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On December 23, 2011, the Iranian Intelligence Agency raided an Assemblies of God church in Ahvaz during a worship service. Church members, including children, were arrested, detained, and interrogated. Hours later, most of the members were released. As of today, however, Pastor Farhad Sabokrouh, his wife, Shahnaz Jizani,  and church members Naser Zamen-Dezfuli and Davoud Alijani are still under arrest. Their location and condition are not known.

Another Christian pastor, Youcef Nadarkhani, has been in prison since 2009. Tried and convicted for apostasy because he converted from Islam to Christianity as a teenager, Nadarkhani sits in jail with a death sentence hanging over his head.

This is not the first time Iranian Christians have faced persecution. (All religious minorities in Iran—Christian, Baha’i, and Jewish—are subject to a variety of legal impediments and social obstacles.) In 1993, for example, Mehdi Dibaj was arrested, tried, and convicted of apostasy, and sentenced to death. His pastor, Haik Hovsepian Mehr, initiated and led a global protest of Dibaj’s sentence. On January 16, 1994, Dibaj was released. Three days later, Haik was abducted and murdered, most likely by the regime. On June 24, Dibaj was abducted. His body was found on July 5. He had been killed, most likely by the regime.

With these stories in mind, consider what Paul, Silas, and Timothy write in 1 Thessalonians 2:1–2:

You know, brothers and sisters, that our visit to you was not without results. We had previously suffered and been treated outrageously in Philippi, as you know, but with the help of our God we dared to tell you his gospel in the face of strong opposition.

The missionaries arrived in Thessalonica after ministering in Philippi (Acts 16:11–17:9). In Philippi, a mob attacked Paul and Silas, and the Roman magistrates had them stripped, beaten, and imprisoned. While in prison, they suffered an earthquake. When the Roman magistrates discovered that Paul and Silas were Roman citizens, who shouldn’t have been beaten, they apologized but nonetheless asked them to leave the city. In Thessalonica, a mob went searching for the missionaries. Not finding them, it abducted Jason and some other believers, dragged them before the courts, and accused them of sedition. The Thessalonian believers hustled the missionaries out of town under cover of darkness. However, despite the absence of the missionaries, the Thessalonian believers continued to suffer (1 Thes. 2:14, 3:3).

Whether in the first century or the twenty-first, persecution is the fate of many Christians around the world. Those of us who live in America or other countries that practice religious freedom should thank God every day that he has given us this grace. We should also pray for and advocate the freedom of our suffering brothers and sisters in Iran and elsewhere, as my father has done with regard to the persecuted Iranian Christians. But mostly, we should drink deeply from the well of their courage.

If, with the help of God, they dare to preach his gospel in the face of strong opposition, what is our excuse for not doing the same in our much pleasanter circumstances?

In 1 Thessalonians 1:8–10, Paul, Silas, and Timothy praise the Thessalonian believers for their faith, which had become well known through the region:

The Lord’s message rang out from you not only in Macedonia and Achaia—your faith in God has become known everywhere. Therefore we do not need to say anything about it, for they themselves report what kind of reception you gave us. They tell how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead—Jesus, who rescues us from the coming wrath.

Notice several things about these verses:

First, the Lord’s message is demonstrated in our faith. It is not reducible to our faith. Neither God nor his word can be reduced to the finite limitations of human experience. He always breaks out of our boxes, whether theological or experiential. Nevertheless, there is a relationship between the gospel and its effect on us. If we accept in the gospel, we will belong, behave, and believe in a different manner than we did before accepting the gospel.

Second, receiving the Lord’s message initiates a new pattern of relationship. Notice the first thing about the Corinthians that had gained renown: “what kind of reception you gave us.” Remember Acts 17:1–9! The Thessalonians believed the missionaries’ preaching and sheltered them even though doing so resulted in their persecution and suffering. It’s one thing to show hospitality to people who are popular. It’s another thing entirely—a very Christlike thing—to show hospitality to people who are unpopular. The Thessalonians did the Christlike thing.

Third, receiving the Lord’s message involves changing who or what you worship. “[Y]ou turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God.” An idol is not merely a physical object that you pray before, burn incense to, or leave gifts for. An idol is any person, thing, or idea that requires the best attention of your mind, the deepest devotion of your heart, and the constant activity of your hands. For many today, money—acquiring it, gaining interest from it, spending it—is an idol. For others, it’s sex, celebrity, or power. Whatever it is, to be a Christian means to turn your back on idols and make “the living and true God” the object of your head, heart, and hands’ best thoughts, feelings, and activities.

Fourth, receiving the Lord’s message involves patiently waiting for Jesus to return. The Nicene Creed states the faith of all Christians when it says that Jesus Christ “will return to judge the living and the dead.” That is his eschatological—or “end times”—role. His return is the end of this age, in which good and bad are mixed, and the beginning of the age to come, in which God triumphs, good prevails, and evil is conquered. Just as Jesus was raised from the dead, so to we live for the promise of eternal life.

What strangers have you welcomed? What are you turning from? What are you turning to? And what are you waiting for? How you answer these questions determines whether your faith will be remembered.

Which is more important: what you say or what you do?

In one sense, this is a false dichotomy. Both our words and our deeds are important. Indeed, they need one another. Without deeds, words are empty. Without words, deeds are mute.

Paul brings words and deeds together in 1 Thessalonians 1:4-10. Verses 4-5 speak of Paul, Silas, and Timothy’s Spirit-driven preaching that was demonstrated by “power” (miracles) and resulted “deep conviction” in the heart of the Thessalonians. Out of that deep conviction, and following the missionaries’ example, the Thessalonians themselves lived lives that gained renown throughout the area.

In another sense, however, deeds speak louder than words. Consider what Paul, Silas, and Timothy wrote in verses 5b-7: “You know how we lived among you for your sake. You became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you welcomed the message in the midst of severe suffering with the joy given by the Holy Spirit. And so you became a model to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia.”

In the course of these three verses, the missionaries chart the course from being imitators to becoming imitable.

The course begins with someone to imitate. Here, Paul, Silas, and Timothy themselves are the examples the Thessalonians followed. “You know how we lived among you for your sake.” According to Acts 17:1-9, persecution followed hard on the heels of the foundation of the Thessalonian church. A lynch mob went looking for Paul and Silas. Unable to find them, they dragged a Thessalonian believer named Jason and unnamed others to court, accusing them of sedition. Afraid for the missionaries’ safety, the Thessalonians rushed them out of town in the dead of night. We don’t know how long Paul, Silas, and Timothy lived among the Thessalonians–perhaps a matter of weeks–but their hard work (1 Thes. 2:9) left a deep impression on them.

So, imitable lives produced imitators: “You became imitators of us and of the Lord.” The missionaries didn’t make up their example. They simply imitated Jesus. So, by imitating the missionaries, the Thessalonians imitated the Lord. In what way? “You welcomed the message in the midst of severe suffering with the joy given by the Holy Spirit.” In reading this, I am reminded of two statements, one by and one about Jesus. First, in Gethsemane, facing certain death, Jesus prayed, “yet not my will, but yours be done” (Luke 22:42). And second, Hebrews 12:2: “For the joy set before him [Jesus] endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. The Thessalonians learned how to suffer joyfully from the missionaries, who themselves learned it from Christ.

Finally, the imitators themselves became imitable. “And so you became a model to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia. People who imitate Jesus inevitably become people whom others want to follow. Being shaped by him, they began to shape others in his image.

Words are important. But in a real sense, how you live is your most convincing sermon. So live a life worthy imitating!

In the course of my life, I have heard thousands of sermons, and I myself have preached a considerable amount. Some of these sermons–mine and others–have been excellent. Some of them have been unmemorable. And some of them–to be quite frank–deserve to be forgotten. Yet each week, I go to church to listen (on rarer occasions, now, to speak) and expect that God will say something to me through the preaching of his word.

Why?

In 1 Thessalonians 1:4-5, Paul, Silas, and Timothy provide an answer: “For we know, brothers and sisters loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not simply with words but also with power, with the Holy Spirit and deep conviction.” We need to read these words in context. In Greek, they are part of a single sentence that begins in verse 2: “We always thank God for all of you…” The missionaries express their gratitude by continually mentioning the believers in their prayers (v. 2b); by remembering faithful works, loving labor, and hopeful endurance; and now by acknowledging God’s election of them for salvation.

How did the missionaries know that God had elected the Thessalonians for salvation? Because of the work of the Holy Spirit, which provided both external and internal evidence. The missionaries say their preaching was “not simply with words but also with power.” Most likely, power refers to miraculous works that the Holy Spirit performed through the missionaries. These miracles are external evidence that the gospel is true.

The internal evidence is “deep conviction” in the minds of believers, an assurance that the gospel is true for me. Theologians refer to this deep conviction as the internal witness of the Holy Spirit. In Galatians 2:20, Paul depicts it this way: “The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

Wouldn’t you love to experience both power and deep conviction each time you go to church? Wouldn’t you love to have an encounter with the Holy Spirit when you hear the word of God preached each Sunday? Is this even possible?

Yes, of course it is! For it to happen, preachers must humbly invite the Spirit to guide them as they prepare for and deliver the sermon. And listeners must expect to hear something from God, not just from their preacher.

This doesn’t mean that miracles will attend every sermon or that we will feel deeply assured every Sunday. Some years ago, when my dad retired from his church, the chairman of the board said that he had forgotten most of my dad’s sermons. But, he went on to say, he had forgotten most of his meals too. But they nourished him anyway.

That’s a good lesson. When we come to church, we should come expecting the Holy Spirit to nourish us through the sermon. That’s what ordinarily happens. But sometimes, we come to a feast, and then we know for sure that God is present and at work in our lives.

Gratitude has a reason. We give thanks for people or because of something they have done. After an accident or during a severe illness or in the aftermath of catastrophe, we give thanks simply to be alive.

Paul, Silas, and Timothy are thankful for the Thessalonian Christians. Their reason? “We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Thes. 1:3). Faith, hope, and love are hallmarks of authentic Christianity (1 Cor. 13:13), and they marked the lives of the Thessalonian. For that, the missionaries express gratitude. The seed of the gospel they planted in Thessalonica had grown into a healthy tree.

Let’s take a closer look at faith, hope, and love.

First, work produced by faith: In Ephesians 2:8–9, Paul contrasts faith to works: “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith…not by works, so that no one can boast.” Here, however, he brings them together. “Faith, not works” is Paul’s slogan when it comes to how God justifies sinners. But “Faith produces works” is Paul’s slogan when it comes how justified Christians live. Immediately after arguing that we are justified through faith not, not work, Paul writes: “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (2:10).

Second, labor prompted by love. The Greek word for “labor” is kopos. It seems to be used in two senses. On the one hand, in 1 Thessalonians 2:9, it refers to “toil” the missionaries performed in order to support themselves “while we preached the gospel of God to you.” On the other hand, in 3:5, it refers to the missionaries’ “labors” of evangelism, discipleship, and church planting. To which does kopos refer in 1:3? Probably the former. In 2 Thessalonians 3:6–15, the missionaries contrast their “toil” with the laziness of a few Thessalonian slackers. Such hard work earns Christians a good reputation, makes them financially independent (1 Thes. 4:9–12), and makes it possible for them to share their surplus with the poor who want to but cannot work (2 Thes. 3:6–15).

Third, endurance inspired by hope. The Greek word for “endurance” is hupomonē, which derives from the two words for “remain” and “under.” When trouble comes, Christians can remain under it without being crushed by it because of their hope. Hebrews 12:2 says of Jesus, “For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, scorning its shame.” Christians follow his example. But they know that suffering does not have the last word, in Christ’s life or our own. Hebrews goes on to say that Jesus “sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Like Christ, those who endure “will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12). Christ is our example and hope.

Faith works. Love labors. Hope endures.

Several years ago, I was engaged to be married to a beautiful young woman. Four months after our engagement, however, and four months before our wedding, she called the whole thing off. I became clinically depressed. (You’re depressed if you’re sad. You’re clinically depressed if a mental-health professional tells you you’re sad.)

I wallowed in this slough of despond for months. During that time, my parents, sister, and several friends drew close to me, listened to me wail out my unhappiness, entertained me to get my mind off my loss, and encouraged me to move on with my life. Paradoxically, I never felt more loved than when I was depressed about love lost.

One day, I took out a pad of paper, drew a line down the middle of the top sheet, and listed everything I was depressed about in the left column and everything I was happy about in the right column. The right column was much longer. I had lost my fiancée, but I had gained new depth in my relationships with family and friends, among many other blessings. I took one look at that very lopsided list and thanked God for the love he had shown me through those people. My clinical depression didn’t disappear instantly, but gratitude for blessings definitely broke its spell over me that day. Since then, gratitude has been a constant component of my prayer life.

First Thessalonians 1:2–5 is a single sentence in Greek, although the NIV breaks it up into three sentences. It has a main verb (“we thank”) and three subordinate participles (“mentioning,” “remembering,” and “knowing”). If we outlined the verses, they would look like this:

We always thank God for all of you (v. 2a):

• Continually mentioning you in our prayers (v 2b)
• Remembering before our God and Father your work produced by faith, etc.… (v. 3)
• Knowing, brothers and sisters loved by God, that he has chosen you, etc.… (vv. 4–5)

Each of the three participles gives either a result of or a reason for Paul, Silas, and Timothy’s thanksgiving for the Thessalonians.

Take a look at verse 2: “We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers.” These simple words teach us two important truths about our prayer lives: we should always be thankful for others, and we should continually pray for them.

Gratitude for God’s blessings should be the theme of all our prayers—for salvation and spiritual gifts, family, friends, opportunities to serve others, relative health and wealth, adequate food and shelter, and citizenship in a wonderful nation. You may not feel blessed at this very moment, but make a list, and you’ll discover how blessed you really are. So be thankful!

But alongside that gratitude, pray for others too. It is easy to thank God for what he gives us. But gratitude can become me-centered if it’s not attached to prayer for others. We can become so thankful for what we’ve got, in other words, that we forget the needs of others. Let’s ask God to meet those needs. Where we can, let’s try to meet those needs ourselves.

Always thankful, continually praying. That’s a good motto for 2012.

Letters typically begin with a greeting.

In New Testament times, Greek-speaking writers began their letters with the word chairein, “Greetings!” (e.g., Acts 15:23, 23:26; James 1:1). Paul, who wrote his letters in Greek, transformed this epistolary convention by replacing chairein with the similar looking and sounding charis in the greeting of all his letters, and by adding eirēnē. So, this is the standard greeting in Paul’s letters: “Grace and peace to you from God our Father and from the Lord Jesus Christ.”[1]

Paul’s standard greeting is a wonderful way for Christians to begin their letters (or emails) to other people.

For one thing, it perpetrates a little theology by defining who God is. He is “our Father,” that is, the Creator of the cosmos (Acts 17:28), the First Person of the Trinity (John 5:18), and the Adoptive Parent of all who believe in him (Eph. 1:5). Paul further describes God using the phrase, “Lord Jesus Christ.” The word Lord names Jesus’s divinity. He is the Second Person of the Trinity (Phil. 2:9-11, cf. Isa. 45:23). The word Christ names Jesus’s purpose. He is “the Messiah, the Lord”—the one whose coming into the world brings “good news of great joy to all people” (Luke  2:10,11). And finally, this Divine Person, this Promised Messiah is simple Jesus of Nazareth, who “died for our sins according to the Scriptures, …was buried, …was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and … appeared to [Peter], and then to the Twelve” (1 Cor. 15:3–5).

For another thing, Paul’s standard greeting perpetrates a little soteriology—i.e., the doctrine of salvation—by identifying the source (grace) and result (peace) of God’s saving work in our lives. Charis means “favor,” and grace is God’s unmerited favor, his decision to love, redeem, forgive, and bless sinners who don’t deserve any of those things. “It is by grace you have been saved,” Paul writes in Ephesians 2:8. Peace has three dimensions: We have peace with God (Rom. 5:1), with one another (Eph. 2:14–18), and within ourselves (Rom. 8:6).

The doctrine of God and the doctrine of salvation in the simple greeting of a letter!

But here’s the kicker: In 1 Thessalonians 1:1—and there alone in the greeting of all his letters—Paul simply wrote, “Grace and peace to you.” He left out “from God the Father and from our Lord Jesus Christ.” Paul assumed the Thessalonians knew the ultimate source and result of God’s saving work. He had founded their church, after all (Acts 17:1–9).

So why did he leave out the rich bits of theology and soteriology? Because it is one thing to wish God would give people his grace and peace, and another thing to give them your own grace and peace. Paul wants us to be Christians who don’t talk about God one way and then act toward people another way. He wants us to imitate God’s way of doing things in everything we do.

So, grace and peace to you…from me. Please pass them along to others!

The church exists on two planes: Physically, it is located at a specific place and time. Spiritually, however, it is located in God, who is eternal and whose saving purposes for humanity cross the boundaries of geography and chronology. Paul took note of these two planes in 1 Thessalonians 1b: “To the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

We often read this address line of Paul’s letter as throwaway verbiage, a mere convention of first-century letter-writing. Letters are from somebody to somebody else, so why pay attention when Paul names his readers? Why? Because Paul doesn’t waste words and transforms epistolary conventions into opportunities for theologizing

Here the theologizing is overt and instructive.

First, with regard to its geography and chronology, the church is “of the Thessalonians.” In the late 40s, when Paul wrote this letter, Thessalonica was a Greek-speaking, free city of the Roman Empire. It was a port city, located in the Thermaic Gulf of the Aegean Sea, and a hub on the Via Egnatia, the 700-mile land route connecting Roman cities from the Adriatic to the Bosphorous. Proud, powerful, and prosperous—that was the Thessalonica of Paul’s day.

It was also a dangerous place for Christians. Acts 17:1–9 records Paul, Silas, and Timothy’s founding of the church. As was their custom, these missionaries first evangelized the synagogue. Verse 4 indicates that they were successful: “Some of the Jews were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, as did a large number of God-fearing Greeks and quite a few prominent women.” Unfortunately, verse 5 notes, “other Jews were jealous,” and they launched a mob action against the missionaries. This mob went before the city officials and charged the missionaries and their converts with treason: “They are all defying Caesar’s decrees, saying that there is another king, one called Jesus” (verse 7). Such treason in a Roman town could not be tolerated. The Thessalonian believers rushed the missionaries out of town (17:10), but they themselves endured suffering (1 Thes. 3:2–4). The city was proud, powerful, and prosperous, but the Christians were persecuted.

But, second, the physical location of the Thessalonian church must be seen in light of its spiritual location. That church existed—and every church exists—“in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.” Paul’s God is not just any god. He is “Father.” Here we see God in his role as Creator of the Cosmos, First Person of the Trinity, and Adoptive Father of humankind. He is a powerful God, but good too—a loving Father, in fact. And then we see Jesus, the Son of God, who really is a “king,” but whose crown has been woven from the thorns of intense suffering.

In all ages, the church finds itself located amidst the world’s pride, power, prosperity, and persecution. But we must keep both its temptations and trials in perspective. For Thessalonica is but a temporary address—sometimes pleasant, sometimes not. God, however, is our permanent home.

In 2011, Drew Brees broke Dan Marino’s single-season passing record, a record which had stood for 27 years. Can you name the center who snapped him the ball? The left tackle who guarded his blindside? The running back who caught the ball? Me neither, not without Google anyway.* But Brees couldn’t have broken Marino’s record without their help, or the help of the other seven members of the offensive team.

We sometimes think of the apostle Paul as a Lone-Ranger missionary who single-handedly evangelized Gentiles in Asia Minor and Europe. But like Drew Brees, Paul had help. He played on a team.

First Thessalonians 1:1 names the members of the team: “Paul, Silas and Timothy.” Silas joined Paul in Antioch at the start of his second missionary journey (Acts 15:40), and Timothy joined them sometime thereafter in Lystra (16:3). This was the team that founded the churches in Thessalonica (17:1-9), Berea (17:10-15), and Corinth (18:1-17, cf. 2 Cor. 1:19). Timothy also accompanied Paul on his final journey to Jerusalem (20:4).

We know a lot about Paul, but what do we know about Silas and Timothy?

Silas was a both a Jew and a Roman citizen (Acts 16:37). He was a leader in the Jerusalem church (15:22) and part of a two-man team commissioned by the Council in Jerusalem to communicate its decisions about the requirements of Gentile conversion to Gentile believers in Asia Minor (15:22, 27). He was also a prophet whose words encouraged others (15:32). He was beaten and imprisoned alongside in Paul in Philippi (16:16-40), and with Paul escaped Thessalonica under cover of night in order to avoid a mob action (17:5-10). He is a named co-sender of two of Paul’s letters (1 Thes. 1:1, 2 Thes. 2:1), and he helped Peter write one of his letters (1 Pet. 5:12).

Timothy was the product of a mixed marriage, his mother being Jewish and his father being Greek (Acts 16:1). Prophecies had been made about him (1 Tim. 1:18). Although a team member on Paul’s second missionary journey, he evidently was not beaten or imprisoned as Paul and Silas were. He is named as co-sender of six of Paul’s letters (2 Cor. 1:1, Phil. 1:1, Col. 1:1, 1 Thes. 1:1, 2 Thes. 1:1, Phm. 1:1). He served as Paul’s personal messenger to churches the apostle had founded (Acts 19:22, 1 Cor. 4:17, 1 Thes. 3:2). Later in Paul’s life, Timothy served as the “young” pastor (1 Tim. 4:12) of the church in Ephesus, in which capacity he received two letters of advice from Paul (1 and 2 Timothy). Paul refers to Timothy as “coworker” (Rom. 16:21), “my son whom I love” (1 Cor. 4:17), “our brother” (2 Cor. 1:1), “servant of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 1:1), and “man of God” (1 Tim. 6:11).

Christian ministry, like Christian life, is a team sport. Some players, like Paul, receive more attention than others. But no one can–or should!–play alone.

So, as 2012 begins, who is your Paul? Your Silas? Your Timothy? Who is on your team?

*Brian de la Puente (center), Jermon Bushrod (left tackle), and Darren Sproles (running back)

What is the purpose of Christian theology?

Since I was a high school student, I have enjoyed reading books about God. Not devotional books, however—much to my mother’s alarm. No, I enjoy reading theology books, and the bigger they are, the better. I enjoyed reading books about God so much, in fact, that I chose a career likely to pay me for reading them.

Over the last 20 years, however, I have noticed something about big theology books. Many of them inform us about God, but they do not inspire us to worship Him. I cannot tell you how many times I have turned the last page of a theology book and said, “Well, that was interesting!” rather than, “Well, it’s time to pray!” But shouldn’t prayer be the proper end of theology? Shouldn’t we learn about God in order to worship and serve Him?

Paul certainly thought so. His letter to the Romans was in many ways the Church’s first theology book. It didn’t just narrate the life of Jesus and the Early Church, however, as did the Gospels and Acts. It interpreted their significance. It explained what God was up to through Jesus Christ. And it ended on a note of praise.

Consider Romans 16:25-27:

“Now to him who is able to establish you by my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery hidden for long ages past, but now revealed and made known through the prophetic writings by the command of the eternal God, so that all nations might believe and obey him — to the only wise God be glory forever through Jesus Christ! Amen” (NIV).

These three verses are a doxology, a word (logos) of praise or glory (doxa) about God. “Now to him … be glory forever through Jesus Christ!” The theology of Romans centers on the grace of a God who justifies sinners by faith in His Son, Jesus Christ. If we read Romans and our only response is, “Well, that was interesting!” then we haven’t understood a word of what we’ve read. Or rather, we may have understood it, but we haven’t applied it to ourselves. Sinners who do so fall to their knees in undying gratitude. We’ve been saved from hell; we’re destined for heaven. When that realization sinks in to our brains, what can we do but give thanks?

Who is this God we praise? He is powerful, He is revealing, and He is wise. Let’s look at those in reverse order. First, He is wise. God knows the way we ought to live. He knows how far off the path we are. And He knows how to get us back on track. Second, He is revealing. Not only does He know, He communicates. He reveals “the gospel,” literally “good news.” He doesn’t keep the way secret; He tells everyone. And third, He is powerful. God doesn’t tell us how to save ourselves. He saves us. He is “able to establish” us on the path of salvation. He is our Guide. He knows the path to heaven, tells us about it, and pulls us out of the thickets when we stray.

It is a good thing to know more about God. I still read theology books, after all. But it is a better thing to praise more. And we have much to praise for.

P.S. My article appeared on The Daily Boost for July 14, 2011.