 15:42)
“Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; neither doth corruption inherit incorruption.” (1 Corinthians 15:50)
Thus the great battle of sanctification is the battle between the old self-life and the life of Christ within. The Cross deals not merely with acts of sin, but with the very principle of self-rule:
“Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him.” (Romans 6:6)
“I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” (Galatians 2:20)
The Christian life is therefore not the improvement of the old man, but the progressive triumph of the life of Christ within the regenerated spirit. The mind of the flesh, operating through the soul, continually wars against the mind of Christ present within the spirit through the indwelling Holy Spirit. The Cross daily brings the self-life into death, that the life of Christ might be manifested through the believer.
This conflict constitutes the great battle of sanctification. The believer learns increasingly to walk not according to the flesh, nor according to the impulses of the soulish life, but according to the Spirit. As the self-life is brought to the Cross, the life of Christ gains greater expression through the believer.
Ultimately, the corruptible body will not be perfected but replaced, for flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God. Then the redeemed spirit, fully liberated from the presence of sin and clothed with an incorruptible body, shall forever manifest the life and glory of Christ.
A Call To The Remnant 