Then the Lord said to Moses, "Write down these words, for in accordance with these words I have made a covenant with you and with Israel." Moses was there with the Lord forty days and forty nights without eating bread or drinking water. And he wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant—the Ten Commandments. (Exodus 34:27-28)

Covenant and Law have much to do with the journey of the people through the desert and beyond. God's covenant and law gave both a relational and ethical shape to their life. But it took all 40 of those years to learn to live into these new life shapes.

The law was given and sealed by covenant promises in Exodus 19-31 where both God and the people made promises to each other. The people break their end of the covenant almost immediately with a golden calf. So, after some hard conversations, punishment, and mediation, God forgives His people and makes new promises to them. In chapter 34, the covenant is renewed and Moses hikes up the mountain again to get a new set of law tablets. But there's one significant difference. This time, the covenant is based solely on God's promises, not the people's obedience. Already here in Exodus, God knew the people needed the gift of a relationship that didn't rest on their own flaky obedience. And so instead, God rests the relationship solely on the secure foundation of His everlasting love and faithfulness.

Covenant is about relationship and through Exodus and beyond, so is the law. The law is given not as a codified set of statutes, but as part of the living narrative and history of the people with God. The law is given as a means of living together well with a holy God and as a community of His people: a way of keeping right relationship with one another and restoring that relationship when it breaks down.

The Covenant gave a safe container for learning to live ethically in relationship with God and one another. Because of the covenant promises of God—the people could trust that despite their failures, God's presence would remain. That was important because they would fail a lot. Yet God continued to journey with them, lead them, love them, and teach them. In the desert through 40 years of repetition, the people learned to live into the relational and ethical shape of the life God called them too. They had lots of practice. What else could they do in the desert but keep the rhythms of God's law?

Today, we call this repetitive practice of obedience discipleship. It is Learning to live into the relational and ethical shape of the life Jesus calls us to: the relationship He has established; the great commandment/great commission calling He has given.

How might you join this journey of discipleship more deeply? How might the Spirit already be shaping a relationally and ethically Jesus-shaped life within you? How and with whom might you enter more fully into the repetitive practices of confession and forgiveness, love and mercy?

"Hear me, Lord, my plea is just; listen to my cry. Hear my prayer—it does not rise from deceitful lips. Let my vindication come from you; may your eyes see what is right. Though you probe my heart, though you examine me at night and test me, you will find that I have planned no evil; my mouth has not transgressed. Though people tried to bribe me, I have kept myself from the ways of the violent through what your lips have commanded. My steps have held to your paths; my feet have not stumbled" (Psalm 17:1-5).

This is the prayer of a saint in anguish, a cry for help. If you find yourself in such a space, consider with me several aspects of this prayer to sustain you. If your life is filled with sunny skies, allow this psalm to help you pray for those in distress and to prepare for anguish that will surely come your way.

It is worth paying attention to the psalmist's enemies. They have settled in for a sustained attack. It is their intention to stay around long enough to see the psalmist humiliated. Moreover, they do not care what methods they use to achieve their goal. They have no intention on a fair fight. It seems that they have been accusing the psalmist of many wrongdoings. But he is innocent of them all. These are wicked people (13).

Many of us complain too quickly that life is unfair. Yet, in the Christian life, there is often unfair opposition. Jesus challenged his disciples to count the cost of following him. To stand for what is right and just can cost us our reputation and more. Evil does not like being exposed; it will attempt to extinguish the light.

Second, notice that the psalmist is convinced of his innocence. We should not imagine that he believes he has never sinned against God. Rather, that the accusations being hurled against him are untrue. Further, the psalmist allows that in his response to his enemies, he has done what is right. He has not treated his enemies like they have treated him.

Like Job, he is willing to have God Himself, adjudicate his case. He gives himself over to God for cross examination. He is sure that God will find his claims to be true. He has set his heart on righteousness and has done his utmost to remain righteous.

Here is an invitation to test our own hearts. What is it that we want? Success? Adulation from our peers? The psalmist proposes that the godly desire simply to do what is right. This is tough stuff. Jesus reminds us that we cannot serve two masters. Let us set our hearts on righteousness, so that when trouble comes, we are prepared to stay the course.

We should also reflect on how the psalmist perseveres in looking to God for justice. Obviously, the wait has already been extensive. When waiting it is always tempting to take matters into one's on hands. But our psalmist persists in waiting for God. Each day he hopes that God will answer, but so far nothing. Surely the question has arisen, why is God not doing anything?

This is a difficult psalm to deal with. We don't like waiting. We expect answers immediately, even from God. During our anxiety and impatience, we forget that Paul wrote, "we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance character; character hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us" (Romans 5:3-5),

Here is reason to wait until God answers our prayers. Here are things that should be happening in us while we wait. These--perseverance, character, hope--are things to set our hearts on. The Holy Spirit will see that they mature in us.

As you journey on, let Jude's doxology encourage you:

To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy— to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen (Jude 24,25).

"Then the master called the servant in. 'You wicked servant,' he said, 'I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?' In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed. "This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart." (Matthew 18:32-35)

As noted Sunday in our sermon—one of the key elements of Christian obedience required of us is the act of forgiveness. That is: to forgive others as we ourselves have been forgiven by God. That is the thrust of the parable Jesus tells.

The Great King, who we assume to be God, forgives an infinitely massive debt owed by one of his servants. In turn, the servant goes out and demands—through personal violence and imprisonment—repayment of a much smaller debt from one of his fellow servants. We discover through his actions therefore, that the servant who the King forgave his debt was not in the least bit changed, transformed, or grateful for the gift he had just received.

We learn from this parable not just that we are required to forgive, but also that learning to forgive requires transformation. It is not our default state. There is nothing normal or intuitive about forgiveness. So unless we are transformed by the forgiveness we ourselves have received from God—we will fail in this test of obedience.

A question then. How mindful are you of God's forgiveness in your everyday life and interactions?

So many of us have harshly critical inner dialogues with ourselves, judging our every action—accurately or not. Others of us are constantly worried what people think of us for the things we say, do, or choose. Others simply feel burdened by the responsibilities and expectations that bear down on us from everywhere. Others still might bear the weight of something that we've done wrong—true sin in our lives. Whatever the case for you, how mindful are you in those moments of the Holy Spirit's constant, merciful nudging that whispers the words "forgiven in Christ" into your life? This is what it means to have one's identity in Christ. To be forgiven.

Becoming aware of God's constant, infinite work of forgiveness through Christ in our lives can free and unburden us from so much guilt, judgement, expectation, bitterness, anxiety, and stinginess of heart. It is impossible for that awareness and reception of God's forgiveness and mercy not to transform us into merciful and forgiving people. At least, that's what our church's theology says.

In Matthew's gospel, Jesus drives home the point with a warning. You must forgive as you have been forgiven. You must be transformed. This is central to what it means to be a Christian.

The good news, is that Jesus made the first move already by forgiving you. Will you receive it? Will you come to know what his forgiving mercy means in your daily life so that it can transform you? And will you likewise become an agent of God's forgiveness in this world? If so, you may just find that you're not the only one being transformed…

"Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your might to all who are to come" (Psalm 71:18).

I read about a Christian leader whose office walls are covered with pictures of those who, as he put it, "have finished strong". If I had such a wall, I might include pictures of Mother Teresa, C.S. Lewis, Eugene Peterson, and Rachel Held Evans

When I took a course on leadership some years ago, one of the units was on "finishing well." At times I ponder the question, "What does it mean to finish well?" With so many fallen Christian leaders, it appears more pressing to do what we can to indeed 'finish well'.

It is known that Billy Graham once said to his daughter, "All my life, I've been taught how to die, but no one ever taught me how to grow old." One thing I have observed. Growing old is not easy. Psalm 71 gives us a sage testimony that can sustain us along the way.

Interestingly, my first intensive experience with Psalm 71 was as a preaching text for a Cadet Sunday (Cadet's is a club for boys ages 9-13). I doubt it was the Cadets themselves which choose the text. The psalm was composed by a person well advanced in years, possibly dealing with a life ending disease. The poem leaves us with the impression that the psalmist was feeling shunted to the side, no longer useful.

How does this poem help us finish well? There is a deep and abiding confidence in God woven into this song. "But as for me, I will always have hope...Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter; you will restore my life again" (14, 20).

It is not uncommon for Christians to wonder if "their faith will stick". We worry about backsliding, and death will come upon us in a season of doubt or unbelief or ungodliness.

The psalmist has no such fear, and we don't need to have it either. We put too much stock in our own abilities or too much doubt in our lack of them. Here, the scripture reminds us that our hope is not in ourselves, but in our God. The God who calls us is the God who will keep us. Whatever life might hold, He will always be there with us.

Finishing well is not dependent only on us, but on God fulfilling His promise to be with us to the end. Our salvation is not dependent on our holiness but on the holiness of Jesus Christ. As He, in obedience to His Father, suffered and died for us, our redemption was secured.

But sometimes we doubt all of this. True. Then we need to pray Psalm 71. We join the psalmist in voicing our doubts and our disappointments. As we lay all of them out before the Lord, we discover that our hope increases, and our doubts begin to fade. The psalmist has seen many bitter troubles, but is confident that God will restore, "from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honour and comfort me once more" (20-21).

As we pray through this psalm, we find within us a growing desire to witness to the goodness of God. It is in such praying that we remember the greatness of God and we are filled with a need to declare it to the next generation. As we meditate on the Lord and his promises, we often find ourselves, like the psalmist declaring, "My life will shout for joy when I sing praise to you—I whom you have delivered" (23).

Here, I think, is solid advice for growing old and finishing well: sing the praises of God in your heart, remembering what Jesus said, "Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks" (Luke 6:45).

As you journey on, go with the blessing of God:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you, wherever he may send you. May he guide you through the wilderness, protect you through the storm. May your day end with rejoicing at the wonders he has shown you. May you rest in his provision as he brings night, and then new dawn.

When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus' knees and said, "Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!" For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, Simon's partners. Then Jesus said to Simon, "Don't be afraid; from now on you will fish for people." So they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him. (Luke 5:8-11)

Days pass one into another without much pomp or fanfare. It's just ordinary life: food, activity, sleep, some chit-chatting. Nothing special to see here. Certainly nothing that God would be interested in getting involved with. He deals with the big stuff, right? That's certainly what Peter thought.

He was just an ordinary guy—a fisherman—and he and his companions had just come up empty after a whole night of working the nets.

But then Jesus shows up. Jesus needs Peter's very ordinary boat and rowing skills so He can preach to a crowd. Then Jesus suggests another fishing trip: to the wrong place at the wrong time of day. But this time so many fish are caught that the boats began to sink—Peter had never seen anything like it! And in that moment, right there in the ordinary and perhaps even frustrating celebrity fishing trip Jesus had suckered them into, the Kingdom of God happened upon them.

The thin veneer of the ordinary was ripped back to reveal the Holy Son of God who had been sitting and working in their midst the whole time. Peter fell to Jesus' knees in confession. Somehow all that preaching Jesus did from the shore didn't do it for Peter: but this? Jesus stepped into the real, ordinary concerns of Peter's life—into the personal sphere of Peter's expertise and inadequacy—in order to reveal a work that Peter's practiced, master angler eyes could see and know immediately was nothing less than divine. So Peter fell to Jesus' knees.

Then Jesus said: "Don't be afraid, I still need your ordinary fishing skills." Ordinary Peter had been participating in some big holy mysteries all day without even knowing it—but now with the eyes to see it, his life would never be the same. He left everything to follow Jesus.

It's one thing to hear the word. It's another to see and experience the word made flesh in one's own life. That's why it's important to look for the places in your ordinary life where Jesus' salvation meets you.

Because under the thin veneer of all that ordinary everyday life, a Holy God is stirring about. It's never just fish, or work, or ordinary life. We might be ordinary sinful people, but God in Jesus has redeemed the sinful and put the ordinary to His use. God's holiness surges through the ordinary as our bodies become temples of the Holy Spirit, bread is given for the forgiveness of sins, and water marks us as God's own.

So keep your eyes peeled and your ears attentive. You never know where the thin veneer of your ordinary everyday life might give way to a vision of Jesus at work. But beware, because to realize that the sacred mysteries of Jesus' work are right there, stirring about within the ordinary of your life, might also mean that you, like Peter, can no longer be the same.

An extended Sunday Sermon edition of Wilderness Wanderings! The text is Luke 17:7-10 from the New International Version of the Bible. Dive In discussion questions are below for further reflection!

To see this sermon in the context of the worship service it comes from, find it here on YouTube. Or, head to our website to connect with the worshiping community of Immanuel CRC: immanuelministries.ca

DIVE IN QUESTIONS

1. What stands out to you most from hearing these verses from Luke 17?

2. What is the ditch on the right side of the narrow road, and what are some of its pitfalls? Where do you see this in your life?

3. What is the ditch on the left side of the narrow road, and what are some of its pitfalls? Where do you see this in your life?

4. What are some examples of each of these ditches in culture?

5. How does the parable speak to each "ditch"? What is Jesus' word of grace for each?

6. What is Jesus' call of obedience to us, his servants?

David had just said, "It's been useless—all my watching over this fellow's property in the wilderness so that nothing of his was missing. He has paid me back evil for good. May God deal with David, be it ever so severely, if by morning I leave alive one male of all who belong to him!" When Abigail saw David, she quickly got off her donkey and bowed down before David with her face to the ground. She fell at his feet and said: "Pardon your servant, my lord, and let me speak to you; hear what your servant has to say. Please pay no attention, my lord, to that wicked man Nabal. He is just like his name—his name means Fool, and folly goes with him. And as for me, your servant, I did not see the men my lord sent. And now, my lord, as surely as the Lord your God lives and as you live, since the Lord has kept you from bloodshed and from avenging yourself with your own hands, may your enemies and all who are intent on harming my lord be like Nabal. (1 Samuel 25:21-26)

In between yesterday's text and this one comes one of David's chances to kill Saul. God gives Saul into David's hands, but David chooses not to lift his hand against Saul, who was the Lord's anointed king. David shows a wise, mature restraint in that moment. He chooses to trust the God who has promised him the kingship to make good on his plans rather than David securing the throne for himself through murder. David will wait on the Lord as Jonathan helped him to do.

But now a new challenge arises in the desert. A new temptation. While hiding in the desert, David has voluntarily done good to this man named Nabal—protecting his flocks and herdsman from raiders and wild animals. Having done so, David believes that this man now owes him something, even though the man never asked for David's help.

Nabal refuses to give David anything. David's response? He orders his men to strap on their swords. David will not resort to murder to get the kingship. But to salve his wounded pride and bring home some bacon for his men and their families? David will kill for that.

Nabal's name means fool—a godless sort of fool who has no fear of the Lord. But one wonders if David isn't actually acting out as the foolish, godless one here. Indeed: God does not listen to, nor honour David's curse of "may God deal with me if I don't kill these people." Instead, God intervenes to bring life through Abigail, a woman who personifies wisdom, intelligence, beauty, and understanding.

David was halfway down the path of Saul—the godless fool—as he resorted to his own sword and skill at dealing death to get what he thought ought be coming to him. But God gives yet another gift. Last time it was Jonathan that kept David from fear. Now it is Abigail that keeps David from godless folly. Both times, David listens and is saved.

It is not for David to secure God's promises for himself, nor to secure his daily provision for himself, nor vengeance, nor whatever else he thinks he may be owed. Indeed, David is owed nothing for doing what is right. This is simply what is expected of the Lord's servant.

David must learn the wisdom of trust in the Lord, that all things needful will come as God's gift in God's time. David need only concern himself with continuing to do what is right and good.

We can act in similarly foolish, two-faced ways. We might act with the highest Christian ideals and principles when we are aware of God's presence—as David acted with Saul—but then turn around in our financial, work, or family dealings and be arrogant, greedy, and deceitful.

The invitation of lady wisdom is to trust in the Lord in all of our lives, not just in the "important stuff" when we think God might be watching. Let us not be fools therefore, but rather grow up to maturity as those who do what is good and right even to our own disadvantage—as Jesus did—trusting that God will provide what's needful.

David stayed in the wilderness strongholds and in the hills of the Desert of Ziph. Day after day Saul searched for him, but God did not give David into his hands. While David was at Horesh in the Desert of Ziph, he [was afraid because] Saul had come out to take his life. And Saul's son Jonathan went to David at Horesh and helped him find strength in God. "Don't be afraid," he said. "My father Saul will not lay a hand on you. You will be king over Israel, and I will be second to you. Even my father Saul knows this." The two of them made a covenant before the LORD. Then Jonathan went home, but David remained at Horesh. (1 Samuel 23:14-18)

This is the story that introduces the cat and mouse game of David evading Saul in the wilderness. It happens at "Horesh," which is a word that can take two different meanings. It can refer to a sort of silence, or to the work of human hands. The same word shows up earlier in the chapter in Saul's "plotting" against David. Here in this wilderness place of Horesh where he is faced with God's silence and his own fear at the threat of Saul, will David trust his fear and so rely on the work of his own hands to solve it, as Saul has? Or will he trust in this God he cannot see nor hear?

It is here in this wilderness that David must begin to learn a more mature fear of the Lord. This is not the battle of David and Goliath where the battle lines are clear, the army and King stand behind him and the Lord before him. No, now David is a fugitive from the State, driven from his home, searching in deserts and foreign countries for refuge, clinging to the promise of God while facing down God's silence. Will David continue to fear the Lord—trust this God who he cannot see nor hear in this wilderness of fear?

It is not unlike so many wilderness moments in our own life. Something happens that unsettles us, leaves us feeling threatened. A medical scare, a financial jolt, a shifting landscape underfoot in the society or institutions we thought were secure—even the church. Faced with God's relative silence and a threat looming overhead do we choose to fear the Lord or the threat?

It is at this moment that Saul's son Jonathan suddenly appears. No one knew where David was. Yet somehow Jonathan appears. His name means "gift of God." Nathan being the Hebrew word for "gift," and "Jo" being a prefix that refers to God.

The text says that God did not "Nathan"/give David into Saul's hands. But God's hand does offer a Jo-"Nathan"/gift to David. What is this gift of God? A friend who appears in a silent, wilderness moment to help David re-find his strength in God. "Do not be afraid" Jonathan says. They then reaffirm their love and commitment to one another and Jonathan leaves. David remains in Horesh, this wilderness place of silence. But now, somehow, David is no longer quite so alone or afraid. God may be silent, but by his gifts of friendship and encouragement, David can once again recognize God's hand on the move.

As the story continues, Saul really does find out where David is and comes down in pursuit of him. However, we discover that David is no longer in "Horesh." Now he is in the Desert of "Maon," a word which means "help" or "refuge." Here David goes down to "the rock," and at that rock, though "Saul and his forces were closing in on David to capture them," God suddenly intervenes to force Saul to turn away. David and his men are saved, not by what their hands have done, but by the one in whom they have taken refuge.

One can hear Psalms begin to percolate as David grows a little more to maturity. The Lord who is my rock, my salvation, my refuge and strength in times of trouble. Through loving friends, David learns to entrust his life to the hand of God even when God seems silent.

How might you entrust yourself to God today against the silence and the threats that face you? Are there "gifts of God" that show God's hand to you in this moment? How might you be a gift-of-God friend to someone in such a place?

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. (Proverbs 9:10a)

When Saul realized that the Lord was with David and that his daughter Michal loved David, Saul became still more afraid of him, and he remained his enemy the rest of his days. (1 Samuel 18:28-29)

Our theme is growing to maturity in Christ, and I have begun to believe that the book of 1 Samuel is one of the best illustrations of what this growth to maturity means. Today we're looking at the role of fear.

Saul was a man given to many fears, but the fear of the Lord was not one of them. Saul did not cultivate a living relationship with the living God. He was not willing to grow up to a mature trust and fear of the Lord. Instead, Saul lived in the fear of men and so eventually grew mis-trustful of everyone. Saul feared his own men (1 Samuel 13:26), the Philistines (chapters 13-15), and eventually David also, as the verse I read today mentions.

Three times in chapter 18, Saul is said to fear David. It is a fear that grows and eventually consumes Saul by the end of the chapter in our verse from today. So much so that Saul becomes an enemy of David for the rest of his days. From this point onward, Saul's fear drives his mistrust. He mistrusts his son Jonathan and hurls a spear at him (20:30-33). He mistrusts his officials and advisors and accuses them of conspiring against him (22:6-8). He mistrusts the priests of the Lord and has 85 of them ruthlessly killed, along with their families and village (22:9-19). Family, state, and religion: Saul mistrusted them all. All he trusted, was his fear.

In this same chapter of 1 Samuel 18, David offers a strong contrast to Saul. David, this man after God's own heart, is said to have been loved by Saul's son Jonathan, by the Israelite people, and then eventually by chapter's end also by Saul's daughter, Michal. While Saul is afraid three times, David is loved three times and his circle of trusting relationships grows.

Trusting our fears more than our God is a mark of immaturity.

Cultivating a mature, fear of the Lord on the other hand, means entrusting our life to the Lord beyond what our eyes can see or our mind can comprehend. It is to trust that whatever comes of this mystery of life or the uncertainty of our future, that we are loved and held by God—that we belong to him—and that we therefore may step forward in faith to live another day trustfully, open-handedly, lovingly. Whether in times full of joy or sorrow, sickness or health, life or death, in plenty or in want, anxious or peaceful, we trust the ability of our God to hold on to us and make our paths straight—whatever the paths may be.

I think this run of chapters about Saul and David is what the Apostle John is reflecting on when he writes about love and fear in 1 John 4:7-21. In that section he says: "We know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. … There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:16, 18a).

As we'll see in tomorrow's devotion, this all takes some growing and living into. David didn't catch it all at once either. But the invitation is clear enough. Receive God's love. Remember who you are in Christ as God's own child who, in life and in death belongs to him. Do not live in the fear of other people, or of not having or being enough, or of not having control of the future, but rather, live in the fear-of-the-Lord, trusting all your ways to him and his love for you. In doing so, you may just find your own trust and capacity for loving relationships with others growing as well.

And the boy Samuel continued to grow in stature and in favor with the Lord and with people. (1 Samuel 2:26)

And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man. (Luke 2:52)

To [his people] God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. He is the one we proclaim, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone fully mature in Christ. To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me. (Colossians 1:27-29)

The last devotion I (Pastor Anthony) offered attempted to tie together a bunch of loose ends into one. Perhaps it was a bit long and confusing. But to re-orient us, the theme I'm chasing is this idea of "growing up to maturity in Christ." The rest of our devotions this week will focus in on this theme.

Most of the Christmas narrative that we have comes from Luke. Why? Well, Luke models the opening of his Gospel on the book of 1 Samuel which spends its first three chapters on the story of Samuel's birth and growth to maturity. So, Luke does the same thing.

You can see the parallel between the story of Samuel and the story of Jesus in the verses I chose. Both of them were very similarly said to "grow in stature and favor with God and man."

In Samuel's case, his growth to maturity is set against the backdrop of the wicked, immature sons of Eli the priest. Two paths are therefore set out at the beginning of the book: the path of immaturity and the path of maturity. This theme runs throughout the rest of the books of Samuel, and even shows up in the books of Kings.

Saul, for instance, remained immature: he never grew up into God and therefore also not his into his role as King among the people. But David did. He grew up in favor with God and man. In the book of Kings the pattern repeats. Even though everything in the Kingdom looked great, Solomon in all his wisdom and splendor never grew up into maturity with God, whereas even very young kings like Josiah did.

Jesus is one of the Kings of Israel that grew up to maturity. Perfectly in fact. But even Jesus still had to do the growing. We aren't born into maturity. We grow into it. It is the work of our lives.

The apostle Paul therefore centres his ministry around this theme which you can find in pretty well all his major letters to the churches. He "strenuously contends with all the energy that Christ so powerfully" has worked into him to "present everyone fully mature in Christ."

This runs against the grain of our culture. Much of our culture idolizes youthfulness. We idealize childhood—its innocence, freedom, and its unabashed transgressions. Adults chase after that which will keep them looking and feeling younger than their years—hair treatments, gym memberships, toys, etc. Churches do the same, believing in some ways that their young people will save them from decline and death. So in order to attract and retain those youth, the church must similarly strive to be "authentic," "relevant," and "youthful" through its programs, presentation, and worship.

Of course, only Jesus saves the church. To demand the salvation of the church from our youth will break and disillusion them. Similarly, to seek to remain youthfully relevant robs older churches and church members from the gift of growing up to maturity in Christ. And if no one grows up in Christ: who will show our younger members how to do it? Who will help them seek and find God even when he seems silent or life seems to fall apart?

Growing up to maturity in Christ is our goal, then. Surprisingly, it's one of the most counter-cultural things we can do as Christians and as a church.