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"Why Men And Women Act The Way They Do" by Bill Farrel explores the inherent differences between men and women in terms of communication styles, emotional needs, and decision-making processes. The book offers insight into how these differences can lead to misunderstandings and conflicts in relationships, and provides practical advice for bridging the gap and fostering greater understanding and connection between genders.

John Owen

John Owen John Owen’s life was incredibly difficult. Born in 1616 and dying in 1683, Owen lived through the deaths of his first wife and all of his children, several of whom died in very early childhood. He supported his last surviving daughter when her marriage broke down. He contributed to a political revolution, watched it fail, saw the monarchy restored and wreak a terrible revenge on republicans, and lived in and around London during the persecution that followed. For twenty years he would have seen the decapitated heads of his friends on display around the city. He died fearing that the dissenting churches had largely abandoned the doctrine of the Trinity and justification by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone; and, with Charles II about to be replaced by his openly Catholic brother James, believing that the English Reformation was almost over. Owen was one of the most published writers in the seventeenth century. He published around 8 million words. These writings included books on theology and spirituality, politics and economics, and ranged in length from the largest commentary ever published on the epistle to the Hebrews to a short Latin poem that has never been reprinted. For not all of Owen’s works have been kept in print. The most widely circulating nineteenth-century edition, most of which is published by the Banner of Truth, did not include Owen’s sermon manuscripts that are kept in various English libraries, nor the book for children that Owen published in 1652. Owen was one of England’s earliest children’s authors. The catechisms that Owen published (1645) outlined what he expected children in his congregation to know. These catechisms were published before the Westminster Assembly published its better-known examples. But Owen’s catechisms are in many ways simpler. The Primer (1652), which Owen prepared after the death of several of his children during the years of poor harvests and disease at the end of the 1640s, showed what Owen expected of an ideal Christian home. Its routine would be built around Bible reading and prayer, he believed, and his little book included sample prayers that children could learn to pray in mornings, evenings, and at meals. Owen argued that those who led church services should take account of the needs of children. Services that were too long, he believed, did no one any good. Adult believers should not need written prayers, he believed, and these should be banned from public worship. But children were different and needed all the help they could get. Owen enjoyed many warm friendships. His social network included many of the most famous writers in seventeenth-century England. Among his friends and rivals were John Milton, Andrew Marvell, John Bunyan, and Lucy Hutchinson. Owen fell out with Milton and became the subject of one of his sonnets. Owen helped Marvell publish one of his most controversial political pamphlets. He encouraged his publisher, Nathanial Ponder, to publish Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. And he appears to have supported Lucy Hutchinson during her move into London, when she attended and took notes upon his preaching and translated large parts of his Theologoumena Pantodapa (1661)—a translation of which has been published with the title Biblical Theology. Owen’s letters reveal his kindness and care as a pastor, especially to mothers grieving their children’s death. Owen was deeply political. He preached to Members of Parliament on the day after the execution of Charles I, and pinned his hopes for the reformation of church and society on their efforts to transform England into a protestant republic. During the 1650s, under the leadership of Oliver Cromwell, Owen served on important committees that sought to establish a religious foundation for the new regime. But he grew dismayed by the ways in which the Cromwell family, and the administration they led, seemed to turn away from godly values. In 1658, he worked with leading army officers to create a crisis that, he likely hoped, would call the regime back to its earlier ideals. It failed, and instead created the crisis that was resolved by the restoration of the monarchy, the return of Charles II, and the persecution of dissenters that followed. During the Restoration, Owen kept his head down, and, as persecution slackened in the later 1660s, published pamphlets that argued that dissenters were the economic lifeblood of the English nation. But he was chastened by his attempts at political intervention and came increasingly to realize that his focus should be on things eternal. Owen often changed his mind. As his developing attitudes to political intervention suggest, Owen committed himself to some beliefs and behaviors that he came to regret. In his early years, he changed his churchmanship from Presbyterianism to Congregationalism. He innovated as a Congregationalist, installing as a co-elder and preacher a man who would not be ordained for several years. He argued for the weekly celebration of the Lord’s Supper, though it is not clear that he ever persuaded any of his congregations to practice it. He thought carefully about the end times and came to believe that, in the latter days, a large number of Jewish people would be converted to Christianity and would return to live in the Promised Land. He dismissed a great deal of discussion about the millennium, but became convinced that the binding of Satan had yet to be achieved. Owen changed his mind because he kept on studying the Bible. Owen was biblical, through and through, and depended just as much on the Holy Spirit. He certainly believed in a learned ministry–after all, he had taught theology at Oxford and done his best to promote godliness within the student body. But he also trusted the Holy Spirit to guide ordinary Christians in small group Bible studies that did not need to be policed by a formally trained expert. Aside from his own Bible study, which advanced on the serious scholarship represented by the three thousand titles that were included in the catalog of his library published soon after his death, Owen encouraged church members to meet together to study Scripture in private. Owen trusted the Bible and the work of the Spirit after writing about both. Owen was not a philosophically-driven, rationalist theologian. His writing abounds in biblical citations. It is molded and contoured by biblical revelation. But he warned that Christians could approach their study of the Bible with absolutely no spiritual advantage to themselves. Christians who approached the study of the Bible without absolute dependence upon the Spirit who inspired and preserved it would gain no more benefit than Jewish readers did from their Scriptures, he argued. Christians should never choose between entire dependence upon the Bible and the Spirit. Owen believed that the goal of the Christian life was knowing God. Before Owen, no one had ever shown clearly how Christians relate to each person of the Trinity. Owen described the goal of the gospel as revealing the love of the Father, who sent the Son as a redeemer of his people, who would be indwelt, provided with gifts, and united together by the Spirit. Owen’s Communion with God is among his most celebrated achievements—and no wonder. It is the exhalation of his devotion to Father, Son, and Spirit, and the discovery of the limitless love of God. Owen is much easier to read than many people imagine. There is a mystique to Owen—a widespread feeling that his books are too difficult and best left to expert theologians. But Owen’s greatest books were written as sermons for an audience of teenagers. Publishers have begun to modernize Owen’s language in new editions of his works. Now more than ever, it’s time to pick up Owen and find his encouragement for the Christian life.

A Letter to Younger Me About Money

If you listen to anyone in their senior years long enough, you’ll eventually hear something like, “If I knew then what I know now . . . ” But seniors aren’t the only ones who feel that way. At age thirty, I find myself already saying the same thing about money. Recently, I left a financial planning firm after working as a creative director and wealth coach. I learned more in one year about financial stewardship than I had learned in my first 29 years of life. While working at the firm, I discovered the sorry state of my family’s finances. I knew we weren’t great with money, but I didn’t realize the extent of our financial ignorance and problems. I also discovered that I wasn’t alone. After six months at the firm, I was able to counsel clients who needed basic financial coaching, and it wasn’t pretty. Regardless of income, most were living paycheck to paycheck, and they were up to their eyeballs in debt. Today, twenty-somethings are bombarded with opportunities to make poor financial decisions. At the relatively young age of thirty, I often find myself saying, “I wish I knew at twenty what I know today about money.” If I could have a conversation with my twenty-year-old self about money, here are three things I would tell him. 1. Money cannot buy you happiness. Throughout my twenties, I viewed money as the solution to most of my problems. This belief dictated how I spent my time and, ultimately, my earnings. At one point, I had seven jobs while pursuing a master’s degree. But I was still broke and in debt, and I never finished my studies. Rather than a source of joy, money became a cruel master (Matthew 6:24). What I’ve discovered is that my experience is all too common. The sad thing is that so few of us seem to learn from our mistakes. We keep trying to pursue happiness through more money. Some will point to studies that suggest there’s a correlation between money and happiness. One article reported that each additional dollar earned per year reduces people’s negative emotions — but that effect disappears at about $200,000 annually. In other words, money is a limited help at best, and certainly doesn’t buy lasting happiness, as any honest observer of wealthy people can quickly perceive. Ultimately, money is a means to an end. A dollar or a piece of gold is only as valuable as what we can trade for it. And money is dangerous. It gives the illusion of granting access to anything. So we can easily elevate it to the throne that should be reserved only for our ultimate provider: God, the giver of all good things. So I would tell my twenty-year-old self: Don’t try to buy happiness with money. This would have dramatically changed my finances, especially with regard to debt. 2. Don’t borrow money carelessly. In my twenties, I borrowed foolishly, and I’m still paying for it. From student loans to credit cards, I went into debt without giving it a second thought. Debt allowed me to get what I wanted when I wanted it. And the best part? I didn’t have to wait or ask for permission. This is the great temptation every twenty-something faces in an age when money is so easily borrowed. The Bible doesn’t condemn debt as inherently sinful, but it clearly warns us that money shouldn’t be borrowed haphazardly. And Scripture also tells us that when we incur a debt, it is evil not to pay what we owe. Romans 13:8 says, “Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another” (NIV). And Psalm 37:21 says, “The wicked borrows and does not repay, but the righteous shows mercy and gives” (NKJV). If I could counsel my twenty-year-old self on debt, here’s what I would say: Don’t borrow money unless you absolutely have to. There is too much at stake to borrow money without giving it careful thought. If you’re considering a credit card or a loan, count the costs, and beware of the risks. And once in debt, I would say, Make a plan to eliminate it as soon as possible. 3. Save, give, and spend money proactively. “A wise man thinks ahead; a fool doesn’t and even brags about it!” (Proverbs 13:16 TLB). One of the worst mistakes I made with money was failing to plan wisely. When I received a paycheck or extra cash, I lacked direction. Like the fool in that Proverb, I was proud that I didn’t budget. I absolutely hated the idea. Budgeting felt intimidating and seemed like a lot of work. Besides, as long as I didn’t plan, I could remain in denial that I was a poor steward of the resources God had given me. I could pretend I was giving and spending wisely and no one could confirm or deny it. And I could make spending decisions based mostly on my feelings. This felt like freedom, but it wasn’t. Now I would say this to my foolish twenty-year-old self: Making a plan for your money may help give you dominion over it. Being planless is not being free; being planless makes you a slave to money. But a good financial plan turns money into your slave to serve what you really value. You will be empowered to save, give, and spend money proactively rather than reactively. It’s Not Too Late to Change Hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty. And it’s not like I now manage money perfectly. Even though I understand more now how to handle money, I don’t always act on my knowledge. But over the last year, I’ve come a long way. And if I can’t help my twenty-year-old self, I hope I can help others avoid the mistakes I made, or help them make changes like I’ve had to make. No matter how old we are, it’s not too late to correct our course. We’re never too old to stop trying to buy happiness with money, or to get out of debt as soon as possible, or to begin governing money instead of being governed by money. We want to serve God and not money (Matthew 6:24). But the less intentional we are with our money, the more likely we will end up serving it, for good stewardship is impossible without intentionality. Article by Phillip Holmes

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