Have This Mind Among Yourselves

How do we understand Palm Sunday as a triumphal entry to Jerusalem when it leads to betrayal and death?

Reflections on the fifth Sunday of Lent.

Philippians 2:5–11

Palm Sunday celebrates the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey and being regaled with praise by the masses. To call it that, though, demands that we know how the story ends. Jesus was riding to his betrayal, false imprisonment, and torturous death. On the face of it, there is little that is “triumphant” about that, but this is how Jesus always works in accordance with his Father’s plan. The glory (or triumph) comes through sacrifice. Philippians 2 shows us this.

In Philippians 2:5 (ESV), believers are called to “have this mind among yourselves.” What mind? That “which is yours in Christ Jesus.” Paul doesn’t tell us what our shared mind and perspective should be like. Rather, he describes Jesus to us, because it is in him that we have this mind (perspective, thought process, values, beliefs). So let’s consider Jesus together.

Jesus set aside equality with God. He did not cling to his rightful status as over and above all. This doesn’t mean he gave up his deity but that he voluntarily became unglorified and unheavenly. He went the opposite direction of every human instinct; we cling to whatever status and power we have. (Why do you think HOA presidents, school librarians, and assistant retail managers can be such tyrants? Why do you think we so readily yell at our kids?) We won’t relinquish reputation for anything. He released his willingly.

In setting aside his rightful status, Jesus emptied himself of glory and became a servant. Serving is weakness. Serving is invisible. Serving is a job we relegate to those who are “unskilled” or considered lower in society, even if we are too genteel to say it that way. We seek glory and to be associated with the powerful. We yearn for fame, whether that is a few hours of going viral on social media or professional success. We name-drop and airbrush stories to enhance our reputations. Jesus did the opposite; he reversed the way we are to designate value, and he did so because he is the definer and giver of all true glory. In the economy of God’s kingdom that Jesus ushered in, the last shall be first and the poor in spirit are blessed.

Jesus did all this by fully, wholeheartedly, joyfully submitting to his Father’s will. It is easy to think, because of our own sinful limitations, that God’s plan was foisted on Jesus or that Jesus drudgingly stepped into the role of rescuing servant in order to save humanity. That is not the case at all. From before the world began, for all eternity, Jesus and the Father have been of one mind and heart. When Jesus set aside his status and glory and power, He did so “for the joy set before him” (Heb. 12:2). He did so in order to glorify the Father (John 17:4). And he did so in order to save sinners who could not save themselves (Rom. 5:8).

Here we see the beautiful backwardness of God’s kingdom—or maybe it’s more true to say that we see how God’s kingdom upends our broken backwardness. Through humility, Jesus was glorified. Because he set aside status, the Father put him on the throne. Because he laid down his life for the world, one day the world will bow before him in reverence. Under the rule of Jesus, humility is the pathway to true glory. The triumphal entry exemplifies this. Jesus rode to the lowest, most humiliating point in all of human history, and through that came the triumph over sin and death.

Now we return to the question of “What mind?” What mind are we to have among ourselves? That which is so fixated on Jesus that we value what he values, love what he loves, and pursues what he pursued. That which is as submitted to our heavenly Father’s will as his was. That which single-mindedly pursues the Father’s glory as he did. That which takes joy in the glorification to come as we submit to the Father and follow Jesus.

Barnabas Piper serves as a pastor at Immanuel Church in Nashville. He is the author of The Pastor’s Kid and Belong. He is married to his wife, Lauren, and has three children.

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Unless a Grain of Wheat Falls

Evan Welcher

Jesus died for me to reap a harvest of resurrection.

Illustration by Keith Negley

John 12:23–25

How can I ever get over Jesus? I still see him from far off, ever near, always before me, glorious glory as of the only begotten, full of grace, full of truth (John 1:14). Or rather, long did he wait, watching for me to come home from the strange country where I exiled myself (Luke 15:11–32).

I still don’t know how to get over all this glory or if it is wise to try. The doxa afterglow is leading me home. He is clothed in splendor, wrapped in death so as to raise us up and never be alone. His life seemed a flash in the pan. The limp in the hip, how I’ll never forget (Gen. 32:22–32).

God died for me to reap a harvest of resurrection.

“The Pharisees said to one another, ‘See, this is getting us nowhere. Look how the whole world has gone after him!’” (John 12:19).

Would that it were true.

Consider Jesus, the author of Hebrews encourages us. See him, who has endured such hostility by sinners against himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart (Heb. 12:3).

Some Greeks asked to see Jesus, and his only reply was about death and life and the meaning of everything (John 12:20–22). How he is a kernel of wheat falling all the way into the earth to die.

Unless. But.

Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the earth and dies. But if it dies …

The whole world hangs on to an if.

How can there be joy from all this death? A kernel of wheat must fall to the earth and die if there is to be a harvest. You, Lord, are a grain of wheat crushed to become the bread of life, and we are partakers of the bread of heaven, partakers who shall hunger no more (John 6:35).

He shall lose none of us whom the Father has given him but raise us up on the last day. This is the will of the Father (John 6:39–40).

I have presided over 125 funerals. I saw my first wife die of cancer. Death is the stifling, smothering, mildewing darkness stalking and plaguing us all. Don’t let anybody tell you any different. Don’t let anybody try to sell you some saccharine bill of goods as if death doesn’t matter and is of no concern. Death is the last enemy (1 Cor. 15:25–26). It is the thief of Christ’s glory that comes only to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). Jesus took on death. In our place he stood condemned. John 12 says he is a grain of wheat falling down into the earth. I wonder if it was dark there, in the land of death, in the heart of the earth. Were those three days long? How weary and lonesome love must be. Have any of us dared to love as you have loved?

If I ascend to heaven, You are there; 
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.
If I take up the wings of the dawn, 
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will take hold of me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, 
And the light around me will be night,” 
Even darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.
(Psalm 139:8–12, NASB)

Lord Jesus, as you contemplated falling into the earth to die, did you consider that even in that shadow land, the dark would not be dark if the Father walks with us through the valley of the shadow of death? The darkness of death deterred you not. The glory of laying your life down has lightened the world.

Evan Welcher is a pastor of Grace Baptist Church, Vermillion, South Dakota, and the author of Advent: A Thread in the Night, Nightscapes: Poetry from the Depths, and Resplendent Bride: Essays on Love & Loss.

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Church Life

Even to Death

Jamaal Williams

Jesus models what it looks like to stumble into the presence of God—hurting but hopeful.

Illustration by Keith Negley

Mark 14:32–42

Even the best of friends sometimes fail to show up when we need them. Sometimes, they fail because we haven’t expressed our needs clearly. Other times, they fail because they don’t recognize the severity of our situation, are overwhelmed by their own challenges, or are preoccupied with others.

The apostle Paul, facing a death sentence at the hands of Nero, wrote to Timothy in his final letter: “At my first defense, no one came to my support, but everyone deserted me” (2 Tim. 4:16). Yet Paul, strengthened by his faith, added, “May it not be held against them.” God allows his children to go through intense trials and seasons of abandonment. He uses these tests to strengthen our faith and help us see whether we trust Christ as we stumble forward, falter, or experience both.

From his words, we sense no bitterness or grudge. Instead, Paul sounds like Jesus, praying, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” (Luke 23:34, ESV). While Paul’s example should lead us to gratitude, Jesus’ example should lead us to worship. Unlike Paul, Jesus could never say, “I am the chief of sinners,” because he knew no sin.

Jesus’ suffering was not just for the sake of the gospel—it was because he bore the weight of humanity’s sin. And to think, Jesus willingly entered into suffering for us—for you.

What should astonish us about Jesus is that in his deepest time of need, when his closest companions—Peter, James, and John—failed to empathize with him, God’s suffering servant retreated to the Father’s presence like a ship seeking safe harbor in a raging storm. “In you, Lord, I have taken refuge” (Ps. 31:1) captures the essence of Jesus’ prayerful retreat. Battered but anchored by faith, he paused to find the strength to continue. Jesus was exactly where God had ordained him to be: in the garden, preparing to drink the cup of God’s righteous judgment for his people.

Jesus models what it looks like to stumble into the presence of God—hurting but hopeful. He approaches the Father in weakness yet displays perfect strength. Mark’s gospel emphasizes Jesus’ emotional suffering, describing him as “deeply distressed and troubled” and “overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death” (Mark 14:33–34). Some view emotional suffering as sinful, but we know it’s not, because Jesus—the sinless sacrifice—experienced it. Jesus cried out in faith, entrusting his pain to the Father. When we bring our anguish to God, the safest harbor, we please him.

Moreover, Jesus’ anguish reveals his love for us and the weight of his task. For the joy set before him, he endured suffering. Jesus in Gethsemane teaches us how emotions, when acknowledged and submitted to God, can deepen intimacy with the Father. Emotions are like fire—they provide warmth and light when handled rightly but can become destructive when mishandled.

On this Spy Wednesday, let us marvel at our suffering servant who became our Savior by enduring the cross and its shame. May we marvel at Jesus as he leads with his “weak foot forward,” encountering betrayal by his inner circle and by Judas. Judas selfishly drank from the cup of betrayal, but Jesus drank from the cup that was ordained for him alone—God’s cup of wrath.

The cup Jesus was about to drink represents far more than physical suffering; it is the cup of God’s righteous judgment. In the Old Testament, the “cup” symbolized God’s wrath toward sin (Isa. 51:17). Jesus willingly submitted to bear that judgment for us. His agony wasn’t just about the physical pain but the spiritual weight of humanity’s sin. When he prayed, “Yet not what I will, but what you will” (Mark 14:36), Jesus demonstrated perfect surrender, inviting us to trust God even in our darkest moments.

As we experience loneliness and betrayal, may we resolve to trust the one who remained faithful, even to death. Like Paul, may we declare, “May it not be held against them. But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength” (2 Tim. 4:16–17).

So how do we rely on God during deep emotional anguish? First, like Jesus, we must slow down to acknowledge the weight we are carrying. Second, make space to bring that to the Lord. Even a simple breath prayer can help at the moment, such as:

“Father, draw near to me as I draw near to you.”

“Jesus, help me trust you in this moment.”

“Holy Spirit, guide my thoughts and give me rest.”

Set aside time for longer moments of prayer, not as an obligation to live up to, but because you have one who is always for you—even to death. Finally, pray boldly, and surrender your will boldly—the Father’s heart is for you. He will hold you in his steadfast love.

Jamaal Williams is lead pastor of Sojourn Church Midtown in Louisville, Kentucky, and president of Harbor Network. He is the coauthor of In Church as It Is in Heaven. Jamaal lives in Louisville with his wife, Amber, and their five children.

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When the Hour Came

Ray Ortlund

This Maundy Thursday, let us remember the extreme length and the profound depth of Jesus’ dying love.

Illustration by Keith Negley

Luke 22:14–20

At long last, Jesus came to the climactic hour for which he had been born. We rightly remember his birth with happy celebration. And we rightly remember his death with hushed reverence. We are on holy ground.

We call this day of Holy Week Maundy Thursday because of our Lord’s words that evening: “A new commandment [Latin: mandatum] I give to you” (John 13:34, ESV).

Luke’s account of the occasion points us toward two heart-melting gospel realities.

One, Jesus did not save us at a safe distance, as if by remote control. He threw himself into our salvation with wholehearted abandon. His body was shattered. His blood gushed out.

As Jesus and his disciples observed the Passover, he explained the extreme length and the profound depth of his dying love for us:

“And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, ‘This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood’” ( Luke 22:19–20, ESV).

The old covenant depended, in part, on our obedience. That is why the last two words of the Old Testament are “total destruction” (Mal. 4:6). We disobeyed extremely. But our covenant betrayal did not defeat our covenant Lord. Far from backing out, he pressed in more devotedly. He sent his only Son as our all-sufficient Savior. That’s why the New Testament concludes with “the grace of the Lord Jesus” (Rev. 22:21)—the final word of endless hope.

Let’s be clear about God’s covenantal arrangement with us now. We are not bringing our strengths to the table while God brings His strengths to the table so we can cobble together a team win. No, the new covenant is all of God’s grace alone. And he does not lower his standards. His grace goes so far as to internalize his holy law down at the deepest substratum of our inmost beings (Heb. 8:8–13). That profound renewal is good news for everyone fed up with being “prone to wander,” as the old hymn says. And Jesus sealed our new covenant hope by his very blood. He did not hold back at all.

Two, Jesus did not limit his outpouring of love to his passion and cross long ago. Yes, his atoning death was “once for all” (Heb. 7:27, ESV). To quote the Book of Common Prayer, he made upon the cross “by his one oblation of himself once offered, a full, perfect and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world.”

The finality of the Cross is the gospel message that I, as a minister, love to declare. It is the gospel we all love to hear.

But in addition, our risen Savior, through his Spirit, visits us in Holy Communion with real-time experiences of his endless grace. By calling us to eat and drink, he is saying, “My dying love for you is so real you can taste it! Come. Take it in. Be renewed.”

Holy Communion is a feast. Jesus fills our hearts again and again, reassuring us that our repeated sins in this life cannot deplete his finished work on the cross.

This evening, as we receive Holy Communion in our churches, it might be like that moment in Tolkien’s Return of the King, just after the siege of Gondor. The sound of those distant horns had declared that Rohan was coming to the rescue. Then after the battle was won, Tolkien tells us that, for Pippin, “never in after years could he hear a horn blown in the distance without tears starting in his eyes.”

Our rescuing Savior is both a solid historical reality to be remembered and a vivid present experience to be savored. Tonight we will come to him as we are, with all the ruins and regrets of our sins. We will remember, with awestruck reverence, his total commitment to saving us from it all. And our eyes may well flood with tears.

“Do this in remembrance of me” invites us there. Why hold back at all? He didn’t. And he doesn’t.

Pastor Ray Ortlund is the president of Renewal Ministries and a canon theologian in the Anglican Church in North America. Ortlund gradutated from University of Aberdeen (PhD) and was ordained into Christian ministry by Lake Avenue Church, Pasadena, in 1975.

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By His Wounds

Thabiti Anyabwile

On Good Friday, the sinless one became the sin bearer for our healing.

Illustration by Keith Negley

1 Peter 2:22–24

Good Friday joins together two staggering truths: “He committed no sin” and “By his wounds you have been healed.”

No Sin

Sin is so common its absence is stunning. We are a people acclimated to depravity, others’ and especially our own. As soon as self-awareness dawned on us, we began a running relationship with sin. Of course, sin is not natural. Sin did not exist when God made our first parents. Adam and Eve brought sin into the world with all its power to unmake the goodness God made. Therefore, sin perverts the natural or original order of things. Sin has been so long with us that, though unnatural, it feels common. We might rightly ask ourselves, How will we ever escape it?

But Jesus “committed no sin.” Jesus is as uncommon as sin is common. Not only did the Lord not sin; he didn’t even use his words to deceive. That’s the Serpent’s way. With forked tongue, the Devil trades in half-truths and outright lies. He is the Father of Lies, and we have been his children. So observant human beings are stunned when one enters history who committed no sin and never deceived. If we can, we ought to imagine purity from heart to lips, from behavior to speech. Not even reviling and suffering could make him break God’s holy law. Jesus was like us in every way, except without sin (Heb. 4:15).

Sin Bearer

Even more stunning than Jesus’ perfection—if something could be more stunning—is that “he himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness.” The one without sin became the one sin bearer.

Ineffable.

Peter makes certain to remind us “he himself bore our sins.” In other words, the Lord Jesus did not delegate sin bearing to another. He chose no subordinate to run his holy errand. Angels are ministering spirits sent out for the sake of our salvation (Heb. 1:14). Christ commands legions of angels. Yet Jesus, he himself, personally shouldered the great burden of our sin. The work of redemption belonged uniquely and solely to him. He himself.

Moreover, the Lord “bore our sins in his body.” The carrying of sin was not a fantasy, an intellectual abstraction, or merely a spiritual principle. Rather, sin bearing had physical consequence. As the writer of Hebrews teaches us:

For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.
Consequently, when Christ came into the world,
he said, “Sacrifices and offerings you have not desired, but a body have you prepared for me;
in burnt offerings and sin offerings you have taken no pleasure. (10:4–6, ESV)

The Father prepared a body for the Son because other sacrifices and offerings were not desirable. The Father took no pleasure in them. The temple sacrifices and offerings were but pointers to another body, a human body, specifically prepared to bear sin. In this body, broken for us, the Father found pleasure and delight. In that body a new possibility was opened for us—“that we might die to sin and live to righteousness.”

But how?

Wounded Healer

“By his wounds you have been healed.” The sinless one became the sin bearer for our healing.

Those physical wounds on a rugged cross by God’s grace became the healing agent in our salvation. On the cross, Jesus Christ became heaven’s apothecary, dispensing the one medicine our souls desperately needed—his blood.

Flesh torn to ribbons by a Roman whip. Head punctured with the crown of thorns. Metal nails pounded through wrists and feet. Side lanced with spear. What wounds are these? Wounds that healed not themselves but others. Wounds that healed you. How could Jesus be stricken and we be strengthened? How could Jesus be tortured but we be treated? How could Jesus be harmed so grotesquely but we be healed so completely?

Thabiti Anyabwile serves as a pastor at Anacostia River Church in Washington, DC, and is the president of The Crete Collective. The author of several books, he’s happily married to Kristie and is the pleased father of three adult children.

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The Things That Are Unseen

Jared C. Wilson

Our world on this side of heaven is a lifetime of Holy Saturday.

Illustration by Keith Negley

2 Corinthians 4:16–18

In January 2020, I thought I had a heart attack. I was sitting in my office at the seminary where I work, waiting my turn to speak in chapel to a thousand students attending our annual youth conference. I spoke at the event every year. I was prepared. I was not nervous or worried. Iced coffee in hand, I was simply sitting at my desk, watching the previous speaker on the livestream, casually waiting.

Suddenly I felt my chest tighten and my heart begin to race. The only way I have been able to describe what happened next is that it seemed as if my body was “shutting down.” I had the overwhelming feeling that I was about to die.

The next thing I remember thinking is that if I die in my office on a Saturday, nobody would find me for a long time, so I made my way toward the chapel complex where I might be able to get help. I made it as far as a bench in the lobby where I was noticed by one of our security staff, and it was not long before 911 was called, paramedics arrived, and I was being gawked at by hundreds of teenagers who were filing out of the chapel for a break.

I was not rushed to the hospital that day. The paramedics offered, but they determined it wasn’t necessary. After several tests and scans that week in a variety of medical facilities, my doctor diagnosed my episode as a “stress-induced panic attack.”

This diagnosis wasn’t entirely surprising to me. I had been dealing with sporadic episodes of anxiety for years (and still do). But I’d never had an episode that terrifying, that serious. I had not had one that I’d mistaken for a heart attack and felt as though I would die. The other surprising thing about this event was the circumstance of its occurrence. I wasn’t doing anything particularly stressful or taxing. In fact, up until that moment, I felt fairly relaxed. I was just hanging out. Just waiting.

Five years later, I have not had any incidents as serious as that one. But I know full well that I’m carrying around in this aging and increasingly tired body the potential for another all out collapse. There is a dark shadow just lurking right behind me at all times. I have no illusions about my frailty comparing to the kinds of disabilities and diseases with which millions of others suffer on a daily basis. To varying degrees, every person on this broken, cursed earth feels that brokenness, that cursedness in their bones. We all try to medicate against it in different ways. We all try to distract ourselves from the darkness of that shadow. We even try to vanquish it. But try as we might, as far as we might distance ourselves from it, it’s always there. It’s waiting too.

In 2 Corinthians 4:16–18, the apostle Paul, who knows a little something about carrying brokenness around in his body, encourages believers not to lose heart. Outwardly we may be wasting away, but inwardly we are being renewed. How can he say this, knowing that we can’t out wait the shadow of brokenness?

The brokenness will be redeemed. And in fact, the redemption will be so eternally glorious, it will, by contrast, make the brokenness seem like a “light, momentary affliction.”

If you think about it, our world this side of heaven is a lifetime of Holy Saturday. Christ has come, and he will come again.

But in the meantime, we are waiting. For some, the wait will feel short; for others, it may feel like an eternity. But we can take heart in knowing that the wait isn’t forever. And while the shadow of death and brokenness may be waiting for us, it is also waiting for its own end. What we see is just transient.

What we can’t see is eternal. And for those who trust in Jesus, not even death is eternal.

In his cross, Christ has canceled the debt that stood against us, taking the condemnation we were owed upon himself and removing it forever from us. In his resurrection, Christ emerges victorious over death and hell, holding their keys and purchasing the power of eternal life for all who believe in him. This means that the resurrection of Jesus is the shadow lurking behind death itself! He’ll get it before it gets us.

On this Holy Saturday, whatever our ailments, whatever our worries—whatever our circumstances or sins—let us take heart in our waiting. There’s an eternal weight of glory coming. And in the end, we will see with the eyes of immortality that it was worth waiting for.

Jared C. Wilson is assistant professor of pastoral ministry at Midwestern Seminary and pastor for preaching at Liberty Baptist Church in Liberty, Missouri. He is the author of Friendship with the Friend of Sinners and cohost of The Heart of Pastoring Podcast.

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Swallowed Up in Victory

Malcolm Guite

Paul, poetry, and Easter Sunday.

Illustration by Keith Negley

1 Corinthians 15:53–56

Paul’s great hymn of Easter victory in 1 Corinthians 15 has resounded down the centuries, encouraging every Christian and inspiring some of the greatest poets. Indeed, in this hymn, Paul himself quotes the poetry of the prophets, specifically Isaiah 25:8 where it is written Christ will swallow up death forever. What was still a prophecy for Isaiah had come gloriously true for the apostle who met the risen Christ on the road to Damascus, and it is going to come gloriously true for every Christian. And even now, thanks to Scripture’s witness to the Resurrection, we can taste something of Christ’s victory and exalt in it just as Paul does.

“Death has been swallowed up in victory”! There is a powerful paradox here, a great gospel reversal! For until Easter it was death who did all the swallowing, swallowing up every life, every civilization, swallowing up so many hopes and dreams, breaking so many hearts. But now death itself is swallowed up, and it is life, the resurrection life Jesus shares with us, that swallows death and stands triumphant.

Here is how two of the greatest Christian poets have responded to that victory in Christ. The Scottish priest-poet William Dunbar (1460–1530), writing over 500 years ago, celebrated Christ’s Easter triumph (you can surely hear his joy even through his archaic Scots dialect):

Done is a battle on the dragon black, 
Our champion Christ confoundit has his force;
The yetis [gates] of hell are broken with a crack, 
The sign triumphal raisit is of the cross.

Those are the opening lines of his poem, and for Dunbar it is not only death that has been defeated but the devil himself, “that old dragon,” and the gates of hell have been cracked right open!

Every verse of this poems ends with a proclamation of resurrection, and the third verse gets right to the heart of the matter:

He for our saik that sufferit to be slane,
And lyk a lamb in sacrifice was dicht,
Is lyk a lion risen up agane.

The one who allowed himself to be slain for our sake, who was sacrificed as a lamb, now rises like a lion! As a medieval scholar, C. S. Lewis knew and loved this poem, and I sometimes wonder if it gave him an idea for a story!

More than a century later another priest-poet, the Englishman John Donne, took inspiration from this same victory hymn in 1 Corinthians for his great sonnet “Death Be Not Proud.” Just as Paul writes, “O death, where is thy sting?” (1 Cor. 15:55, KJV), so Donne follows Paul’s example in addressing death directly, and, as Paul does, openly taunting death. He turns the tables on death, and instead of living in fear or cowering at the prospect of death, he stands up and mocks him, reminding him that he himself will die when death is swallowed up in victory. The poem opens with a bold rebuke:

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee 
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

Donne goes on to compare death to sleep, preparing us for the beautiful image of waking to resurrection, which will come at the end of the poem:

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, 
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, 
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.

Donne continues by telling death that he is merely a servant, indeed a “slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,” and then comes the triumphant final couplet, two of the most famous lines in English poetry, lines which have given courage and peace in the face of death to so many:

One short sleep past, we wake eternally 
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

May we all rest and rise in the good news of Easter, the news that “one short sleep past, we wake eternally.”

Malcolm Guite is a poet, priest, and life fellow of Girton College, Cambridge. His books include Sounding the Seasons: Seventy Sonnets for the Christian Year (Canterbury 2012) and Mariner: A Voyage with Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Hodder 2017).

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Why Do Doubts Arise?

Jeremy Writebol

Easter Monday is a waypoint in our journey to be reacquainted with the Savior who personally knows, sees, and loves us.

Illustration by Keith Negley

Luke 24:36–49

How do you imagine Jesus’ attitude and posture are toward you right now? Is he annoyed, bothered that here you are again, not having it all together, asking questions? Is he absent, not even present to address your despair or desire? Maybe you perceive Jesus as apathetic about you. You’re really not high (if at all) on his list of most interesting people or situations to engage. I wonder if you think Jesus is angry with you right now. You know he knows what you’ve done. You both are intimately aware of your sinful heart, and Jesus is furious with you. He’s not having any of it.

So here you are on Easter Monday, and while maybe there is a modicum of joy from yesterday’s celebrations, you are still apprehensive about Jesus’ intentions and interest in you. You can celebrate that, yes, “He is risen!” but that nagging doubt in the back of your heart still creeps forward, making you wonder if that really is a good thing, if it really matters, if Jesus is positively for you.

These kinds of doubts and anxious thoughts are not new to us. Nor are they new to the experience of Easter. Jesus’ own disciples carried troubled hearts, doubt-filled minds, astonished and overwhelmed emotions, and big questions. The resurrection of Jesus from the dead called out the deepest concern: Now what! Everything was on the table. From Judas’s denial, Peter’s betrayal, the other nine’s withdrawal, and only John being faithful, what would Jesus’ posture to them be now?

The words and actions of Jesus in Luke 24:36–49 must inform and override our perhaps skewed perspectives. Instead of absence, Jesus is present. He shows up and draws near to his friends. Instead of anger and volatility toward this mutinous crew, Jesus pronounces peace and reconciliation. He’s not frothing at the bit to bring down the hammer of justice. Instead of being apathetic about their worries and anxieties, Jesus is curious. He asks why they are troubled, and then avails himself to their inquiries by giving tangible evidence of his physical resurrection.

When the moment arises where Jesus could be utterly annoyed by their deficiency of faith, he again inclines himself to answer their lack of understanding. In every turn of thisstory that could prove to be the final repellent of Jesus away from his followers, he instead draws close.

If we are not careful, we can too quickly read through this narrative as if it is a rational or logical apologetic text proving the historicity of the Resurrection. We can miss that this is a relational drama demonstrating the heart of Jesus toward anxious and doubtful people like you and me. We’re given this vignette into Jesus’ relationship with his disciples so that we can be encouraged about his relationship to us today.

Easter Monday might not bring any of the joy or bliss that Easter Sunday did. We’re glad that Lent is over, thankful Jesus is proclaimed alive, but we have our lives to get on with. And there we wonder, How is Jesus going to think of us today?

The events of Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday incline us to embrace Jesus’ victory over the cosmic realms of Satan, sin, and death. They tell us of an ascending king enthroned, establishing, and emerging with his kingdom. They tell us of a sacrificial Savior who died for the sins of the world and was raised to life again “for us and for our salvation” (Nicene Creed). Easter Monday brings us the assurance that Jesus hasn’t overlooked or been indifferent to us. He brings his affection and love right to our very individual and personal needs.

Easter Monday is a place for us to stop and reflect, What is Jesus’ attitude and posture toward me? Today is a waypoint in our journey to be reacquainted with the Savior who personally knows, sees, and loves us. He bears no hostility, indifference, or ignorance of our doubts and needs. He only is inclined in love to our frailty and feebleness. Furthermore, he loves to be the Good Shepherd who knows and cares for his sheep. You can draw really close to him today because he’s already moved close to you!

Jeremy Writebol serves as lead campus pastor at Woodside Bible Church in Plymouth, Michigan, and is executive director of Gospel-Centered Discipleship. He has authored several books including Pastor, Jesus Is Enough. He is married to Stephanie and has two children.

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Church Life

Who for the Joy Set Before Him

Kristie Anyabwile

Our true destination is not a city built by human hands, but a home whose builder and designer is God.

Illustration by Keith Negley

Hebrews 12:1–2

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb. 12:1–2, ESV).

Many of us get annoyed when someone constantly asks on a trip, “Are we there yet?” This question not only makes the trip seem to take forever, but it also shows discontentment and failure to evaluate time, place, and space on your own. On the other hand, there’s almost no sweeter sound than hearing the driver say, “We’re here,” or the pilot announcing, “We are on our final descent. We should land at our destination shortly.”

Just as travelers longs to reach their destination, the faithful in ages past yearned for the fulfillment of God’s promises. Hebrews 12:1–2 ends a long encomium on faith that started in Hebrews 11:1. Faith is the virtue that is praised in saints of old. The people of Israel, the faithful witnesses and prophets, looked forward to the Messiah, asking “what person or time the Spirit of Christ in them was indicating when he predicted the sufferings of Christ and the subsequent glories” (1 Pet. 1:10–11, ESV). Their faith rested in the Spirit’s testimony of the coming sufferings and glories of Christ. They rightly wanted to know “Who is he?” and “When is he coming?” It was their version of “Are we there yet?” They walked in faith, looking forward to the coming Messiah.

We look back to our crucified and risen Savior, who left glory to come in the likeness of sinful humanity and for the sins of humanity, to condemn sin in the flesh so that “the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit” (Rom. 8:3–4, ESV).

As we look back on the cloud of witnesses, we see men and women who made the choice to obey God even when everyone and everything around them and in them would have encouraged them to go another way, make a different decision. However, Jesus says that his yoke is easy and his burden is light, not because the road we travel or the task we undertake is light, but because the finish line is in our view. We don’t carry the heavy load; Jesus carries it for us. I’m reminded of a line in an old song that my dad used to play on his eight-track player when I was a kid. The line goes, “Heavy load. Heavy load. God’s gonna lighten up my heavy load.”

This song echoes the truth that Jesus took upon himself the weight and shame and guilt of sin as well as the punishment for sin. “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness” (1 Pet. 2:24, ESV). Jesus found joy in enduring the cross, despite its pain and humiliation, and disregarded its shame to become sin for us. Why? So that through his substitutionary, atoning death, he might declare us righteous before the Father. Having completed the work God sent him to do, Jesus now sits at the right hand of God, always interceding for us. If dying for us brought him such joy, shouldn’t living for him bring us joy?

During Lent, we have a unique opportunity to imitate Jesus. By faith, we imitate his joyful endurance of suffering in anticipation of our future reign with him in glory. The faithful witnesses endured and walked in faith despite their circumstances. They waited in faith because they looked not at their present circumstances, but ahead toward God’s promise of a future homeland, the city that he had prepared for them. They, and believers today, know that our true destination is not a city built by human hands, but a home whose builder and designer is God (Heb. 11:10).

Unlike us, Jesus is not annoyed by our “Are we there yet?” question. Through the Cross, Jesus answers, “I will have you at your final destination shortly.” The journey to our true home is cross-shaped and joy-filled. Through Christ’s example, we learn that the journey to our eternal home is paved with the promise of unshakable joy in the glory that awaits us.

Kristie Anyabwile is a Bible teacher and author of several books, including Delighting in God’s Law: Old Testament Commands and Why They Matter Today. Her husband, Thabiti, is a pastor in Washington, DC, and they have three adult children.

- More from Kristie Anyabwile

News

Treating the Heart of Transgenderism

Dr. Charles Horton

One doctor’s quest to see gender dysphoria through Scripture and science.

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty, WikiMedia Commons

Recent headlines trumpet presidential orders banning federal payment for gender transition and freeing female athletes from competition with transgender students. But quieter determinations go on daily in medical offices where young patients request gender transition hormones or other transition treatments.

Christian doctors practice on the frontlines of tensions over gender dysphoria and transition. CT agreed not to use the name of one—call him Dr. J—because he doesn’t want protesters filling his northeastern US waiting room. What’s key: Dr. J resists a busy doctor’s pressure to rush through an appointment. Instead, he begins with mundane but essential questions about the patient’s social and familial history.

He’ll say, “Talk to me about what’s happened. What brought you to this place in life?” When patients express dissatisfaction with their status as men or women, Dr. J doesn’t suggest transitioning. Instead, he asks questions: “Who lives at home? How are your relationships? What do you do for a living? Have you experienced past abuse?”

Dr. J said it’s “about loving patients well, caring for them well, seeing them with God’s eyes.” Good questions help patients open up about their reasons for detaching from their male or female identity. They can form a bridge to help patients move beyond seeing medical transition as the answer to past trauma.

Dr. J. lives out what the Christian Medical & Dental Associations (CMDA) call “winsome advocacy.” CMDA senior vice president Jeff Barrows calls for encouraging “meaningful dialogue” that could lead to changed opinions. Dr. J offers medical and scriptural arguments: He explains to patients requesting gender transition hormones that up to 85 percent of youth experiencing gender dysphoria later move beyond it and also encourages them to consider God’s design for their lives.

The CMDA statement on transgender identification, passed by the association’s leadership—54 approvals, 0 opposed, 0 abstentions—says, “Christian healthcare professionals should not initiate hormonal and surgical interventions that alter natural sex phenotypes. Such interventions contradict one of the basic principles of medical ethics, which is that medical treatment is intended to restore and preserve health, and not to harm.”

The statement says, “CMDA believes that prescribing hormonal treatments to children or adolescents to disrupt normal sexual development for the purpose of attempting gender reassignment is ethically impermissible, whether requested by the child, the adolescent, or the parent.”

Medically, Dr. J said treating gender dysphoria has parallels to treating anorexia nervosa: “Clinically, they’re thin, they’re underweight, but still think they need to lose weight.” Anorexic patients present challenges to their medical teams because the condition has both physical and mental factors. Even when patients become starved enough to need hospitalization for careful refeeding, they may be convinced that more calories are the last thing they need.

Prescribing weight-loss drugs might gain a patient’s short-term gratitude while causing serious harm. Seeing the patient with God’s eyes means addressing the body-image problem behind the nutritional problems. He starts with asking a patient, “Why do you see yourself the way you do?”

Just as he’d say no to an anorexic patient insisting on dieting help, Dr. J says no to prescribing gender transition hormones. But the two situations are different theologically—Genesis 1:27 states that God made mankind male and female—and practically, given cultural pressures. A refusal to go along with gender transition requests could cost Dr. J his job. But Christian doctors have historically placed what both the Bible and medical science say above the requests of a patient.

Historically in family medicine, doctors have not been prescription-dispensing machines. Instead, they ask themselves, “Is this in the best interests of the patient?” Should a doctor dispense expensive new drugs because a television commercial has touted them? What if a patient with a viral cold asks for antibiotics meant to treat bacterial infections? Should a patient at risk for a stomach ulcer take painkillers like ibuprofen, which risk aggravating the ulcer?

Caring for patients well can mean saying no. Ultimately, Dr. J said, his medical practice is not about him. He doesn’t tell patients he’s “not comfortable” dispensing gender transition hormones, because “it isn’t about my comfort. It is about the patient’s needs.” Patients’ rejection of their biological sex can stem from physical, social, and even spiritual needs.

Doctors may have to unmask underlying needs gently. Dr. J said seeing patients with God’s eyes means recognizing and addressing each need with grace.

Here are excerpts from the CMDA statement published (with 88 footnotes to medical articles):

“At the heart of disagreement over transgenderism is a difference in worldviews. If the human body is nothing more than the product of mindless, random, purposeless physical forces, then one may do with it what one wishes, even to demand medical and surgical cooperation in projects to alter, amputate, or reconstruct normal tissue to conform to the patient’s revised psychological sense of identity. If, on the other hand, our bodies are an inseparable aspect of our true selves and are a good gift from God, who has designed the sexes to be wonderfully paired, and who has a purpose for humanity, then respecting the gift of given sexual identity and the ensuing moral obligations to our neighbors is the surest path to human flourishing ….

“CMDA considers ‘sex’ (i.e., male or female) to be an objective biological fact …. CMDA cannot support the recent usage of the term ‘gender’ to emphasize an identity other than one’s biological sex, that is, a subjective sense of self based on feelings or desires leading to identifying somewhere on a fluid continuum of gender identity. CMDA cannot support the prevailing culture’s acceptance of an ideology of unrestrained sexual self-definition that, in celebrating gender fluidity and gender transition efforts, is indifferent to biological reality and opposed to the biblical understanding of human sexuality.

“Further, CMDA is alarmed that some proponents of transgender ideology, through activism and intimidation, are insisting that healthcare professionals cooperate with and affirm their beliefs in gender fluidity, even if the healthcare professionals believe that such cooperation and affirmation would be doing harm to their patients. This violates the most fundamental core value of medicine since Hippocrates, that of caring only for the good and benefit of the patient while abstaining from all unnecessary harm. The evolving scientific and medical facts demonstrate that the mutilation of normal tissue and profound disruption of normal physiology that occur during gender transition procedures are very difficult to justify, as this constitutes deliberate harm ….

“Sex is an objective biological fact that is determined genetically at conception by the allocation of X and Y chromosomes to one’s genome, is observable at birth, is found in every nucleated cell, and is immutable throughout one’s lifetime. Sex is not a social construct arbitrarily assigned at birth and cannot be changed at will. Human beings are sexually dimorphic. Male and female phenotypes are the outworking of sex gene expression, which shapes sex anatomy, determines patterns of sex hormone secretion, and influences sex differences in the development of the central nervous system and other organs …. CMDA recognizes that exceedingly rare congenital abnormalities exist …. Anomalies of human biological sex are conditions rather than identities, something one has rather than who one is. Disorders of sex development … do not constitute a third sex.

“Gender dysphoria, the condition of experiencing discomfort or distress at one’s sex and preferring a different ‘gender’ identity … should not be confused with transient gender-questioning that can occur in early childhood …. In our current social context, there is a prevailing view that removing traditional definitions and boundaries is a requirement for self-actualization. Thus, Christian healthcare professionals find themselves in the position of being at variance with evolving views of gender identity in which patients or their subcultures seek validation by medical professionals of their transgender desires and choices through medical or surgical solutions to gender dysphoria. Although such desires may be approved by society at large, they are contrary to a biblical worldview and to biological reality and thus are disordered ….

“There is a social contagion phenomenon luring young people into the transgender culture. CMDA opposes efforts to compel healthcare professionals to grant medical legitimacy to transgender ideologies. Cooperation with requests for medical or surgical gender reassignment threatens professional integrity by undermining our respect for biological reality, evidence-based medical science, and our commitment to non- maleficence. Promotion of transgender ideology by educational institutions and teachers to children as young as 5 years of age is a danger to the health and safety of minor children ….

“Hormones prescribed to a previously biologically healthy child for the purpose of blocking puberty inhibit normal growth and fertility, cause sexual dysfunction, and may aggravate mental health issues. Continuation of cross-sex hormones, such as estrogen and testosterone, during adolescence and into adulthood, is associated with increased health risks including, but not limited to, high blood pressure, blood clots, stroke, heart attack, infertility, and some types of cancer ….

“Among individuals who identify as transgender, use cross-sex hormones, and undergo attempted gender reassignment surgery, there are well-documented increased incidences of depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, substance abuse, and risky sexual behaviors in comparison to the general population …. Evidence increasingly demonstrates that there is no reduction in depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, or actual suicide attempts in patients who do undergo surgical transitioning compared to those who do not. The claim that sex-reassignment surgery leads to a reduction in suicide and severe psychological problems is not scientifically supported.

“Restoring and preserving physical and mental health are goals of medicine, but assisting with or perpetuating psychosocial disorders are not. Accordingly, treatment of anomalous sexual anatomy is restorative. Interventions to alter normal sexual anatomy and physiology to conform to identities arising from gender dysphoria are disruptive to health. Medicine rests on science and should not be held captive to desires or demands that contradict biological reality. Sex reassignment operations are physically harmful because they disregard normal human anatomy and function. Normal anatomy is not a disease; dissatisfaction with natural anatomical and genetic sexual makeup is not a condition that can be successfully remedied medically or surgically.

“CMDA is especially concerned about the increasing phenomenon of parents enabling their gender-questioning children or adolescent minors to receive hormones to inhibit normal adolescent development. Children and adolescents lack the developmental cognitive capacity to assent or request such interventions, which have lifelong physical, psychological, and social consequences. Facilitating hormonal or surgical transitioning interventions for those who have not reached the age of majority is a form of child endangerment and abuse. Highly affirming parents have been shown to not improve the mental health statistics of transgender-identified children.

“Since Christians are to love their neighbors as themselves, they are to love those struggling with gender dysphoria or incongruence of desired gender with biological sex. Love for the person does not condone or facilitate gender transitioning treatments.”

Dr. Charles Horton is a graduate of Baylor College of Medicine and has been in practice for more than 20 years.

- More from Dr. Charles Horton

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