Dr Paul Allen

“Some words, like strategic castles, are worth defending, and evangelical is among them,” Michael Gerson wrote. “While the term is notoriously difficult to define, it certainly encompasses a ‘born-again’ religious experience, a commitment to the authority of the Bible, and an emphasis on the redemptive power of Jesus Christ.” Gerson wrote those words in an article for The Atlantic in 2018. He ends his essay by saying,  “This sets an urgent task for evangelicals: to rescue their faith from its worst leaders.” Gerson, who previously served as a top aide and speechwriter for George W. Bush and is the author of Heroic Conservatism and coauthor of City of Man (a book edited by Collin Hansen and Tim Keller), has been an evangelical voice in the public square. It’s unfortunate, then, that he now uses arguments about sexuality that contradict Scripture and the church’s historic witness. As he notes, being an evangelical means being committed to the Bible’s authority—a position he seems to have

“He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Mic. 6:8, NKJV). Humility, like patience, is one of those virtues for which we would like to be known while not having to often express it. In Colossians 3:12, God commands Christians to put on humility and meekness, but this is easier said than done. To begin we must ask, What is humility? Webster defines humility as “being free from pride or arrogance; not proud or arrogant, not haughty or assertive.” One Greek lexicon explains it as “the quality of not being overly impressed by a sense of one’s self-importance.”  If Thomas Aquinas is right that pride is the root of all sin, every instance of putting on humility requires a corresponding death blow to the root. Therefore, the reciprocal act of putting on humility and putting off pride is a foundational part of the spiritual warfare that the believer has entered into. Here we must understand

Works of Faith Paul underlines repeatedly the crucial and powerful relationship between faith and the good works of love. Paul would happily say with James, “I will show you my faith by my works” (James 2:18). For the works of love are the fruit of faith, and thus the aim of Paul’s ministry. “The aim of our charge is love that issues from . . . sincere faith” (ἐκ . . . πίστεως ἀνυποκρίτου, ek . . . pisteōs anupokritou, 1 Tim. 1:5). Paul calls the God-pleasing works of believers “works of faith,” meaning that their faith is the kind of reality that moves them to do good works. For example, in his prayers for the Thessalonians, he remembers their “work of faith” (ἔργου τῆς πίστεως, ergou tēs pisteōs, 1 Thess. 1:3). And he prays “that our God may . . . fulfill every resolve for good and every work of faith [ἔργον πίστεως, ergon pisteōs] by his power” (2 Thess. 1:11). A Christian’s good works are “works of faith,” meaning they are the fruit of the transforming effects of faith. Saved by Fa

The imperative—“Repent!”—assaults modern sensibilities like nails on a chalkboard. Repentance is often dismissed as the sadistic mantra of self-loathers; or worse, dreaded as a pistol drawn in pulpits to scare sinners into submission. But repentance—the act of turning from sin and toward God—pervades the biblical story as a life preserver for God’s people, not a cruel waterboarding tactic. Strikingly, Jesus’s main message is summarized in the Gospels as: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven, is at hand” (Matt. 4:17; Mark 1:15; Luke 5:32). If repentance is so central in Jesus’s teaching, why is it so peripheral (or nonexistent) in ours? Different tribes give different responses. Progressives tend to deny repentance altogether, rejecting it as fundamentalist fodder. I recently met with a local progressive church leader who feels this way, and during our charitable yet lively conversation, she remarked: “I never address sin from the pulpit. I don’t think it’s helpful to tell people how bad

 In certain parts of India, many girls have been given the name Nakushi. It’s a name some parents gave newborn girls when they were hoping for a boy instead. Local superstitions say that if parents name their daughter Nakushi, they will reverse the girl-curse, and they’ll improve their odds for a boy the next time. Tragically, Nakushi means “unwanted.” These precious girls are labeled from birth with parental disappointment. Each time they hear this name, they’re reminded of how dad and mom wished they had been someone else. No wonder that in 2011, when the Indian government permitted them a name change, more than 200 young women seized the opportunity, changed their name to one of their own choosing, and became Nakushi no more. From birth, we all need a name change. And, in the gospel, that’s what Christ gives us. We Need a New Name God once labeled us as “enemies” (Rom 5:10), “strangers” (Eph. 2:12), “rebels” (Ezek. 20:38), “haters” (Rom. 1:30), “impure” (Eph. 5:5), and “ignorant” (R

By Dr. Jim Denison.  The Taliban’s sweeping takeover of Afghanistan is dominating world news. Many will examine President Biden's incorrect statements and rationale. But how does God see this situation? Let's look through the lens of Scripture and Christian theology. Let’s ask some prior questions:  Who are the Taliban?  What does God think about them?  How should we respond biblically to them? Who are the Taliban? The origins of the Sunni Islamist group known as the “Taliban” (from the Pashto for “students”). According to the most common explanation, when two teenage girls were kidnapped and raped in 1994 by followers of a warlord in Afghanistan, a group of 30 students joined their village cleric, Mullah Muhammad Omar, in rescuing the girls and hanging the group’s commander from a tank barrel. Their group grew in strength and popularity, eventually gaining the support of religious parties within neighboring Pakistan. In the chaos of post-Soviet Afghanistan, their enforcement o

There are a few different ways you might answer that question. Depending on how you look at it, you might say that it’s because you accepted Christ or placed your faith in Him at some point. Or you might say that it’s because your parents nurtured you in the faith, so there’s never been a time that you did not believe in God and trust in Christ as your Savior. If you look at it from God’s perspective, you might say that it’s because He elected you to salvation before the foundation of the world and that you came to faith because of His sovereign work in your life. But what if we ask the question differently: Why are you a Christian and not a Jew? If you are like most Christians, you are a gentile, that is, not of Jewish descent or a convert from Judaism. Under the old covenant, gentiles had to become like Jews by marking themselves off from the surrounding nations—literally, in the case of circumcision, and figuratively, by abstaining from common pagan practices and worshiping the God

“O you of little faith . . .” The words run through the Gospel of Matthew as a kind of refrain, reminding us of the disciples’ wavering trust. And perhaps of our own. Four times, we hear this rebuke cushioned with tenderness, this tenderness steeled with rebuke. Do you see, disciples, how God feeds the ravens and robes the lilies? And “will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 6:30). Winds may blow and waves may rise on the fickle Sea of Galilee, but I will be with you — I, the storm-stilling Son of God. So “why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” (Matthew 8:26). Every wave will hold your feet if you only keep your eyes on me, Peter. But “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31). Do you remember, my twelve, how I fed thousands from a few leftover loaves? Then “O you of little faith, why are you discussing among yourselves the fact that you have no bread?” (Matthew 16:8). Why such tenderness in this rebuke? Because their faith, though littl

Easter is a bad translation of a word that does not appear in the original language.… Easter is a carryover from the Greco-Roman world; which was engulfed in sun-worship…. The holiday and the word should be changed back to Passover. This was one of the best comments from the say-no-to-Easter perspective: it was clear, avoided ad hominem, and was written in lower case. Is Easter a pagan holiday? We as believers don’t want our holy days to be sullied by association with idolatry. And I want to state at the outset that no one should call Easter Easter against his or her conscience. But I don’t think we ought to be upset about the word Easter. Here’s why. 1. We’re not sure that “Easter” was a pagan word. The soberest and reliable source out there, the Oxford English Dictionary, dutifully cites the Venerable Bede’s contention from 1,300 years ago that Easter is derived from a pagan holiday. But that holiday was not Greco-Roman; it was Anglo-Saxon—Easter (Bede says) was the goddess of spring

In Phil 1:28, Paul is encouraging the Philippian Christians to “conduct themselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ,” which means they will stand firm. The verb “stand firm” is modified by two phrases, “striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel,” and “not being frightened by your opponents in any way.”  If our lives are to be worthy of the Lord, then we will stand firm in our faith, and that means we will be striving for the gospel with other believers while at the same time not being frightened by the opposition we will certainly encounter from this “warped and crooked generation” (Phil 2:15). But then Paul says, “This is a sign to them that they will be destroyed, but that you will be saved.” What does “this” refer to? What is the sign that we are being saved? What is the sign that they will be destroyed? ”This” refers not to anyone word but to both ideas, “striving side by side” and “not being frightened.”   When we persevere in our faith, when we are

Perhaps for you, that question looms like a shadow in the back of the soul, threatening your dearest hopes and peace. Others may struggle to understand why. You bear all the outward marks of a Christian: You read, pray, and gather with your church faithfully. You serve and sacrifice your time. You look for opportunities to share Christ with neighbours. You hide no secret sins. But “the heart knows its own bitterness” (Proverbs 14:10), and so too its own darkness. No matter how much you obey on the outside, when you look within you find a mass of conflicting desires and warring ambitions. Every godly impulse seems mixed with an ungodly one; every holy desire with something shameful. You can’t pray earnestly without feeling proud of yourself afterwards. You can’t serve without some part of you wanting to be praised. You remember Judas and Demas, men whose outward appearance deceived others and deceived themselves. You know that on the last day many will find themselves surprised, knockin

A Korean Christian and three nationals of India are in jail in Uttar Pradesh state, accused of conversion attempts while distributing food and other aid to people in need due to COVID-19 lockdown, sources said. Under a new “anti-conversion” law that focuses on Muslim marriages to Hindus, it has been used as payback with Hindu who hate the Christian gospel message of love and grace. The confusing legislation ent into effect in Uttar Pradesh state, India on Nov. 28, police arrested 50-year-old Mi Kyung Lee of Seoul, South Korea and the three others on Dec. 19 in Greater Noida, Gautam Buddh Nagar District, said the aid organizer, Raj Kumar Masih. Masih has organized relief aid to thousands of people since obtaining permission from the Additional District Magistrate on March 23, setting up distribution centres in various areas and at his church site, he said. Among the beneficiaries were Anita Sharma and Muksi Gupta. As Gupta knew who needed aid in her neighbourhood, Masih sent two Indian

A shocked friend asked, “Have you heard that ...... is no longer a Christian?” What was so alarming to my friend was that person was an influential leader of our church. What would those who had been influenced by this person's witness to Christ say, or do? Would they be shaken to the core and now doubt their own Christian faith? After all, the person who had pointed them to Christ no longer trusted Him. On occasion, we wonder if an individual really has been converted. And sometimes we have an inexplicable, ill-defined sense that something is missing. But we cannot read the heart. Even so, we hear of friends—whose faith we never doubted—turning away from Christ. Apostasy is the old, vigorous word to describe this abandonment of Christ. The New Testament church was familiar with it. It was a major concern of the author of Hebrews. That is why he wrote the often-discussed words of Hebrews 6:4–6: Those once enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, become partakers of