The biblical authors employ the image of a yoke to convey the story of sin and oppression, God’s righteous judgment, and ultimately, Christ’s offer of true freedom. By understanding this metaphor, we will gain insight into Jesus’ baffling invitation to exchange our heavy burdens for his easy yoke (Matt 11:28-30).

What Is a Yoke? Literal Uses of Yoke in the Bible

A yoke is a (typically) wooden device that is placed on the necks of work animals to attach them to the burdens they would pull. The Hebrew word עֹל (ol) and the Greek words ζυγὸς (zugos) and κλοιὸς (kloios) are generally translated yoke, though there is some flexibility (especially with the Greek term κλοιός (kloios). For example, κλοιός (kloios) can be rendered shields (1 Chr 18:7) or pendant/chain (Prov 1:9). In Leviticus 19:35-36, ζυγός (zugos) can be rendered balances. The Hebrew word מוֹט (môṭ) can also be rendered yoke (Nah 1:13). Yet, the majority of usage refers either literally or metaphorically to the device rigged to an animal for labor.

In the Bible, no animals are explicitly described as yoked—this information is probably assumed. However, when animals were utilized for specific religious purposes in the Bible, it was sometimes required that they had never been under a yoke (Num 19:2; Deut 21:3; 1 Sam 6:7), likely designating their special liturgical purpose. 

While the literal uses of the term in the Bible are relatively sparing, metaphorical uses dominate the biblical landscape.

The Yoke as a Metaphor in the Old Testament: Dominion and Judgment

The dominant use of words designating yoke in a metaphorical way refers to some kind of domination over a person or group. In this sense, yoke as an agricultural device designates bondage or enslavement of some sort. For example, the very first instance of yoke in the Bible is in Isaac’s anti-blessing to Esau. Isaac explains that Esau will serve his brother, but will eventually rebel and break Jacob’s yoke from his neck (Gen 27:39).

Ironically, the nation of Israel (the family line of Jacob/Israel) becomes enslaved, or yoked, to Egypt. Yahweh utilizes the yoke metaphor to describetheir redemption from Egypt: “I broke the bars of your yoke and enabled you to walk with heads held high” (Lev 26:13). Later, in Jeremiah, Yahweh recounts that he broke Israel’s yoke and tore off their chains (Jer 2:20). Hosea similarly describes the Exodus (Hos 11:1-4).

The image of Israel’s slavery to Egypt as a yoke is recast in the Old Testament in three significant contexts: warnings of God’s judgment on Israel, forced labor imposed by Israel’s own kings, and God’s authority (esp. the Torah) over Israel and the nations. 

Warnings of God’s Judgment

First, warnings and descriptions of God’s judgment on Israel regularly employ yoke imagery, connecting God’s judgment and Israel’s exile to their pre-redemption situation in Egypt. Moses warned the Israelites that when (not if) they violate the covenant, Yahweh would put an iron yoke on Israel’s neck, forcing the nation to serve their enemies (Deut 28:48).

Later in Israel’s history, yoke terminology is frequently employed in a fascinating clash between the prophet Jeremiah and the false prophet Hananiah (Jer 27-28). In this context, God intends to raise up King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon and place nations under his yoke as an act of judgment (Jer 27:8; see Isa 47:6). God instructs Jeremiah to wear a yoke to illustrate the prophetic word (Jer 27:2). He warns that any false prophet who urges resistance against Babylon should not be listened to—listening to this kind of false prophet will result in even greater judgment. In other words, God calls on his people to submit to his discipline. Jeremiah spoke these words to King Zedekiah of Judah, the priests, and all the people in the hopes of mitigating God’s judgment against the Judahites (Jer 27:12-22). 

Despite this warning, the prophet Hananiah promised that God had already broken the yoke of the king of Babylon and within two years the southern kingdom would be restored (Jer 28:1-4). Hananiah even illustrated his prophecy by breaking the yoke that Jeremiah wore to symbolize God’s judgment (Jer 28:10-13). As a result, however, Yahweh responded that Hananiah’s breaking of the wooden yoke would result in even greater judgment with an iron yoke (Jer 28:13-14)—recalling the iron yoke of judgment in Moses’ sermon (Deut 28:48), representing the curses for violating the covenant.

In at least one instance in the Old Testament, the yoke symbolizes the heavy burden of sin (Lam 1:14). Sin is like a heavy, captivating yoke that is its own punishment. But later, hope for salvation and God’s kindness come into view. Rather than resisting the yoke of God’s discipline, Jeremiah points out that it is good to wait quietly for salvation. He even asserts that it is good for a man to bear the yoke of God’s discipline while he is still young (Lam 3:27). Perhaps this passage is inspired by the conflict with Hananiah, where yoke terminology is frequently employed. It may even be an allusion to the example of David, who willingly submitted to the consequences of his sin, though he did so in his old age (2 Sam 24:1-17). 

The metaphor of a yoke as judgment or exile is frequently employed to describe God’s redemptive action in restoring Israel and Judah. The exile that was linked to Israel’s slavery in Egypt is paired with restoration that is linked to the original redemption of Israel from slavery in Egypt (Isa 9:4; 10:27; 14:25; Jer 30:8; Ezek 30:18; 34:27; Nah 1:13). In these texts, the removal of the yoke becomes a significant image for salvation, redemption, and the experience of God’s favor.

Similar to the picture of Yahweh breaking the yoke of judgment as he restores his people, they are called on to imitate his redemptive action. When they encounter injustice, they are to correct it by setting the captive free, tearing off the yoke of oppression and injustice. These righteous actions are the kind of worship that God desires from his people (Isaiah 58:6, 9).

Forced Labor by Israel’s Kings

Second, yoke imagery is used to describe Israel’s forced labor, this time not by foreign nations, but by their own kings. After Solomon’s death, both Israel and Judah were willing to acknowledge Rehoboam as their king. However, the northern tribes asked Rehoboam to lighten their yoke, because Solomon’s yoke was already intolerably heavy (in keeping with the warning regarding kingship in 1 Sam 8:10-18). Rehoboam didn’t listen to the elders who advised lightening the yoke, but instead listened to his friends, and he pledged to make the yoke even heavier (1 Kgs 12:14). As a result, the 10 northern tribes refused to acknowledge Rehoboam’s kingship. The parallel passage in 2 Chronicles 10 makes the same point. Israel wanted a king like the other nations. As a result, they experienced the yoke of kingship prior to the yoke of exile.

God’s Requirements and Rules

Third, God’s kingly authority and requirements over Israel and the nations can also be described as a yoke. In Psalm 2, Yahweh’s yoke is enforced through his anointed king. The nations resist God’s authority and conspire to throw off his yoke (Ps 2:3, LXX). In their depravity, Jerusalem’s rich and powerful resisted the way of Yahweh—breaking the yoke and tearing off the chains (both of which seem to be an allusion to the way of Yahweh and God’s justice or more generally to Torah; Jer 5:5), linking Israel’s actions with the nations of Psalm 2.

Yoke as a Metaphor in the New Testament: Christ and the Law

The New Testament authors also use the term yoke in three key metaphorical ways, referring to partnership, Christ’s offer of respite, and Torah. 

Yoke as Partnership

In one instance, the metaphorical usage closely parallels a literal yoke, but in a different way than Old Testament usage. Paul uses yoke terminology in 2 Corinthians 6:14 when he warns against being unequally yoked (ἑτεροζυγέω; heterozygeō) together with unbelievers. Here, the yoke image depicts partnership and suggests that it is not fitting for the Church to share partnership with non-believers, particularly in the pagan context (see Paul’s polemic against idols in 2 Cor 6:15-16). Unbelievers and Christians cannot share a yoke any more than the light and darkness, divided at creation, can partner together (2 Cor 5:14b). 

Aside from the image of a yoke as an instrument of partnership, the metaphor appears in New Testament contexts that are more closely related to the use of this metaphor in the Old Testament. It is not clear whether these uses are intentionally patterned on yoke terminology in the Old Testament. However, as indicated below, the New Testament usage of yoke is consistent, even if transformative, of Old Testament yoke terminology. While the yoke image in the Hebrew Bible is primarily negative, connoting slavery, domination, and judgment. The removal of the yoke depicts salvation, redemption, and freedom.

The Yoke of the Law

Significantly, two other references to yoke in the New Testament present the old covenant stipulations as a yoke of bondage. The Apostle Peter made clear that the Gentiles should not be placed under the old covenant law—it is a yoke that the ancient Israelites and that he and his Jewish contemporaries had been unable to bear (Acts 15:10). The apostle Paul makes a similar point when he emphasizes the freedom secured by Christ, encouraging the Galatians to refuse to be burdened again by the yoke of slavery to the Law (Gal 5:10). 

In light of the new covenant in Christ, the old covenant stipulations become burdensome, similar to the forced labor of Solomon’s day that built the temple and to the Egyptian bondage/Babylonian exile experienced by ancient Israel. It is possible that Peter and Paul both pick up on Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 11:25-30, which references his yoke, creating a contrast with the yoke of the Torah. 

Christ’s Liberating Burden

In Matthew 11:25-30, Jesus draws on the extensive yoke imagery in the Old Testament, communicating that he has come to bring ultimate salvation, redemption, and freedom by offering a different kind of yoke—his yoke, one that is easy and brings rest for their souls (possibly quoting from Jeremiah 6:16). With this terminology, Matthew presents Jesus as the ultimate deliverer, the one who removes yokes of sin (as in Lamentations) and the yoke of God’s judgment. 

What is more, the burden that is yoked to Jesus is light—perhaps an allusion to Isaiah 46:1-13 that contrasts the heavy idols that weigh people down with the strength of Yahweh, who would rescue his servants. Unlike the idols, Jesus (as Yahweh’s servant) brings real deliverance instead of becoming a heavy burden to the people. 

With this language, Jesus provides a better answer to Israel than Rehoboam’s. Jesus is unlike Solomon and Rehoboam—he is the Davidic king who does not put a heavy yoke on his people. Furthermore, Jesus fulfills the prophecies that Yahweh would break the yoke of exile on his people. 

Furthermore, whenever Jesus encounters the oppressed and the hungry, the recipients of injustice, he goes about setting things right—the kind of action encouraged in Isaiah 58:6, 9. In the passage immediately after Jesus’ invitation (Matt 12:15-21), he identifies himself as the servant of Yahweh by quoting directly from Isaiah 42:1-4, in which the servant embodies what God desired for Israel all along. As a result, his yoke brings about rest—the posture associated with God’s blessing and life in the promised land.

Going for Yoke: Bound to be Free

By attending to the use of yoke terminology in the Old Testament, we come to associate this metaphor with slavery and God’s judgment. At the same time, God utilizes this imagery to depict his salvation and redemption of his people. In the New Testament, salvation and redemption are realized in Jesus Christ, who paradoxically yokes us to himself so that we can be free. 

The paradox is striking: we are bound to be free. Unlike the harsh yoke of oppressive kings like Rehoboam or the crushing burden of the law, Jesus offers a yoke that liberates us as we identify with him. This is the mystery at the heart of discipleship—that captivity to Christ brings true freedom.

In our modern context, we may not pull plows, but we carry different yokes: the exhausting pursuit of success, the weight of digital distraction, the burden of comparison in our social-media age—not to mention the yoke of our everyday sins and their ensuing guilt and shame. Jesus's words echo across the centuries with renewed relevance:

Come to me, all of you who are weary and heavy burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light (Matt 11:28-30, CSB). 

The invitation remains open. Will we, like those in Psalm 2:3, resist the yoke of God’s Anointed One? Or will we embrace the paradoxical truth that freedom comes through captivity to Christ? The yoke of Christ—unlike the yokes of Egypt, Babylon, legalism, or our modern idols—doesn't restrict our flourishing but enables it. When we are bound to Christ, we find that we are finally free.

The Confession of Sin

The Bible teaches that every person has sinned and lacks the glory of God (Rom 3:23). Yet, because of the atoning death of Jesus Christ, all those who are united to him are reconciled to God and are being transformed into the image of Christ (2 Cor 3:18). Still, the Bible simply assumes that Christians will sin in this life (1 John 2:1). For that reason, we regularly confess our sins as a congregation.

Confession is not about wallowing in guilt, but about pursuing an honest relationship with God. It acknowledges our ongoing need for grace and God's continual work of transformation in our lives. By confessing, we agree with God about the nature of our actions and open ourselves to His healing and restoration.

Beyond the ongoing need for confession of sin is the call to sober reflection before participating in the Lord's Supper (1 Cor 11:27-32). This call to self-examination does include individual confession of sin, but it does so within the context of the Christian community. We enter into this corporate confession in anticipation of our participation in the Lord's Table.

Our confession is not a private, isolated act, but a corporate practice that emphasizes our shared identity as Christ’s body and our need for God’s forgiveness. Furthermore, there are no Christians who outgrow their need to confess sin and receive God’s forgiveness. We confess together, supporting and bearing one another's burdens, recognizing that we are all in need of God's grace. 

The Affirmation of Pardon

It is important to confess our sins. But we should not stop there. After confessing our sins, we rehearse truths about God's great mercy and forgiveness, preeminently displayed in Jesus Christ (Rom 8:1-2). We express gratitude to God for this forgiveness and we communicate the assurance of pardon for all those who faithfully confess their sin (1 John 1:9). Our confidence in God’s forgiveness rests not in our own merit or in the holiness of the pastor leading the congregation in confession but in God's unfailing love (Mic 7:18-19).

This practice reflects the gospel's core message: for all those in Christ, we are not defined by our sins. Rather, we are defined by Jesus’ saving work. For Christians, confession is not about punishment or humiliation, but about restoration and renewed relationship with God.

Leading the confession of sin and offering the assurance of pardon is a particularly pastoral responsibility. For that reason, only the pastors (or those in our pastoral training program) lead this section of our service. Although no human can forgive sins, we do pronounce assurance of pardon and the forgiveness of sins on the basis of Christ's atoning sacrifice (Eph 1:7). The pastors speak not by their own authority, but as representatives of Christ's reconciling work.

Our Liturgical Practice

The format for the prayer of confession and assurance of pardon varies week-to-week. We utilize prayers written by the pastors specifically for our congregation, responsive readings, psalms, and liturgical prayers offered by Christians in centuries past.

This variety prevents our confession from becoming mechanical or rote. Each week offers a fresh opportunity to engage with the profound truths of God's grace.

Following the prayer, the pastor will speak words of comfort from God. These words are either direct quotations of biblical passages that assure us of God's forgiveness in Christ or that summarize these passages. After the words of comfort, the congregation responds together, "Thanks Be to God." This communal response is an act of faith, declaring our trust in God's mercy and our gratitude for His unending love.

Our corporate confession reminds us that we are a community of imperfect people continually being made new by God's grace, “being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18). In this way, confession is not a static ritual, but a dynamic aspect of our worship and walk with God.

Below, I’ve charted out the basic outline of the sermon series and then provided some resources for those wishing to go deeper in Romans.

Haykin points out that when Baptists shifted from being a persecuted minority emphasizing the preaching of the Word and practice of the sacraments to a legal and evangelical institution, the emphasis on evangelism replaced the emphasis on sacraments. He draws a compelling connection between the rise of "altar calls" at the end of services and the decline of regular inclusion of the Supper in worship. The altar call essentially undermined the Table's place in the Sunday gathering—a connection I had never made before, but one that makes immediate sense.

Haykin also explores the debate between Baptists who practiced open communion and membership versus those who enforced closed communion and membership. While this section was less engaging, his documentation of the dispute between John Bunyan and William Kiffin illuminates the longstanding debate among Baptists regarding the appropriate recipients of the Table. At Resurrection Church, the timing and mode of baptism do not bar participation in communion. Our instructions in the weekly bulletin state: "If you are baptized into God's family and sincerely love Christ, you are welcome to partake, whether or not you are a member of Resurrection Church." The historical debate Haykin outlines provides valuable context for our current practice.

Haykin demonstrates that British Baptists treasured the Eucharist as both memorial and sacrament, considering it the means of grace that draws believers closest to Christ. This attitude stands in stark contrast with many modern (particularly American) Baptist approaches to the Table. Though concise and focused on a specific era of Baptist history, this book provides a valuable resource for those connected to the Baptist tradition who seek to recover a deeper appreciation for the sacraments in their churches.

Amidst us our Beloved stands,
and bids us view His pierced hands;
points to the wounded feet and side,
blest emblems of the Crucified.

If now, with eyes defiled and dim,
we see the signs, but see not Him;
O may His love the scales displace,
and bid us see Him face to face!

"Amidst Us Our Beloved Stands" - C. H. Spurgeon

It’s become more popular for evangelicals to pay attention to the liturgical calendar. For many, Ash Wednesday and Lent have become a significant prelude to Holy Week and the celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ on Easter Sunday.

I don’t know any evangelical Protestants who observe certain days on the church calendar as a shift to a works-based salvation. Instead, this observance signals a kind of catholicity that emphasizes the real connection with local churches in the present and with the invisible, universal Church across time and place. But, of course, no one is obligated to observe Ash Wednesday or Lent any more than they are obligated to recognize other days or seasons on the liturgical calendar, like Good Friday, Easter, or Christmas. Those who observe the liturgical calendar do so in honor of the Lord, and those who abstain do so in honor of the Lord (Rom 14:5-9).  

We plan to hold our first Ash Wednesday service at Resurrection Church to draw our attention to the gospel’s call to repentance and renewal. In keeping with the Church’s tradition, at this service, we will impose ashes with the sign of the cross as part of the service, along with reflection on the gospel, Scripture readings, confession of sin, and assurance of pardon.

Christians have always thought it essential to bring together external embodied action (e.g., bowing heads and closing eyes) with spiritual acts (e.g., praying). In this way, the division between secular and sacred, physical and spiritual, is broken down, providing a unified and holistic expression of worship. This approach is grounded not only in the realities of creation but also in the provision of the sacraments (or ordinances) of baptism and the Lord’s Supper that do the same in a special way.

Some of these practices are foreign to many evangelicals. However, these practices draw on the symbolic gestures of earlier Christians and, more specifically, of God’s people in the Old Testament. Throughout the Bible, seasons or penitence were accompanied by sackcloth (basic, plain clothing), ashes (typically sprinkled on the head or whole body), and fasting (see especially Daniel 9:3-5). Ash Wednesday and Lent draw on these gestures that accompany repentance. At our Ash Wednesday service, you will see a lot of gray and black (and some dull purple), along with the imposition of ashes in this service that begins the Lenten season of fasting and renewal.

I’d like to offer three reflections and a concluding instruction to help prepare for Ash Wednesday and Lent.

First, Ash Wednesday and Lent observance do not earn God’s favor. Instead, they are spiritual disciplines that assist in spiritual formation. Evangelicals rightly resist any notion that we can earn God’s favor. Although some may approach spiritual disciplines this way, those who do misunderstand the spiritual disciplines. The spiritual disciplines do not function as a way to earn God’s favor; instead, participation in them is a response to God’s favor already offered in Christ. Participation in the spiritual disciplines is part of the new life based on what God has done in Christ.

The spiritual disciplines are gifts that assist in the formation of Christ in us. Some spiritual disciplines are explicitly commanded or simply assumed in the Bible. For example, Jesus assumes that his followers will fast (“When you fast…”; Matthew 6:16). In contrast, over time, Christians have recognized other spiritual disciplines (e.g., journaling, the liturgical calendar) as helpful for spiritual formation.

Ash Wednesday and Lent are formal moments when Christians throughout the centuries have determined to pursue the spiritual disciplines of fasting and prayer, providing a community context for spiritual formation. The liturgical calendar offers a rhythm of feasting and fasting that operates like a systolic-diastolic system that keeps us spiritually healthy. Lent is like a diastolic season of repentance, recharging, and renewal that prepares our hearts for the systolic celebration of Resurrection Sunday.  

Second, Ash Wednesday reminds us both of our mortality and gospel hope. Typically, during the imposition of ashes, the recipient will hear these words: “Remember that from dust you came, and to dust you shall return.” These words recall God’s words of judgment to Adam following his rebellion in the garden (Gen 3:19). These sobering words remind us of our mortality and our need to be reconciled to God, just as Adam needed reconciliation following his great betrayal. In the near context of these words of judgment are words of hope regarding the seed of the woman (Gen 3:15), tying together the need for repentance with the hope of reconciliation.  

Following Jesus’ forty-day fast in the wilderness, like Adam and Eve, he was tempted by the devil. But unlike the first couple, Jesus did not yield to that temptation. Jesus, the new and better Adam, prevailed (Rom 5:12-21). Through his righteous life and sacrificial death, he made a way for humanity to be reconciled to God. It is still true that we will face death, but for those who are in Christ Jesus, death has been defeated. We will return to dust, but on the final day, Jesus will raise all those who have been reconciled to God to new life.

Third, fasting during Lent is about adopting a simple posture to aid repentance and clear space for renewal. During Lent, Christians typically fast from things more fitting for a feasting lifestyle. Many people commit to simple meals (or, traditionally, one meal daily), no alcohol, etc. Beyond food limitations, others commit to refraining from watching television, utilizing social media, etc. The main point of the Lenten fast is to adopt a sober-minded manner of life that fits with a heart that pursues repentance and reflects on Jesus’ suffering.

The forty-day Lenten fast is modeled on Jesus’ own fasting in the wilderness (Mark 4:1-11), allowing Christians to imitate their Lord. What is more, in these moments, Christians become like the disciples of John who fasted, anticipating Easter Sunday when they will become like the disciples of Jesus who feasted with the bridegroom (Lk 5:33-39).

Ash Wednesday, Lent, and the Resurrection

Ash Wednesday and Lent commend a somber, reflective disposition. Yet, that is not the end of the story. Early in Church history, Christians used these forty days for the discipleship of catechumens waiting to be baptized on Easter Sunday. Those who had been removed from the church through discipline but had repented would also be formally restored to the church at this time.

Significantly, the word lent is derived from words that mean spring (English lente; German Lenzing). The timing of Lent, associated not only with Easter Sunday but also with the fading of winter and the inbreaking of spring, connects this season to resurrection hope and the renewal that comes with repentance. Lent is not just about somber reflection but also about renewal and resurrection! As we approach Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent, we should remember what comes next: our celebration of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, our greatest hope in life and death (1 Cor 15:12-28).

I appreciate Coppin's careful attention to how Scripture and prayer reveal the mindset of many of Trump's supporters—perhaps even of Trump himself. He documents the shift in perspective that began with viewing Trump as flawed but useful by God (a Cyrus character) to God’s appointed man (nearly a Messiah character). Trump used to be perceived as a bad guy who might be providentially guided to act in morally good ways. Now, he is perceived not only as morally good but also as godly and as God's man.

The criticism against Christians, especially Pentecostal Christians, is fair. At the same time, Christians who support Harris and other democratic nominees may be guilty of the same vices. Although prayer and Scripture don’t feature to the same degree as their Republican counterparts, Democratic candidates and their supporters also utilize both in their campaign appearances. I would be interested in what a companion article examining the Biden and Harris campaigns' use of prayer and Scripture might reveal.

In the drama of the election cycle, Christians on both sides cast their opponent in an anti-Christ role and their own in a Messianic role. It is no surprise that when these candidates take the stage, prayers and Scripture are leveraged to prop them up in their respective roles.

Why is this happening? In part, the problem indicates a distorted understanding of Scripture that perceives the United States as a major player in God's redemptive plan, situated in a covenant relationship with him. Other elements of misguided political theologies also contribute to the problem. But if we can bracket out some of these issues, it seems to me that Christians—genuinely or culturally—on both sides have real fears about the future of the country and they want to find relief from those fears in God’s providence and power.

While I appreciate Coppins' critique of Trump and his "Christian" MAGA supporters, I think the truly constructive question is, “What should we pray for political candidates?” This question is not unlike that deep and searching question that inspired the disciples to request, "Lord, teach us to pray" (Lk 11:1).

When it comes to praying for political candidates, I'm not sure the best way to answer this question outside of reciting the Lord’s prayer (Your kingdom come, your will be done…). Still, a good starting place is 1 Timothy 2:1-2, which affirms the desire to pray for political rulers and identifies the desired end of that prayer: "that we may live peaceful and godly lives in all godliness and holiness." We should pray for our governmental leaders (and candidates), and we should also train our hearts toward godliness and holiness.

Beyond this instructive biblical text, I look to the Book of Common Prayer (BCP). The BCP includes prayers that emphasize our responsibilities as voters, various civil, our enemies, and our president. The ACNA 2019 BCP includes a prayer "For the President and All in Civil Authority" that proves instructive.

O Lord our Governor, whose glory fills all the world: We commend this Nation to your merciful care, that we may be guided by your providence, and dwell secure in your peace. Grant to the President of this Nation, the Governor of this State [or Commonwealth], and to all in authority, wisdom and strength to know and to do your will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness, and make them continually mindful of their calling to serve this people in reverent obedience to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, world without end. Amen.

This prayer, and others like it, offer words for Christians who genuinely want to know how to pray for our country, our current political leaders, and the candidates for office. But this prayer, like all of those cited in Coppins' article, has a distinct political theology embedded within it. I would propose that the political theology embedded in this prayer, and in 1 Timothy 2:1-2, is superior to the political theology embedded in the prayers and Scripture selections by both the Left or the Right.

This election cycle will reveal the functioning political theologies held by individual Christians and their churches, and it will undoubtedly bring about the abuse of Scripture and misdirected prayers by many Christians on the Left and the Right. But I’d like to think that the majority of Christians are not represented at political campaigns—instead, they are pursuing faithfulness in their families and their churches, requesting, "Lord, teach us to pray."

Over the past few months, I’ve been giving special attention to the notion of Christian formation, especially connected to habit formation and regular Christian practices. I’ve had this interest for some time, beginning with my reading of Charles Duhigg’s The Power of Habit when I was in college.[1] I’ve renewed my interest as the idea of spiritual formation has gained popularity in evangelical Christianity with the works of Dallas Willard, James K. A. Smith, and others, popularized especially by John Mark Comer.[2]

But the notion of spiritual formation is not something new. The Bible, and especially the New Testament letters, emphasize spiritual formation: refusal to be conformed to the world’s pattern of thinking and a submission of the self to the pattern of Christ.

As a church, we’ve been studying Paul’s letter to the church at Rome and, after working through the infamously difficult chapters 9-11, Paul launches into texts that have a close connection to the notion of spiritual formation.

In Romans 12:1-2, Paul instructs Christians to offer their whole selves to God. This offering of the whole self denies material-spiritual or sacred-secular distinctions and instead requires a “constantly repeated offering of ourselves in all our concrete living.”[3] It requires a refusal to be conformed to or shaped by the values and thought patterns of the worldly system and instead requires transformation and renewal. In other words, Paul exhorts his readers to a Christian habitus.

What is a habitus? A habitus is “a system of lasting, transposable dispositions which, integrating past experiences, functions at every moment as a matrix of appreciations, and actions and makes possible the achievement of infinitely diversified tasks.[4] More basically, a habitus “is the set of cultural dispositions that has been acquired for being able to navigate competently” within a given place.[5]

The idea of a distinctly Christian habitus has been widely circulated, but is concisely articulated as “a set of disposition, values, and practices that reflect the gift of Christ.”[6] This set of disposition, values, and practices that reflect the gift of Christ are resurrectional and cruciform—they involve taking on the cross shaped life of Christ that eventuates in resurrection. A Christian habitus is a new way of life. It is the actualization of the new self being transformed, recreated, into the image of Christ.

Many Christians wrongly empty the notion of a Christian habitus with a somewhat bare description of the Christian life as a worldview—a way of perceiving the world that generally conveys an emphasis on intellectual activity. This terminology is not entirely unhelpful, but inasmuch as it locates the Christian life only as a set of intellectual propositions requiring assent, it fails to measure up to the fullness of the Christian life. Others have used terminologies such as a social imaginary in an attempt to include the whole of a person rather than just their intellectual faculties.[7]

Whatever terminology is used, Paul wants his readers to cultivate a habitus—a set of dispositions, values, and practices that are calibrated by the gospel of Jesus Christ. This habitus includes patterns of thought, the direction and ordering of desires, and formative and reactive actions. In other words, it is a re-creation of the self that is no longer marked by the world, the flesh, and the devil. This newly created self is not a result of finding one’s self, but of one’s self being found by God and transformed into the redeemed self.

How is a habitus formed? A Christian habitus is formed through three basic influences.

First, and foundational, the formation of a Christian habitus is impossible apart from the resurrecting power of the Holy Spirit, gifted to those who respond to the gospel of Jesus Christ with the obedience of faith. Apart from the gifting of righteousness in the Holy Spirit, becoming a righteous person is impossible. Apart from being given a new nature, in which the Holy Spirit inhabits the heart, a Christlike habituation is inconceivable. A new habitus cannot simply be cultivated. It must be created through the Holy Spirit. In this way, the Christian is transformed from the inside out as the Holy Spirit does his transforming work.

But the Christian gospel does not encourage passivity. Rather, it encourages participation.[8] For this reason, the Christian must participate in the new creation work of the Holy Spirit that inhabits the heart by cultivating habits of mind and of body. These habits are most forcefully connected to the practices of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper, through which we participate in Christ’s death and resurrection and, indeed, with Christ himself (Rom 6:1-14; 1 Cor 10:14-22). Yet, these sacraments commission us to take up habits of the mind (a renewed way of thinking) and habits of life (a renewed way of living).

Habits of mind are necessary because patterns of thought that were previously calibrated to the world system must be re-calibrated according to the kingdom’s system. Immigrants from the world into the kingdom of God must learn to be good citizens of the kingdom, and this learning requires intellectual instruction of the sort that is typically associated with worldview formation.

But habits of mind are insufficient. They are insufficient because humans are not brains on a stick. Rather, humans are intellectual, psychological, social, emotional, spiritual, and (though often neglected) embodied. We should probably avoid making divisions of the human person too stark, but neither should we ignore aspects of the human person, including the reality that humans are embodied creatures. For this reason, habits of the mind must be supplemented by habits of life.

Cognitive sciences—and down-to-earth experience—indicate that many of our decisions, actions, and patterns of life have very little to do with our conscious intellectual activity. Instead, we are formed from the outside in whether we are aware of it or not. Too much research has been done to be neatly summarized here, but our habits have a way of shaping us. In other words, our habits function as a primary influence on our habitus. Those things that we do habitually (whether consciously or unconsciously) form our dispositions, values, and practices. For that reason, we must consciously incorporate the kinds of habits that will cultivate a distinctly Christian habitus.[9]

What is required, then, is a holistic approach to Christian discipleship that takes seriously each aspect of our personhood as relevant to the formation of our internal habitus. Our biology (including our genetics, sleep, nutrition, etc.), our emotional and psychological health, our intellectual development, our traditionally-described spiritual health, and our social environment all need consideration.

How is a habitus sustained? Although the notion that we are products of our environment has been overplayed, especially when used to lessen culpability for our behavior, it is true that our environment (where we spend our time, who we spend our time with, etc.) has massive influence on our habits and, therefore, on our habitus.

The embodied nature of habit transformation and the development of Christian habitus naturally takes place in a community of bodies. Within the habitat of the local church, “routine communal behavior that embodies this altered cognition” reinforces and sustains the Christian habitus. For that reason, Christians must attend not only to the formation of habits, but also to their habitat. It is in a Christian habitat, the local church, that the necessary habits are developed and the Christian habitus is maintained.

It is popular for Christians, especially in Western evangelicalism, to believe that Christian identity is fundamentally a matter of praying a prayer of salvation and giving assent to certain theological propositions. As discussed above, this bare-bones Christianity is insufficient for cultivating a Christian habitus. What is more, this approach to Christianity separates the Christian habits and desired habitus from a distinctly Christian habitat—the local church.

It is certainly possible to cultivate substitute Christian habitats—friend groups, personal Bible studies, online forums, etc. But the problem with these substitute habitats is that they are something akin to creating an ecosystem at a zoo. It can replicate the natural environment of the animals housed at the zoo, but it will always be constraining and artificial.

When the God-given Christian habitat of the local church is replaced by individual Christianity, friend groups, or Bible studies, certain practices erode (especially the sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper) and the habitat becomes necessarily artificial as it becomes disconnected from the kind of concerns and aims of the local churches identified in the New Testament. Requirements to welcome People Like Me (PLMs) and People Not Like Me (NLMs) in the same fellowship of believers (see Romans 14-15), the mission to grow the group rather than to retain an insulated friendship, and the notion of ecclesial authority and accountability all deteriorate. There are other limitations to a Christian habit/habitus separated from the habitat of the local assembly, but these few are reason enough to question the viability of Christianity divorced from the habitat of the church.

But there is one final reason to emphasize locating the development of a habitus and the formation of habits in the habitat of the church. The church is the sphere in which God’s mercies are particularized. The driving motivation for creating a Christian habitus—becoming the kind of person who gives of the self to God and neighbor as a living sacrifice—is the mercy of God.[10]

When self-actualization, desire for acceptance or popularity, fear of God’s judgment, or other motivating factors drive the adoption of habits in pursuit of a particular habitus, that habitus will always be less than Christian. And when the habitat in which formation happens is segmented out from the church, the locus of God’s mercy, the habitus is unsustainable. It is only within this habitat of mercy, the local church, that the necessary conditions for developing a truly Christian habitus are found.  

Conclusion

The biblical authors are deeply concerned about the formation of Christians. As C. S. Lewis famously points out in Mere Christianity, God is not concerned so much about making people who do certain things, but about making a certain kind of people.[11] Yet, the two are not entirely separable. To cultivate a Christian habitus (manner of life), habits must be consciously formed and integrated into life. Because Christian formation requires the giving of the whole self to God, every sphere of life requires this habituation. At the same time, the local church is the habitat for Christian habituation—it is the ecosystem in which the kingdom of God in embodied. To cultivate the habitus required as a logical and reasonable response to God’s mercy, we must carefully consider our habits and we must root ourselves within the ecclesial habitat.

____________

[1] Charles Duhigg, The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business (New York, NY: Penguin Random House, 2014)

[2] Trevin Wax, “3 Waves That Have Shaped Evangelical Churches (and a 4^th on the Way),” The Gospel Coalition (June 4, 2024).

[3] C. E. B. Cranfield, Romans: A Shorter Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1985), 294.

[4] Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, trans. R. Nice (Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 82-83.

[5] M. Alvesson, M and J Sandberg, “Habitat and Habitus: Boxed-in versus Box-Breaking Research,” Organization Studies 35, no. 7 (2014): 967-987.

[6] Michael J. Gorman, Romans: A Theological Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2022), 242; for a fuller explanation see John M. G. Barclay, Paul and the Gift (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2015), 504-508.

[7] See James K. A. Smith, You Are What You Love: The Spiritual Power of Habit (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2016); Kevin J. Vanhoozer, Hearers and Doers: A Pastor’s Guide to Making Disciples through Scripture and Doctrine (Bellingham, WA: Lexham Press, 2019), 1-12.

[8] Michael J. Gorman, Participating in Christ: Explorations in Paul’s Theology and Spirituality (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2019), 1-28.

[9] Duhigg, The Power of Habit; Drew Dyck, Your Future Self Will Thank You: Secrets to Self-Control from the Bible and Brain Science(Chicago, IL: Moody Publishers, 2019); John Mark Comer, Practicing the Way: Be with Jesus; Become Like Him; Do as He Did (Colorado Springs, CO: Waterbrook, 2024); Dru Johnson, Human Rites: The Power of Rituals, Habits, and Sacraments (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2019).

[10] Barclay, Paul and the Gift, 508-516.

[11] C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity in The Complete C. S. Lewis Signature Classics (San Francisco, CA: HarperOne, 2022), 73.

Basil of Caesarea (c. 330-379) wrote On the Holy Spirit near the end of his life, laying a theological foundation for trinitarian orthodoxy. His writing about the Holy Spirit has had a lasting impact on the Church's theology that transcends the debates of his own time. This short book answers perennial questions about the Trinity more broadly and the Holy Spirit more specifically.

I'll admit that some sections of the book might be a little challenging on first reading, not because they are complicated but because he addresses questions raised in his particular context. Still, those sections are worth pressing into because many of the questions that people in Basil's day had about the Holy Spirit are the same questions that we have today. For example, Basil basically weighs whether we should be more fearful of over-worshipping or under-worshipping the Holy Spirit. He asks, "Which should we fear, that we will overstep his dignity with excessive honor? Or the opposite, that we would be diminishing our estimation of him…?" He then cites several passages of Scripture attributing divine action and glory to the Holy Spirit.

The majority of the chapters address distinct questions or work to advance specific theological concepts, such as the way that the prepositions we use in reference to the Holy Spirit communicate different realities. For example, when we offer praise to the Father and the Son with the Holy Spirit, we emphasize the equality of each member of the Trinity and the Holy Spirit's reception of our worship. Using this terminology, we glorify the Holy Spirit. However, when we offer praise to the Father and the Son through the Holy Spirit, we give thanks to God, enabled by the Holy Spirit. But in the ninth chapter, he offers a listing of the person and work of the Holy Spirit in Scripture that is, on its own, edifying.  

Although he particularly addresses the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, he also considers the Trinity more generally. In his writing about the inter-Trinitarian relationship, he addresses a current debate in the evangelical world regarding the Son's relationship to the Father. Some advocate a view referred to as the Eternal Subordination of the Son (also known as Eternal Functional Subordination). In several places, Basil advances claims about the relationship between Father and Son that would militate against the ESS/EFS perspective.

Finally, Basil's exploration of the Holy Spirit touches on other interesting subjects, such as baptism, the role of tradition, etc. While we may not agree with all of Basil's views, I do appreciate that he represents a credobaptist perspective on Baptism. Although he and the other Cappadocian Fathers were in the minority on this point, they provide evidence for rich theological reflection on Baptism that modern credobaptists can appreciate. For example, he writes:

Now faith and Baptism are two ways of salvation that are naturally united with each other and indivisible. While faith is perfected by Baptism, Baptism is established by faith, and each is carried out by the same names. For as we believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, so also we are baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The confession that brings salvation comes first and there follows Baptism which seals our assent.

Basil concludes his work with a warning against the kind of divisiveness that commonly infiltrates the Christian community. He warns:

We attack each other, and are overturned by each other. Even if the enemy did not hit us first, the comrade wounded us; and if someone was hit and fell, his comrade stepped on him. We have in common with each other that we hate our opponents, but whenever the enemies leave, we then harm each other as enemies.… In everyone love has grown cold, and fraternal communion, destroyed. Even the name of unity is unknown, and loving correction has disappeared. Nowhere is there Christian mercy; nowhere, a sympathetic tear. There is no one who receives 'the weak in faith' (Rom 14.1), but rather there is such a hatred kindled up between members of the same race, that each rejoices more in a neighbor's fault than in their own perfections.

Basil's On the Holy Spirit is a great starting place for Christians wanting to learn about and reflect deeply on the Holy Spirit. His wise treatment of other topics promises to repay the reader for their time and attention.

Comer rejects the idea that Christianity is all about simply adopting a certain set of beliefs or giving mental assent to the gospel. But many Christians really do stop there, as if Christianity is only about acknowledging certain things: Jesus lived, died, and rose again. On this point, he compares evangelical Christians with many Roman Catholics. It is popular among Roman Catholics to distinguish between a Catholic and a practicing Catholic. Comer suggests that, while the Bible never makes a distinction between real and practicing Christians, we may need to so that we can accurately describe the current state of the evangelical Church.

He urges people not to simply identify as Christians but to become practicing Christians by learning what Jesus meant when he called people to follow him as his disciples. The term disciple is somewhat foreign to us, so Comer suggests that the more common term apprentice gives a better sense of what Jesus meant. What does an apprentice do? An apprentice learns, not merely by growing an intellectual database, but through observation and hands-on-practice, a sort of lived or embodied way of knowing, learning from their master. Comer argues that, similarly, apprenticeship to Jesus involves three main goals: be with Jesus, become like Jesus, and do as he did.

The sections on being with Jesus and becoming like Jesus emphasize a transformative life with Christ that roots the transformation (becoming like Jesus) in relationship (being with Jesus). Throughout, Comer distills the writings of Eugene Peterson, Dallas Willard, and other writers across the Christian tradition. In these sections, he develops a theology of spiritual growth. This kind of theology is needed because, as Comer points out, many Christians keep growing until they hit a basic level of maturity, but they remain in that state for the rest of their lives. All along the way, Comer brings biblical texts, theological reflection, and relevant application together to mark out a path of spiritual formation.

Especially instructive is Comer’s emphasis on doing as he did—not as a legalistic means of earning favor with God but instead of participating in the kind of life Jesus modeled for his followers. Doing as Jesus did, Comer argues, is usually about cutting things out of our lives by doing less instead of adding a bunch of things into our lives. When Jesus called his disciples to follow him, he fundamentally reoriented their focus. But he didn’t call them to stop being people. Comer is especially sensitive to the realities of life—dirty dishes and diapers, long hours at work, etc.—that makes putting his suggestions into practice really doable.

Comer is a pastor in LA, so some of his West Coast vibes come through the book in a way that doesn’t quite fit with my Midwestern personality. And, as usual, there are a few points of minor disagreement along the way. Of special note are his comments about spiritual warfare. What he says in the book is good, but I do wonder what this looks for him. My sense is that the publisher probably had him reign in his more charismatic tendencies to serve a broader evangelical readership. But on the whole, Comer has served Christians well by offering this timely and readable book. Take up and read!

Initiate a Welcome

In his book Side By Side, Ed Welch says, “A reasonable application of Scripture is to greet one person we don’t know or don’t know very well every time we gather with others in the body of Christ.” (p.76) If we just wanted to be literal about it, we could make that case from the multiple times we are encouraged to do so as referenced above. But we also know intuitively how important a greeting is – and not just from the person standing at the door handing out bulletins.

When I have visited churches, especially small churches, the music and the sermon are important, but the question I ask when I leave is, “Did anyone say hi to me?” I’m not expecting to meet my new best friend, but did anyone care that I was there? It is surprising how often the answer has been no. I certainly want good worship and good doctrine, but God created us for relationships, first with himself, and also with others. We should find both in the church and that starts with a greeting.

Some might say that they are not good at greeting. Introverts by nature, they are uncomfortable initiating a greeting; they don’t know what to say and would prefer to leave the greeting to the extroverts. Being an introvert myself I get that. Fellow introverts, take courage! This is something that can be learned, and honestly, the bar is not that high. “Hello, my name is Richard. Thanks for coming today. How did you hear about us? Have a good week.” It’s really that simple. This may be a step of faith for you. Take it.

Be quick to listen (James 1:19)

Greeting visitors is something that every person in the church should consider a personal responsibility. It’s okay if that initial conversation is superficial. In most cases, it will be, and some of our relationships will not go much deeper than a friendly greeting. If we want to get beyond the superficial (and yes, we do), another skill we need to develop is listening. 

It is easy (and good) to have your list of questions to ask but it won’t take long to exhaust that list. Then what? To go beyond the niceties of where a person is from and how they heard about us requires that you listen in those conversations to what is important to the other person. Do they talk about family? Are they in a transition? Is there something they are hoping for? Those kinds of comments from a person may be invitations to more significant conversations.

When listening for things that are important, keep some things in mind:

• Take your time. Invite conversation but don’t force it. People will share more when they are ready.
• Don’t give advice unless someone asks for it. Sometimes we want to encourage people by helping them solve a problem. Don’t do it. Encourage them by listening.
• Don’t trump their story with yours. It can be good to share common experiences but be careful not to make yourself and your experience the focus of the conversation.

Encourage one another (1 Thessalonians 5:11)

Every person who walks into our church would like to leave encouraged. That is true for the person who has been here from the beginning to the person visiting for the first time. There are a variety of ways this can happen including music, prayer, and preaching, but for most of us it is going to happen (or not) in relationships.

Let’s encourage one another, and especially our visitors, by initiating a greeting and by listening well. Some of those visitors will return and some will not. Let’s make sure they all know we cared that they came.