These are the devotionals that are taken from the book For the Love of God by D.A. Carson. It goes along with the church's bible reading plan
October 10 - Philippians 4
Some practical advice for Christians (Phil. 4:4–9):
(1) Always rejoice in the Lord (Phil. 4:4). This command is so important that Paul repeats it. Our responsibility to obey it is independent of circumstances, for regardless of how utterly miserable our situation is, the Christian always has the most profound reasons for rejoicing in Christ Jesus: sins forgiven and the prospect of resurrection life in the new heaven and the new earth—not to mention the consolation of the Spirit even now, and much more. Practically speaking, Paul well knows that the believer who is truly rejoicing in the Lord cannot possibly be a back-biter, a cheat, a whiner, a thief, or lazy, bitter, and filled with hate.
(2) Be known for gentleness (Phil. 4:5). That is almost a delicious oxymoron. So much in our culture wants us to be known for aggressiveness, or for some intrinsic strength or superiority. The gentle person does not usually think in terms of being known. But Paul wants us so to focus on gentleness that eventually we become known for gentleness. The ground Paul offers is that the Lord is “near.” In this context, probably Paul does not mean that the Lord’s coming is near, but that the Lord himself is never far from his people: he is near, and is watching us, as he watches over us, all the time. That becomes our motivation for acting as he wishes us to act.
(3) Stop worrying (Phil. 4:6–7). Paul is not advocating irresponsible escapism, still less a Pollyanna-like optimism. Moreover, strictly speaking he is not telling us to stop worrying and nothing more, but rather he tells us how to stop worrying—by replacing this constant fretting with something else: “in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving [there’s the praise theme again], present your requests to God” (Phil. 4:6). Paul does not deny the agony and sorrow of many human experiences. How could he? His letters show that he suffered his share of the worst. But he knows the solution. Either worrying drives out prayer, or prayer drives out worrying. Moreover, Paul insists, this disciplined, thankful, intercessory prayer brings with it “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding” (Phil. 4:7).
(4) Think holy thoughts (Phil. 4:8–9). Garbage in, garbage out. We are renewed by the transforming of our minds (Rom. 12:1–2). So watch what you feed your mind; watch what you think; determine to drive your mind into good and healthy channels, not those characterized by bitterness, resentments, lust, hate, or jealousy. Reflect on all the kinds of things Paul includes in his diverse list of verse 8. Moreover, here too Paul serves as an important example (Phil. 4:9): he is not telling us to do anything he does not practice himself.
October 11 - Colossians 1
Faith, hope, and love are together sometimes referred to as the Pauline triad. They occur in Paul’s letters in various combinations. Sometimes only two of the three show up; sometimes all three.
Probably the best known verse with the Pauline triad is 1 Corinthians 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Here no relationship is expressed among the three. Paul tells us that these three virtues—faith, hope, and love (and this last one he calls “the most excellent way” [1 Cor. 12:31b; see the September 8 meditation] rather than a “gift”)—all “remain”: what he means, I think, is that these all remain into eternity, and therefore should be nurtured and pursued even now. But the greatest of these three, Paul insists, is love. Why this is so, Paul does not tell us. Based on what the New Testament says elsewhere, we might reasonably hold that the reason why love is the greatest is that it is an attribute of God. God does not exercise faith; he does not “hope” in the sense of looking forward to the fulfillment of something that some other brings about. But he does love: indeed, 1 John 4:8 tells us that God is love; no text says he is faith or hope. So the greatest of the three is love.
Here in Colossians 1:3–6, however, the relationship among the three elements of the Pauline triad is quite different. Paul thanks God when he prays for the Colossians, he says, “because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints—the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel that has come to you” (Col. 1:4–6). This NIV rendering is slightly paraphrastic, but it catches the sense very well. Note:
(1) Paul did not plant the Colossian church. But now that he has come to hear of these believers, he prays for them constantly, with thanksgiving.
(2) What Paul has heard of these Colossian believers is their faith and love, both demonstrable virtues. If you have faith in Jesus, and if you love the saints, neither virtue can be hidden. These virtues were so evident among the Colossians that reports of their faith and love circulated to Paul. Do reports of the faith and love of our churches circulate widely?
(3) Paul says this faith and love “spring from the hope” that is stored up for them (Col. 1:5). Living with eternity in view vitalizes faith and calls forth love.
(4) This hope that has grounded their faith and love has itself been grounded in the Gospel, the word of truth that was preached to them (Col. 1:5–6).
October 12 - Colossians 2
The setting was a Bible study led by a lady in the church where I was serving as pastor. A woman from one of the more popular cults had infiltrated this group, and the lady from our church soon discovered she was a little out of her depth. I was invited along, and soon found myself in a public confrontation with the intruder’s cult “pastor” (though he did not call himself that). One of the things he wanted to deny in strong terms was the deity of Jesus Christ. As we started looking together at biblical references which, on the face of it, say something about the deity of Christ, eventually we came to Colossians 2:9. He wanted to render the verse, rather loosely, something like “in Christ all the attributes of the Deity live in bodily form.”
I asked him which of the attributes of God Jesus does not have. He immediately saw the problem. If he said, “eternality” (which is what he believed), he would be trapped, for his own rendering would contradict him. If he said, “none” (in defiance of his own beliefs), then how can Jesus and God be as sharply distinguished as he proposed?
In any case, Colossians 2:9 is even stronger than his translation allowed: “in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form.” Observe:
(1) In this context, the Colossians are exhorted to continue to live in Christ, just as they “received Christ Jesus as Lord” (Col. 2:6)—which as usual bears an overtone of Jesus’ divine identity, since “Lord” was commonly the way one addressed God in the Greek versions of the Old Testament.
(2) Both then and now, there are people who try to ensnare you through a “hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition” (Col. 2:8). In virtually every case, the aim of such deceptive philosophies is to reduce or relativize Christ, to redirect attention and allegiance away from him. Not only these verses but much of the letter to the Colossians show that, whoever these heretics are, their attack is against Christ. Paul will not budge: “all the fullness of the Deity” lives in him in bodily form—and you are complete in him, in him you enjoy all the fullness you can possibly know (Col. 2:10). To turn from him for extras is disastrous, for he alone is “the head over every power and authority” (Col. 2:10).
(3) Apparently at least one branch of the Colossian heretics was trying to get the believers to add to Christ a bevy of Jewish rituals. Paul does not budge: he understands that the rites and rituals mandated by the Old Testament constitute “a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ” (Col. 2:17).
October 13 - 1 Kings 16
First and 2 Kings narrate the declining fortunes of both the northern and southern kingdoms. Occasionally there is a reforming king in one realm or the other. But on the whole the direction is downward. Some orientation (1 Kings 16):
(1) Although 1 and 2 Kings treat both the northern and the southern kingdoms, the emphasis is on the former. By contrast, 1 and 2 Chronicles, which cover roughly the same material, tilt strongly in favor of the kingdom of Judah.
(2) In the south, the Davidic dynasty continues. During its history, there are, humanly speaking, some very close calls. Nevertheless God preserves the line; his entire redemptive purposes are bound up with continuity of that Davidic line. The stance throughout is well expressed in 1 Kings 15:4. Abijah king of Judah, who reigned only three years, was doubtless an evil king. “Nevertheless, for David’s sake the LORD his God gave him a lamp in Jerusalem by raising up a son to succeed him and by making Jerusalem strong.” In the north, however, no dynasty survives very long. The dynasty of Jeroboam lasted two generations and was then butchered (1 Kings 15:25–30), replaced by Baasha (1 Kings 15:33–34). His dynasty likewise produced two kings, and then the males in his family were wiped out by Zimri (1 Kings 16:8–13), whose reign lasted all of seven days (1 Kings 16:15–19). And so it goes. If the Davidic line continues in the south, it is all of grace.
(3) These successions in the north are brutal and bloody. For instance, after Zimri the citizens of Israel face a brief civil war, divided as they are between Omri and Tibni. The followers of the former win. The text wryly comments, “So Tibni died and Omri became king” (1 Kings 16:22). In short, there is perennial lust for power, few systems for orderly hand over of government, no hearty submission to the living God.
(4) From God’s perspective, however, the severity of the sin is measured first and foremost not in terms of the bloody violence, but in terms of the idolatry (for example, 1 Kings 16:30–33). Omri was a strong ruler who strengthened the nation enormously, but little of that is recorded: from God’s perspective he “did evil in the eyes of the LORD and sinned more than all those before him” (1 Kings 16:25). Building programs and a rising GDP do not make up for idolatry.
(5) Details in these accounts often tie the narrative to events much earlier and later. Thus the rebuilding of Jericho (1 Kings 16:34) calls to mind the curse on the city when it was destroyed centuries earlier (Josh. 6:26). The founding of the city of Samaria (1 Kings 16:24) anticipates countless narratives of what takes place in that city—including Jesus and the woman at the well (John 4; see March 14 meditation).
October 14 - Colossians 4
Here and there in the New Testament we are suddenly given brief glimpses of arrays of Christian people. Romans 16 provides such a snapshot, and Colossians 4:7–18 provides us with another. The men and women briefly introduced lived entire, complex, interlocked lives, of which we know almost nothing. But they are our brothers and sisters in Christ; they faced temptations, overcame challenges, discharged very different tasks, and played out their roles in diverse strata of society. The brief glimpses afforded here fire our imaginations; our fuller curiosity will be satisfied only in heaven.
A few comments may hint at some of the things that may be learned from the information Paul’s letter provides.
(1) Paul kept a team of people working with him. One of their roles was to travel back and forth between wherever Paul was and the churches for which he felt himself responsible. Combining Paul’s letters with Acts, it is often possible to plot some of their constant travels. Here, Paul sends Tychicus to the Colossians with explicit pastoral purposes (Col. 4:7–8).
(2) The “Mark” of Colossians 4:10 is almost certainly John Mark, and the author of the second Gospel. Here he is identified as a relative of Barnabas. This may account, in part, for the dispute between Barnabas and Paul as to whether Mark should be given a second chance after he withdrew from the first missionary expedition (Acts 13:5, 13; 15:37–40). Certainly by the end of Paul’s ministry, Mark had been restored in the apostle’s eyes (2 Tim. 4:11).
(3) Paul’s co-workers often included both Jews and Gentiles (Col. 4:11). It does not take much imagination to recognize the challenges and stresses, as well as the blessings and richness, that this arrangement entailed.
(4) Epaphras emerges as a formidable model. He is “always wrestling in prayer” for the Colossian believers. What he prays, above all, is that they “may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured” (Col. 4:12). How the church of Christ needs prayer warriors with similar focus today!
(5) The “Luke” mentioned in Colossians 4:14 is almost certainly the author of Luke and Acts, and a Gentile (since he is in the Gentile part of this list, Col. 4:11ff.). This makes him the only Gentile writer of a New Testament document. Demas is mentioned in the same breath, but he is probably the same one who ultimately deserts the mission and the Gospel (2 Tim. 4:10). Good beginnings do not guarantee good endings.
(6) Churches in the first century did not have their own buildings. Believers regularly met in the homes of their wealthier members. Nympha of Laodicea is one of the wealthy women of a wealthy city, and the church there met in her home (Col. 4:15).
October 15 - 1 Kings 18
It is tempting to comment further on the Pauline triad found in 1 Thessalonians 1:3 (see meditation on October 11), but the confrontation on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18) beckons.
The most shocking thing about that confrontation is that it was needed. These are the covenant people of God. It is not as if God has never disclosed himself to them. The corporate mind of the ten tribes of the northern kingdom has all but abandoned its heritage. When Elijah challenges the people with the words, “How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21), the people say nothing.
Yet before we indulge in too many self-righteous musings, we need to reflect on how often the church has moved away from her moorings. The Great Awakening was a powerful movement of the Spirit of God, yet a century later many of the churches that had been filled with fresh converts, robust theology, and godly living had degenerated into Unitarianism. Who would have guessed that the land of Luther and the Reformation would have given us Hitler and the Holocaust? Why is it that twentieth-century evangelicalism, as it mushroomed between, say, 1930 and 1960, soon bred varieties of self-designated evangelicals whom no evangelical leader of the earlier period would have recognized as such? The sad reality is that human memory is short, selective, and self-serving. Moreover, each new generation begins with a slightly different baseline. Since all its members need conversion, the church is never more than a generation or two from extinction. If we forget this simple point, it becomes all too easy to rest on our laurels when we are comfortable, and somehow lose sight of our mission, not to say of our Maker and Redeemer.
The setup on Mount Carmel was spectacular: one prophet against 850, Yahweh against Baal—and Baal was often thought of as the god of fire. It is as if Elijah has set up the contest on Baal’s turf. His mocking words whip up the false prophets into an orgy of self-flagellation (1 Kings 18:28). By God’s instruction (1 Kings 18:36), Elijah increases the odds by soaking the sacrifice he is preparing. Then, in the evening, his own brief prayer brings down explosive fire from heaven, and the people cry, “The LORD—he is God! The LORD—he is God!” (1 Kings 18:39). And in response to Elijah’s intercessory prayer, the rain comes again to the parched land.
Something deep in the hearts of many Christians cries, “Do it again!”—not, of course, exactly the same thing, but a focused confrontation that elicits decisive and massive confession of the living God.
But did even this change Israel? Why or why not?
October 16 - 1 Kings 19
Doubtless Elijah expected that, after the triumphant confrontation on Mount Carmel, Israel would turn back to the living God (1 Kings 19). As he had executed the false prophets, so Queen Jezebel herself would be eliminated—by the popular demand of an outraged populace determined to be faithful and loyal to the covenant. Perhaps even King Ahab would repent and come on board.
It doesn’t work out that way. King Ahab reports everything that has happened to Jezebel, and Jezebel lets Elijah know that he is as good as dead (1 Kings 19:2). The people are nowhere to be seen. “Elijah was afraid and ran for his life” (1 Kings 19:3), we are told. In fact, a textual variant (which may be original) reads “Elijah saw, and ran for his life”—i.e., he now saw the dimensions of the whole problem, and ran. He heads south to Beersheba on the southern edge of the kingdom of Judah, drops off his servant, and keeps on going. Eventually he arrives at Mount Horeb, the site of the giving of the Law. He is so deeply depressed he wants to die (1 Kings 19:4). Worse, he succumbs to not a little self-pity: everybody else has rejected God, all the Israelites have broken the covenant, all the prophets except Elijah have been put to death—“I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too” (1 Kings 19:10).
One can sympathize with Elijah’s despair. In part, it is grounded in unfulfilled expectations. He thought that all that had taken place would trigger massive renewal. Now he feels not only isolated, but betrayed. And yet:
(1) He has his facts wrong. He knows that at least a hundred of the Lord’s prophets are still alive, even if they are in hiding (1 Kings 18:13).
(2) He is not in a fit state to judge the hearts of all the Israelites. Some may be loyal to Yahweh, but terrified of Jezebel, and therefore keeping their heads down. After all, isn’t that what he himself is doing?
(3) God himself assures Elijah that he has “reserved” for himself seven thousand people who have never bowed to Baal and never kissed him (1 Kings 19:18). Here is the beginning of a major biblical theme—the doctrine of the remnant. The covenant community as a whole may become apostate, but God Almighty still “reserves” for himself a faithful remnant—which in the fullness of time will become the nucleus of the fledgling New Testament church.
(4) God sometimes works and speaks in quiet ways, not in massive confrontation (1 Kings 19:11–13).
(5) Sooner or later even the strongest leaders, especially the strongest leaders, need a younger apprentice and helper to come alongside, shoulder part of the burden, and finally take over the work (1 Kings 19:19–21).
October 17 - 1 Thessalonians 3
The intensity of the relationship between Paul and his converts surfaces again and again. There is never a trace of mere professionalism in Paul. For all that he is prepared on occasion to stand on his apostolic authority, his stance toward churches he has founded is never one of distant superiority. When Paul found himself unable to visit the Thessalonian believers to find out how they were getting on—and in this case he was especially concerned since his entire ministry in Thessalonica lasted only about a month, so that these believers were not as well grounded as most converts—Paul determined to send Timothy to find out (1 Thess. 3:1–2). Now that Timothy has rejoined Paul in Athens, bringing with him wonderful reports of the Thessalonians’ faith and love (1 Thess. 3:6—two elements in the Pauline triad; see October 11 meditation), not to mention their loyalty to Paul and to the apostolic gospel, Paul’s joy knows no bounds: “Therefore, brothers, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord” (1 Thess. 3:7–8). Even that is not enough. Paul exclaims, “How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy we have in the presence of our God because of you?” (1 Thess. 3:9).
This in turn triggers Paul’s disclosure of how he prays for the Thessalonians.
(1) Paul constantly prays (“Night and day,” he says), “most earnestly,” that somehow he will be able to return to Thessalonica “and supply what is lacking in your faith” (1 Thess. 3:10–11). This fledgling church has enjoyed little grounding. Paul feels an enormous weight of responsibility to supply it, to outline the whole counsel of God, articulate the Gospel comprehensively, teach these brothers and sisters how the Bible is put together, and provide a clear vision of the proper object of their faith so that their (subjective) faith will be well grounded.
(2) Meanwhile, he prays that the love of the Thessalonians for each other will “increase and overflow” (1 Thess. 3:12). Paul knows that a Christian community that loves well not only reflects the Gospel in life, but provides the nurturing framework in which biblical teaching is taken on board. A squabbling community drives people away. Moreover, in this culture many relationships were established on the basis of obligation. A “benefactor” provided something, and the recipient owed the benefactor certain obeisance or service. By contrast, Paul wants Christians to transcend such cultural limitations, and so live that every Christian constantly discharges the “obligation” to love one another, vastly outstripping mere tit-for-tat niggardliness.
(3) Paul prays that God himself will strengthen the Thessalonian believers so to live that they will be ready for the return of Jesus (1 Thess. 3:13).
October 18 - 1 Thessalonians 4
In 1 Thessalonians 4, Paul once again provides explicit instruction to his converts on how to live (see meditation for October 4). Although his time with the Thessalonians was brief, Paul can look back on those few weeks and comment, “Finally, brothers, we instructed you how to live in order to please God, as in fact you are living” (1 Thess. 4:1). In what follows in this chapter, there are four areas of such instruction (and still more in the next chapter, though we shall not pursue them here). The first three of these “how to live” paragraphs are laced with theological terminology and motivations; the fourth is primarily theological in its argumentation, but the reason for writing is entirely practical.
(1) Paul insists that God’s will for the Thessalonians is that they be “sanctified” (1 Thess. 4:3). Although for Paul sanctification is often definitional or positional (i.e., he is thinking of the way believers have been sanctified in Christ at the moment of their conversion, in other words, set aside for God and his use; see meditation for August 27), here he is thinking of the entailments of conversion in the way believers live. In particular, he is concerned with the sexual arena. The Greek text of verse 4 could mean “learn to control his own body” (in the sexual arena), or “learn to live with his own wife” (in honorable sexual harmony, not sexual exploitation or manipulation), or even “learn to acquire a wife” (in an honorable way, not in a relationship based on nothing more than lust). The fact that “God did not call us to be impure, but to live a holy life” (1 Thess. 4:7) has immediate bearing on our sexual conduct.
(2) Love in the Christian community is a mark that a church has been “taught by God.” However excellent the reputation of the Thessalonians in this respect, Paul urges improvement (1 Thess. 4:9–10).
(3) Christian ambition should aim at quiet faithfulness, minding one’s business, and working hard so as not to be a burden to others. Judging by the frequency with which Paul returns to this theme, one suspects that more than a few idle people filled the church’s ranks in Thessalonica (1 Thess. 5:14; 2 Thess. 3:11–13).
(4) The last paragraph (1 Thess. 4:13–18) concerns “those who fall asleep,” whom the context shows to be Christians who have died. What befalls them? Apparently Paul had not had the time to flesh out much on such matters while he was still with them. Not wanting them to be ignorant (1 Thess. 4:13), he sketches what happens. But the point to observe is that this doctrine is shaped to assuage any grief that befalls bereaved believers: we sorrow, but not “like the rest of men, who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). Instruction on how to live even extends to how to grieve.
October 19 - 1 Kings 22
The last chapter of 1 Kings, 1 Kings 22, many believers find troubling. For here God himself is presented as sending out “a lying spirit” (1 Kings 22:22) who will deceive King Ahab and lead him to his destruction. Does God approve of liars?
The setting is instructive. For once, the kingdom of Judah and the kingdom of Israel are pulling together against the king of Aram, instead of tearing at each other’s throats. Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, comes across as a good man who is largely desirous of adhering to the covenant and being loyal to God, yet is a bit of a wimp. He treats the prospective military expedition as if it were an adventure, but he does want Ahab, king of Israel, to “seek the counsel of the LORD” (1 Kings 22:5). After the false prophets have finished, Jehoshaphat has sufficient smarts to ask if there is some other prophet of the Lord, and Micaiah surfaces. Yet despite Micaiah’s warnings, he goes off with Ahab, and even agrees to retain his royal robes while Ahab’s identity is masked.
But the heart of the issue turns on Micaiah. Observe:
(1) Implicitly, Ahab has surrounded himself with religious yes-men who will tell him what he wants to hear. The reason he hates Micaiah is because what Micaiah says about him is bad. Like all leaders who surround themselves with yes-men, Ahab sets himself up to be deceived.
(2) When Micaiah begins with a sarcastic positive prognostication (1 Kings 22:15), Ahab instantly recognizes that Micaiah is not telling the truth (1 Kings 22:16). This hints at a conscience more than a little troubled. After all, God had previously told Ahab that because of his guilt in the matter of Naboth, dogs would one day lick up his blood (1 Kings 21:19). He thus expected bad news someday, and at a deep level of his being could not really trust the happy forecasts of his domesticated “prophets.”
(3) When Micaiah tells him of impending disaster, he also provides a dramatic reason for the coherence and unanimity of the false prophets: God himself had sanctioned a deceitful spirit. Ahab’s time has come: he will be destroyed. God’s sovereignty extends even over the means to send Ahab’s tame prophets a “strong delusion” (compare 2 Thess. 2:11–12). Yet the fact that Ahab is told all this demonstrates that God is still graciously providing him with access to the truth. But Ahab is so far gone that he cannot stomach the truth. In a ridiculous response, he believes enough of the truth to hide his own identity in the hordes of common soldiers, but not enough to stay away from Ramoth Gilead. So he dies: God’s sovereign judgment is enacted, not least because Ahab, hearing both the truth and the lie, preferred the lie.
October 20 - 1 Thessalonians 1
I once heard a pastor preach through 2 Thessalonians 1 under the following outline:
A good church going through a rough time (2 Thess. 1:3-4)
A good God waiting for the right time (2 Thess. 1:5-10)
A good man praying in the meantime (2 Thess. 1:11-12)
Today I wish to reflect a little on the second point.
(1) Paul can speak of the Thessalonians being “worthy” of the kingdom of God that will come in consummated power when Jesus returns (2 Thess. 1:5, 11). The context shows that Paul is not supposing that somehow they become worthy enough to be accepted by God in the first place. The idea, rather, is that, having become Christians, they are manifesting Christian faith and love (2 Thess. 1:3–4), and are persevering in the Christian way despite suffering and trials (2 Thess. 1:4–5). This continued display of grace under fire, this perseverance, is evidence of what is going on in their lives, and “as a result you will be counted worthy of the kingdom.” In other words, genuine Christians, by God’s grace, persevere in the Gospel, and this marks out their fitness for the consummation. In this sense they prove “worthy.”
(2) “God is just” (2 Thess. 1:6). Therefore there will be payback time for those who have cruelly opposed his people (2 Thess. 1:7) and ignored his Word (2 Thess. 1:8). When Christ returns he “will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus” (2 Thess. 1:8). What is presupposed is that the perfections of God’s justice are not manifest until Jesus returns. Some outworking of his justice is displayed in this broken world, but let’s face it: in this world, many evil people seem to get away with a lot, and many people of extraordinary goodness suffer a lot. Wise parents often tell their children, “Life isn’t fair. Don’t expect it to be.” Yet at the same time, God is “fair”; he is perfectly just. But do not expect his justice to be manifested in instantaneous rewards and retribution. His time scale is not ours. Life isn’t fair on our time scale. When Jesus returns, however, not only will justice be done, it will be seen to be done.
(3) At that time, Christ himself, and not any of us individuals, is the center of everything. Because of Christ’s centrality, punishment is almost defined in terms of being “shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power,” thereby being “punished with everlasting destruction” (2 Thess. 1:9). Conversely, among his saints, his “holy people,” that same Lord Jesus will be “glorified” and “marveled at among all those who have believed” (2 Thess. 1:10). If Christ were not there, heaven would be hell.
October 10 - Philippians 4
Some practical advice for Christians (Phil. 4:4–9):
(1) Always rejoice in the Lord (Phil. 4:4). This command is so important that Paul repeats it. Our responsibility to obey it is independent of circumstances, for regardless of how utterly miserable our situation is, the Christian always has the most profound reasons for rejoicing in Christ Jesus: sins forgiven and the prospect of resurrection life in the new heaven and the new earth—not to mention the consolation of the Spirit even now, and much more. Practically speaking, Paul well knows that the believer who is truly rejoicing in the Lord cannot possibly be a back-biter, a cheat, a whiner, a thief, or lazy, bitter, and filled with hate.
(2) Be known for gentleness (Phil. 4:5). That is almost a delicious oxymoron. So much in our culture wants us to be known for aggressiveness, or for some intrinsic strength or superiority. The gentle person does not usually think in terms of being known. But Paul wants us so to focus on gentleness that eventually we become known for gentleness. The ground Paul offers is that the Lord is “near.” In this context, probably Paul does not mean that the Lord’s coming is near, but that the Lord himself is never far from his people: he is near, and is watching us, as he watches over us, all the time. That becomes our motivation for acting as he wishes us to act.
(3) Stop worrying (Phil. 4:6–7). Paul is not advocating irresponsible escapism, still less a Pollyanna-like optimism. Moreover, strictly speaking he is not telling us to stop worrying and nothing more, but rather he tells us how to stop worrying—by replacing this constant fretting with something else: “in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving [there’s the praise theme again], present your requests to God” (Phil. 4:6). Paul does not deny the agony and sorrow of many human experiences. How could he? His letters show that he suffered his share of the worst. But he knows the solution. Either worrying drives out prayer, or prayer drives out worrying. Moreover, Paul insists, this disciplined, thankful, intercessory prayer brings with it “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding” (Phil. 4:7).
(4) Think holy thoughts (Phil. 4:8–9). Garbage in, garbage out. We are renewed by the transforming of our minds (Rom. 12:1–2). So watch what you feed your mind; watch what you think; determine to drive your mind into good and healthy channels, not those characterized by bitterness, resentments, lust, hate, or jealousy. Reflect on all the kinds of things Paul includes in his diverse list of verse 8. Moreover, here too Paul serves as an important example (Phil. 4:9): he is not telling us to do anything he does not practice himself.
October 11 - Colossians 1
Faith, hope, and love are together sometimes referred to as the Pauline triad. They occur in Paul’s letters in various combinations. Sometimes only two of the three show up; sometimes all three.
Probably the best known verse with the Pauline triad is 1 Corinthians 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Here no relationship is expressed among the three. Paul tells us that these three virtues—faith, hope, and love (and this last one he calls “the most excellent way” [1 Cor. 12:31b; see the September 8 meditation] rather than a “gift”)—all “remain”: what he means, I think, is that these all remain into eternity, and therefore should be nurtured and pursued even now. But the greatest of these three, Paul insists, is love. Why this is so, Paul does not tell us. Based on what the New Testament says elsewhere, we might reasonably hold that the reason why love is the greatest is that it is an attribute of God. God does not exercise faith; he does not “hope” in the sense of looking forward to the fulfillment of something that some other brings about. But he does love: indeed, 1 John 4:8 tells us that God is love; no text says he is faith or hope. So the greatest of the three is love.
Here in Colossians 1:3–6, however, the relationship among the three elements of the Pauline triad is quite different. Paul thanks God when he prays for the Colossians, he says, “because we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love you have for all the saints—the faith and love that spring from the hope that is stored up for you in heaven and that you have already heard about in the word of truth, the gospel that has come to you” (Col. 1:4–6). This NIV rendering is slightly paraphrastic, but it catches the sense very well. Note:
(1) Paul did not plant the Colossian church. But now that he has come to hear of these believers, he prays for them constantly, with thanksgiving.
(2) What Paul has heard of these Colossian believers is their faith and love, both demonstrable virtues. If you have faith in Jesus, and if you love the saints, neither virtue can be hidden. These virtues were so evident among the Colossians that reports of their faith and love circulated to Paul. Do reports of the faith and love of our churches circulate widely?
(3) Paul says this faith and love “spring from the hope” that is stored up for them (Col. 1:5). Living with eternity in view vitalizes faith and calls forth love.
(4) This hope that has grounded their faith and love has itself been grounded in the Gospel, the word of truth that was preached to them (Col. 1:5–6).
October 12 - Colossians 2
The setting was a Bible study led by a lady in the church where I was serving as pastor. A woman from one of the more popular cults had infiltrated this group, and the lady from our church soon discovered she was a little out of her depth. I was invited along, and soon found myself in a public confrontation with the intruder’s cult “pastor” (though he did not call himself that). One of the things he wanted to deny in strong terms was the deity of Jesus Christ. As we started looking together at biblical references which, on the face of it, say something about the deity of Christ, eventually we came to Colossians 2:9. He wanted to render the verse, rather loosely, something like “in Christ all the attributes of the Deity live in bodily form.”
I asked him which of the attributes of God Jesus does not have. He immediately saw the problem. If he said, “eternality” (which is what he believed), he would be trapped, for his own rendering would contradict him. If he said, “none” (in defiance of his own beliefs), then how can Jesus and God be as sharply distinguished as he proposed?
In any case, Colossians 2:9 is even stronger than his translation allowed: “in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form.” Observe:
(1) In this context, the Colossians are exhorted to continue to live in Christ, just as they “received Christ Jesus as Lord” (Col. 2:6)—which as usual bears an overtone of Jesus’ divine identity, since “Lord” was commonly the way one addressed God in the Greek versions of the Old Testament.
(2) Both then and now, there are people who try to ensnare you through a “hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition” (Col. 2:8). In virtually every case, the aim of such deceptive philosophies is to reduce or relativize Christ, to redirect attention and allegiance away from him. Not only these verses but much of the letter to the Colossians show that, whoever these heretics are, their attack is against Christ. Paul will not budge: “all the fullness of the Deity” lives in him in bodily form—and you are complete in him, in him you enjoy all the fullness you can possibly know (Col. 2:10). To turn from him for extras is disastrous, for he alone is “the head over every power and authority” (Col. 2:10).
(3) Apparently at least one branch of the Colossian heretics was trying to get the believers to add to Christ a bevy of Jewish rituals. Paul does not budge: he understands that the rites and rituals mandated by the Old Testament constitute “a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ” (Col. 2:17).
October 13 - 1 Kings 16
First and 2 Kings narrate the declining fortunes of both the northern and southern kingdoms. Occasionally there is a reforming king in one realm or the other. But on the whole the direction is downward. Some orientation (1 Kings 16):
(1) Although 1 and 2 Kings treat both the northern and the southern kingdoms, the emphasis is on the former. By contrast, 1 and 2 Chronicles, which cover roughly the same material, tilt strongly in favor of the kingdom of Judah.
(2) In the south, the Davidic dynasty continues. During its history, there are, humanly speaking, some very close calls. Nevertheless God preserves the line; his entire redemptive purposes are bound up with continuity of that Davidic line. The stance throughout is well expressed in 1 Kings 15:4. Abijah king of Judah, who reigned only three years, was doubtless an evil king. “Nevertheless, for David’s sake the LORD his God gave him a lamp in Jerusalem by raising up a son to succeed him and by making Jerusalem strong.” In the north, however, no dynasty survives very long. The dynasty of Jeroboam lasted two generations and was then butchered (1 Kings 15:25–30), replaced by Baasha (1 Kings 15:33–34). His dynasty likewise produced two kings, and then the males in his family were wiped out by Zimri (1 Kings 16:8–13), whose reign lasted all of seven days (1 Kings 16:15–19). And so it goes. If the Davidic line continues in the south, it is all of grace.
(3) These successions in the north are brutal and bloody. For instance, after Zimri the citizens of Israel face a brief civil war, divided as they are between Omri and Tibni. The followers of the former win. The text wryly comments, “So Tibni died and Omri became king” (1 Kings 16:22). In short, there is perennial lust for power, few systems for orderly hand over of government, no hearty submission to the living God.
(4) From God’s perspective, however, the severity of the sin is measured first and foremost not in terms of the bloody violence, but in terms of the idolatry (for example, 1 Kings 16:30–33). Omri was a strong ruler who strengthened the nation enormously, but little of that is recorded: from God’s perspective he “did evil in the eyes of the LORD and sinned more than all those before him” (1 Kings 16:25). Building programs and a rising GDP do not make up for idolatry.
(5) Details in these accounts often tie the narrative to events much earlier and later. Thus the rebuilding of Jericho (1 Kings 16:34) calls to mind the curse on the city when it was destroyed centuries earlier (Josh. 6:26). The founding of the city of Samaria (1 Kings 16:24) anticipates countless narratives of what takes place in that city—including Jesus and the woman at the well (John 4; see March 14 meditation).
October 14 - Colossians 4
Here and there in the New Testament we are suddenly given brief glimpses of arrays of Christian people. Romans 16 provides such a snapshot, and Colossians 4:7–18 provides us with another. The men and women briefly introduced lived entire, complex, interlocked lives, of which we know almost nothing. But they are our brothers and sisters in Christ; they faced temptations, overcame challenges, discharged very different tasks, and played out their roles in diverse strata of society. The brief glimpses afforded here fire our imaginations; our fuller curiosity will be satisfied only in heaven.
A few comments may hint at some of the things that may be learned from the information Paul’s letter provides.
(1) Paul kept a team of people working with him. One of their roles was to travel back and forth between wherever Paul was and the churches for which he felt himself responsible. Combining Paul’s letters with Acts, it is often possible to plot some of their constant travels. Here, Paul sends Tychicus to the Colossians with explicit pastoral purposes (Col. 4:7–8).
(2) The “Mark” of Colossians 4:10 is almost certainly John Mark, and the author of the second Gospel. Here he is identified as a relative of Barnabas. This may account, in part, for the dispute between Barnabas and Paul as to whether Mark should be given a second chance after he withdrew from the first missionary expedition (Acts 13:5, 13; 15:37–40). Certainly by the end of Paul’s ministry, Mark had been restored in the apostle’s eyes (2 Tim. 4:11).
(3) Paul’s co-workers often included both Jews and Gentiles (Col. 4:11). It does not take much imagination to recognize the challenges and stresses, as well as the blessings and richness, that this arrangement entailed.
(4) Epaphras emerges as a formidable model. He is “always wrestling in prayer” for the Colossian believers. What he prays, above all, is that they “may stand firm in all the will of God, mature and fully assured” (Col. 4:12). How the church of Christ needs prayer warriors with similar focus today!
(5) The “Luke” mentioned in Colossians 4:14 is almost certainly the author of Luke and Acts, and a Gentile (since he is in the Gentile part of this list, Col. 4:11ff.). This makes him the only Gentile writer of a New Testament document. Demas is mentioned in the same breath, but he is probably the same one who ultimately deserts the mission and the Gospel (2 Tim. 4:10). Good beginnings do not guarantee good endings.
(6) Churches in the first century did not have their own buildings. Believers regularly met in the homes of their wealthier members. Nympha of Laodicea is one of the wealthy women of a wealthy city, and the church there met in her home (Col. 4:15).
October 15 - 1 Kings 18
It is tempting to comment further on the Pauline triad found in 1 Thessalonians 1:3 (see meditation on October 11), but the confrontation on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18) beckons.
The most shocking thing about that confrontation is that it was needed. These are the covenant people of God. It is not as if God has never disclosed himself to them. The corporate mind of the ten tribes of the northern kingdom has all but abandoned its heritage. When Elijah challenges the people with the words, “How long will you waver between two opinions? If the LORD is God, follow him; but if Baal is God, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21), the people say nothing.
Yet before we indulge in too many self-righteous musings, we need to reflect on how often the church has moved away from her moorings. The Great Awakening was a powerful movement of the Spirit of God, yet a century later many of the churches that had been filled with fresh converts, robust theology, and godly living had degenerated into Unitarianism. Who would have guessed that the land of Luther and the Reformation would have given us Hitler and the Holocaust? Why is it that twentieth-century evangelicalism, as it mushroomed between, say, 1930 and 1960, soon bred varieties of self-designated evangelicals whom no evangelical leader of the earlier period would have recognized as such? The sad reality is that human memory is short, selective, and self-serving. Moreover, each new generation begins with a slightly different baseline. Since all its members need conversion, the church is never more than a generation or two from extinction. If we forget this simple point, it becomes all too easy to rest on our laurels when we are comfortable, and somehow lose sight of our mission, not to say of our Maker and Redeemer.
The setup on Mount Carmel was spectacular: one prophet against 850, Yahweh against Baal—and Baal was often thought of as the god of fire. It is as if Elijah has set up the contest on Baal’s turf. His mocking words whip up the false prophets into an orgy of self-flagellation (1 Kings 18:28). By God’s instruction (1 Kings 18:36), Elijah increases the odds by soaking the sacrifice he is preparing. Then, in the evening, his own brief prayer brings down explosive fire from heaven, and the people cry, “The LORD—he is God! The LORD—he is God!” (1 Kings 18:39). And in response to Elijah’s intercessory prayer, the rain comes again to the parched land.
Something deep in the hearts of many Christians cries, “Do it again!”—not, of course, exactly the same thing, but a focused confrontation that elicits decisive and massive confession of the living God.
But did even this change Israel? Why or why not?
October 16 - 1 Kings 19
Doubtless Elijah expected that, after the triumphant confrontation on Mount Carmel, Israel would turn back to the living God (1 Kings 19). As he had executed the false prophets, so Queen Jezebel herself would be eliminated—by the popular demand of an outraged populace determined to be faithful and loyal to the covenant. Perhaps even King Ahab would repent and come on board.
It doesn’t work out that way. King Ahab reports everything that has happened to Jezebel, and Jezebel lets Elijah know that he is as good as dead (1 Kings 19:2). The people are nowhere to be seen. “Elijah was afraid and ran for his life” (1 Kings 19:3), we are told. In fact, a textual variant (which may be original) reads “Elijah saw, and ran for his life”—i.e., he now saw the dimensions of the whole problem, and ran. He heads south to Beersheba on the southern edge of the kingdom of Judah, drops off his servant, and keeps on going. Eventually he arrives at Mount Horeb, the site of the giving of the Law. He is so deeply depressed he wants to die (1 Kings 19:4). Worse, he succumbs to not a little self-pity: everybody else has rejected God, all the Israelites have broken the covenant, all the prophets except Elijah have been put to death—“I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too” (1 Kings 19:10).
One can sympathize with Elijah’s despair. In part, it is grounded in unfulfilled expectations. He thought that all that had taken place would trigger massive renewal. Now he feels not only isolated, but betrayed. And yet:
(1) He has his facts wrong. He knows that at least a hundred of the Lord’s prophets are still alive, even if they are in hiding (1 Kings 18:13).
(2) He is not in a fit state to judge the hearts of all the Israelites. Some may be loyal to Yahweh, but terrified of Jezebel, and therefore keeping their heads down. After all, isn’t that what he himself is doing?
(3) God himself assures Elijah that he has “reserved” for himself seven thousand people who have never bowed to Baal and never kissed him (1 Kings 19:18). Here is the beginning of a major biblical theme—the doctrine of the remnant. The covenant community as a whole may become apostate, but God Almighty still “reserves” for himself a faithful remnant—which in the fullness of time will become the nucleus of the fledgling New Testament church.
(4) God sometimes works and speaks in quiet ways, not in massive confrontation (1 Kings 19:11–13).
(5) Sooner or later even the strongest leaders, especially the strongest leaders, need a younger apprentice and helper to come alongside, shoulder part of the burden, and finally take over the work (1 Kings 19:19–21).
October 17 - 1 Thessalonians 3
The intensity of the relationship between Paul and his converts surfaces again and again. There is never a trace of mere professionalism in Paul. For all that he is prepared on occasion to stand on his apostolic authority, his stance toward churches he has founded is never one of distant superiority. When Paul found himself unable to visit the Thessalonian believers to find out how they were getting on—and in this case he was especially concerned since his entire ministry in Thessalonica lasted only about a month, so that these believers were not as well grounded as most converts—Paul determined to send Timothy to find out (1 Thess. 3:1–2). Now that Timothy has rejoined Paul in Athens, bringing with him wonderful reports of the Thessalonians’ faith and love (1 Thess. 3:6—two elements in the Pauline triad; see October 11 meditation), not to mention their loyalty to Paul and to the apostolic gospel, Paul’s joy knows no bounds: “Therefore, brothers, in all our distress and persecution we were encouraged about you because of your faith. For now we really live, since you are standing firm in the Lord” (1 Thess. 3:7–8). Even that is not enough. Paul exclaims, “How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy we have in the presence of our God because of you?” (1 Thess. 3:9).
This in turn triggers Paul’s disclosure of how he prays for the Thessalonians.
(1) Paul constantly prays (“Night and day,” he says), “most earnestly,” that somehow he will be able to return to Thessalonica “and supply what is lacking in your faith” (1 Thess. 3:10–11). This fledgling church has enjoyed little grounding. Paul feels an enormous weight of responsibility to supply it, to outline the whole counsel of God, articulate the Gospel comprehensively, teach these brothers and sisters how the Bible is put together, and provide a clear vision of the proper object of their faith so that their (subjective) faith will be well grounded.
(2) Meanwhile, he prays that the love of the Thessalonians for each other will “increase and overflow” (1 Thess. 3:12). Paul knows that a Christian community that loves well not only reflects the Gospel in life, but provides the nurturing framework in which biblical teaching is taken on board. A squabbling community drives people away. Moreover, in this culture many relationships were established on the basis of obligation. A “benefactor” provided something, and the recipient owed the benefactor certain obeisance or service. By contrast, Paul wants Christians to transcend such cultural limitations, and so live that every Christian constantly discharges the “obligation” to love one another, vastly outstripping mere tit-for-tat niggardliness.
(3) Paul prays that God himself will strengthen the Thessalonian believers so to live that they will be ready for the return of Jesus (1 Thess. 3:13).
October 18 - 1 Thessalonians 4
In 1 Thessalonians 4, Paul once again provides explicit instruction to his converts on how to live (see meditation for October 4). Although his time with the Thessalonians was brief, Paul can look back on those few weeks and comment, “Finally, brothers, we instructed you how to live in order to please God, as in fact you are living” (1 Thess. 4:1). In what follows in this chapter, there are four areas of such instruction (and still more in the next chapter, though we shall not pursue them here). The first three of these “how to live” paragraphs are laced with theological terminology and motivations; the fourth is primarily theological in its argumentation, but the reason for writing is entirely practical.
(1) Paul insists that God’s will for the Thessalonians is that they be “sanctified” (1 Thess. 4:3). Although for Paul sanctification is often definitional or positional (i.e., he is thinking of the way believers have been sanctified in Christ at the moment of their conversion, in other words, set aside for God and his use; see meditation for August 27), here he is thinking of the entailments of conversion in the way believers live. In particular, he is concerned with the sexual arena. The Greek text of verse 4 could mean “learn to control his own body” (in the sexual arena), or “learn to live with his own wife” (in honorable sexual harmony, not sexual exploitation or manipulation), or even “learn to acquire a wife” (in an honorable way, not in a relationship based on nothing more than lust). The fact that “God did not call us to be impure, but to live a holy life” (1 Thess. 4:7) has immediate bearing on our sexual conduct.
(2) Love in the Christian community is a mark that a church has been “taught by God.” However excellent the reputation of the Thessalonians in this respect, Paul urges improvement (1 Thess. 4:9–10).
(3) Christian ambition should aim at quiet faithfulness, minding one’s business, and working hard so as not to be a burden to others. Judging by the frequency with which Paul returns to this theme, one suspects that more than a few idle people filled the church’s ranks in Thessalonica (1 Thess. 5:14; 2 Thess. 3:11–13).
(4) The last paragraph (1 Thess. 4:13–18) concerns “those who fall asleep,” whom the context shows to be Christians who have died. What befalls them? Apparently Paul had not had the time to flesh out much on such matters while he was still with them. Not wanting them to be ignorant (1 Thess. 4:13), he sketches what happens. But the point to observe is that this doctrine is shaped to assuage any grief that befalls bereaved believers: we sorrow, but not “like the rest of men, who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). Instruction on how to live even extends to how to grieve.
October 19 - 1 Kings 22
The last chapter of 1 Kings, 1 Kings 22, many believers find troubling. For here God himself is presented as sending out “a lying spirit” (1 Kings 22:22) who will deceive King Ahab and lead him to his destruction. Does God approve of liars?
The setting is instructive. For once, the kingdom of Judah and the kingdom of Israel are pulling together against the king of Aram, instead of tearing at each other’s throats. Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, comes across as a good man who is largely desirous of adhering to the covenant and being loyal to God, yet is a bit of a wimp. He treats the prospective military expedition as if it were an adventure, but he does want Ahab, king of Israel, to “seek the counsel of the LORD” (1 Kings 22:5). After the false prophets have finished, Jehoshaphat has sufficient smarts to ask if there is some other prophet of the Lord, and Micaiah surfaces. Yet despite Micaiah’s warnings, he goes off with Ahab, and even agrees to retain his royal robes while Ahab’s identity is masked.
But the heart of the issue turns on Micaiah. Observe:
(1) Implicitly, Ahab has surrounded himself with religious yes-men who will tell him what he wants to hear. The reason he hates Micaiah is because what Micaiah says about him is bad. Like all leaders who surround themselves with yes-men, Ahab sets himself up to be deceived.
(2) When Micaiah begins with a sarcastic positive prognostication (1 Kings 22:15), Ahab instantly recognizes that Micaiah is not telling the truth (1 Kings 22:16). This hints at a conscience more than a little troubled. After all, God had previously told Ahab that because of his guilt in the matter of Naboth, dogs would one day lick up his blood (1 Kings 21:19). He thus expected bad news someday, and at a deep level of his being could not really trust the happy forecasts of his domesticated “prophets.”
(3) When Micaiah tells him of impending disaster, he also provides a dramatic reason for the coherence and unanimity of the false prophets: God himself had sanctioned a deceitful spirit. Ahab’s time has come: he will be destroyed. God’s sovereignty extends even over the means to send Ahab’s tame prophets a “strong delusion” (compare 2 Thess. 2:11–12). Yet the fact that Ahab is told all this demonstrates that God is still graciously providing him with access to the truth. But Ahab is so far gone that he cannot stomach the truth. In a ridiculous response, he believes enough of the truth to hide his own identity in the hordes of common soldiers, but not enough to stay away from Ramoth Gilead. So he dies: God’s sovereign judgment is enacted, not least because Ahab, hearing both the truth and the lie, preferred the lie.
October 20 - 1 Thessalonians 1
I once heard a pastor preach through 2 Thessalonians 1 under the following outline:
A good church going through a rough time (2 Thess. 1:3-4)
A good God waiting for the right time (2 Thess. 1:5-10)
A good man praying in the meantime (2 Thess. 1:11-12)
Today I wish to reflect a little on the second point.
(1) Paul can speak of the Thessalonians being “worthy” of the kingdom of God that will come in consummated power when Jesus returns (2 Thess. 1:5, 11). The context shows that Paul is not supposing that somehow they become worthy enough to be accepted by God in the first place. The idea, rather, is that, having become Christians, they are manifesting Christian faith and love (2 Thess. 1:3–4), and are persevering in the Christian way despite suffering and trials (2 Thess. 1:4–5). This continued display of grace under fire, this perseverance, is evidence of what is going on in their lives, and “as a result you will be counted worthy of the kingdom.” In other words, genuine Christians, by God’s grace, persevere in the Gospel, and this marks out their fitness for the consummation. In this sense they prove “worthy.”
(2) “God is just” (2 Thess. 1:6). Therefore there will be payback time for those who have cruelly opposed his people (2 Thess. 1:7) and ignored his Word (2 Thess. 1:8). When Christ returns he “will punish those who do not know God and do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus” (2 Thess. 1:8). What is presupposed is that the perfections of God’s justice are not manifest until Jesus returns. Some outworking of his justice is displayed in this broken world, but let’s face it: in this world, many evil people seem to get away with a lot, and many people of extraordinary goodness suffer a lot. Wise parents often tell their children, “Life isn’t fair. Don’t expect it to be.” Yet at the same time, God is “fair”; he is perfectly just. But do not expect his justice to be manifested in instantaneous rewards and retribution. His time scale is not ours. Life isn’t fair on our time scale. When Jesus returns, however, not only will justice be done, it will be seen to be done.
(3) At that time, Christ himself, and not any of us individuals, is the center of everything. Because of Christ’s centrality, punishment is almost defined in terms of being “shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of his power,” thereby being “punished with everlasting destruction” (2 Thess. 1:9). Conversely, among his saints, his “holy people,” that same Lord Jesus will be “glorified” and “marveled at among all those who have believed” (2 Thess. 1:10). If Christ were not there, heaven would be hell.