There are all too many people who want to hold God to promises He’s never made.  They get sick, and they blame Him for not keeping them healthy.  They run into financial hardship, and they grumble because He hasn’t helped them prosper.  They’re single and unhappy, and they claim it’s His fault that they aren’t married.

The problem is that God never has promised Christians that they would be healthy and rich and have great family lives.  We might have set our hearts on these things, but that’s a sure sign that we are seeking treasure on earth, not in heaven.  The God who unfailingly grants them is the God of our own imaginations, not the God of the Bible.

However, God has made us some astounding promises, and one of them appears in 2 Corinthians 1:3-7.  He does not promise to shield us from suffering.  Indeed, the structure of the passage implies that the godly can expect to suffer.  However, in the midst of that suffering, God will bestow His comfort.

As do all Christians who have sought the Lord through trial, I’ve experienced God’s faithfulness to His promise.  It is true in my current distress, and it was true 13 years ago when my daughter was unexpectedly stillborn at full term.  Lauren and I suffered.  Indeed, we suffered greatly. 

Our suffering, though, did not overwhelm us.  We did not commit suicide.  We did not get divorced.  We did not become alcoholics or drug addicts.  We avoided the double disasters that befall parents who lose children.

This is not to our credit, except to the extent that we chose to lean on the Lord and His people.  Instead, it was due to the brethren both far and near who cared for us in our grief.  They came to the funeral (some traveled hundreds or thousands of miles), they brought food, they visited, they sent cards, they sent money, and they prayed.  It was due also to the God who worked through them and in ways beyond my understanding.  We mourned (and still mourn), but we were (and are) comforted.

However, Paul points out that this blessing carries an obligation with it too.  We are supposed to take the comfort that God showers on us and use it to comfort others.  Lauren and I certainly were on the receiving end of this.  Some of the most memorable, helpful conversations we had during that dark time were with Christians who also had lost children. 

Ever since, we have tried to pay it forward.  Most Christians are at a loss about how to deal with others whose children have died.  We aren’t.  That’s familiar country to us.  When we hear of someone in that position, we try to reach out.  We call.  We write.  We attend funerals with heartbreakingly small caskets.  We trust that the God who used others to bless us will use us to bless others.

It’s easy for human beings to camp out in their misery and affliction.  I know the temptation well.  However, as disciples of the Man of Sorrows, we have a higher calling.  We must allow our griefs to refine us and teach us compassion.  When we do, God can use us in even the greatest tragedies to reveal His comfort and love.

Recently, I attended this year’s Truth Lectures, which had as their theme eschatology, the study of the end times.  Many of the lectures addressed preterism, the belief that the prophecies of the Bible all already have happened.  In particular, preterists claim that the prophecies about the final judgment, the resurrection of the dead, and the dissolution of the physical universe were fulfilled (in a figurative sense) during the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70.

I believe that preterists are correct to recognize the importance of the first-century destruction of the temple and the downfall of the Jewish nation.  In many ways, the ministry of Jesus is a last-ditch effort to turn the Jews aside from their destructive course.  Their refusal to listen to Him (and the consequences of that refusal) reverberates throughout the New Testament.  When we try to make everything in the Bible about us instead of its original first-century recipients, we fall into error.

However, it is equally erroneous to assume that all the climactic events of spiritual history already have occurred.  Often, the falsity of false teaching becomes most evident not in the teaching itself, but in its ripple effects.  In the case of preterism, I believe the biggest problems it creates arise through its denial of a general, bodily resurrection of the dead. 

Among other serious difficulties, denial of the resurrection of the body casts doubt on the resurrection of Christ.  As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15:13, “If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised.”  Preterists argue that the general resurrection of 1 Corinthians 15 is the figurative union of Jew and Gentile Christians in 70 AD.  Before we accept this interpretation, however, we must reckon with Paul’s use of “not even”.  This indicates that the resurrection of Christ is the most prominent example of a larger class, as in, “If no gymnasts can land that jump, then not even Simone Biles can.” 

“Not even” allows for two interpretations.  Either the larger class of resurrections is literal, and the resurrection of Jesus is literal along with it, or the larger class of resurrections is figurative, and the resurrection of Jesus is figurative along with it.  It does not, however, permit a mixed figurative/literal reading. 

Let’s suppose for a moment that the first part of v. 13 is about the figurative, invisible, unprovable union of Jew and Gentile in the church in AD 70.  If it didn’t happen, how does that in any way undermine the bodily resurrection of Jesus in AD 30?  A bodily resurrection can’t be a “not even” for a figurative class.

Therefore, in arguing for a figurative general resurrection, preterists imply that the resurrection of Christ also was figurative, a fatal problem for Christianity.  As per Romans 1:4, the [bodily] resurrection of Jesus declares Him to be the Son of God with power.  By contrast, the “resurrection” of Jesus only in the visions, dreams, and fond imaginings of His followers is useless as a proof of His divinity.  If that’s all the evidence we have, none of us should be Christians.

Preterists do well when they call us to consider the New Testament in its first-century context, but they err disastrously when they undermine the central conviction of Christianity.  If the dead are not raised, not even Christ is raised, and if Christ is not raised, our faith is vain, we are still in our sins, and of all people we are most to be pitied.  Don’t take my word for it.  Take the Holy Spirit’s.

We live in a society that celebrates the individual conscience as the highest guide to morality.  Everybody has the right to “speak their truth”, and anyone who presumes to comment on someone else’s righteousness gets slapped down with Matthew 7:1.  The theory goes that as long as we think we’re doing right, we really are doing right, and God is going to be pleased with us.

There is some truth to this.  As Paul observes in Romans 14:23, whatever is not from faith is sin.  If we feel like engaging in some innocent activity is wrong, for us to practice it truly is wrong (unless, of course, God has commanded us to practice it).  Keeping a clear conscience before God matters a great deal.

However, there are other things that matter more, as Paul’s discussion in 1 Corinthians 4:3-5 reveals.  Here, Paul is examining whose judgment does and does not matter.  The first entry in the latter group is the judgment of other people.  Paul makes clear his disdain for the verdicts of any human court and even of the church in Corinth.  Who cares what anybody else thinks about us?  They have power neither to justify nor to condemn.

Paul goes on, though, to observe that self-judgment also is inadequate.  His conscience is clear, but a clear conscience isn’t enough to acquit him.  Paul knew better than anyone how deceptive a conscience could be.  His statement in Acts 23:1 that he had lived his life in good conscience before God encompassed not only the time he had spent as an apostle but also the time he spent as a bloody-handed persecutor of the church.  Saul of Tarsus was sure he was doing the right thing, but he was surely wrong.  Paul knew that he could be every bit as self-deceived right then, and the same holds true for all of us.

Instead, the only relevant judge is the Lord.  His judgment is perfect because of His perfect knowledge.  We may be able to hide our sins from others, but even the most secret sin is plain before Jesus.  So too, we can (and often do) conceal our motivations from ourselves, but Christ always knows the truth.  When the Lord returns, everyone will end up where they should go.  He will make no mistakes.

From this, Paul urges us to beware of judging prematurely.  This applies first of all to others, as some of the Corinthians were eager to judge Paul.  Because we lack perfect knowledge and have eyes that often are clouded by fear and desire, we always should entertain some doubt about our judgments of others, no matter how strongly we feel we are right.

Additionally, this applies to our judgment of ourselves.  If we can err in our judgments of others, how much more can we err in self-judgment!  Rather than living in the certainty that we are right, we must compare ourselves constantly to the standard of the word.  Above all, we must constantly seek forgiveness from God, not only for the sins we commit knowingly, but also for the sins we commit in ignorance.  As much as we enjoy vindicating ourselves, our true hope lies in God’s mercy, and it never can be anywhere else.

We live in an extremely individualistic society.  In the modern-day United States, everyone is indeed an island.  We define ourselves as we please and seek advantage and happiness in the same way.  Our politics reflect nothing more than the self-interested scrabbling of rival tribes.

It is tempting for us to import this individualized understanding into the church, but in 1 Corinthians 12:12-26, Paul calls Christians in the opposite direction.  There, he compares the church (probably best understood in a local-church sense) to a human body.  This analogy is extraordinarily powerful.  In the world, people understand themselves as the self, and everyone else as the other.  By contrast, in the body of the Lord, there is no other.  We are all part of the same organism.

As Paul points out, we have no trouble understanding the implications of this by referring to our own natural bodies.  I don’t regard my hand or foot with indifference.  I don’t dismiss my innards as unimportant simply because I can’t see the work that they do.  Instead, I am deeply appreciative of every part that God placed in my body.  Every part has its purpose, and my health depends on each functioning as He intended.

Our congregation is no different.  The divine design of our bodies is evident; 1 Corinthians 12:18 informs us that God has arranged the members of the church according to His will too.  Just as every organ of the human body has a function, every Christian has a function in the Lord’s body.  Indeed, the function of every Christian is vital and important.

The world doesn’t see this.  The world assumes that I’m most important because I get up and preach sermons on Sunday, and that everybody else is the little people who make up my audience.  Nonsense, says Paul.  Preachers are important and have a role to fill, it is true.  However, the sisters who send encouraging cards to the sick are equally important.  So are the men and women who help maintain the building.  So are the elders, who do 90 percent of their work out of the public eye.  So are the Bible class teachers.  So, indeed, is everyone who contributes to the welfare and growth of the Lord’s body in any way.

I’ve never seen my spleen.  I couldn’t pick it out of a lineup.  I only know what it does because I looked up “spleen” on Wikipedia as I was writing this article (it processes out old blood cells and helps with the function of the immune system, by the way).  However, I would not suggest for a moment that my hands and feet matter more than my spleen because I see their work and can’t see its work. 

The same is true in the church.  Every one of us matters.  Every work that we do matters, and that’s true whether others see and celebrate it or not.  We are one in the Lord.  We share our victories and our sorrows, and together we strive for the hope of a greater, eternal fellowship with Him.

Never does anyone argue harder for something they won’t actually take than Paul does in 1 Corinthians 9:3-14.  Through much of his ministry, especially his time with the church in Corinth, Paul refused financial support from the church with which he was working.  It may be that as per Romans 7:7-8, covetousness was a particular temptation for Paul, so he resolved that as much as possible, he wouldn’t accept money for his proclamation of the gospel.

However, Paul spends twelve verses carefully constructing the argument that he had the right to be supported.  This argument has several prongs.  First, he points out that it was customary for churches to provide not only for preachers, but for their families.  Second, he notes that people expect to be compensated for whatever kind of work they do, and preaching is no different. 

Third, he turns to the Law of Moses to establish that even oxen had the right to eat while they were threshing grain, and if God was concerned with oxen, how much more is He concerned with providing for human workers?  Finally, he observes that those who provide spiritual blessings to Christians have the right to expect physical blessings in return.  From all this, he concludes that preachers have the right to earn their living from the gospel.

This argument has significant implications for preachers and churches alike.  First, it warns preachers that they need to work hard in order to earn their living.  Merely filling a pulpit once or twice a week does not entitle them to anything!  Instead, if secular workers invest great effort in making widgets or closing business deals, the preacher should show even greater daily devotion to work of eternal importance.

Additionally, the preacher should be humble and appreciative about his salary.  Many brethren make significant financial sacrifices in order to contribute appropriately to the Lord’s work.  Ministers should not react to these sacrifices with arrogant entitlement.  Rather, they should express their heartfelt appreciation to those whose generosity enables them to serve.

In turn, churches ought to remember that preacher support is not benevolent relief.  The standard for a man’s compensation is not the minimum that he needs to get by, as determined by those who aren’t trying to make his family budget balance.  He is paid as an act of justice, according to what he deserves, rather than as an act of mercy.  If he is working hard at preaching and teaching, he should be rewarded accordingly.

Similarly, churches should not import a free-market mentality into their salary determinations.  They should not be asking how cheaply they can fill a pulpit.  Instead, they should measure the preacher’s value according to the value of what he is teaching them.  Is it really a good idea to try to economize in finding a man whom you want to help you inherit eternal life?

All of us know that the love of money tangles everything up in the world.  In the church, we must be careful to ensure that it doesn’t tangle us up.  However, when churches and preachers both consider financial matters in the light of God’s word, the results inevitably will be to His glory.