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Good Or God: Why Good Without God Isn't Enough Good Or God: Why Good Without God Isn't Enough

Good Or God: Why Good Without God Isn't Enough Order Printed Copy

  • Author: John Bevere
  • Size: 1.91MB | 234 pages
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About the Book


"Good or God" by John Bevere explores the difference between living a good life based on human standards and pursuing a life aligned with God's will and purpose. The book challenges readers to examine their beliefs and actions to ensure they are truly seeking God's best for their lives. Bevere emphasizes the importance of living a life that is in alignment with God's plan in order to experience true fulfillment and purpose.

John Knox

John Knox "The sword of justice is God's, and if princes and rulers fail to use it, others may." He was a minister of the Christian gospel who advocated violent revolution. He was considered one of the most powerful preachers of his day, but only two of the hundreds of sermons he preached were ever published. He is a key figure in the formation of modern Scotland, yet there is only one monument erected to him in Scotland, and his grave lies beneath a parking lot. John Knox was indeed a man of many paradoxes, a Hebrew Jeremiah set down on Scottish soil. In a relentless campaign of fiery oratory, he sought to destroy what he felt was idolatry and to purify Scotland's religion. Taking up the cause John Knox was born around 1514, at Haddington, a small town south of Edinburgh. Around 1529 he entered the University of St. Andrews and went on to study theology. He was ordained in 1536, but became a notary, then a tutor to the sons of local lairds (lower ranking Scottish nobility). Dramatic events were unfolding in Scotland during Knox's youth. Many were angry with the Catholic church, which owned more than half the real estate and gathered an annual income of nearly 18 times that of the crown. Bishops and priests were often mere political appointments, and many never hid their immoral lives: the archbishop of St. Andrews, Cardinal Beaton, openly consorted with concubines and sired 10 children. The constant sea traffic between Scotland and Europe allowed Lutheran literature to be smuggled into the country. Church authorities were alarmed by this "heresy" and tried to suppress it. Patrick Hamilton, an outspoken Protestant convert, was burned at the stake in 1528. In the early 1540s, Knox came under the influence of converted reformers, and under the preaching of Thomas Guilliame, he joined them. Knox then became a bodyguard for the fiery Protestant preacher George Wishart, who was speaking throughout Scotland. In 1546, however, Beaton had Wishart arrested, tried, strangled, and burned. In response, a party of 16 Protestant nobles stormed the castle, assassinated Beaton, and mutilated his body. The castle was immediately put to siege by a fleet of French ships (Catholic France was an ally to Scotland). Though Knox was not privy to the murder, he did approve of it, and during a break in the siege, he joined the besieged party in the castle. During a Protestant service one Sunday, preacher John Rough spoke on the election of ministers, and publicly asked Knox to undertake the office of preacher. When the congregation confirmed the call, Knox was shaken and reduced to tears. He declined at first, but eventually submitted to what he felt was a divine call. It was a short-lived ministry. In 1547, after St. Andrews Castle had again been put under siege, it finally capitulated. Some of the occupants were imprisoned. Others, like Knox, were sent to the galleys as slaves. Traveling preacher Nineteen months passed before he and others were released. Knox spent the next five years in England, and his reputation for preaching quickly blossomed. But when Catholic Mary Tudor took the throne, Knox was forced to flee to France. He made his way to Geneva, where he met John Calvin. The French reformer described Knox as a "brother … laboring energetically for the faith." Knox for his part, was so impressed with Calvin's Geneva, he called it, "the most perfect school of Christ that was ever on earth since the days of the apostles." Knox traveled on to Frankfurt am Main, where he joined other Protestant refugees—and quickly became embroiled in controversy. The Protestants could not agree on an order of worship. Arguments became so heated that one group stormed out of a church one Sunday, refusing to worship in the same building as Knox. Back in Scotland, Protestants were redoubling their efforts, and congregations were forming all over the country. A group that came to be called "The Lords of the Congregation" vowed to make Protestantism the religion of the land. In 1555, they invited Knox to return to Scotland to inspire the reforming task. Knox spent nine months preaching extensively and persuasively in Scotland before he was forced to return to Geneva. Fiery blasts of the pen Away from his homeland again, he published some of his most controversial tracts: In his Admonition to England he virulently attacked the leaders who allowed Catholicism back in England. In The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women he argued that a female ruler (like English Queen Mary Tudor) was "most odious in the presence of God" and that she was "a traitoress and rebel against God." In his Appellations to the Nobility and Commonality of Scotland, he extended to ordinary people the right—indeed the duty—to rebel against unjust rulers. As he told Queen Mary of Scotland later, "The sword of justice is God's, and if princes and rulers fail to use it, others may." Knox returned to Scotland in 1559, and he again deployed his formidable preaching skills to increase Protestant militancy. Within days of his arrival, he preached a violent sermon at Perth against Catholic "idolatry," causing a riot. Altars were demolished, images smashed, and religious houses destroyed. In June, Knox was elected the minister of the Edinburgh church, where he continued to exhort and inspire. In his sermons, Knox typically spent half an hour calmly exegeting a biblical passage. Then as he applied the text to the Scottish situation, he became "active and vigorous" and would violently pound the pulpit. Said one note taker, "he made me so to grew [quake] and tremble, that I could not hold pen to write." The Lords of the Congregation militarily occupied more and more cities, so that finally, in the 1560 Treaty of Berwick, the English and French agreed to leave Scotland. (The English, now under Protestant Elizabeth I, had come to the aid of the Protestant Scots; the French were aiding the Catholic party). The future of Protestantism in Scotland was assured. The Parliament ordered Knox and five colleagues to write a Confession of Faith, the First Book of Discipline, and The Book of Common Order—all of which cast the Protestant faith of Scotland in a distinctly Calvinist and Presbyterian mode. Knox finished out his years as preacher of the Edinburgh church, helping shape the developing Protestantism in Scotland. During this time, he wrote his History of the Reformation of Religion in Scotland. Though he remains a paradox to many, Knox was clearly a man of great courage: one man standing before Knox's open grave said, "Here lies a man who neither flattered nor feared any flesh." Knox's legacy is large: his spiritual progeny includes some 750,000 Presbyterians in Scotland, 3 million in the United States, and many millions more worldwide.

Comparison Is a Key to Godliness

Too often, I’ve bought the lie. The one the Western world shouts (and the one our sinful ears itch to hear): “Never compare, just be you. Contentment is only found within yourself.” The lie is especially sweet because it allows us to hide our lack of spiritual fruit. It’s tempting to dismiss our need for personal sanctification when we’re preoccupied with the comfort of self-confidence. Even when those lies don’t seduce us, we can still make the mistake of believing that repentance of sinful comparison — the kind that puffs up or beats down — means rejecting all comparison. But we don’t need to fear or avoid comparison, because it is often the means by which God helps us grow. Godly comparison isn’t about keeping up with someone else’s standard, or replicating another’s life, or hustling until we feel better about ourselves. It’s not about running harder on the treadmill of self-improvement, futilely seeking self-worth in our next accomplishment. Godly comparison isn’t ultimately about us. It’s about celebrating and learning from God’s grace at work in others so that we might better love and glorify God. God Compares for Our Good In Genesis, God compared two brothers who brought him an offering. He had regard for Abel’s offering and rejected Cain’s. When Cain responded in anger, revealing the hardness of his heart, God graciously appealed for him to “do well” and beware the lurking beast of sin. In love, he wanted Cain to follow in the righteous footsteps of his brother, who gave the very best of his flock out of devotion to God. Instead of learning from Abel, Cain killed him (Genesis 4:1–8). But, you may say, that was before Jesus! We do not earn his love with offerings. Through faith, we’re clothed in his righteousness. We are saved by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone. Yes, but saving faith in Christ does not produce complacency in character. Jesus told his disciples to follow the examples of others. While sitting in a synagogue, he called them and directed their attention to a poor widow as she placed two copper coins into the offering basket. Contrasting her giving with the wealthy, he declared that she had given more. Though poor, she had given everything she had, demonstrating that her ultimate treasure was God himself (Mark 12:41–44). Jesus also taught us by comparing two sisters. As Martha busied herself with preparations and grumbled to Jesus over Mary’s lack of help, he responded that Mary had chosen better by remaining at his feet. His tender correction wasn’t meant to burden this weary woman with heavy expectations, but to demonstrate what Mary already knew to be true — it’s better to treasure Jesus than to merely toil for him (Luke 10:38–42). When God makes comparisons, it’s not so that we’ll be crushed or condemned, but so that more of our hearts will be captured by him. Comparing for Our Godliness We’ve been saved into one body: the church. This body is made up of many members, each with a distinct function (Romans 12:4–5). God’s glory is too vast and magnificent for a family of cookie-cutter Christians. He intends for all of us — with our different personalities and talents, backgrounds and stories, strengths and weaknesses — to display glimpses of his infinite goodness to the world. Our differences, of every kind, underline his worth in ways sameness cannot. However, while God hasn’t called us to sameness, he has called us all to holiness. As all the parts of our body move in the same direction when we walk, the church in all its diversity moves together toward Christ. One way God helps us become holy is by surrounding us with Christians who imitate him in ways that we don’t yet. These differences are a part of God’s gracious plan to conform us into the image of his Son. He has always intended for us to be sharpened by one another’s examples. That’s why Paul unashamedly told the Corinthian church to be imitators of him as he was of Christ (1 Corinthians 11:1). It’s why Paul instructed Titus to be a model of good works (Titus 2:7) and Timothy to set an example in speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity (1 Timothy 4:12). It’s why Paul spread the word of the Macedonian church’s generosity amidst their affliction (2 Corinthians 8). The body won’t grow in holiness unless there’s godly, humble, and hope-filled comparison and imitation. Our altars of autonomy must be overthrown. Just as Cain should have learned from Abel, just as Martha had to learn from Mary, just as the Corinthian church learned from the Macedonians, we need to learn from one another. How Should We Compare? As we compare, it’s helpful to focus on principles more than particulars. For example, I struggle to practice biblical hospitality, so I look to those who excel — imitating them as they imitate Christ. In doing this, I remind myself there’s freedom to extend hospitality in different ways. My mother-in-law invites people without nearby relatives to holiday gatherings. My siblings and friends have brought foster children into their families. My friend from small group recently had a Mormon missionary over to discuss faith. Rather than feeling daunted by their examples, God is helping me celebrate and learn from them. How might the Christ living in and through them live in and through my hospitality? Rather than ignoring or making excuses for my weakness, I am stirred to grow, obey, and even enjoy hospitality. In areas where we’re stronger, we should still humbly position ourselves to learn from others. I’m far more gifted in mercy than in hospitality, and love using my time and resources to care for those in need. Yet I still need to grow. I want the depth of compassion my friend Brenda has for prostitutes where we live. I want my brother’s heart for the addicted, and his boldness to declare the gospel to those in hopeless situations. The Spirit frees us to boldly and expectantly compare. Who stirs you to treasure Christ more? Who possesses godliness you lack? Who lives passionately for the mission? Consider their examples and identify ways in which you want to imitate them. The same God at work in their strengths will be faithful to slowly refine and transform your weaknesses. Article by Amy DiMarcangelo

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