Thursday, June 04, 2026
AI
AI is dangerous because It subtly contributes to depersonalisation. Our infatuation with technology has the consequence of depriving ourselves of relationality. AI is being weaponised into drone (robotics etc as well) warfare. There is less conscience and consciousness of what it means to take another’s life. This depersonalisation is evident in the rise of violence among the young (particularly among youth tribes in Victoria) whose only relational dependence is on the militant gang mentality of their fellow “gamers.” The Archbishop of Sydney wrote an amazingly insightful article at Christmas: God didn’t send a philosophy or a religion, or a ritual, He sent His own Son to be received and known by each individual personally. We humans need relationships. We are in danger of losing our humanity by our dependence on technology. We ought to consciously decide to improve our relationships rather than isolate ourselves by our technologies.
Choose this day
Take It or Leave It by Dr. Franklin L. Kirksey C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity, “Now, today, this moment, is our chance to choose the right side. God is holding back to give us that chance. It will not last forever. We must take it or leave it.” On the journey of life, you will have checkpoints, chances, and choices. First, there are the checkpoints you meet. These checkpoints are divine encounters as we are convicted by the Holy Spirit about whom Jesus said, “And when He has come, He will convict the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment: of sin, because they do not believe in Me; of righteousness, because I go to My Father and you see Me no more; of judgment, because the ruler of this world is judged”(John 16:8-11). Someone explains, “The author of Hebrews quotes the words, ‘Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts as you did in the rebellion,’ three times, in Hebrews 3:7–8, 15, and 4:7. These quotations from Psalm 95 are meant to exhort people to receive Christ and not have ‘a sinful, unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God’(Hebrews 3:12).” Checkpoints are times to remind you of where you stand with the Lord. Paul exhorts in 2 Corinthians 13:5a, “Examine yourselves as to whether you are in the faith. . .” Second, there are the chances you miss. Oswald J. Smith states, “No one has the right to hear the gospel twice, while there remains someone who has not heard it once.” Every unbeliever will be haunted throughout eternity with the memory of the chances they missed to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sin and to receive His glorious salvation. You do not want to live forever saying, “I woulda, coulda, shoulda.” Jesus warns, “For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be required; and to whom much has been committed, of him they will ask the more” (Luke 12:48b). If you are an unbeliever, one day you will be accountable to Jesus at the great white throne judgement for all the chances you missed. Third, there are the choices you make. Adrian Rogers explains, “You are free to choose. You are not free not to choose. You’re not free to choose the consequences of your choice. And, when you make a big choice, you make a lot of other choices right along with it.” C. S. Lewis cautions those still unbelieving who stand before Jesus at the end of life: “It will be too late then to choose your side. There is no use saying you choose to lie down when it has become impossible to stand up. That will not be the time for choosing: it will be the time when we discover which side we really have chosen, whether we realized it before or not.” As Moses called the Israelites to choose in Deuteronomy 30:15, I call you to choose while you can. Dr. Franklin L. Kirksey, Author of Don’t Miss the Revival! Messages for Revival and Spiritual Awakening from Isaiah and Sound Biblical Preaching: Giving the Bible a Voice [Both available on Logos and Amazon ©June 4, 2025, All Rights Reserved
Phil 3 FINALLY
Phil 3 Finally! Rejoice in the Lord
Philippians 3:1-9 ESV - Finally, my brothers, rejoice in the Lord. To write the same things to you is no trouble to me and is safe for you.
2 Look out for the dogs, look out for the evildoers, look out for those who mutilate the flesh. 3 For we are the circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh— 4 though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also. If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: 5 circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. 7 But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. 8 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ 9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith
Finally!! lol most importantly!!
Rejoice in the Lord!!!
Matthew Henry, "The joy of the Lord is a divine armor against the assaults of our spiritual enemies and puts our mouths out of taste for those pleasures with which the tempter baits his hooks . . . the taste of joy in our mouths makes the tempter's offerings seem bland by comparison." Psalm 34:5, 'They looked unto Him and were radiant.' 'Emerson came into our house this morning with a sunbeam in his face.' Peter described it as joy unspeakable and full of glory.
1 No more, my God, I boast no more
Of all the duties I have done;
I quit the hopes I held before,
To trust the merits of thy Son.
2 Now, for the love I bear his name,
What was my gain I count my loss;
My former pride I call my shame,
And nail my glory to his cross.
3 Yes, and I must and will esteem
All things but loss for Jesus’ sake;
O may my soul be found in him,
And of his righteousness partake!
4 The best obedience of my hands
Dares not appear before thy throne;
But faith can answer thy demands,
By pleading what my Lord has done.
He was seeking good pearls, and passed from stall to stall with the eye and touch of the connoisseur; but from each stall he turned away dissatisfied. At last he approached one of the sellers, and saw before him on the tray the most exquisite, perfect, and transparent pearl that his eyes had ever lit on. Asking the price, he discovered that it would take all the pearls he had bought, and all the gold in his pouch, to procure it. When he learnt that to win that he must sell everything else; and so he does. He counts the rest a loss and the pearl far better. He counted all things else but loss.
Have you done this ?
Saturday, May 30, 2026
Calvinism
Persecution and lies
Thursday, May 28, 2026
Bread on the Water by FW Boreham Epworth Press in 1949. Thank you to Geoff Pound
HOW TED PRINGLE CAME BACK
Christmas, 1949
‘The worst of our work is that nothing ever comes of it!’ pensively observed Archie Harrington, the handsome young minister of Rocky Glen. Neatly attired in a grey suit with a flowing blue tie, Archie seemed to be speaking quietly to himself rather than addressing the men around him.
We were away in the depths of the Australian bush at a spot, close to the water’s edge, at which three huge gum-trees had fallen, their prostrate forms completing a perfect triangle. To this romantic and secluded rendezvous, the men who were attending the Summer Retreat at Silver Falls often came of an evening after the programme of the day had been completed. Many of them mounted the prostrate trees; some lounged against the gigantic trunks that clustered round; whilst others squatted or sprawled among the fern.
On hot nights, it was very pleasant, before retiring, to saunter down to this leafy paradise. As soon as the last session of the day had closed, the men would break up into little knots of two or three, and, under cover of dusk, vanish into the scrub; but by devious routes, they contrived, within an hour, to reach the clearing at the bend of the stream. There, to the accompaniment of the babbling waters, they would sing or chat, or jest, just as the fancy took them. Fred King was a specialist in negro spirituals; and, before we finally broke up, we usually startled the opossums, wallabies, kookaburras, and other denizens of the adjacent forestry with the strains of ‘Moses and Aaron Have Just Gone Along’ or ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’ or ‘Steal Away to Jesus’. Most of the members of the retreat were young ministers whose ordinations had taken place only a few years back, and they made no secret of the fact that they regarded these al fresco and informal gatherings at the riverside as among the most attractive features of the Annual Retreat.
Archie Harrington was one of the most popular members of the party. By no means a pessimist or a kill–joy, his sudden explosion seemed completely out of character. What gust of secret disappointment or pang of regret, I wonder, clouded for the moment, his usually sunny spirit. We had been chatting intimately and confidentially about the work of the ministry in general and about our own personal experiences in particular.
‘But the worst of it is that nothing ever comes of it!’ Archie abruptly blurted out. His unexpected and disturbing remark drove each man back upon himself. It was as if some spectral form had emerged from the surrounding forestry, dispelling all our previous felicity. A singular silence fell upon us all. Is it true that the work of the Christian ministry returns no dividends? In the soul–searching hush that enfolded us all, the plash of the water seemed strangely turbulent. I caught myself reflecting, with no apparent reason, on a Mosgiel experience of many years before.
I
I had been addressing a Christian Endeavour meeting in Dunedin. Missing the train on which I had set my heart, I had no alternative but to wait for the late train – the terrible train that, leaving the city at eleven twenty, would restore me to my Manse in the wee sma’ ‘oors. Cooling my heels on the bleak and deserted platform, I felt depressed and miserable. When at length the train started, I found myself sharing with one companion, a long compartment, with doors at either extremity and seats along the sides, capable of accommodating fifty people. He sat at one end and I at the other. I expect that I looked to him as woebegone and disconsolate as he looked to me. The train rumbled on through the night. The light was too dim to permit reading; the jolting was too violent to permit sleeping; and I was just about to record a solemn vow never again to accept city engagements when a curious line of thought captivated me.
‘Here I am,’ I said to myself, ‘on this out-of-the-way New Zealand railway at dead of night! I can’t read; I can’t rest; I can do nothing; but I can talk! And there, huddled up in that far corner of the self-same compartment, is another belated unfortunate who can neither read nor sleep, and who, quite possibly, might like to beguile the time with conversation.’
And then it flashed upon me, not only that I could do it, but that I should do it.
‘We two,’ I continued, resuming my comfortless soliloquy, ‘we two have been thrown together for an hour or more in this outlandish way, in this outlandish place, at this outlandish time. We have never seen each other before. We shall never see each other again until we meet on the Day of Judgment. What right have I to let him go his way as though our tracks had never crossed? Is the glorious message that, on Sundays, I deliver to my people, only intended exclusively for them? And is it only to be delivered on Sundays?’
The burden of responsibility grew more and more heavy. I could no longer resist the impulse that burned within me. The train stopped for lengthy shunting operations at Burnside. I stepped out on to the platform and walked up and down for a few moments, inhaling the fresh mountain air. I pulled myself together. I wanted to have all my wits about me and to be at my best. The engine shrieked; and, on returning to the compartment, I was careful to re-enter it by the door near which my companion was sitting. I took the seat immediately facing him. I then saw that he was quite a young fellow, probably a farmer’s son. We soon struck up a pleasant conversation, and then, having created an atmosphere, I expressed the hope that we were fellow-travellers on life’s greater journey.
‘It’s strange that you should ask me that,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about such things lately.’
We soon became so engrossed in our conversation that the train had been standing a minute or so at Mosgiel before we realized that we had reached our destination. I found that our ways took us in diametrically opposite directions. He had a long walk ahead of him.
‘Well,’ I said, in taking farewell of him, ‘you may see your way to a decision as you make your way along the road. If so, remember that you need no one to help you. Lift up your heart to the Saviour; He will understand!’
We parted with a warm handclasp. Long before I reached the Manse I was biting my lips in having omitted to take his name and address. But it was too late: he was gone.
Five years passed. One Monday morning I was seated in the train for Dunedin. The compartment was nearly full. Between Abbotsford and Burnside, the door at one end of the carriage opened, and a tall, dark, bearded man came through, handing each passenger a neat little pamphlet. He gave me a copy of Safety, Certainty and Enjoyment. I looked up to thank him, and, as our eyes met, he recognized me.
‘Why,’ he explained, ‘you’re the very man!’
I made room for him to sit beside me. I told him that his face seemed familiar, although I could not recall a previous meeting.
‘Why,’ he said, ‘don’t you remember that night in the train? You told me if I saw my way to a decision, to lift up my heart to the Saviour on the road. And I did. I‘ve felt sorry ever since that I didn’t ask who you were, so that I could come and tell you. But, as the light came to me through a railway journey, I have always tried to do as much good as possible when I have occasion to travel. I can’t speak to people as you spoke to me; but I always bring a packet of booklets with me.’
It was my turn to feel some emotion, but there was little time for sentiment. He suddenly prepared to leave me.
‘You must excuse me,’ he said, grasping my hand in farewell. ‘We are nearly there, and there are two more carriages in front into which I have not been. Goodbye!’
And that was the last I ever saw of him. But the memory of him has often cheered me with the conviction that many of our daily ministries, apparently futile, are really much more fruitful than they seem.
II
Whilst my wayward mind had been engrossed in this fragment of flotsam cast up by the waves of memory from the shores of long ago, the conversation in the clearing had been resumed, but, completely lost in my brown study, I had no ears for it. All at once, however, I realized with a start that all eyes were upon me and that I was being addressed.
Don Campbell, who, by general consent, usually acted as a kind of master of ceremonies at these go-as-you-please corroborees, asked me for my opinion on the point that Archie Harrington had raised.
‘Well,’ I replied, after a moment’s reflection, ‘I should like to tell you a story; but just look at the time! It’s far too late now, but if you’ll give me a chance tomorrow night, I’ll give you the benefit of an illuminating experience that once came my way.’
It was agreed. Fred King struck up one of his plantation melodies, and, as the last echoes died away in the vast solitude of the surrounding bush, we broke up for the night.
On the following evening, however, we were there again, and after a cataract of chit-chat concerning the sayings and doings of the day, Don Campbell turned to me.
‘How about that story of yours?’ he inquired.
Now, truth to tell, the story that I had in mind when I made my rash promise was, of course, the story of my midnight experience on the Mosgiel train; but, during the twenty-four hours that had since ensued, my mind had darted off in a totally different direction with the inevitable result that I told another story altogether. And this is the tale that, with the music of the stream and the cry of the nightbirds in my ears, I then unfolded.
III
‘What’s to be done about Ted Pringle question?’ – that was the question, a question more easily asked than answered.
It was the quarterly meeting of the teachers of the Mosgiel Sunday School. We had made our way through a lengthy agenda paper and the hour was late. Some of the teachers had a long way to drive home and were showing unmistakable symptoms of impatience. It is under such circumstances that hasty and disastrous decisions are often registered, and I was anxious on that account to close the meeting as soon as possible. Indeed, I was actually rising to pronounce the benediction when Alec Murdoch forestalled me.
‘Mr. Chairman,’ he said, a trifle petulantly, ‘before you close the meeting – what’s to be done about Ted Pringle? Have we got to put up with him any longer?’
Here was a knotty point to have sprung upon us at this late hour! At the mention of Ted Pringle’s name, the meeting took a fresh lease of life. Before I had seen some teachers yawning, and others reaching for hats and umbrellas. But Alec’s question had acted like an electric current and revitalized everybody.
For Ted Pringle was the problem of the entire staff; indeed, he was the storm-centre of the whole congregation. He was a tall, thick-set boy, with ruddy cheeks, laughing eyes, and a great mop of curly hair. He was a born leader: he simply took charge of the boys by whom he happened to be surrounded, and, as if by magic, they all did exactly what he wanted them to do. We transferred Ted from class to class in the hope that the personality of this teacher, or that one, might subdue or captivate him.
Jean Menzies was very frail: she looked as if a puff of wind would blow her away, and she could scarcely speak above a whisper. We put Ted in her class thinking that her very weakness would appeal to his latent chivalry, but, like so many beautiful theories, the scheme did not work; poor Jean came to the superintendent in tears, begging that Ted might be taken from her, or that another teacher, capable of controlling him, be found for her class.
Davie Owens, on the other hand, was an old sailor, with sinews of steel, a face like a flint, and a voice like a foghorn. When we handed Ted over to Davie, he welcomed him into his class with a grip of the hand that made Ted squirm, and we flattered ourselves that the tiresome problem was at length solved.
It is quite possible that, had we allowed things to work their way to a conclusion, Davie might eventually have asserted his mastery. But the trouble was that Davie invariably expressed himself in stentorian tones that rang through the building, and Ted acquired the habit of addressing his teacher in a similarly sonorous register. The consequence was that the conversations between teacher and scholar – sometimes heated, often exciting and always interesting – held the undivided attention of the entire school and rendered teaching in the other classes out of the question.
It had never before occurred to us to discuss Ted Pringle by name at a Teachers’ Meeting, but, now that Alec Murdoch had raised the matter in this pointed and personal way, we all recognized that the question stood more directly related to the success or failure of the school than many of the formal items that we had been drearily considering.
‘What’s to be done about Ted Pringle?’ demanded Alec Murdoch, looking fixedly at me. I had no intention of answering his question, although I was as much affected as anybody present. For, again and again, my heart has sunk within me as, from my coign of advantage in the pulpit, I had seen Ted enter the church during the singing of the second hymn and slither into the back seat. If the back seat was filled before Ted entered, it made no difference to Ted. Such trifles never baulked him. He always did exactly what he wanted to do, and, therefore, he always sat exactly where he wanted to sit. But when he entered, and took his favorite seat in the back row, I knew that, to all intents and purposes, the service was over. How could I hope to impress the minds or touch the hearts of people who were continually glancing over their shoulders to see what was going on in the back row?
But, although I felt Ted Pringle to be a terrible thorn in my flesh, I was determined that nothing should induce me to regard Alec Murdoch’s question as a personal one. After all, it was a Teachers’ Meeting: it was Ted’s behavior in school, and not in church, that was under review; and, although the question awakened painful memories, I tried to look as if I were as disinterested as Julius Caesar or the Man in the Moon.
‘What’s to be done about Ted Pringle?’ Alec inquired; and, evidently thinking that speech would be superfluous, especially at that hour, he simply asked his question and resumed his seat. There was a silence, during which teachers glanced at each other meaningly, shook their heads despairingly, and generally seemed to assume the attitude that, not being good at riddles, they gave up the conundrum. I therefore turned to Alec.
‘Have you anything definite to propose?’ I inquired.
‘Yes,’ he replied, with an acerbity that indicated that he was smarting under recent wounds, ‘I think he ought to be expelled.’
A concrete proposal having been made, I turned instinctively to the superintendent beside me, raising my eyebrows, according to my custom, as a signal that I should like to have his opinion.
‘I am afraid,’ he began, with evident reluctance, ‘I am afraid that it is the only thing to do. It is intolerable that the discipline and effectiveness of the whole school should be sacrificed to the caprice and waywardness of one boy. But as to whether or not we are prepared to take so drastic a step tonight – that is another question.’
Glad of the opening that the superintendent’s doubt had offered me, I instantly sprang to my feet.
‘We are all grateful to Mr. Murdoch,’ I said, ‘for having brought this troublesome matter so pointedly before us; but he will recognize, I am sure, the justice of the superintendent’s scruples. We ought not to act at this late hour. The matter was not on the agenda; we did not come prepared to consider it; we are all very tired: let us leave it until next month, and, in the interval, I will endeavor to have a talk with Ted himself about it.’ Alec agreed. I pronounced the benediction, and we were soon scattered units in the darkness.
IV
The adjourned discussion was never resumed, for, the very next morning, the matter took quite a new turn. As we sat at breakfast at the Manse, the front-door bell suddenly rang.
‘Mr. Pringle wants to see you: he looks as if there’s something wrong. I’ve shown him into the study.’
To the study I accordingly hastened, a little troubled lest, by some perversity of circumstance, our discussion of the previous night should have reached Mr. Pringle’s ears. But he soon allayed my apprehension.
‘We’re in terrible trouble about Ted,’ he began, speaking with evident emotion. ‘For some time he’s been hankering after the sea. We didn’t take it very seriously. We knew that he’d been reading a lot of stories about smugglers and pirates and corsairs, and all that kind of thing. Whenever he mentioned it, we just put him off: I used to tell him that I had something better than that in store for him. But now he’s disappeared. We haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. He didn’t come home to his meals, but we didn’t take very much notice of that; it had happened before. But he hasn’t been home all night. We reported it to the police, but I thought I’d like to come and tell you. If you happen to hear anything, I’ll be glad if you’ll let us know.’
I heard nothing. Nobody heard anything. How Ted got away to sea remained for years an inscrutable mystery. A few months later, however, his mother received a picture postcard from Valparaiso, saying that he was well and happy and that he hoped to come and see her one of these days. Then followed years of silence. A sailor who was spending a week or two with relatives in Mosgiel said that he had crossed Ted’s tracks at San Francisco. He was then on board the Elizabeth Armstrong, and was expecting to sail within a few weeks for Sydney. For months after this, the Pringles could find only one column in the newspaper – the shipping column. They read it from top to bottom every day, hoping against hope to find some news of the Elizabeth Armstrong. But the ship was never mentioned. A year later we heard in a roundabout way that the Elizabeth Armstrong had been totally wrecked on a small island in the Pacific; but as to whether Ted Pringle was a member of her crew at the time of the disaster, we could get no information at all. I happened to be at the street corner when a little group of Mosgiel men were discussing the possibilities of the situation.
‘Well,’ exclaimed one of them, sardonically, ‘it will be a good thing for himself and everybody else if he’s been killed and eaten by cannibals!’
And in that barbarous opinion several other members of that group, cherishing painful memories of Ted’s earlier delinquencies, heartily concurred.
V
All this happened many years ago. It is wonderful how much charity springs up in the most uncharitable heart with the passage of the years. Through the golden haze of that long parenthesis, the villain of long ago looks uncommonly like a hero. You think of him as you think of the highwaymen and pirates of literature: the contemplation of their lawless exploits affords far more pleasure than pain. Sitting beside the fire on a winter’s evening, I had often allowed my mind to wander back into the old days at Mosgiel, and whenever the thought of Ted Pringle had taken its place in the picture, I had caught myself reflecting upon his heart-breaking antics with a smile, half fond and altogether forgiving. And since I took it for granted that his bones were bleaching around the scene of some hideous orgy on a coral Island in the Pacific, I felt under no obligation to temper with justice the softer sentiments I thus indulged.
One night, however, I was a passenger on the Sydney express; and as the great train sped across our vast Australian spaces, the thought of Ted Pringle was as far from my mind as the thought of Ali Baba. At a wayside station, we paused for five minutes, and most of the passengers paced the platform to stretch their legs. All at once, I became conscious that a tall, handsome man in a grey suit – a man whom I somehow imagined to be a commercial traveller – was eyeing me narrowly. He approached me and addressed me by name. I confess that he had taken the advantage over me.
‘Do you really not know me?’ he said, ‘Have a good look!’ I accepted his invitation, but the scrutiny brought no enlightenment.
‘Do you mean to say that you have forgotten Ted Pringle!’
‘No, indeed, I haven’t,’ I replied in amazement. ‘I shall never forget Ted Pringle! But you’re not Ted!’
The whistle blew. ‘I have a reserved compartment,’ he said, ‘with plenty of room. Come in with us for a while.’ I was only too glad to do so, and, as the train gathered pace, he was introducing me to his wife – a sweet-faced, neatly-dressed, gentle- looking lady – and to his two boys, who, like himself, were attractively attired in suits of grey.
We were a happy party on the train that night. Ted, I discovered, owned a fine ship which he himself commanded. He was on his way to put his two boys at a boarding school in Sydney before sailing with his wife for South America.
‘Have you seen the old folks lately?’ I inquired.
‘We’ve just come from New Zealand now,’ he replied. ‘I’ve visited them quite a lot during the past few years. They’ve left Mosgiel, and I’ve done what I can to make them cosy in a little cottage in Dunedin. Your ears must have burned last month, for we talked enough about you, and the old Mosgiel days, in all conscience!’
‘But, Ted’ I remonstrated, ‘you can’t possibly remember much about me and the church: I don’t believe you ever listened to a single word I said!’
‘My word, didn’t I?’ he exclaimed, and then, to my utter astonishment, he reeled off text after text on which I had preached, and repeated bits of sermons that he had remembered and that I had almost forgotten!
‘I always give the men a bit of a service on board on Sundays,’ he said, ‘and you’d be surprised how often the things you told us at Mosgiel come into those talks of mine. I wonder,’ he added, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder if you remember a lecture you gave on Mission Work on the Congo? I dare say you thought I wasn’t listening; but I felt that night that I’d give my right arm to be allowed to go out there and work with Grenfell and Cumber and those fellows. Of course,’ he continued, his eyes moistening slightly, ‘that’s impossible now; but Alf here is going in for medicine, and he says that, when he’s through, he’s going to offer for the Congo; so the lecture may bear fruit yet.’
We resumed our reminisces in the morning, and then, as the express steamed into Sydney, I said goodbye to Ted with far more emotion than I ever expected to cherish towards him.
‘Have you any more stories like that up your sleeve?’ asked Don Campbell, with a smile.
‘Dozens!’ I replied, with a secret glance at the memory of my experience in the railway train, hiding shyly in a shadowy corner of my mind, ‘dozens! And so has every other preacher who has enjoyed a few years’ ministerial experience.
‘And those dozens of stories go to show,’ I added, ‘that there is no enterprise on earth that returns such gold dividends as the work of the minister who, with eyes wide-open to the splendor of his opportunity, seeks to lead his fellow man to the Saviour and to magnify the glory of His service!’
Fred King led us all in one or two of his most moving spirituals; and I noticed that, when we broke up for the night, Archie Harrington slipped his hand through my arm, and we walked back through the shades of the forest together.
Tuesday, May 26, 2026
Isaac Watts No more my God. Philippians 3:7,8
1 No more, my God, I boast no more
Of all the duties I have done;
I quit the hopes I held before,
To trust the merits of thy Son.
2 Now, for the love I bear his name,
What was my gain I count my loss;
My former pride I call my shame,
And nail my glory to his cross.
3 Yes, and I must and will esteem
All things but loss for Jesus’ sake;
O may my soul be found in him,
And of his righteousness partake!
4 The best obedience of my hands
Dares not appear before thy throne;
But faith can answer thy demands,
By pleading what my Lord has done.
Monday, May 25, 2026
Phil 3. Background.
Philippians 3 (Trad) – Overview continued (2) Introduction – Verses 7–11 – The Great Exchange Paul now calls every earthly gain “loss.” Knowing Christ Jesus overtakes all else. He wants a righteousness that comes by faith, not law-keeping. His life goal: “to know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings.” Verses 12–16 – Still Running Paul hasn’t arrived. He is chasing, stretching, pressing toward the goal of full maturity in Christ. The past—good or bad—no longer rules him. He urges everyone “mature” to adopt the same mindset. Verses 17–21 – Eyes on Home The church should imitate Paul’s pattern, not the “enemies of the cross” whose minds are set on earthly things. Believers are already citizens of heaven, awaiting Jesus, who will transform lowly bodies to match His glorious one. The Great Exchange Vs. 7-11 “But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for Christ. Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, And be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith: That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death; If by any means I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead.” (7) But what things — Of this nature; were once reputed gain to me — Which I valued myself upon, and confided in for acceptance with God, supposing them to constitute a righteousness sufficient to justify me in his sight; those, ever since I was made acquainted with the truth as it is in Jesus, and embraced the gospel, I have accounted loss — Things of no value; things which ought to be readily foregone for Christ, in order that, placing all my dependance on him for justification, I might through him be accepted of God, and be saved. The word ζημια, here used by the apostle, and rendered loss, properly signifies loss incurred in trade: and especially that kind of loss which is sustained at sea in a storm, when goods are thrown overboard for the sake of saving the ship and the people on board: in which sense the word is used Acts 27:10; Acts 27:21. To understand the term thus, gives great force and beauty to the passage. It is as if the apostle said, In making the voyage of life, for the purpose of gaining salvation, I proposed to purchase it with my circumcision, and my care in observing the ritual and moral precepts of the law; and I put a great value on these things, on account of the gain or advantage I was to make by them. But when I became a Christian, I willingly threw them all overboard, as of no value in purchasing salvation. And this I did for the sake of gaining salvation through faith in Christ as my only Saviour. (8-11) Yea doubtless — Not only when I was first converted, but I still account both these and all things else, how valuable soever, to be but loss. Having said, in the preceding verse, that he counted his privileges as a Jew, and his righteousness by the law, to be loss, or things to be thrown away, he here adds, that he viewed in the same light all the things which men value themselves upon, and on which they build their hope of salvation: such as their natural and acquired talents, their knowledge, their moral virtue, and even their good works; yea, and all the riches, honours, and pleasures of the world; all the things in which people seek their happiness. For the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord — In comparison of, and in order that I may attain, the experimental and practical knowledge of Christ, as my Lord, as my teaching Prophet, my atoning and mediating Priest, my delivering and ruling King, reigning in my heart by his grace, and governing my life by his laws. For the apostle evidently had a respect here to all the offices and characters of Christ, and intended what he says to be understood of sanctification and practical obedience, as much as of illumination and justification. And he accounted all the things he speaks of as worthless, not only because they were ineffectual to procure for him acceptance with God, but because in themselves they are of little value in comparison with the true knowledge of Christ, and of the way of salvation through him; blessings which the apostle so regarded, that he despised all other knowledge, and every human attainment, as things comparatively unworthy of his care, while pursuing his way to eternal life. For whom I have actually suffered the loss of all things — Which the world esteems, admires, loves, and delights in. It seems probable, from this, that he had been excommunicated by the Jews in Jerusalem, and spoiled of his goods: a treatment which some others, who were not so obnoxious to the Jews as he was, met with after they became Christians, Hebrews 10:33-34. And I count them but dung — So far am I from repenting, that I exposed myself to the loss of them. The discourse rises. Loss is sustained with patience; but dung is cast away with abhorrence. The Greek word, so rendered, signifies any vile refuse of things, the dross of metals, the dregs of liquors, the excrements of animals, the most worthless scraps of meat, the basest offals, fit only for dogs: in such a light did the apostle view every thing that would engage his dependance for justification, or stand in competition with Christ for his affection. That I may win Christ — May have him for my Saviour and Lord; may have an interest in all the offices that he sustains, and in all he hath done and suffered for the salvation of men, and may be made partaker of the benefits which he hath procured for me. And be found in him — Vitally united to him by faith and love; not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law — That merely outward righteousness prescribed by the law, and performed in my own strength; but that which is through the faith of Christ — That justifying, sanctifying, and practical righteousness which is attained through believing in Christ, and in the truths and promises of his gospel. See on Romans 4:6-8; Ephesians 4:22-24; 1 John 3:7. The righteousness which is, εκ Θεου, of, or from God — Which is the gift of his grace and mercy, and not procured by my merit; and is from his Spirit, not effected by my own strength, through the instrumentality of faith alone; a faith, however, productive of love, and of all holiness and righteousness. The phrase in the original here, την εκ Θεου δικαιοσυνην, the righteousness of, or from God, is used, says Macknight, “I think only in this passage. It is opposed to mine own righteousness, which is from the law, a phrase found in other passages, particularly Galatians 3:21. Wherefore, since the righteousness from the law is that which is obtained according to the tenor of the law, the righteousness from God by faith, is that which comes from God’s accounting the believer’s faith to him for righteousness, and from his working that faith in his heart by the influences of his Spirit.” That I may know him — In his person and offices, in his humiliation and exaltation, his grace and glory, as my wisdom and righteousness, my sanctification and redemption; or, as my complete Saviour; and the power — Δυναμιν, the efficacy; of his resurrection — Demonstrating the certain truth and infinite importance of every part of his doctrine, the acceptableness of the atonement made by him for sin, (see on Romans 4:25,) opening an intercourse between earth and heaven, and obtaining for me the Holy Spirit, to raise me from the death of sin unto all the life of righteousness, (John 16:7,) assuring me of a future and eternal judgment, (Acts 17:31,) begetting me again to a lively hope of a heavenly inheritance, (1 Peter 1:3,) and raising my affections from things on earth to things above, Colossians 3:1-2 : and the fellowship of his sufferings — Sympathizing with him in his sufferings, and partaking of the benefits purchased for me thereby; as also being willing to take up my cross and suffer with him, as far as I am called to it, knowing that if I suffer with him, I shall also be glorified with him. See the margin. Being made conformable to his death — Being dead to the world and sin, or being made willing to confirm the gospel by enduring the tortures of crucifixion as he did, should it be his will I should do so. If by any means — Having attained an entire conformity to my great Master, and done and suffered the whole will of God; I might attain unto the resurrection of the dead — Unto that consummate holiness and blessedness, which he will bestow upon all his people when the dead in Christ shall rise first, and be distinguished with honour and glory proportionable to the zeal and diligence which they have manifested in his service. Still Running Vs, 12-16 “Not as though I had already attained, either were already perfect: but I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus. Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded: and if in any thing ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you. Nevertheless, whereto we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us mind the same thing. Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample. (For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ:” (12) Not as though I had already attained — Ουχ οτι ηδη ελαβον, literally, not that I have already received, namely, the blessings which I am in pursuit of, even that complete knowledge of Christ, of the power of his resurrection, the fellowship of his sufferings, and conformity to his death just mentioned; either were already perfect — Τετελειωμαι, perfected, completed: or had finished my course of duty and sufferings. It appears from Php 3:15, that there is a difference between one that is τελειος, perfect, and one that is perfected; the one is fitted for the race, the other has finished the race, and is ready to receive the prize. But I follow after — Διωκω, I pursue, what is still before me. The apostle changes his allusion from a voyage to a race, which he continues through the two next verses. That I may apprehend that perfect holiness, that entire conformity to the will of God, for which also I am apprehended of Christ Jesus — Appearing to me in the way to Damascus, (Acts 26:14,) whose condescending hand graciously laid hold on me when I was proceeding in my mad career of persecuting him and his followers, and in the extraordinary manner of which you have often heard, brought me to engage in running that very different race which I am now pursuing. (13-14) Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended — To have already attained those high degrees of holiness, internal and external, of usefulness and conformity to my blessed Master, which I have in view. But this one thing I do — I make this my chief business. Or rather, (which the phraseology of the original seems to require,) this one thing I can say, though I cannot say that I have attained what I am aiming at; forgetting those things which are behind — Even that part of the race of Christian experience, duty, and suffering, which is already run; and reaching forth, &c. — Greek, τοις δε εμπροσθεν επεκτεινομενος, stretching forward toward those things which are before — Toward still higher attainments in grace, and the further labours and sufferings which remain to be accomplished, pursuing these with the whole vigour of my soul; I press toward the mark — Which God hath placed before me, even a full conformity to the image of his Son in my heart and life, Romans 8:29; for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus — The felicity, honour, and glory, which I am called of God in Christ to contend for: a noble prize indeed! The reader will easily observe, that there is all along in this passage a beautiful allusion to the foot-races in the Grecian games; and in this last clause, to that particular circumstance respecting the prize, that it was placed in a very conspicuous situation, in order that the competitors might be animated by having it still in their view. Add to this, that the judges sat on a high seat, and from thence, by a herald, summoned the contenders into the stadium, or place where they were to contend. In allusion to which elevated situation of the judges, Macknight thinks the apostle here terms God’s calling him by Christ to run the Christian race, ανω κλησις, a high calling, or a calling from above. The phrase, however, seems rather to mean a calling or invitation to very high things, even to dignity and happiness, great beyond all that we can now conceive. For to every faithful servant shall it be granted, partly at death, and more especially at the day of final judgment, to enter into the joy of his Lord, Matthew 25:23; to sit down with him on his throne, as he overcame and is set down with his Father on his throne; and to inherit all things, even all that God has and is, Revelation 3:21; Revelation 21:7. “From the description which the apostle gives in this passage of his stretching all the members of his body while running the Christian race, and from his telling us that he followed on with unremitting strength and agility, till he arrived at the prize which was placed at the end of the course, we may learn what earnestness, diligence, and constancy, in the exercises of faith and holiness, are necessary to our faith’s being counted to us for righteousness at the last day.” (15) Let us therefore, as many as be perfect, be thus minded. "Perfect" here means mature, full grown, as opposed to babes or children. The word is so used (in the Greek) in 1 Corinthians 14:20; Ephesians 4:13; Hebrews 5:14. "There is a difference," says Bengel, on ver. 12, "between the perfect and the perfected: the first are ready for the. race; the last are close upon the prize." St. Paul exhorts all full-grown Christians to imitate his perseverance; like him, to forsake any claims to legal righteousness; to seek that righteousness which is through the faith of Christ; to know Christ, to win Christ; to press ever forwards to obtain the prize. And if in anything ye be otherwise minded, God shall reveal even this unto you.. If only we be in earnest, pressing onwards in the Christian race with sustained perseverance, God will, by the manifestation of his Spirit in our heart, correct any minor errors of doctrine or of practice. Comp. John 7:17, "If any man willeth to do (θέλῃ ποιεῖν) his will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God." "Otherwise" (ἑτέρως) seems here to mean otherwise thin is right, wrongly, amiss - a meaning which it has not unfrequently in classical Greek, and in our word "heterodox." Even this; rather, this too, as well as the one thing needful, the knowledge of Christ, which he has already revealed. Mark the word "reveal." Paul may teach, but living spiritual knowledge is a revelation from God. This passage shows that the word "perfect" is used here in a restricted sense, not of consummated holiness; as it implies that some of the "perfect" may be "otherwise minded," may be involved in minor errors. Good Christians must have that righteousness which is through faith; they must persevere: they may err in less essential points. It is a lesson of charity and humility. (16) Let us walk . . .—In this verse the last words appear to be an explanatory gloss. The original runs thus: Nevertheless—as to that to which we did attain—let us walk by the same. The word “walk” is always used of pursuing a course deliberately chosen. (See Acts 21:24; Romans 4:12; Galatians 5:25.) The nearest parallel (from which the gloss is partly taken) is Galatians 6:16, “As many as walk by this rule, peace be upon them.” In this passage there seems to be the same double reference which has pervaded all St. Paul’s practical teaching. He is anxious for two things—that they should keep on in one course, and that all should keep on together. In both senses he addresses the “perfect;” he will have them understand that they have attained only one thing—to be in the right path, and that it is for them to continue in it; he also bids them refrain from setting themselves up above “the imperfect;” for the very fact of division would mark them as still “carnal,” mere “babes in Christ” (1Corinthians 3:1-4). (17-18) Brethren, be followers together — Συμμιμηται, joint imitators, of me — Obedient to my directions, and following the pattern which God enables me to set before you; and mark — Observe and imitate them; who walk so as ye have us — Myself and the other apostles of Christ, for an ensample. For many — Even teachers, as they profess themselves to be, walk in a very different manner; of whom I have told you often in time past, and now tell you even weeping — While I write, for indeed well may I weep on so lamentable an occasion; that they are enemies of the cross of Christ — Unwilling to suffer any thing for him and his cause, and counteracting the very end and design of his death. Observe, reader, such are all cowardly, all shamefaced, all delicate Christians. Eyes on Home Vs, 17-21 Nevertheless, whereto we have already attained, let us walk by the same rule, let us mind the same thing. Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample. (For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: Brethren, be followers together of me, and mark them which walk so as ye have us for an ensample. (For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ:” (17-18) Brethren, be followers together — Συμμιμηται, joint imitators, of me — Obedient to my directions, and following the pattern which God enables me to set before you; and mark — Observe and imitate them; who walk so as ye have us — Myself and the other apostles of Christ, for an ensample. For many — Even teachers, as they profess themselves to be, walk in a very different manner; of whom I have told you often in time past, and now tell you even weeping — While I write, for indeed well may I weep on so lamentable an occasion; that they are enemies of the cross of Christ — Unwilling to suffer any thing for him and his cause, and counteracting the very end and design of his death. Observe, reader, such are all cowardly, all shamefaced, all delicate Christians. Whose end is destruction — This is placed in the front, that what follows may be read with the greater horror; whose God is their belly — Whose supreme happiness lies in gratifying their sensual appetites. The apostle gives the same character of the Judaizing teachers, (Romans 16:18; Titus 1:11,) and, therefore, it is probable that he is speaking here chiefly of them and of their disciples. Whose glory is in their shame — In those things which they ought to be ashamed of: and whoever glories in the commission of any sin, or in the omission of any duty which he owes to God, his neighbour, or himself; or in the gratification of those inclinations and dispositions that are contrary to the love of God and his neighbour; or in that manner of employing his money, his knowledge, his authority over others, or his time, which is contrary to the will of God, and manifests that he is not a faithful steward of God’s manifold gifts, glories in his shame: who mind — Relish, desire, seek, pursue; earthly things — Things visible and temporal, in preference to those which are invisible and eternal; for to be carnally minded is death, Romans 8:6. (18) For many walk… of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ; rather, I used to tell you; the tense is imperfect. He used to speak thus of them when he was at Philippi; now, during his absence, the evil has increased, and he repeats his warning with tears. "Paul weeps," says Chrysostom, "for those at whom others laugh; so true is his sympathy, so deep his care for all men." He seems to be speaking here, not of the Jews, but of nominal Christians, who used their liberty for a cloke of licentiousness. Such are enemies of the cross; they hate sell-denial, they will not take up their cross. By their evil lives they bring shame upon the religion of the cross. (19 Whose end is destruction. . . .—The intense severity of this verse is only paralleled by such passages as 2Timothy 2:1-5; 2Peter 2:12-22; Jude 1:4; Jude 1:8; Jude 1:12-13. All express the burning indignation of a true servant of Christ against those who “turn the grace of God into lasciviousness,” and “after escaping the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, are again entangled therein and overcome.” Whose God is their belly. —A stronger reiteration of Romans 16:18, “They serve not our Lord Jesus Christ, but their own belly.” Note the emphasis laid on “feasting and rioting” in 2Peter 2:13; Jude 1:12. Whose glory is in their shame. —As the preceding clause refers chiefly to self-indulgence, so this to impurity. Comp. Ephesians 5:12, “It is a shame even to speak of those things which are done of them in secret.” “To glory in their shame”—to boast, as a mark of spirituality, the unbridled license which is to all pure spirits a shame—is the hopeless condition of the reprobate, who “not only do these things, but have pleasure in those who do them” (Romans 1:32). Who mind earthly things.—This last phrase, which in itself might seem hardly strong enough for a climax to a passage so terribly emphatic, may perhaps be designed to bring out by contrast the glorious passage which follows. But it clearly marks the opposition between the high pretension to enlightened spirituality and the gross carnal temper which it covers, groveling (so to speak) on earth, incapable of rising to heaven. (20-21) For our conversation is in heaven — We that are true Christians are of a very different spirit, and act in a quite different manner. The original expression, πολιτευμα, rendered conversation, is a word of a very extensive meaning, implying our citizenship, our thoughts, our affections, are already in heaven; or we think, speak, and act, converse with our fellow-creatures, and conduct ourselves in all our intercourse with them, as citizens of the New Jerusalem, and as being only strangers and pilgrims upon earth. We therefore endeavour to promote the interests of that glorious society to which we belong, to learn its manners, secure a title to its privileges, and behave in a way suitable to, and worthy of our relation to it; from whence also we look for the Saviour — To come and carry us thither according to his promise, (John 14:3,) namely, our spirits, at the dissolution of this earthly tabernacle; yea, and afterward to transform our vile body, το σωμα της ταπεινωσεως, the body of our humiliation; which, in consequence of the fall of our first parents, sinks us so low, is subject to, and encompassed with, so many infirmities, is such a clog to our souls, and so greatly hinders our progress in the work of faith and labour of love: this body we expect he will transform into the most perfect state and the most beauteous form, when it will be purer than the unspotted firmament, brighter than the lustre of the stars, and, which exceeds all parallel, which comprehends all perfection, like unto his glorious body — Of which an image was given in his transfiguration, yea like that wonderfully glorious body which he wears in his heavenly kingdom, and on his triumphant throne. So that here, as Romans 8:23, the redemption of the body from corruption, by a glorious resurrection, is represented as the especial privilege of the righteous. According to that mighty working — That energy of power; whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself — To show himself to the whole intelligent creation of God completely victorious over all his enemies, even over death and the grave, the last of them.
