1. Born as we are in a fallen race, we need to begin with the recognition that unbelief is our default setting (Matt. 13:58). Unbelief is abnormal, but not really unusual.

2. This means that we are in a state of perpetual tension, because everything in the world around us declares the faithfulness of God (Rom. 1:19), and is declaring it with clarity to hearts that don’’t want to accept it.

3. Because our loss of faith did not cause us to lose our wits, we retain a high level of ability in rationalization (Eph. 4:18). Faith and unbelief therefore traffic in competing narratives.

4. This condition of unbelief is incorrigible, and cannot be undone apart the efficacy of an imperishable seed that comes to us from outside ourselves (1 Pet. 1:23).

5. Faith must therefore be understood as a gift from God. It is not something we autonomously offer to God; it is something He gives to us so that we may render it back to Him in gratitude (Eph. 2:8-9).

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It may sound inspiring to say “you can change your future,” but this raises the question. From what? To what? And how can you know that you did? There is no way to two-track it in order to compare them side by side.

In order to understand your relationship to the future, you must understand your relationship to the present. Obedience is always in the present. Disobedience is always in the present.

When setting yourself to do something good in the future (which is invisible, right?), you have to draw the lines in the present—and correct the badly drawn lines from the past. To paraphrase Augustine, the very first good work needs to be confessing all the bad ones. The past is fixed, the future is unknown, and the present is . . . present.

The old saying is true: “I know not what the future holds, but I know who holds the future.” We have to therefore begin with a robust doctrine of God’s sovereignty. Now some might argue that I have Calvinism on the brain. That actually is true enough, but I still maintain that I am not being a sectarian.

The fact that God holds the future — all of it — in the palm of His hand is no trifle (Rom. 8:38). Everything depends on it. So then, if we content ourselves with doing what He says to do in the present, and avoiding what He says to avoid in the present, we are going to be in great shape. And interestingly, God tells us nothing about avoiding too many greenhouse gases.

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John Frame’s new book, The Escondido Theology, is finally out and available. I commend it to you. After you have read it, you may then google up responses/reviews to it, clamber into your canoe of irencism, and paddle all over a small mountain lake of snark.

This is near the beginning of a new year, and so why not some predictions? But I am not interested in predicting for the next twelve months — let’s make this interesting and go for a century. After the appropriate time has elapsed, and everybody can see where I was right and where I was wrong, I will have been in glory for seventy five years already, and will have other things on my mind.

But I don’t want to play at Nostradamus-like predictions. “A third son will come from the north . . .” Nor am I interested in fortune cookie stuff. “Friends will come to appreciate your gifts.”  I am more interested in considering the trajectory of certain practices and themes that are in play now. They have been going on for a while, and we have every reason to believe that the logic involved in these things will continue to unfold.

James tells us that our lives are a mist (Jas. 4:14), and that we ought not to swagger around the place with our predictions of what we shall be able to do with this or that. How much more must we be humble with the future of movements, denominations, seminaries, nations, political parties, and so forth. Humility is key, and so these things are offered on an open palm. Man proposes, and God disposes, a truism that has the additional advantage of being really true.

At the same time, I can recall the sensation  I had when I first started reading the cultural analyses of R.L. Dabney — I was startled at how much he could see of the issues of our day from his vantage of a century before. How did he do that? The same thing is true of C.S. Lewis in books like The Abolition of Man and That Hideous Strength. If you are dealing with principles, the prescience is more understandable.

I have three observations that I would like to develop. 1.Wineskins never quit getting dried and cracked. This does not just include the other guys’ wineskins. 2.  New wine comes from surprising places. Don’t underestimate the newbies. This does not exclude the other guys. 3 . Pull, don’t push.

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I know that not all the readers of this blog are Protestant, but most are, and so I would like to ask you all to take a moment to thank the Lord for the faith and courage of our dear brother, Dr. Martin Luther. We are now just seven years away from celebrating 500 years of grace running around loose, and so we can only trust that influential people are even now planning the appropriate parties and fireworks displays.

Scott Clark has a long post here, in which he urges Reformed congregations to hold the line on strict subscriptions to their confessions, applying that standard of subscription with regard to the members of their congregations. In contrast to that form of Reformed sectarianism, here is a dose of Reformed catholicity.

“In all Churches a distinction is made between the terms upon which private members are admitted to membership, and the terms upon which office-bearers are admitted to their sacred trusts of teaching and ruling. A Church has no right to make anything a condition of membership which Christ has not made a condition of salvation. The Church is Christ’s fold. The sacraments are the seals of his covenant. All have a right to claim admittance who make a credible profession of the true religion; that is, who are presumptively the people of Christ” (A.A. Hodge, The Confession of Faith, p. 3).

But Clark’s argument is that, if we let folks into our Reformed congregations who do not subscribe fully to the confession in question, this will create a two-tiered membership within Reformed churches — those who hold to the confession and those who do not.

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The word providence comes from the Latin pro and videre, meaning “to see beforehand.” Our word provision comes from the same source. We know that God sees everything before hand. So as we turn to the Bible’s teaching on this subject, we will see that there is a very close connection between God’s providence over all things, and His provision for all our needs.

First, the doctrine of providence. Providence refers to God’s foresight and oversight of all things. Our lives are lived out in His presence. Just a few of many passages should suffice to make the point. “Therefore do not be like them. For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him”(Matt. 6:8). “And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Heb. 4:13). Even when bad things happen . . . “If a trumpet is blown in a city, will not the people be afraid? If there is calamity in a city, will not the Lord have done it?” (Amos 3:6). So we begin with the bedrock assumption that God is in complete control. He is not chasing after the universe the way a man might chase his hat on a windy day.

This means that we may trust Him for His provision. Biblically understood, few doctrines are sweeter than this one. “Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows” (Matt. 10:29-31). Jesus does not teach us to simply refrain from fear. That sort of “stiff upper lip” Stoicism is not Christian. He says do not fear therefore. When we as Christians refrain from anxiety, we are to do so from a doctrinal base. That foundation is a full confidence in the providence of God. Christ reasons from the Father’s providence over things which are trivial to us. And if this is the case, then how much more should be we confident that He watches over us in every respect? And if this is the case, then how can we fall into the worries of “little-faith”?

What are the steps in obedience? There is more to learning how to do this than to be told to just “trust God.” How many times have you thought (and perhaps said), “Yeah, right.” The first thing is to acknowledge that what the Bible teaches about God’s providence is true. These blessings are found in the garden of God’s word. Do not try to climb the fence. Get the blessings honestly – through the door God has opened. Second, obedience is not an emotional frame of mind. Your heart and mind do not guard the peace of God. It is the other way around. “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Phil. 4:6-7). The peace of God guards you. You do not guard the peace of God. The key here is thanksgiving. Paul says, “with thanksgiving.” It is thanks which keeps you from worrying on your knees. So third, thank God for the situation in which you are to trust Him. We are to thank Him for everything. “. . . giving thanks always for all things to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Eph. 5:20). This includes hard providences, and severe mercies. “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials . . .” (Jas. 1:2). The Greek word for trial here does not refer to powder puff derbies. Fourth, sing to the Lord. In the passage in Ephesians 5, Paul has told the saints to address one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. In this musical context, he then told us to thank God for everything. “I will praise You, O Lord, with my whole heart; I will tell of all Your marvelous works . . . The Lord also will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble . . . Sing praises to the Lord, who dwells in Zion! . . . . Have mercy one me, O Lord! Consider my trouble from those who hate me . . . (Ps. 9:1,9,11, 13).

This is the praise of a believing heart.

Baptism in water can be a complicated subject—and yet the author of Hebrews treats it as one of the Christian “basics.” This should make us wary because the evangelical Christian world doesn’t have this sorted out yet, and yet it should also make us eager to sort it out—to grow up into maturity as our text is urging.

The various particular doctrines mentioned here are repentance from dead work (v. 1), faith in God (v. 1), baptisms and washings (v. 2), laying on of hands (v. 2), resurrection of the dead (v. 2), and eternal judgment (v. 2). These are the particulars, but what would the general heading for all these be? He describes them as “the principles of the doctrine of Christ” (v. 1). The word for principles is arches—the basics, the integration point, the beginning, the foundation. The writer wants to get past this, which he will do, God willing (v. 3). We too should get past it, which is not the same thing as outgrowing it — you don’t ever outgrow the root, but rather you grow on the root.

The point of this is not so much to emphasize where paedos and credos differ, but rather to highlight what it is in our church that has enabled us to function together in surprising agreement. And that is a shared understanding of the covenant meaning of baptism. And when this is understood, it is a key that unlocks many difficult passages in the book of Hebrews. Our text is right at the beginning of the sixth chapter, a chapter famous for giving heartburn to Calvinists. If God has decreed (before the foundation of the world) that Smith is going to be saved, then what on earth can “falling away” (v. 6) possibly refer to?

We have to understand the necessity of a two-fold connection to Christ. In this fallen world, the Church will always struggle with the tension between true and false profession of faith in Christ. That is because, until the resurrection, it will always be possible to talk one way and live another. This is a dilemma that surfaced in the first generation of the Church, and has been present with us ever since. This is what happens when the first and second items on the list of “basics” are missing, but a baptism, third on the list, is not missing. Now what?

Baptism in water is a covenant bond, and, as such, it can easily be compared to putting on the wedding ring in a wedding ceremony. Now nobody thinks that the metals of gold and silver have magic transformative powers — mystically changing the couple in the ceremony into husband and wife. Intention is important, which is why a wedding ceremony on a movie set doesn’t do anything of the kind, even if all the right words are said. In a similar way, a baptism performed on a movie set doesn’t accomplish anything. And yet, at the same time, the ritual of placing water on someone in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit is not “just water.” The ritual transforms, but not by any kind of magic. The ritual transforms a person’s status because that is what rituals do. One moment you have a civilian, the next moment, after the ritual, you have a soldier. One moment you have a bachelor, the next moment, after the ritual, you have a husband. Before the ritual he is morally obligated to keep his hands to himself. After the ritual he is morally obligated not to. Before the ritual of water baptism, you have someone who has yet been inducted into the visible church. After the ritual, you do.

And so, we believe that when someone has been baptized in this way, that person is covenantally bound to God. He is obligated. Obligated to do what? To fulfill the terms of the new covenant, which is to repent of all his sins and to believe in Jesus. Nothing more, and nothing less, and even that is a gift of God, lest any man should boast.

Instead of being confused by baptism, we should learn to see it as one of the great illuminating features of our lives. Now . . . let’s use an illustration, where I trust we will all have no problem grasping the distinctions. Suppose a husband is unfaithful to his wife, chronically and flagrantly. Now, is he a “true” husband? The answer, easily, is yes and no. Yes, he is a true husband — the papers are filed at the county courthouse, and the vows were said in the presence of God and these witnesses. No, he is not a true husband because you can’t be a true husband unless you are a true man. This is an easy distinction for us to grasp. If he confessed his adulteries to his wife, seeking her forgiveness, and she extended it, and said, “Finally, tonight you have become my husband,” what would we think if he responded with, “Really? That means I wasn’t your husband before, which means I wasn’t committing adultery. Yay.” To play with words that way would be evidence he was not really repentant at all. He was a true husband, and greatly to be condemned because he was an untrue husband. And no, this is not a contradiction.

Now another man is baptized, but he lives like the devil and always has. Is he a true Christian? In the same way, yes and no. Yes, you were there when he was baptized. Of course he is a Christian. No, he is untrue to the truth of the gospel and has an unconverted and rotten heart. Of course he is not a Christian.

Now some do not feel comfortable applying a sign with this much significance to infants. Others of us are just fine with that. But where we agree is in the propriety of calling all baptized individuals to their covenant obligations to trust in Jesus alone for their salvation — and to treat those who will not do so as “adulterers,” and not just “fornicators.”

And this helps us make sense of some of the exhortations found in the rest of the book of Hebrews. “Of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace” (Heb. 10:29). “For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift . . . if they fall away, to renew them again to repentance” (Heb. 6:4,6). “Let us therefore fear, lest, a promise being left us of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short of it” (Heb. 4:1).

In short, connection to Christ today is not an “all or nothing” affair. It will be one way or the other at the last day, of course, but today if you hear His voice, do not harden your heart.

If we hear a word enough, we think we know what it means. We live in a Christ sub-culture that has strongly emphasized the need to be “born again.” Without denying this need for regeneration at all, we still have to place the reality in a biblical context, lest we turn it into something entirely unbiblical—which we are in great danger of doing.

This is a particularly rich text, but in order to see it rightly we first have to put away an unbiblical set of assumptions. Whenever we hear the word regeneration, we think of individuals getting saved, or not. This is necessarily entailed by the biblical concept of regeneration, but if we begin and end here, we will have a gross distortion of the Bible’s teaching.

The common assumption is that God drops a rope from heaven, and then the theological debates begin. Pelagians want to shinny up the rope, Arminians want to hang on while God pulls, Calvinists say that God ties the rope to us with one of His knots, and some of our more severe brethren think He ties it around our necks. Within the constraints of this particular debate, the Calvinists are quite right. But note that something is still wrong with the entire picture. The illustration itself limits us in ways the Bible does not.

We need to see something of the massive glory of regneration. Regeneration refers to rebirth after death. With this in mind, what do we learn about regeneration?

First, Jesus was born again—in our text above, we learn that Jesus was the firstborn from the dead (Col. 1:18). Our father Adam plunged us into a condition of death. Jesus entered into that death, and was born again from that death. Paul quotes the 2nd Psalm (“Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee”) and he applies it to the resurrection (Acts 13:33). Because Jesus was born again from the dead, everything else, whether in heaven and on earth, can be born again from the dead. And this is what we see.

Next, the Scriptures teach that the cosmos was born again—our text again says that Jesus was the firstborn of every creature. This principle of new life was placed at the heart of the cosmic order, and began to work its way out into all things, like leaven working through the loaf. “And Jesus said unto them, Verily I say unto you, That ye which have followed me, in the regeneration when the Son of man shall sit in the throne of his glory, ye also shall sit upon twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Matt. 19:28). The entire creation longs for the culmination of this glorious process (Rom. 8:22).

In the third place, Israel was born again—in his famous conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus pressed this point. You (all) must be born again (John 3:7). You are a teacher of Israel, and you don’t know this? This is what Ezekiel so wonderfully predicted for Israel (Ez. 36:25-28; 37:11). The valley of dead bones was wonderfully quickened. Israel was born again, and was opened up to include the Gentiles, so that we all are now members of the new Israel, the Christian church.

And of course, John Smith was born again last year—but we must place this in its right context. Jesus said “a man” must be born again if he is to see the kingdom of heaven (John 3: 3, 5). Our passage in Colossians descends from the cosmic heights to tell the Colossian Christians how it was applied to them in particular. After Christ accomplished the cosmic new birth (v. 20), He brings this new life to those who had been alienated through sin (v. 21).

What difference does it make? Compare it to getting wet. What difference does it make how you get wet? Just so long as you do? The problem here has to do with autonomous man’s desire to control this thing. But Christ has remade the world, and we cannot control what He is doing. It makes a difference whether you got wet because someone spritzed a little moisture in your face (out of his “How to Be Born Again” bottle) or you got wet because the God’s tsunami hit the beach.

The issue is always one of control. This is always the issue, really. One of the central features of Christ’s teaching on regeneration is ignored or twisted by us, because we cannot handle the fact that God has never been domesticated by man. The wind blows where it wants, Jesus taught us (John 3:8). Some people try to bottle the wind—and tell others how to be born again. Others ignore this by pretending that Jesus must be talking about gentle zephyrs, playing quietly among the flowers. But perhaps He wanted us to think about a typhoon.

If our thinking about regeneration begins with the individual, we will drastically misunderstand God’s work. But of course, if it never gets to the individual, the confusion is just as bad.

It is sometimes said that what is called the Lord’s prayer is not really the Lord praying, but rather is the Lord’s prayer offered to His disciples, for their use. This is helpful, but we still must not forget that this is the master of prayer teaching praying.

Jesus intends at least one of two things here, or more likely a combination of the two. He means either that Christians should pray this prayer, or that their prayers should be very much like this prayer. We may without risk take it as meaning both. But some of the lessons we learn here are counterintuitive, at least to the religious carnal mind. The first lesson is that we should keep it brief: Jesus gives us a very short prayer as an example of the model prayer, and then, lest we miss it, He makes a point of telling us that we must keep our prayers short. Pagans think they will be heard through “much speaking” (v. 7). God is in heaven and you are on earth. Therefore let your words be few (Ecc. 5:2). The second lesson is that we should keep it sharp. What the prayer lacks in religious fluff and padding — not to mention vowels that have a crescendo — it makes up for in power. Notice all the things that Christ has us pray for in the span of just a few short words.

We need to walk before we can run. The point can be made (and in other settings should be) that Jesus prayed all night sometimes, and we have examples of prayers elsewhere in the Bible that take more than a few seconds to pray. This is quite right, but we want to know where to start. We need to start with short prayers. Suppose your prayer life is virtually non-existent. Start by praying the Lord’s prayer every day. Suppose (as is more likely the case) that your prayer life is a hash of evangelical cliches. Ditch them, and start praying the Lord’s prayer every day. As you learn to pray this prayer, you may want to branch out by using the prayer as an outline for your praying. Or you could focus on different petitions in the prayer on different days of the week. But your starting point should be this prayer itself.

This small prayer has incredible depths, and we can only touch on a few aspects of it.

Our Father in heaven: we are accustomed to speak of this as though it refers primarily to personal intimacy. But this is not the biblical meaning of the usage of the word. When Israel cried out to her Father, deep desire for liberation was involved (Ex. 4:22-23; 2 Sam. 7:14; Is. 55:1,3; 63:16). In this word, we pray in and for the new Exodus, and pray for the fulfillment of the ancient promises.

Thy kingdom come: the Christian faith is not about going to heaven when you die. This petition is not a version of “if I should die before I wake.” Our prayer is that heaven would come here, not that we might go there (Is. 52:7-10).

Daily bread: we are creatures, and we must learn to feast in the presence of God (Is. 25:6-8).

Forgiveness: but we are also sinners, in need, not only of forgiveness, but also in need of forgiving. In the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ, Forgiveness of Sin has arrived in the world. This dark world has stepped around a corner, and is now walking toward a ever increasing light. What is that light like? We get glimpses of it here and there, as we forgive one another. The Lord’s Supper is the culmination, not only of the feasts of Israel, but also of those scandalously happy parties that Jesus used to attend with various and assorted Palestinian losers. When you forgive one another, you are eating what is set before you.

Deliver us from evil: about this point we should realize that this prayer has just one subject — the salvation of the world by our astonishing God. In the course of this salvation/conquest, God loves to deliver His people.

The power and glory: in the life of Christ, God gives us a redefinition of power and glory.

So we should pray the Lord’s prayer. It is easy enough to help us in our baby steps, and it is profound enough to guide His Church into all maturity. At some point we will grow to the point where we notice what we are saying.