“So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh.” (Romans 8:12)

“Therefore, Brethren, We are Debtors” by Charles H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, February 3, Morning)

“Now the hand of the Lord had been upon me the evening before the fugitive came; and he had opened my mouth by the time the man came to me in the morning, so my mouth was opened, and I was no longer mute.” (Ezekiel 33:22)

“Now the Hand of the Lord Was upon Me” by Charles H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, January 6, Evening)

In the way of judgment this may be the case, and, if so, be it mine to consider the reason of such a visitation, and bear the rod and him that hath appointed it. I am not the only one who is chastened in the night season; let me cheerfully submit to the affliction, and carefully endeavour to be profited thereby. But the hand of the Lord may also be felt in another manner, strengthening the soul and lifting the spirit upward towards eternal things. O that I may in this sense feel the Lord dealing with me! A sense of the divine presence and indwelling bears the soul towards heaven as upon the wings of eagles. At such times we are full to the brim with spiritual joy, and forget the cares and sorrows of earth; the invisible is near, and the visible loses its power over us; servant-body waits at the foot of the hill, and the master-spirit worships upon the summit in the presence of the Lord. O that a hallowed season of divine communion may be vouchsafed to me this evening! The Lord knows that I need it very greatly. My graces languish, my corruptions rage, my faith is weak, my devotion is cold; all these are reasons why his healing hand should be laid upon me. His hand can cool the heat of my burning brow, and stay the tumult of my palpitating heart. That glorious right hand which moulded the world can new-create my mind; the unwearied hand which bears the earth’s huge pillars up can sustain my spirit; the loving hand which incloses all the saints can cherish me; and the mighty hand which breaketh in pieces the enemy can subdue my sins. Why should I not feel that hand touching me this evening? Come, my soul, address thy God with the potent plea, that Jesus’ hands were pierced for thy redemption, and thou shalt surely feel that same hand upon thee which once touched Daniel and set him upon his knees that he might see visions of God.

“. . . casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)

“Casting All Your Care” by C. H. Spurgeon (Morning and Evening, January 6, Morning)

It is a happy way of soothing sorrow when we can feel—“HE careth for me.” Christian! do not dishonour religion by always wearing a brow of care; come, cast your burden upon your Lord. You are staggering beneath a weight which your Father would not feel. What seems to you a crushing burden, would be to him but as the small dust of the balance. Nothing is so sweet as to “Lie passive in God’s hands, and know no will but his.” O child of suffering, be thou patient; God has not passed thee over in his providence. He who is the feeder of sparrows, will also furnish you with what you need. Sit not down in despair; hope on, hope ever. Take up the arms of faith against a sea of trouble, and your opposition shall yet end your distresses. There is One who careth for you. His eye is fixed on you, his heart beats with pity for your woe, and his hand omnipotent shall yet bring you the needed help. The darkest cloud shall scatter itself in showers of mercy. The blackest gloom shall give place to the morning. He, if thou art one of his family, will bind up thy wounds, and heal thy broken heart. Doubt not his grace because of thy tribulation, but believe that he loveth thee as much in seasons of trouble as in times of happiness. What a serene and quiet life might you lead if you would leave providing to the God of providence! With a little oil in the cruse, and a handful of meal in the barrel, Elijah outlived the famine, and you will do the same. If God cares for you, why need you care too? Can you trust him for your soul, and not for your body? He has never refused to bear your burdens, he has never fainted under their weight. Come, then, soul! have done with fretful care, and leave all thy concerns in the hand of a gracious God.

From childhood, I’ve had a love affair with sports. As a boy, I memorized the movie Hoosiers, idolized Larry Bird, and religiously practiced Pistol Pete’s instructional videos.

I grew up in a family with all boys, in a household that fostered competition and valued athletic achievement. As a boy, my father never asked me if I’d like to take clarinet lessons. On the contrary, athletic participation was presumed, and sports came as natural as life itself.

Basketball became the game of choice, but all sports, including football, were enjoyed. To this day, watching college football on Saturdays is an established routine, and my internal clock always knows when Monday Night Football is starting.

This year, though, a funny thing happened—I chose for my sons not to play football, and it wasn’t because the sport is too violent.  Though many factors played a part, three reasons in particular persuaded me to take a pass on football—this year.

Time Commitments

First, the time commitment was simply too much. Combined, my sons (ages 6 and 8)—and me or my wife—would have been out of the house nearly seven nights a week for more than three months. For college prospects the schedule would be demanding enough, but to forgo so many family meals and moments together for boys still young enough to believe in Santa seemed a bit much.

I’ve read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, and I’m well-acquainted with his 10,000-hour rule. Furthermore, I know from personal experience that practice does indeed make perfect. My sons have already received plenty “whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus” pep talks. Indeed, there is no substitute in sports—or any arena of life—for sacrifice, commitment, and sustained effort. In fact, that is one reason why I so value athletics.

Yet this year is different. Some may protest that not committing the time means I’m not a good father. I say, given the ages of my children (10 through 5), to be a good father necessitates I not yield our family structure to a peewee football league. Unapologetically, I hoard our family time like a miser, gripping it tightly, and intuitively swatting away opportunities and expectations that would compromise it. This fall, football was poised to do just that.

Corrupting Influence

Second, the corrupting influence seemed too intense. The sheer number of hours committed, coupled with the words and actions of the team leaders and the general tenor of the league itself, troubled me. Daily subjecting two young boys to full-throttled immorality seemed unwise at best.

In other sporting contexts, I’ve experienced a healthier balance. We’ve enjoyed a gospel witness without undermining our children’s spiritual formation. However, I didn’t sense that opportunity this time.

The point is not cultural isolationism—that never works and isn’t a healthy Christian aspiration. In fact, it is a losing strategy that cuts against the grain of the Great Commission itself. Yet, in a healthier scenario, there is enough ambient morality that you don’t feel like years of parental effort are being undermined daily.

I am not willing to permit such an unhealthy influence over my sons at such an impressionable age. Priority one is to shepherd my children’s hearts. I can live without hearing my 6-year-old son’s name called on the loudspeaker, but I can’t live with myself if I lose his heart along the way.

Boys Tackling Girls

Finally, any remaining indecision evaporated when I realized my sons’ league—for tackle football—was coed. That’s right, boys tackling girls.

Though I’m concerned for the girls, I’m more concerned about what tackling girls might do to my sons. The boy who learns it is appropriate to pulverize the girl on the field might well become the man who’s okay with degrading women in other contexts.

This is more than an appeal to chivalry. It is a reminder that God created us male and female—boy and girl—and to undermine or confuse those distinctions is wrong. Male and female aren’t merely adjectives, they are nouns. They aren’t merely states of appearance, decorum, or conduct; they are states of being. Our children are confronted with enough gender confusion without it being introduced on the gridiron.

God is most glorified when we intentionally rear kids who don’t add to a world of androgynous confusion. I expect my sons to love, protect, and honor their sisters—and other girls—not hammer them into the ground.

Conclusion

I love sports, including football, and anticipate my boys playing their fair share along the way. In fact, as I type this article, we are picking out a new basketball goal for our driveway. But sports, like other life utilities, are only as good as our stewardship thereof. As a Christian father, I want to redeem the sport and channel it to cultivate maturity, self-discipline, and virtue.

At the end of the age, though, I’ll not be judged by my sons’ batting averages or varsity letters, but by whether or not I shepherded their hearts toward Christ. Football can be integral to the shepherding process, but when it chokes out family life and undermines spiritual formation, I’ll punt on it every time.

Recently, I was privileged to spend the better portion of a day speaking at Plant Ozarks, a church planting network affiliated with the larger Plant Midwest. Though I was only with the group a few hours, I have had difficulty getting the Plant Ozarks conference off my mind. From start to finish, the people, spirit, and substance of the event made a deep impression on me.

The entire day felt suspiciously like New Testament Christianity, with times of prayer, confession, worship, and fellowship punctuated by the Scriptures being preached. I showed up seeking to encourage a room full of church planters. I left deeply encouraged myself. Let me share with you why.

Great Commission Advance

First, I was reminded of church planting’s Great Commission potential. A generation ago, door-to-door witnessing, church visitation, personal evangelism, revival meetings, area-wide crusades, and servant evangelism were the most common forms of outreach. When people referenced church planting, it often was a more polite referent to a church split. Thankfully, so much has changed very quickly in this regard.

In this generation, church planting seems especially used of God for the spreading of the Gospel. What crusade evangelism was in decades past, church planting now seems to be—one of God’s primary means to reach the lost.

In fact, the entire day was explicitly Great Commission focused. Throughout the event, the Gospel, evangelism, reaching the lost, changing the city, and impacting the culture marked the conversation. This is what we are to be about, and these men exuded such gospel hopefulness, especially through their church planting efforts.

Realism, Not Romanticism

Occasionally, when talking to potential church planters, I have detected an element of naïve romanticism. Admittedly, a congregational tabula rasa, or blank slate, with which to design a church can be alluring. Having no draconian church bylaws with which to contend and no sclerotic committee structures to navigate can be appealing. Moreover, latitude in selecting musical style and preaching patterns without any inherited expectations can be especially attractive. However, the appropriate excitement a new work generates can drift into romanticism, especially when compared with the challenges an established church may bring.

Yet every church, including ones newly planted, has its own challenges. The appeal of a church plant can quickly wear off, especially when one encounters the many difficulties associated with the new work. Logistical nightmares, like coordinating set-up crews, limited financial resources, and cobbling together a viable mass of people, all present significant obstacles.

At the Plant Ozarks conference, I encountered a sober optimism and an informed joy about church planting. Naïve romanticism was displaced by a winsome realism, knowing the work would not be easy, but if God is at work, it shall not fail.

Happy Warriors

Given the daunting challenges associated with planting a church in any generation, most especially ours, the evident joy in the room seemed almost out of place. In fact, at first read one might think these men were in denial about the cultural milieu in which they will plant.

As I preached on the cultural challenges that accompany modern ministry, it was like throwing red meat to hungry lions. They were not glib, and certainly not Pollyannaish. Instead, they exuded a happy, buoyed confidence knowing that Christ will build his church.

What is more, I did not get the feeling they were fleeing the established church. In fact, they spoke with great respect about the traditional church, the denomination, and the elder statesmen in the SBC. Condescension was distant from their lips; their words were seasoned with charity and appreciation for their mother denomination. It was clear they had not so much rejected the traditional but were following God’s call to build the new.

Passion with Purpose

Finally, I left encouraged by the balance I sensed in the room. Jesus calls us to worship in spirit and truth, but most err in one direction or the other. The worship I experienced with these church planters was impassioned and heart-felt, but also Christ-centered and richly biblical. If the worship I experienced is indicative of these men, their hearts for Christ, and the churches they plant, may their like multiply by the thousands.

Conclusion

In hindsight, my experience at Plant Ozarks reminded me anew of one reason why I am thrilled to be at Midwestern Seminary. Situated in Kansas City, a North American Mission Board-designated Send City, we are strategically located to impact the region and the world for Christ. This is precisely why we recently announced a partnership with NAMB and the Missouri and Kansas-Nebraska state conventions in launching a church-planting center.

After all, that is why the SBC founded Midwestern Seminary in 1957—to reach the region for Christ and to furnish pastors and ministers for the underserved churches of the region. May God raise up a generation of church planters—like I fellowshipped with at Plant Ozarks—who will join with the pastors, teachers, and missionaries we are training in order to multiply and strengthen Christ’s church. That is what the Plant Ozarks men were about; that is what Midwestern Seminary is about; and, I pray, that is what all of us will increasingly be about.