Author Archives: firstrp

Protestants, Do You Know What You’re Protesting?

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With Roman Catholicism making headlines this week in the election of a new Pope, it’s useful for Protestants and Catholics alike to sit down and think through our differences. I have had the unexpected and (at least from my side) pleasant opportunity to engage in a couple conversations on this matter that show, I think, the ignorance on both sides of the aisle. Protestants and Catholics alike seem insistent that what unites us is greater than what divides us–and that what divides is just a small matter. Now I know that not every adherent to Roman Catholicism agrees en toto with the teaching of their church. For that reason I want to be careful at the outset to say that I love any who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity and truth. But we must be equally adamant that Rome and true Protestantism are not alike in many things, making union and communion between the two seemingly impossible.

What do I mean by that? Unless I should be accused of being a cranky Protestant, let me demonstrate this reality from the side of Roman Catholicism. I know it’s very difficult for us in our overly individualistic day to think in terms of corporate identity. Nevertheless, the Roman Catholic Church has a corporate identity which has been expressed through her councils, catechism, and canons, an identity many individual Catholics are unaware of (even as many Protestants are unaware of what makes us Protestants!). I don’t claim to be an expert on all things Catholic, but I also can’t ignore the black and white. The Council of Trent, Rome’s response to the Protestant Reformation, set out to define and defend Catholic doctrine against the Protestantism of Lutherans and the Reformed, and in so doing pronounced “anathemas.” An anathema is a denunciation by means of curse (see Galatians 1:8). To this day the anathemas that were pronounced by the Council of Trent have not been revoked by the Catholic Church. Despite the ecumenical efforts of Vatican II, the anathemas remain the teaching of the Church. So would you pass the test?

  • Do you reject the Apocrypha as not being a part of the Scriptures contained in the Old and New Testaments? Then according to Rome you’re anathema.
  • Do you accept that we are justified by the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ apart from works? Then according to Rome you’re anathema.
  • Do you reject that Christ is present physically in the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper? Then according to Rome you’re anathema.
  • Do you believe that Christ was sacrificed once and for all on the cross of Calvary, rejecting that the Eucharist is a perpetual propitiatory sacrifice? Then according to Rome you’re anathema.
  • Do you believe in the priesthood of all believers and that the church does not reside within the clergy? Then according to Rome you’re anathema.
  • Do you reject the authority of the Bishop of Rome (the Pope)? Then according to Rome you’re anathema.

Do you see what the official teaching of Roman Catholicism is? They consciously rejected the truth and doctrine that was reclaimed by the Protestant Reformation and to this day continue to reject it and curse not only the doctrines but the people holding to them. Rome recognizes, as have Protestants in times past, that the “gospel” of Catholicism and the “gospel” of Protestantism are not the same thing, and Paul is quite forceful about preaching a false gospel (Galatians 1:8). And to say that, is to say nothing different than what the Church in Rome teaches. To pretend that there is little to no difference is only to the think the Emperor is wearing clothes.

How to Keep from Despising Sermons

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Jesus told his disciples, “Take care then how you hear” (Luke 8:18). Yet, if we’re honest with ourselves, how many of us are “good” at hearing the Word of God preached? We have prejudices, preferences, pride, perspectives ignorance, and opinions that often get in the way of truly hearing the Spirit speak through the Word. As a seminary student I definitely sense that. For the last four years I’ve been trained in preaching from theory to practice, to being critiqued and critiquing others. I know how hard it is to sit under the judgment of the Word rather than sit in judgment of the Word, and I feel the difficulty in walking the fine line between discernment and being just plain critical. So how can we learn to not despise sermons that don’t meet our “criteria”? On this point, Anthony Burgess has written something that’s really resonated with me over the last few months when he answers the question “To what purpose are exhortations and admonitions?” He answers:

Though God works all our good in us, and for us, yet it is not upon us as stocks or stones; but he deals suitably to our natures, with arguments and reasons: And if you say, ‘To what purpose? Is it any more then if the Sun should shine, or a candle be held out to a blind man?’ Yes, because these exhortations and the word of God read or preached, are that instrument, by which God will work these things. Therefore you are not to look upon preaching, as a mere exhortation, but as a sanctified medium, or instrument, by which God works what he exhorts unto. Sometimes indeed, we read, that God sent his prophets to exhort those whom he yet knew would not hearken: Thus he sent Moses to bid Pharaoh let the people of Israel go, and thus the prophets did preach, when they could not believe, because of the deafness and blindness upon them. But unto the godly these are operative means, and practical, even as when God said, ‘Let there be light, and there was light;’ or when Christ said, ‘Lazarus, come forth of the grave.’ And this, by the way, should keep you from despising the most plain ministry or preaching that is; for, a sermon does not work upon your hearts as it is thus elegant, thus admirable, but as it is an instrument of God, appointed to such an end. The seed that is thrown into the ground bears fruit, even that which comes from a plain hand, as well as that which may have golden rings or jewels upon it.

(Anthony Burgess, Vindiciae Legis, 98-99)

 

How Did Jesus Read the Old Testament?

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Have you ever wondered what it would have been like for Jesus to read the Old Testament as a young boy? Doctrinally, we believe that in the person of Jesus Christ there are two natures: a divine and a human. Each of those natures retains their properties and between them there is no mixing or confusion. Jesus was a man and he developed  and matured in the same manner that our children do. Luke tells us that he “increased in wisdom and in stature” (Luke 2:52). While his divine nature never grew or increased, in his humanity Jesus had to learn–and he did so in the same way we do, by being taught, by reading, and exploring. I don’t want to be too dogmatic, but it is interesting to think about what it was like for Jesus to read the Old Testament, and as he grew in knowledge and understanding, to come to an awareness that the Old Testament was all about him (Luke 24:27). Think about it:

  • What was it like for him to read of the beginning, how all things were created by the Word in the space of six days–that all was created by him and for him (Colossians 1:16)?
  • What was it like to read of the fall of Adam, the sins of the Patriarchs, the rebellion of Israel, and the blindness of the Gentiles?
  • What was it like when he became aware that he was the promised see who would crush the head of the serpent (Genesis 3:15)?
  • What was it like to learn that it was he who led Israel out of Egypt (1 Corinthians 10:4; Jude 5)?
  • What was it like for him to read of the ceremonies and sacrifices–to read of imputation, the slain lamb, the pouring out of blood, the fire of the offering, and to own that as the reason for which he came?
  • What was it like to figure out that it was one of his friends who in time would betray him (Psalm 41:9)?
  • What was it like for him to grapple with the reality that his Father would forsake him (Psalm 22:1)?
  • What was it like for him to read and be conscious of the fact that he was the Ancient of Days who would reign (Daniel 7:9), the Son who would be placed on Zion’s hill (Psalm 2:6), and the one to whom all the princes of the earth are summoned to kiss?
  • What was it like for him to look through the Prophets and understand that he was Isaiah’s Suffering Servant (53), Zechariah’s advocate (3:1-10), Malachi’s messenger of the covenant (3:1).

Those are just few examples! But how incredible it would have been to see the boy Jesus reading and studying the Hebrew scriptures and on every page learning something of his Father’s will, his purpose, his suffering, or his glory.

An Operative Word

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Being the Calvinists we are, we believe that people are blind and cannot see, they are deaf and cannot hear, and they are mute and cannot speak. That is, we believe what the Bible teaches. People are dead in their trespasses and sins–and as such, can do nothing without the prior work of the Spirit renewing their hearts and implanting spiritual life. So have you ever wondered why it is that preachers call people to repentance? To tell dead people “Do this!” seems, at face value, a little strange. Kind of like holding a candle up to a blind man and saying, “See!” Is that all that the exhortations and admonitions of Scripture amount to? No. And Anthony Burgess explains why:

Because these exhortations and the Word of God read or preached, are that instrument, by which God will work these things. Therefore, you are not to look upon preaching, as a mere exhortation, but as a sanctified medium, or instrument, by which God works that he exhorts unto. Sometimes indeed we read, that God has sent his Prophets to exhort those whom yet he knew would not hearken: Thus he sent Moses to bid Pharaoh let the people of Israel go, and thus the Prophets did preach, when they could not believe, because of the deafness and blindness upon them. But unto the godly these are operative means, and practical, even when God said, “Let there be light, and there was light;” or when Christ said, “Lazarus, come forth of the grave.” And this by the way should keep you from despising the most plain ministry or preaching that is; for, a sermon does not work upon your hearts, as it is thus elegant, thus admirable, but as it is an instrument

The Vicar of Christ Resigns…?

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Way Of The Cross Led By Pope Benedict XVI

He is called by many Vicar of Jesus Christ, Pontiff, Servant of the Servants of God, Patriarch of the West, His Holiness, and Apostolic Lord. At his “coronation” it is declared, “thou art the Father of Princes and Kings, Ruler of the World, the Vicar of our Saviour Jesus Christ.” And he’s just resigned!

Most people in the Western world woke up this morning to find out that Joseph Ratzinger or, Pope Benedict XVI, renounced the ministry of Bishop of Rome–the most coveted position in the history of the church. It’s a particularly historic move because no Pope since Gregory XII has stepped down, and he did so in order to bring an end to the Great Schism (a Pope in France and a Pope in Rome!). It will be interesting in coming weeks and months to see what ramifications this may or may not have on the credibility of Rome’s seat of power. After all, the Pope isn’t a CEO of a company, but is believed by Roman Catholics to be the defender of the faith. How one “resigns” from that raises questions.

Joseph Ratzinger cited his reasons for resignation because his advanced age is no longer suited to an adequate exercise of the “Petrine ministry.” Of course, this shouldn’t shock us. There is no mortal man alive who can be expected to meet the lofty expectations of the Papacy. Who is worthy to be the universal ruler of truth, the arbiter of the world, the supreme judge of heaven and earth, the judge of all? Well, any Bible believing person can answer that question–Jesus Christ alone.

In Numbers 20:22-29 Moses has recorded for us the death of Aaron the High Priest. In this text, God commands Moses to go with Aaron and Aaron’s son, Eleazar, to Mount Hor. Aaron was to be stripped of his priestly garments which were then to be placed on Eleazar signifying a transfer of the priesthood. Aaron then died upon the mountain and with him his priestly office. And so it continued generation to generation, the priesthood was passed from father to son down through the years. The author of Hebrews, reflecting on this, wrote, “The former priests were many in number, because they were prevented by death from continuing in office, but he holds his priesthood permanently, because he continues forever” (Hebrews 7:23-24). His point is, the priesthood of Aaron’s line was imperfect and insufficient because death ended the continuation of their office, but Christ’s Priesthood far exceeds the old one, because being resurrected to life eternal he holds his priesthood forever. In Christ’s Priesthood there is no line of succession, there is no transfer of the garments, there is no handing off the office to another, there is no resignation–he remains a priest forever.

As Protestants we should pray to the end that the Pope of Rome would repent of usurping the rights of Jesus Christ, that Roman Catholics everywhere would be convinced by the Word that they don’t need a mortal mediator–a vicar of Jesus Christ–to order and govern their affairs when we have been given a Heavenly High Priest, and that this “church” would renounce its false and damnable teachings and submit to the one God–Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And if they fail to do this, Protestants should pray to the end that God would rise in his anger and see to it that Roman Catholicism would fade into the eternal night.

What Legalism Is

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In his helpful book, The Day of Worship: Reassessing the Christian Life in Light of the Sabbath, Ryan McGraw has a chapter dedicated to legalism. Legalism is a word that’s often thrown around for all sorts of various reasons. By it some people mean justification by works, others intend the enforcement of the teachings and commandments of men, while some will label those “legalists” who make mention of the law at all, or even quote from the Old Testament. Legalism, broadly defined, is simply the improper use of the law.

McGraw helpfully identifies three errors of legalism, “justification by the works of the law, adding to or taking away from the law of God, and sanctification by the works of the law” (p 127). The first of these is by and large the most serious of the errors because it is nothing short of a false gospel. I know it’s no longer popular to think in theological terms (where has a proper study of theology gone?!?), but justification has to do with our legal standing before God. Protestantism broke from Roman Catholicism partly over this issue, for the Catholic cannot, in integrity abide in, “Faith alone.” The legalist thinks that his “good” works can earn merit before God, even good works that are “aided” by Jesus. This is the error which Paul was dealing within his letter to the Galatians, and is worthy of the strongest condemnation.

But this isn’t the only legalistic error. There is, also, a legalism which “is not relegated to those who are excluded from the kingdom of God, but it may be common among those who are within the kingdom of God” (p 131). Yet, they abuse the law by setting up a standard which “is not identical to the law of God in every respect” (p 131). This is done both by adding to the law of God (Deuteronomy 4:2) and taking away from the law of God (Matthew 15:8-9).

The third legalistic error, which is particular to God’s people is the idea of sanctification by works. This “is the subtlest of all, and it is perhaps one of the greatest causes of spiritual trouble and difficulty for God’s people” (p 133). While the law is the only possible standard for sanctification, it doesn’t mean that we’re sanctified by doing. “Christians may conduct themselves in their relationship with God as though this relationship depends entirely upon their obedience to the law, rather than the obedience of the Lord Jesus Christ” (p 133). Though we are not passive in the work of sanctification as we are in the act of justification, we are sanctified by virtue of the death and resurrection of Christ and by his Word and Spirit so that sin is continually killed and there is a practice of true holiness (WCF 13.1).

Who is the Man of Romans 7:14-25?

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I have been doing some work lately on the nature of the Christian life from Paul’s grand expression in Romans 6, 7, and 8. Having spoken of the universality and the totality of man’s natural depravity in the first three chapters, the freeness of gospel grace and the wonder of justification by faith alone in the next two, Paul goes on to give a fit description of the Christian life and situates it in what has been called the “already-not-yet” tension. In Romans 6 he majestically points out the “already” of our identity, which is union with Christ in his death and resurrection. In Romans 7 he grapples with the “not yet,” as he struggles with indwelling sin. And in Romans 8, simply one of the greatest chapters in the entire Bible, he reminds those who live in that tension of the certain victory in Jesus Christ who has made us more than conquerors.

Unless I can be convinced otherwise, I think maintaining the tension of Romans 6, 7, and 8 is absolutely necessary. To be too much in the “already” leads to a deflated view of indwelling sin and the need to mortify the deeds of the flesh by the Spirit (Romans 8:13). To be too much in the “not yet” leads to a deflated view of our positive identity in Jesus Christ. All that to say, as we walk the seeming knife’s edge, on one side is the danger of legalism, and the other is antinomianism, both equally dangerous and condemning doctrines (and both are prevailing today!). Douglas Moo is right about one thing, “It may be generally said that the interpretation of few passages has been more influenced by one’s broad theological perspective and experience” (Romans, 443).

Of course, one of the important questions regarding Romans 7 is who is the “man” of Romans 7:14-25? Can a Christian suffer the experience which is described here, or is this struggle only that of an unregenerate person? Historically, many of the early church fathers saw this passage speaking of the unregenerate. Even Augustine in his early years adopted this view, but in the midst of the Pelegian controversy he came to see it as speaking of the believer. This interpretation was accepted by nearly all the Reformed and Lutheran right down to today—and is still widely held. For my part, recognizing some of the difficulties, I agree with the Reformers. Beyond being a fine exegetical point, I think the church is in danger of being robbed of much comfort if we fail to see the man of Romans 7 as a believer struggling with indwelling sin. My simple argument is that I don’t see how an unregenerate person could possibly say the things that are said here, while I can conceive how the believer can. Here are five reasons why many view this as speaking of the regenerate man (see Murray, Romans, 1:257-259):

  1. In v 22 Paul says, “For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being.” This cannot be said of an unregenerate person, “For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed it cannot” (Romans 8:4).
  2. There is v 25, “I myself serve the law of God with my mind.” Again, this service is not merely external, but of the heart and mind and is impossible for the unregenerate man because he is “in the flesh,” and has “the mind of the flesh” (Romans 8:5-8).
  3. The man portrayed here is inclined towards the good (vv 15, 18, 19, 21) and the bad which he does he regards as going against that which he loves (vv 16, 19, 20). This is unlike the unregenerate who hates the good, but the man here hates the evil (Romans 8:5-8).
  4. The tension here between doing what he hates and not doing what he loves is inevitable in a regenerate person so long as sin remains in him. We cannot ignore the fact that sin persists in the believer. There is a certain contradiction in every believer, and the more sensitive one grows to the demands of holiness and the more he sees the strength of indwelling sin, the more he is brought to complain “Wretched man that I am” (v 24).
  5. This doesn’t mean the Christian is defeated. Paul’s complaint in v 24 is answered by his praise in v 25, which is an assured confidence and a great gospel hope. This word of thanksgiving is not the language of an unregenerate man.

Could Jesus Have Sinned?

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One of the difficult questions we are faced with in Christology is whether or not Jesus, prior to his resurrection and exaltation, could have sinned. Of course, he didn’t sin (1 Peter 2:22), and it’s on account of this that he could be the pure and spotless sacrificial lamb. But, if he had willed, could Jesus have sinned? While there’s not a lot of benefit in entertaining hypotheticals and counterfactuals, it remains a point on which many have disagreed.

The person of Jesus Christ consists of the inseparable yet distinct union of the divine and human natures—we call this the hypostatic union. In that union, each nature retained its particular properties. So on the one hand, according to his divine nature, Jesus had the attribute of impeccability—the absence of sin—wherein it is impossible for God to sin (see Titus 1:2; Hebrews 6:18; James 1:13). On the other hand, Jesus, being miraculously conceived, was free of original and actual sin. But was fully man. So, might we conceive that prior to his resurrection and exaltation he had the ability to sin?

Theologians have answered this question differently. For instance, W.G.T Shedd argues, on the ground that Christ is God and therefore immutable, that he was not able to sin. The strength of his divinity prevented his giving into temptation (Dogmatics, 2:330-349). Charles Hodge disagreed and said that the sinlessness of Jesus did not amount to absolute impeccability. Because he was a true man he must, Hodge argues, have been capable of sinning (Systematic Theology, 2:457).

While this is one of the most mysterious questions regarding the person of Christ, for our part, we think the answer is no. First, it was the eternal will of the Father that Jesus would be sinless. As such, there was a decretal impossibility that Jesus may have willed sin. Secondly, in the study of the person of Jesus, we say that the eternal Son took to himself, not a human person, but human nature, both a body and a soul (see the Definition of Chalcedon). By that union, it was the divine Logos that supplied the personality, and the humanity became, as Bavinck once said, “the willing organ of his deity” (Reformed Dogmatics, 3:308). While the human will and the divine will could be in conflict, like in the Garden of Gethsemane, they could not contradict one another—the human will always yielding to the divine.

Nevertheless, we should never view Jesus’ obedience as a placid reliance upon his deity, but as a struggle—even a strenuous conflict of consciously yielding his will to the will of his Father. He resisted temptation, the devil, and the world as a man, and we cannot afford to underemphasize the intensity of the combat. There was absolutely nothing easy or automatic in the steadfast faithfulness of Jesus Christ. One thing remains certain, here we enter into the divine wisdom that is set forth in the great mystery of God in the flesh.

Puritan Paralysis or Ignorance?

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If you happen to be one of those people who keeps up on debates throughout the blogosphere (if you don’t, please don’t take this as advice to do so), you’ll know that the Puritans have recently received some negative press. This isn’t uncommon. I remember when I was going to start school at Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary, a man warned me about the “unhealthy introspection” of the Puritans. Now I’m not against offering critiques even of those who are our cherished heroes. But said critiques should strive for integrity and honesty, not a display of ignorance. Personally, I can be somewhat sympathetic with those who think the Puritans were too introspective. After all, in our culture of easy-believism where sin is reduced to a mere trifle and holiness is measured by daily “quiet times,” reading John Owen’s Mortification of Sin can seem like drinking out of a fire hose. I get it. The Puritans make us uncomfortable…and they probably should! But my discomfort shouldn’t lead me to make generalizations, most of which come from those who have read a couple of Puritan Paperbacks. Well, I’m not going to offer much of a voice to the whole debate. Competent and able men have given thoughtful, honest, and helpful responses to the malarkey going around. One especially helpful comment came from Carl Trueman whose whit and brilliance make him one of the best living authors/cultural commentators in my opinion. He says (read the whole thing here):

“Finally, on a personal note (and this is not a shot at Trevin Wax but rather at an apparent current trend): perhaps I live in a very different church world to the rest of American Calvinistic evangelicalism — that would not surprise me at all — but in the last few months we have had the Puritans whacked for slavery (and I still cannot name a single Westminster Divine who owned a slave – though I can name a few who, in 1662, lost everything through their stand for the truth) and now for introspection. Yet is it really the case that uncritical appropriation of the Puritans is the, or even a, pressing problem for the church today? Is legalistic introspection really crippling the church? Are there no other, more threatening problems? Not weakness on Trinitarianism? Not books advocating sodomy in marriage? Not the new antinomianism? Not even new Calvinists who are happy to wear sneakers and buy computers made by slave labour in the Majority World? The last twelve months seem to have thrown up a few more likely candidates for pressing ecclesiastical problems than John Owen, John Bunyan, and Uncle Tom Goodwin and all.”

The Hardest Sermon I Ever Preached

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There are any number of things that make preaching hard. It’s hard to preach immediately following a tragedy. It’s hard to preach to people who don’t care about the condition of their soul, heaven and hell, salvation and judgment. It’s hard to preach before difficult people who don’t know the difference between spiritual discernment and being critical. It’s hard to preach confusing passages of Scripture in a plain and understandable way. It’s hard to preach when you’re tired and worn, anxious and uncertain, preoccupied and distressed. Add all of this together in any one given week and you begin to realize it’s no easy thing to preach a sermon.

This last Lord’s Day I preached the hardest sermon yet in my still budding experience. What made it so difficult was not anything mentioned above. There was no tragedy, the congregation seemed alert and concerned, the passage wasn’t exegetically difficult, and I wasn’t feeling particularly out of sorts. What made the sermon difficult was the content of the text, which was highly alarming and discomforting.

Jesus closes the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 7:13-27 with four pictures which warn hearers how to and how not to receive his word. Those pictures are known to us: the narrow and broad way, the good and bad tree, the wise and foolish builder, and then there is the warning Jesus gives in verses 21-23. It’s dramatic, it’s potent, it’s searching, and it’s disturbing to all disciples of Christ. Why?

  1. Because he isn’t addressing the atheists and agnostics but those who are his disciples.
  2. Because, more particularly, he’s addressing hypocrites who are woefully self-deceived, even dying and entering judgment in that deception.
  3. Because his words show us how far a person may go in profession, “Lord, Lord,” and in “good” works, “Did we not?” and still be no nearer to heaven for it.
  4. Because the text shows us what a difficult thing it is to be a sincere Christian. It’s not enough to set our own standard of what a Christian is but we must discern the will of the Father. A will which consists in repenting and believing, and living according to the law of God which is a part of the fabric of our humanity, engraved upon the stone tablets, written by the Spirit upon the new heart, announced in the Sermon on the Mount, and fulfilled in the law of love.
  5. Because we hate legalism (i.e. the idea that one can be made right before God by their own works), and texts like this can sometimes sound legalistic. Though, it’s necessary to point out that Jesus isn’t here talking about grace and merit, but about profession and fruit. It’s a test of genuineness, not a standard of earning favor and salvation. Thank Jesus for that!
  6. Because it encourages us to let go of pretenses and false assurances and work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, to see to it that we not only know Jesus, but that he knows us.
  7. Because it emphasizes a part of the often neglected work of Christ—his coming in judgment.
  8. Because it must be taken seriously. We are serious about the doctrine of justification by faith alone, serious that the gospel call ought to be as free and full as we’re permitted to make it, serious that “there is no one righteous,” and “by the works of the flesh no one will be justified in his sight.” But do we take Matthew 7:21-23 seriously?
  9. Because Jesus warns that it will be “many” from among professing disciples who will receive the eternal sentence, “Depart from me, I never knew you.” I think there’s a part of us that wants to lessen or dull that reality, but we simply cannot blunt the edge.

For these reasons, and many more, it was the hardest sermon I’ve ever preached. But there is comfort to be had. First, it’s not “that day” but it’s “this day.” Jesus speaks here of the day of judgment, but we cannot fail to know that today is a day of grace, “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as in the rebellion” (Hebrews 3:15). Secondly, if one trembles at this word, there’s an assurance that saving faith is present. Because saving faith not only “embraces the promises of God for this life, and that which is to come,” but “trembles at the threatenings.” Thirdly, the true Christian doesn’t need to have an unhealthy fear of this passage but make his or her prayer, in the confidence of Christ and reliance upon the Spirit, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” (Psalm 139:23-24). Fourthly, bless the Father and the Son for they have given us the Spirit by whom we are transformed in the renewing of our minds that we may “discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12:2).