Author: David Opderbeck

A couple of weeks ago I took the kids to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. The museum’s collection of encaustic paintings from the Roman period in Egypt caught my fancy. These lifelike paintings were placed over mummies, as was the one in my photo. The man pictured here lived in the first century A.D. Look into his eyes, at his little mustache — he’s a regular guy, just like me. He was as real a man as I am. And yet, he’s been gone from this life for nineteen hundred years. Life is short.

This is my first post as a proud member of Every Square Inch, a diverse group of faith bloggers who have joined together to share their thoughts and opinions.

I’m not one for New Years’ resolutions. I think this is because I know myself too well. I’m an obsessive-compulsive sort of guy who dives all-guns into something until something else catches my attention. I know that if I resolve to do something now, I might pursue it for a month or so, but I’ll soon lose enthusiasm. I don’t want to cheapen my “resolve” by spending it on things I’m not really resolved to do.

I’ve also lived through too many uncertain circumstances recently to place much value on my own resolve. A few years ago, I was a partner in a major law firm. Through a series of events I never would have predicted or wanted, I left that prestigious job to become a lowly college professor — a job I love, but a job that is dramatically different than what I did as a practicing lawyer. Within the past year, my otherwise healthy little boy began having seizures, and his speech has not developed much beyond babbling. Just two months ago, I was the principal worship leader in a service with over 600 people. Last month, the music director resigned, the ministry was thrown into chaos, and my own role in the ministry has dwindled to almost nothing.

Life moves more swiftly and powerfully than my resolve. I saw a video clip a few days ago from the recent Asian tsunami. There was footage of a man standing on the beach, leaning towards the onrushing wave. He couldn’t do anything at that point but lean forward and brace for impact. With the force of that wave, his resolution certainly did nothing for him, and he undoubtedly died.

Life is like that, even more so if we have some glimmer of the “powers and principalities” with which we contend. None of us has the resolve to stand firm. But the Church will stand, and prevail. The victory of Christ and his bride is sure, even when my resolve falters.

Yes, there are many things I hope to accomplish this year. I hope to continue a reading program in the Church fathers; I hope to gain a more complete, nuanced understanding of issues relating to faith and science, without slacking on either the faith or the science; I hope to write some meaningful music; I hope to find my way into an even richer ministry role than I had before; I hope to love my wife and children passionately; I hope to publish some good academic work; I hope to find my way into another graduate program, maybe a Ph.D.; I hope my writing and blogging will become more meaningful and edifying. But this is deeper than all my resolutions: to cast myself this year upon the Grace of Christ, to take refuge in his Church, and to find my true hope and home in him.

The Dawn Treader and I started a series on Titus a while ago, which has been proceeding, shall we say, at a leisurely pace. A recent event brought Titus back to my attention.

I learned this week of a leader in a prominent evangelical church who revealed over the holidays that he has been carrying on a secret adulterous affair for many years. (No, it isn’t the guy you’re thinking of, it’s that other guy, and it isn’t the church your thinking of, it’s that other church 😉 ). Unfortunately, this is a recurring problem in churches all around the country.

We often are drawn to leaders who are smart, attractive, accomplished in business, wealthy, or “conservative” in appearance and demeanor. The first thing God requires in a leader, however, is purity. In fact, Titus 1:6-9 tells us twice that church leaders must be “blameless”:

An elder must be blameless, the husband of but one wife, a man whose children believe and are not open to the charge of being wild and disobedient. Since an overseer is entrusted with God’s work, he must be blameless—not overbearing, not quick-tempered, not given to drunkenness, not violent, not pursuing dishonest gain. Rather he must be hospitable, one who loves what is good, who is self-controlled, upright, holy and disciplined.

Anyone who seeks to be “blameless” in our culture knows this is difficult. I know from my own perspective as a man how sin constantly assaults us. Sometimes the only thing we can do is follow the example of Joseph when he was tempted by Potiphar’s wife: run. Look away. End the conversation. Terminate the pleasant little fantasy. Close your eyes and pray for help. It’s a lie. Call it a lie and leave it.

I know many men are trapped in addictions that make advice like this sound trite. For those men, this may be trite, and sustained professional help and support is needed. Have the courage to ask for forgiveness and help — you will find it. For those who find themselves wavering, though, the first step is simple: run.

May God keep us blameless and bless His Church and its leaders.