I believe in the sacraments. At least, I believe that grace is offered to us through the sacraments. I believe that this grace is offered to us to be feasted on by faith: whether by preaching, by communion, or by baptism. I believe this because the grace of God is always offered to us by means of the gospel, and the sacraments proclaim the gospel to us for our joy and edification.

I know that Baptists get nervous about talking like this, or even using the word 'sacrament' to describe the Lord's Supper and Baptism. That's okay. Baptists get nervous about dancing and drinking beer, too. Especially when someone else finds out that they have been doing both. So don't let Baptist hang ups keep you from thinking about the matter of grace in the sacraments.

Here's the truth: God is always gracious. Grace comes to us from God in all manner of ways: in kisses, in children, in breath, in rebuke, and even on the internet. No matter what we do or experience, we ought to see enough grace in it to glorify God for it. Should the Lord's Supper be any different?

I want you to consider how you think preaching works. We believe that God uses the means of preaching the Word of God to justify us and sanctify us, right? Well, how does preaching do that, exactly? Isn't it because the Spirit of God uses the preacher's words to impact our hearts and change our lives by agency of the Holy Spirit who works through those words. He justifies us through preaching, and He sanctifies us through preaching.

We are once and for all justified by faith the moment we believe. But sanctification is a life-long process, and it too is part of salvation. When we eat the Lord's Supper by faith, and remember that Christ was broken for us and is still offering Himself to us, we are being saved by that, and humbled by that, and changed by that. We learn to love our brother better because we know we need Jesus to make us clean and him clean, and both of us are happy that the other is willing to admit it. It makes me love Jesus more to know that he gave Himself not just for me, but that He also gave Himself for my beloved brother. This is grace, and this is a feast that God prepares for us.

If you think that Jesus isn't present "in the meal", I wonder where you think He is during it? Is He walking amongst the lampstands or not? Does He only show up for the singing and preaching? Or is He at the table again? Not that He is suffering again or is being eternally crucified. God forbid! Rather, it is more akin to him saying to Thomas, "Come here, and take a look at my hands. Put your finger in my side. Stop disbelieving and believe!" I confess that I have taken up the cup many times, as a believer, with this thought in my heart, "Lord, I do believe. Help me in my unbelief!" And He does help me. One sermon at a time. One meal at a time. One witnessed baptism at a time. One hymn at a time. He gives me grace.

The other day, my three year old daughter Zoe invited me for tea. I sat at a table too small for me with her and a stuffed rabbit named Blossom. We drank tea out of pink plastic cups. Mine was an Earl Gray with a bit of lemon. Zoe had sweet tea, and Blossom only likes carrot tea. I drank mine pinky out, and I told Zoe how wonderful her tea was, and that she looked splendid in her dress.

Labels: Catechism Buzz, grace, sacraments

It's a bit of a mystery how folks were saved in the Old Testament. Oh, we know in part, and see in part, how God could have accomplished such a thing, but in light of all the revelation we have on this side of the cross, the other side at times seems a dim mirror. Those systematic theologians who want every question answered may wish for a bit more detail in regard to this, but they have an answer: the signs and symbols God provided for Israel in the Old Testament were "sufficient to build up the elect."

Now, the cynic in me might say that this phrase, "sufficient to build up the elect," is simply a Calvinist cop-out, playing the God-is-sovereign-over-all-things trump card with a shoulder-shrugging gesture of "I dunno, but He obviously did." But saying that God's provision in the Old Testament was sufficient for the elect is more than just a bunch of nice sounding weasel words; it is another verification of who is really in charge of salvation, and for those of us on the other side of the cross, it should provide great encouragement and hope.

God's active work in salvation is assumed throughout Scripture, and it is not my point here to write a lengthy treatise about it. For those interested, have a look at Ephesians 1, for example, and consider how each member of the Trinity works in harmony to bring about the fullness of salvation in the life of the believer.

The God who planned out salvation to the level of detail that Yahweh did--a God who can orchestrate all of history, including the sinful acts of men, in order to accomplish His purposes--a God like that can ensure that all the ingredients necessary for your salvation and my salvation are present.

The statement that the signs and symbols under the Old Testament administration of the covenant were "sufficient to build up the elect" doesn't tell us that God makes the rules so He can do what He wants; it declares to us that His revelation in all places and all times is adequate for those who are going to be saved. When combined with God being both just and the justifier (Rom. 3:26), the picture Scripture paints is one of a saving God who provides all we need for life and godliness (2 Pet. 1:3).

Labels: Catechism Buzz, covenants, God, grace, providence

I know a thing or two about golf. Literally. I mean, I took a college course to fulfill my PE requirement, so I learned the fundamentals. Head down, left arm straight, feet apart, knees bent. I know what a good swing looks like and feels like.

I've watched enough golf on TV to know how the pros make it look easy. If I watched you, I could probably even tell you what is wrong with your swing. And if you followed my advice, it just might actually help.

That said, I've golfed about three times in the past dozen years. If you asked me how my game is, I'd have to say that there really is no such thing. The last time I went out, I hit about three shots that felt good, a whole lot of mediocre ones, and an embarrassing amount of plain stinkers.

Because I don't really have the time, money, energy or desire to appropriate the means to becoming a better golfer myself, I'm considering starting up a blog where I analyze other people's golf games. I am sure someone will find it helpful.

Labels: Apologetics, Catechism Buzz, sacraments

The difference which the Apostle makes between the Law and the Gospel is this: under the Law was a very rough outline versus what, under the Gospel, is very clear and colorful. So he says again that the Law was not useless, nor its ceremonies not worth anything. Because although the artist was not yet finished with the picture, so to speak, the picture sketched was still of great benefit to the fathers of our faith -- but our condition is better still. And remember: the things they only saw on the horizon, at a distance, are the things we get to see up close. The same righteousness, sanctification, and salvation of Christ is seen by both; and the difference only is in the manner of God's method of painting the picture.

I agree that the kingdom of Christ, which is now present with us, was then announced as the future; but the Apostle’s words mean that we still have a lively image of future blessings. He understands that the full harvest of that blessing is delayed until to the resurrection and the future world.

Labels: Calvin as Gadfly, law and gospel

The more I read question 33 of this catechism, the more I like it. I like it because hardly any Baptist I know would even think to ask this question, much less have the theological acumen to begin an answer. I know about Baptists and theology; I am one. This isn't a crass remark coming from the outside, it is the sad confession of one with almost ten years experience in shepherding Baptist sheep.

Baptists, and perhaps other evangelicals as well, struggle with the relationship between the Old Covenant and the New. It is, for them, an uneasy marriage. For Baptists, it is because our theology of the Lord's Supper is about as deep as the thimbles we drink our juice from, and because we call everything a 'symbol' to the extent that we have forgotten the reality.

It's sort of like a guy named O'Reily who takes a vacation to Ireland. His family has lived in America for 200 years, but he has a longing to see the Emerald Isle and the land of his ancestors. While there, he picks up a cool keychain with the O'Reily crest on it. It is a 'symbol' for his family, but he has no idea what the raging lions mean or the bloody severed hand, and so he just buys it because he is an O'Reily. He shows his little trinket to his pals, along with the cool shillelagh he got at the gift shop, without bothering to figure out why this thing has symbolized his family for hundreds of years.

If Baptists know anything, they know that we are saved by faith alone and not by works. We beat one another over the head saying that baptism doesn't save, church membership doesn't save, and the Lord's Supper doesn't save; nothing but the blood of Jesus that can make the sinner clean. So Baptist hoorah salvation by grace alone through faith alone and regulate the Lord's Supper to once every fifth Sunday because, well, we are supposed to do that, not in a saving way, but in a "I got my keychain in Ireland" kind of way. (The shame!)

So Baptists could stand for a preacher of mettle to stand before them and ask, "Beloved, did an Israelite have to offer his little lamb in order to be right with God? And if he did, were people under the Old Covenant saved by grace or by works?" See, that little question right there would obliterate the average Baptist's apple cart. They are just legalist enough to say that the offering is required for salvation, but are able to grasp salvation by grace alone through faith alone enough to recoil at the thought of salvation by works. So they would sit there in gobsmacked silence, with only the sound of rustling bulletins and jangling key chains for comfort.

So allow me to be bold and speak as if insane: God did not justify a single man or woman or child under the Old Covenant by the gift of rams, bulls, or goats. Yet, if a man failed in this duty, it was a sure sign that he was not justified. We simply do not give the OT brethren enough credit: they knew and were looking for the Messiah to come. All the sacrifices and feast days that God called Israel to participate in were beacons that pointed to Jesus. If an Israelite loved God and believed in his promises, he was sanctified by sacrifices and feasts and the law of Moses because they taught him of his own wretchedness, of his need for the people of God, and of his desperate hope that God Himself would provide a sacrifice to save him from his sins.

This is why Jesus broke bread with his disciples. "Do this in remembrance of me" certainly means we ought to remember that Jesus was broken for us just like the broken bread. But that isn't the only thing we are to remember. We must remember where he came from, why he came, whose Son he is, how he treated his brothes, and how great his love for us must be. When we meditate on these things, we grow in grace, and our longing for the reminder that the Lord's Supper brings will also grow.

And how can we recount the glories of baptism? For the one undergoing this ordinance, it is a faith-building, sanctifying thing. That is, and I speak as a Baptist, as the new believer looks upon the sea of faces from the baptistry, he sees a family united by the death and resurrection of Christ. If he is taught to look hard enough, he can see down the corridors of time to those long since dead, entering this same baptism and this same family by grace through faith. This family, this wretched, happy family, is a family born of blood and water and fire. It is a family filled with people who have reached out to grab the gospel through preaching and sacrifices and lambs and fellowship and baptisms and communions, and who have hung onto every gospel promise for dear life.

If only we could begin to understand the various administrations of grace! We might find in them a door for our own sanctification in Christ, and we might start reading the Old Covenant, not as someone else's mail, but a book written by our family to our family and for our salvation.

There is a progression to the plan of salvation. The Bible isn’t fiction, but it has the feel of a literary narrative, driving forward toward its inevitable conclusion with all the drama of a novel. One of the things that contributes to this is the way Scripture reveals to us the plan of redemption.

The first hint, of course, is in Genesis 3:15, where the promise is made that the offspring will crush the serpent’s head. God makes promises to other Old Testament believers, including Abraham and David, and the Old Testament is packed with hints about the coming messiah and future redemption.

One of my favorite examples of this is found in both Jeremiah 31 and Ezekiel 36, which presents the idea of a new heart. These are both Old Testament promises to Israel which also find fulfillment in the New Testament for believers.

Paul augments this when he writes in Romans 9 that the true children of God are not those descended from Abraham by the flesh, but those who are children of the promise. Later in Romans, he tells us that there was a mystery that was “kept secret for long ages but has now been disclosed and through the prophetic writings has been made known to all nations,” to bring about the obedience of the faith. (Rom. 16:25)

Paul also speaks of the mystery of Christ “which was not made known to the sons of men in other generations as it has now been revealed.” The mystery is that “the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body, and partakers of the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (Eph. 3:4–6), part of God’s grace promised and given to us before time began (2 Tim 1:9, Titus 1:2). It was spoken about by God to us in bits and pieces through the prophets, but revealed fully through His Son (Heb. 1:1–2).

Whatever the wording of the Catechism, what’s presented here upholds the Biblical notion that God’s plan of salvation is the one plan He had from the beginning, not the backup plan because humanity messed up Plan A. At the same time, there is the parallel truth that God’s plan of redemption has been unfolding throughout recorded history and becomes more clear as time progresses. The pinnacle of that plan was the cross, but the climax is yet to come, when Jesus the future king returns, to judge and to reign.

Labels: Contributors notes, salvation

This is a good time to point out the titles which the Scripture give us for the Spirit, because it teaches us about our salvation. First, he is called the “Spirit of adoption,” because he is witness to us of the free favor with which God the Father embraced us in his well-beloved and only-begotten Son, so as to become our Fathers and give us boldness of access to him; he dictates these very words, so that we can boldly cry, “Abba, Father.”

For the same reason, he is said to have “sealed us, and given the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts,” because, as  pilgrims in the world, and persons in a manner dead, he so brings us to life from above as to assure us that our salvation is safe in the keeping of a faithful God.

Also, the Spirit is said to be “life because of righteousness.” But since it is his secret irrigation that makes us bud forth and produce the fruits of righteousness, he is repeatedly described as water. Thus in Isaiah “See! every one who is thirsty, come to the waters.” Again, “I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground.” Corresponding to this are the words of our Savior, to which I lately referred, “If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.” Sometimes, indeed, he receives this name from his energy in cleansing and purifying, as in Ezekiel, where the Lord promises, “Then will I sprinkle you with clean water, and ye shall be clean.”

As those sprinkled with the Spirit are restored to the full vigor of life, he hence obtains the names of “Oil” and “Unction.”

On the other hand, as he is constantly employed in subduing and destroying the vices of our concupiscence, and inflaming our hearts with the love of God and piety, he hence receives the name of Fire.

In fine, he is described to us as a Fountain, whence all heavenly riches flow to us; or as the Hand by which God exerts his power, because by his divine inspiration he so breathes divine life into us, that we are no longer acted upon by ourselves, but ruled by his motion and agency, so that everything good in us is the fruit of his grace, while our own endowments without him are mere darkness of mind and perverseness of heart.

Already, indeed, it has been clearly shown, that until our minds are intent on the Spirit, Christ is in a manner unemployed, because we view him coldly without us, and so at a distance from us. Now we know that he is of no avail save only to those to whom he is a head and the first-born among the brethren, to those, in fine, who are clothed with him. To this union alone it is owing that, in regard to us, the Savior has not come in vain. To this is to be referred that sacred marriage, by which we become bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh, and so one with him (Eph 5:30), for it is by the Spirit alone that he unites himself to us. By the same grace and energy of the Spirit we become his members, so that he keeps us under him, and we in our turn possess him.

Labels: Calvin as Gadfly

If we are not cowed by the cogitations of the catechizers concerning the covenants (commonly called), we will be struck (like a right hook) by the gobstopping force of the answer: This promise is to Christ. The promise of the Father is to His Son.

Who can doubt the promise of this Father to this Son?

Labels: Catechism Buzz, covenants, salvation

We've hit a patch of catechism here where my friends and I get a little squeamish with our baby-baptizing truly-reformed fellow workmen -- the question of covenants as the whole framework of salvation.

Here's why I'm personally squeamish about these questions, and then a brief bit about why it's probably unwarranted.

I'm squeamish because it makes the issues here a little sterile. How many covenants? two covenants. What is God's mercy? An agreement. How does God love? with a promise. As categories, they are fine - perfectly serviceable and systematically puzzled and then machined to an accuracy +/- 0.01%.

As explanations of what the Bible says about the God who made us and holds us together and saves us because we are somehow envious that we ought to have Him instead of Everything Else, it seems to miss the point.

You know: Jesus chastises the Pharisees for being the brother who stays in the house in reward-minded obedience when they have a licentious brother who squanders the family fortune. There, the father doesn't check to see which covenant(s) are necessary to make right the return of his son to the family: he simply pays the price for his son's disobedience -- personally, relationally, socially, legally, emotionally, and with his own dignity -- and runs to him when the young man is seen coming home from a long way off. (Luke 15:11-32)

Talking about the covenants doesn't really uncover that sort of truth about God.

And then there's that fellow Jonah, whom God called to bring salvation to the evil city of Ninevah. I mean: the city was evil -- it was like Sodom except that instead of being sexually violent, they were bloody enemies of Israel, bent of warring with Israel and destroying them. And there the prophet was unwilling to save the city but God was intent to do it. The talk of the covenants -- two covenants -- doesn't even enter into it from God's perspective. He says instead this:

But God said to Jonah, "Do you do well to be angry for the plant?" And he said, "Yes, I do well to be angry, angry enough to die." And the YHVH said, "You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?"

No mention of a covenant there -- yet it is the most New Testamenty moment in the Old Testament as God deals not just with the disobedient, not just the errant or sinful, but with his enemies.

But if that's true, what good is it to frame up what we believe about God in two covenants? How about three good reasons, and then you can take it or leave it.

1. God's intention is explicit, and not merely implicit. That is to say, we can use a lot of experiential descriptions of God to sort of feel what God is doing, but God isn't accidentally or vaguely trying to make things better. He's not some kind of performance artist who wants to see if you can figure out what he may or may not mean. He's God, and he loves you, and he has a message which, frankly, he wants understood and acted upon.

2. Christ's work is, explicitly, the new covenant in his own blood. I mean: Jesus says that -- this isn't the invention of some seminarian with a clever interpretive schema which analogically redefines the relationships between the ineffable and the imperfect by analyzing the suzerain treaties of semitic people. Jesus said, "This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood."

3. We fallen, fragile people need something which can give us confidence. I am certain God could have made a perfectly-reliable systematic theology out of cups and saucers if he had conceived of it that way, but he didn't. God knew -- and this, for me, is pretty compelling from a credibility standpoint for Scripture -- how the minds of people work. He knew that we are prone to unbelief, prone to interpret things down and prone to be hopeless in spite of all manner of assurances. So rather than make his message to us especially "deep" by making it somewhat impenetrable, he makes it transparently simple and allows the depth to settle under it as we have confidence and faith and experience with that message. It sort of works like this: you are actually pretty bad; you need a solution; my solution is work that I am doing; you can have confidence in it because it is not just an offer, or a promise, but it is in fact my announcement and decree of salvation sealed with blood so that the commitment and conclusion cannot be broken. This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.

So get comfortable with the idea of God's covenant. You might not like the way it tastes when someone makes up their denominational batch of eggs and hash with it, but it is what it is -- and it's for your good.

Labels: Catechism Buzz, covenants, Editorial Comments, salvation

Here is a puzzling statement that Jesus made, and like all the things that Jesus said, if you can get your faith around it you'll have an eternal cause for rejoicing. Once, in a conversation with a group of Jewish interlocutors, he made this statement, "Your father Abraham rejoiced that he would see my day. He saw it and was glad" (John 8:56). Dear reader, I ask you sincerely, when do you think that Abraham rejoiced that he would see Jesus?

I fear that we evangelicals look at the Old Testament as some kind of foreign literature, as if the most of it were written to the Jews and that's it. We like the stories for sure. We like that David whacked Goliath with a rock. We know that Jonah got swallowed by a great fish and stayed there three days. But where is Jesus? In the book of Isaiah? Abraham couldn't see him in Isaiah, Isaiah wasn't born yet. So when did Abraham delight in Jesus?



As shocking as this is, Abraham saw Jesus in a promise made to Satan. Do you doubt this? Look here, "The LORD God said to the serpent...I will put enmity between your seed* and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel" (Gen. 3:14, 15). That seed there is Jesus the Messiah. Abraham got that. He understood this seed would come from the seed of a woman, and that he would crush the head of that old serpent we call the devil.

Abraham knew about this promise. That's why Abraham was in the dumps in Genesis 15, because in Genesis 13 God had promised that his seed would be like dust and that his seed would inherit the land forever. So God comes to his poor, doubting servant and says, "I am your shield; your reward shall be very great...Look toward heaven, and number the stars, if you are able to number them...so shall your seed be" (Gen. 15:1,5). So Abraham "believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness" (15:6). The covenant did not make him righteous; his faith did. God gave the covenant to a man of faith, to a man who could believe a promise. That's the kind of man or woman that God makes a covenant with: a person who believes God.

You might be thinking, "Seriously? Isn't Genesis 15 talking about 'offspring' in terms of Israel or just Isaac?" Yes and no. We know God isn't talking about simply Isaac because He tells Abraham, "Be not displeased because of the boy and because of your slave woman. Whatever Sarah says to you, do as she tells you, for through Isaac shall your seed be named" (Gen. 21:12). See that? Through Isaac the seed will be named, not that Isaac is that seed.

And if I may go to that Jewish theologian Paul, it isn't just that God is referring to Israel as a whole. Paul writes, "Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. But what does the Scripture say? "Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman." So, brothers, we are not children of the slave but of the free woman" (Gal. 4:28-31). You see that? Not just physical children are Abraham's children of promise, but those who are born according to the Spirit.

This promise rolls down the corridor of time and lands on the seed himself: Jesus. Isaiah foresaw this, "By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people?...Yet it was the will of the LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his seed; he shall prolong his days; the will of the LORD shall prosper in his hand: (Is. 53:8,10). How does a guy cut off from the land of the living get to see his seed? He rises from the dead, and he has children, not by the flesh, but by faith in his resurrection power.

And Jesus is telling you that Abraham saw that. He saw that as only a person of faith can see it. If you see it, you see it the same way that Abraham saw it, and you've become his son, or you've become his daughter. You've become a seed of THE seed, Jesus the Messiah, the seed who has come and has crushed the serpent's head, who is now lifted up on high, and by grace he is gathering his elect to himself, they are the seed of promise.

Labels: Abraham, covenants, mercy, salvation

God made several explicit covenants that are recorded in the Old Testament. There is the Noahic covenant (that God made with Noah), the Abrahamic covenant (which God made with Abraham), the Mosaic covenant (which God made with Israel through Moses), the Davidic covenant (with David), etc. You can't miss these because they are explicit - the bible tells us that God made these covenants, and even gives us the words He used to make those covenants. That is why we call such covenants Biblical covenants: because they are plainly expressed in scripture.

Biblical covenants differ from theological covenants in that biblical covenants are defined explicitly from scripture, while theological covenants are defined implicitly (according to one or more interpretations of specific passages) from scripture.

Covenant Theology, the theology that underscores the Westminster Larger Catechism, recognizes three theological covenants (in this order): the covenants of [1] redemption, of [2]works, and of [3]grace.

The Covenant of Redemption presents all three persons in the Trinity (before the world was created) as covenanting together to accomplish the redemption of the elect through Christ by means of Christ being punished in their place, and includes under it's umbrella, both the covenant of works, and again the covenant of grace and every other covenant that followed thereafter.

The Covenant of Works is said to be implied by God's warning concerning eating the fruit of the forbidden tree. In exchance for perfect adherence to this command (i.e. obedience) Adam's life would be sustained eternally.

The Covenant of Grace promised forgiveness of sins, and a restoration of (eternal) life for all who sought this reconciliation by trusting God's provision for salvation through the sacrifice of Christ, first pictured in animal sacrifices, then eventually revealed in Christ Himself.

Whether it is blinding pride, a lack of understanding, or both (or more?) on my part, I find myself unable to accept these precepts as given. Notwithstanding, that isn't to say that I do not see God's ordination before the world began in scripture, or any such thing, rather it is to say that I don't interpret what scripture records in covenantal categories. To be sure, what Covenantal Theology frames in the language of covenants, I see expressed in terms of God's sovereignty, and am loathe to add more to it than that.

For this reason I find myself dismissing the notion that God's instruction, given to Adam, constitutes a "Covenant of Works", or that Adam's fall invoked a "Covenant of Grace" - and for this reason I do not interpret the remainder of scripture through the lens of such covenants. When I consider some doctrine that requires one to assume the existence of a Theological Covenant in order to draw the same conclusion, I will go only so far as to assume what scripture clearly states, and this can and does affect my interpretations of various doctrines.

In the case of questions 30 through 36, I am unwilling to frame my understanding of the questions in terms of the stated theological covenants, but I am willing, if the reader is patient, to express the same ideas in such terms of what I understand from scripture. My hope of course is that whatever I write, as touches on these particular questions, will look to this post as their caveat.

Labels: Alter Ego, Baptists - Pheh, Editorial Comments

Over the course of our last couple of years in this house, we've had the joyful opportunity to reclaim some significant portions of our yard away from their state of nature. Roses and birds of paradise, petunias and cosmos, and pumpkins and tomatoes and zucchini have all taken root where once there was just Bermuda grass, catchweed and thistle. We are a long, long way from finished, but from certain windows, the garden looks great.

Weeds are libertines, going wherever and doing whatever they please. They may even have their own particular beauty, but they spoil a garden by their recklessness. Their seeds waft indiscriminately, their tendrils tangle the grass, their roots strangle the flowers.

Every kind of plant in the garden was once wild, somewhere. In other words, a weed. Someone cultivated each one to be what it is, in a way that it once was not. But that which will not be cultivated is only fit to be burned.

On any given morning, there is a temptation to let it go, to let the weeds have their way; one plant is as good as another. But when the evening comes and the children scamper through soft grass with flowers in their hair, I am glad to have a garden.

Labels: Catechism Buzz, election, salvation