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The Unwasted Life – John Piper (Sermon Jam)

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“The unwasted life is the life that puts Christ on display as supremely valuable.”

Audio excerpted from John Piper’s conference sermon “Don’t Waste Your Life”

Track title: A Haunt of Jackals
Artist: Lowercase Noises

I do not claim rights to either the sermon or music. All rights belong to their creators.

1 John 2 :19 – Can a True Christian Fall Away from God?

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By John Piper. © Desiring God Foundation. Website: desiringGod.org

John Piper – Satanás Come Fé no Café da Manhã (Legendado)

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Fragmento de pregação do John Piper durante um de seus estudos de 1 Pedro.

Fonte original: www.desiringgod.org

Portanto, submetam-se a Deus. Resistam ao diabo, e ele fugirá de vocês. – Tiago 4:7

Christian Marclay The Clock

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BBC News at ten article on Christian Marclay’s The Clock – a 24 hour film, featuring in the British Art Show at New Exchange, Nottingham and The White Cube in London.

Não Desperdice Sua Vida ( Dublado ) – John Piper

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Não Desperdice Sua Vida – John Piper
universidade maquenzi – Dublado
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e em todas as redes sociais para que a palavra de Deus chegue em todo o mundo..

Jane Austen’s Answer to Atheism 2.0

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In his TED talk “Atheism 2.0,” School of Life co-founder Alain de Botton offers us a new, new atheism. Actual belief in God is clearly implausible; but we should not, he argues, lose the baby with the doctrinal bathwater. Instead, we should retain the best aspects of church, and just replace Scripture with culture.

De Botton gives an example. Where Christians in the black, Pentecostal tradition might respond to preaching with an enthusiastic outburst—“Thank you Jesus, thank you Christ, thank you Savior!”—inspired atheists need not miss out. After hearing a rousing secular message, atheists could invoke their heroes: “Thank you Plato, thank you Shakespeare, thank you Jane Austen!”

One wonders how Shakespeare, whose work and world were so shaped by Scripture, would have felt about such cooption. But when it comes to Jane Austen, there is no doubt: she would be utterly appalled.

Austen’s Prayers

How do we know?

First, we have the evidence of Austen’s prayers. Her sister, Cassandra, preserved prayers Jane wrote for their nighttime devotions. They voice an earnest desire for God. One devotion begins:

Give us grace, Almighty Father, so to pray, as to deserve to be heard, to address thee with our hearts, as with our lips. Thou art every where present, from Thee no secret can be hid. May the knowledge of this, teach us to fix our thoughts on Thee, with reverence and devotion.

In the climax of this prayer, Austen implores God: “Quicken our sense of Thy mercy in the redemption of the world,” and may we not “by our own neglect, throw away the salvation thou hast given us, nor be Christians only in name.”

Any attempt to portray Austen as a cultural churchgoer or nominal Christian falls at this hurdle: it was precisely what she prayed against.

Any attempt to portray Austen as a cultural churchgoer or nominal Christian falls at this hurdle: it was precisely what she prayed against.

Austen’s Life

Second, we have the evidence of Austen’s life. As Irene Collins puts it, “No biographer has seen cause to question the sincerity of her faith, to which she constantly bore witness, and from which she drew strength during her last, distressing illness.”

After her death, one of Austen’s two clergymen brothers described her as “thoroughly religious and devout,” and on the occasions she missed both morning and evening services on a Sunday, she conducted evening worship in her house.

Austen’s Works

But we also have the evidence of her published works. To be sure, Austen was not afraid to lampoon the clergy. Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice oozes the self-righteousness, worship of class, and lack of self-awareness against which Austen herself prayed (“Oh! God, and save us from deceiving ourselves by pride or vanity.”) But while the unrivaled popularity of Pride and Prejudice makes Mr. Collins Austen’s most famous clergyman, he is one among many more positive examples. Indeed, the heroes of three of her novels—Edward Ferrars (Sense and Sensibility), Edmund Bertram (Mansfield Park), and Henry Tilney (Northanger Abbey)—are pursuing careers in the church.

But perhaps the most subtle and compelling evidence lies in the opening of Austen’s last completed novel. Persuasion—published posthumously not long after Austen’s death on July 18, 1817—opens with a picture of self-worship:

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; . . . and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed.

The first sentence parodies descriptions of puritanical piety; Anne’s father is described like a deeply religious man, who restricts his reading to the Bible, in which he finds consolation, occupation, and enjoyment. But instead of the Bible, Sir Walter has built his life on the Baronetage—the book that listed the names and bios of the upper classes. Indeed, there was one baronet in particular on whom Sir Walter Elliot was fixated: “This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened: ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.”

The hero of Sir Walter’s Bible-substitute is not Jesus, but himself.

Anxiety of Self-Worship

In his TED talk on success, de Botton observes that we are “the first society to be living in a world where we don’t worship anything other than ourselves.” He notes that this creates anxiety: we cannot sustain the pressure of our self-worship. Jane Austen, one of the most successful writers of all time, routinely prayed, “Incline us, O God, to think humbly of ourselves” and routinely acknowledged, “We are helpless and dependent.”

Alain de Botton invites us to replace Scripture with culture: “Thank you Plato, thank you Shakespeare, thank you Jane Austen!” But Jane Austen, who thrills our hearts, delights our minds, and sets the Platonic ideal for prose, offers a different path. She models the fertile growth of culture out of a life grounded in Scripture and gratitude: “Thank you Jesus, thank you Christ, thank you Savior.”


Editors’ note: A version of this article appeared at rebeccamclaughlin.org

Healing from the Trauma of Abortion

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It’s been 16 years since my abortion. I’m married now with three children, and I’ve been walking with Jesus for nearly eight years. But, some days, I feel like I’m playing house. Some days, I’m 16 and lying in a sterile room, staring at an ultrasound screen, wishing I’d looked away—that oval forever etched into my memory. I’m running home while blood trickles down my legs. I’m staying home from high-school hangouts pretending to be sick. I’m hiding, hoping no one will find out.

Some days, I wonder if I’m still hiding.

Today, on the 45th anniversary for Roe v. Wade decision, it feels like I’m trying to slink down in my seat. The scorn and judgment are palpable, even if they’re imagined.

I didn’t immediately understand why this anniversary makes me fearful. My abortion isn’t a secret anymore. I’ve shared my story, hoping to be an example of God’s abundant mercy to the chief of sinners (1 Tim. 1:15–17). Yet even as I’ve experienced increasing measures of healing, there are days, like today, when the pain is as fresh as ever. It’s feels like an open wound, and the headlines like an unrelenting salt shaker.

One in four women will have an abortion by age 45. Women like me are hidden in our churches—your church—grappling with haunting cycles of shame and regret despite what we know to be true about sin, forgiveness, and grace.

Here are three things I’ve learned in the midst of my struggle toward healing. I hope they offer a helpful perspective for those trying to minister to post-abortive women. And I hope they encourage those silently suffering. You’re not alone.

1. Abortion Is Both Sin and Trauma

Abortion is sin. Like all other sin, it’s a grievous offense against a holy God. Our only hope is to repent and believe the gospel. And when we’ve done so, we must stand firm under the assurance of pardon, even in the face of our doubts and Satan’s accusations (1 John 1:9; Rom. 8:1).

But abortion is also trauma, devastating body and soul. It takes a knife to our image-bearing nature as life-givers—and no one walks away from a knife fight without being at least a little mangled. It requires not only repentance, but also healing.

I’ve been afraid to admit the shame that so often haunts me still. Afraid to consider the far-reaching implications of this sin. So when something triggers the pain, I’ve pressed down the doubt, sealing it with platitudes. I’ve applied the truth of justification shallowly, like a band-aid. I’ve hoped it would stop the bleeding, but really it’s just covered the infection festering beneath.

Forgiveness for my abortion came quickly, but healing didn’t.

Forgiveness for my abortion came quickly, but healing didn’t, and the hidden shame manifested in ways I couldn’t understand. Unacknowledged pain bears bad fruit in so many forms: anger, depression, anxiety, endless striving.

These issues aren’t solely the fruit of my abortion. The reality of my story and many others’ is that abortion is only one small piece in a large, broken puzzle. Sin’s destruction—and the mess in its wake—is vast.

But we don’t need to be ashamed of our need for healing. The Lord Jesus welcomes us, gently asking, “Do you want to be healed?” (John 5:6). Maybe we just have to respond, “I believe! Help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24).

2. Healing Is a Process

Returning to a Christian counselor years after my abortion was difficult and humbling. But with her help, I learned to acknowledge my past alongside the truth. Now, instead of running from my pain, I bring it to Jesus in prayer, trusting his truth will comfort my heart (2 Cor. 1:3–4) and renew my mind (Rom. 12:2). Through his Word and his Spirit, Jesus gives me grace and courage to face what I fear. And with his help, I find room to grieve my abortion and the effects of sin honestly.

I grieve the ways my brokenness has crept into my marriage, my parenting, my relationships with others. When I’m not afraid to deal with the past by God’s grace, I’m able to confess and repent of the sin that surfaces. It’s not about confessing my abortion over and over again to pay some kind of penance, but rather unpacking the layers that led me to there and from there: my misplaced hope, my arrogance, my fear of man.

The truth that Jesus has made me blameless before God isn’t a platitude but my deepest source of hope.

As he’s promised, God sends out his Word to heal (Ps. 107:20). It shines light on these places I’ve kept hidden in darkness (Heb. 4:12; 1 John 1). It convicts and assures, beckons and comforts. When carefully applied to my past and present thoughts, feelings, and actions, the truth that Jesus has made me blameless before God isn’t a platitude but my deepest source of hope.

This process hasn’t taken away the pain my memories hold, but I’ve noticed they feel less haunting. I’m growing in patience for the process—slower to condemn myself, quicker to bring my memories to Jesus. I’ve noticed that when I let them drive me to his mercy, they can be an occasion to marvel at grace, not to slink down in my chair or yell at my kids.

3. God’s Grace Is Sufficient

The blood of Christ is sufficient to pay for sin in full—even the sin of abortion. His grace is sufficient to bring healing (Isa. 53:5), even if it takes a lifetime (Phil. 1:6).

Acknowledging the trauma of abortion and embracing the process of healing doesn’t mean we have to spend our lives as wounded women. But we also don’t have to pretend the scars don’t exist.

But God’s all-sufficient grace is also tangible. As I share my struggles with my husband and trusted members of my church community, their compassion, kindness, and reminders of truth further Christ’s healing work in my heart. When I hear the gospel preached and receive the Lord’s Supper, I’m further assured of his forgiveness, and through these weekly means of grace he continues to heal me.

Acknowledging the trauma of abortion and embracing the process of healing doesn’t mean we have to spend our lives as wounded women. But we also don’t have to pretend the scars don’t exist. Instead, we can live in more honest awareness of our brokenness and, as we do, live more dependent on grace. The more God reveals our sinfulness, the more glorious the cross of Christ becomes. There, we’re reminded that God is a compassionate Father (Ps. 103:13), that he’s near to the brokenhearted (Ps. 34:18), and that, by Christ’s wounds, we are healed (Isa. 53:5).

Pakistani Muslims build Christian church – BBC News

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Muslim farmers in a village in near the city of Gojra in Pakistan’s Punjab province are putting their savings together and helping build a church for the Christians in their neighbourhood.
How does such tolerance and harmony exist in a place known for religious violence?
Saba Eitizaz explores.

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5 Lies Christians Tell About Money

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I’ve been a financial coach in my church for several years, and I’ve seen many financial situations. I’ve learned that some people pay too little attention to their financial affairs; others too much. Some routinely budget and plan and save; others don’t. Some give generously; others withhold.

Most can offer reasons (or excuses) for their decisions. Yet often they’re acting based on misconceptions about what Scripture teaches. We need to have an accurate, comprehensive view of biblical personal finance.

To that end, here are five common misconceptions I’ve come across.

1. God cares more about my heart than what I do with my money.

God certainly cares about the condition of our hearts. And yet there’s a “faith and works” connection with money that can’t be ignored. A heart transformed by the gospel will result in changes not just to what we believe about money but also what we do with it (Jas. 2:14–17, 26).

Money is a big deal in the Bible. We’re given more instruction in the Bible about money (more than 2,000 verses) than almost anything else. Jesus told many parables about it, and the apostles had a lot to say about it. We’re told to avoid the love of money (1 Tim. 6:6–10) and to choose God over money (Luke 16:13), so we can be generous and ready to give (Matt. 6:2, 5, 16) and put our trust in God, not riches (1 Tim. 6:17–19). We’re also encouraged to plan and save (Prov. 21:20) and look after the needs of our families and others (1 Tim. 5:8; Heb. 13:16).

2. I know I need to give, but how much doesn’t matter so long as I give something.

There’s little disagreement among Christians that giving is encouraged, even commanded, in Scripture (Mal. 3:6–12; Matt. 23:23; 1 Cor. 16:1–2). But when we start talking about “how much,” things get tricky.

[Check out this two-part TGC Asks series on the question, “Are Christians today required to tithe?”: 7 Reasons Christians Are Not Required to Tithe and The Bible Commands Christians to Tithe]

Some say we’re free to give as little or as much as we want based on how we “feel led,” because we’re free from the “legalism” of the tithe. It’s true that New Testament giving shouldn’t be legalistic. But Jesus and the apostles taught proportional and even sacrificial generosity from a heart of gratitude and worship, which for some may be more than a tithe (Mark 12:41–44; 1 Cor. 16:2; 2 Cor. 9:5–6).

Christians are a long way from obeying this teaching. Depending on which study you read, among professing Christians who attend church regularly, only about 5 percent give at least 10 percent of their income (the traditional “tithe”). Of those who do give, the average is approximately 2.5 percent of income.

3. Debt is unavoidable and not a problem so long as I pay it back and maintain good credit.

Debt is common these days; all forms of consumer debt are on the rise. Some debt may occasionally be necessary, but most kinds can be avoided with careful planning and discipline.

Scripture doesn’t explicitly prohibit lending and borrowing, but it does teach that debt is a form of “bondage,” since it makes the borrower a slave to the debt payment itself (Prov. 22:7). It also makes the borrower a slave to the lender in the sense that the lender has partial “ownership” of the time the borrower must work to pay the lender back.

Unless there’s an overwhelming need to borrow, we shouldn’t put ourselves under the bondage of indebtedness. At a minimum, we shouldn’t frequently borrow, and we should always pay off debt as soon as possible (which is the wise thing to do regardless).

4. God will prosper me financially if I work hard and have enough faith.

Historically there have been two perspectives on financial prosperity and the Christian life. The first teaches that because money is the root of all evil (1 Tim. 6:10), the more money you have, the less righteous you can be. The second teaches that God wants all Christians to be prosperous and wealthy. If we aren’t prosperous, it’s because we don’t have enough faith.

A more accurate biblical perspective is that God in his sovereignty gives some people more, and others less, to steward on his behalf (1 Sam. 2:7; Matt. 26:11). How and why he does so is his business, not ours. Mature believers may be either rich or poor (Prov. 22:2).

5. God has promised to take care of me, so I don’t have to worry about money.

God promises to take care of his children (Matt. 6:25–27; Phil. 4:19). But he also instructs us to take responsibility (and action) for our situation (Prov. 10:4–5). When it comes to finances, we have to do our part.

In light of his promises, we can be free from worry since we know God will take care of us. And given the wise instruction we’ve received, we need to resist passivity and inaction, which presume on God’s kindness.

Money is an important part of our lives, so it’s important that we clearly grasp what the Bible teaches about it. Take time to study the Scriptures for yourself and see how they apply to your situation. Read good books on biblical stewardship. Above all, strive to be a faithful steward of all that your King has entrusted to you (1 Cor. 4:2).

Life and Books with Jake Meador

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On My Shelf helps you get to know various writers through a behind-the-scenes glimpse into their lives as readers.

I asked Jake Meador—vice president of the Davenant Institute and editor of Mere Orthodoxy—about what’s on his nightstand, his favorite fiction and biographies, the last great books he has read, and more.


What’s on your nightstand right now?

Too many things. A few highlights include:

The Great Transformation by Carl Polanyi is a history of how Western nations embraced market economies in the 19th century.

Faith. Hope. Love: The Christ-Centered Way to Grow in Grace by Mark Jones. This is one of the richest devotional texts I’ve ever read. Jones is a specialist in the Puritans and, in terms of the themes, style, and power of his writing, he’s the closest thing I’ve ever found to a living heir to their tradition.

So even when he wades into the weeds a bit on some difficult theological subject, he’s always drawing out how the issue at stake relates to how we see God and follow him in our day-to-day lives. He’ll jump from a seemingly obscure debate about whether or not our faith is our righteousness to a conclusion like, “God could bar us from heaven only if he were prepared to excommunicate his own Son from heaven.”

And the best part is because he has such a great command of the issue, by the time you’re done reading you understand the connection between the seemingly abstract topic and the rich devotional conclusion. I’m not sure I’ve come across many books that blend theological themes with sound counsel regarding Christian piety as well as Jones does.

What are your favorite fiction books?

I’m afraid all the terribly cliché young Reformed dude books probably apply to me: I read Lord of the Rings at least once a year, am extremely fond of Lewis’s science fiction trilogy, and admire Robinson’s Gilead. That said, I do branch out a little, though not as much as I used to: Wendell Berry’s Jayber Crow is still a favorite of mine and still strikes me as one of the richest conversion narratives I’ve ever read. Anthony Esolen has noted that Jayber is Berry’s take on Dante, and that’s exactly right. It’s the story of how he goes from being in the dark woods of error to being bathed in the light of God’s love. And it’s beautiful.

Richard Llewelyn’s How Green Was My Valley is sentimental at times but still good. I devoured Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God as well as Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country. Dumas’s Count of Monte Cristo and Hugo’s Les Miserables have also been significant for me.

What biographies or autobiographies have most influenced you and why?

Martin Greschat’s Martin Bucer: A Reformer and His Times is high on that list. Bucer is a singular figure not only in the history of the Reformation but in broader church history as well. He’s a great movement organizer in the early days of the Reformation, a sharp political mind, and someone who at bottom believed that the most important points of the Christian life are to love God and love neighbor—and that shaped every aspect of his life, from how he preached to his congregants to how he handled ecumenical disputes with the Lutherans, Anabaptists, and other Roman Christians. I’ve never encountered anyone else quite like him in my reading.

The other big one is probably Duriez’s biography of Francis Schaeffer. Schaeffer is a hero of mine (our second son is named Austin Francis), and that biography is one of the most balanced treatments I’ve ever encountered of the man. It avoids both the dangerous and sadly common hagiographic treatment Schaeffer is sometimes given in the Reformed world (though never at L’Abri, where they all knew his weaknesses quite well!) while also avoiding the deplorable treatment Schaeffer often receives from non-evangelicals, including, sadly, his own son.

What are some books you regularly re-read and why?

Two series I reread fairly often are Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Tolkien’s probably isn’t a surprise, and I suspect enough other people share this habit that it doesn’t require much explanation. Potter is fascinating to me and is something I’ve read probably six times, most recently in 2015, so most of my reading happened before people started appropriating it in really bizarre ways during the 2016 election. (Rowling’s Twitter habits, sadly, have done nothing to discourage such obnoxious treatments of the books.)

What I find so compelling about them is that even though I’m not sure Rowling is necessarily going for it, what she ends up doing is creating a world that elevates self-sacrificing love above everything else and that ruthlessly criticizes an overly institutionalized, bureaucratized world as being the enemy of that kind of love. In other words, it is a profoundly Christian critique of much of what passes for modern life.

The most beautiful places of love in the books are Hogwarts and the Burrow, the Weasley family’s home. Both places resist the kind of regimentation and corporatization of place that’s so common in the modern world and, indeed, so beloved among most of the politicians that Rowling and her less observant readers regularly support. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking “King’s Cross” near the end of Deathly Hallows is one of the more beautiful pieces of writing I’ve ever encountered. (The chapter that tells Snape’s tale is also lovely.)

What’s the last great book you read?

Hannah Anderson’s Humble Roots is a good recent treatment of humility. I just read Marshall Berman’s Politics of Authenticity and found it helpful as an explanation of modernity and, particularly, our contemporary obsession with “authenticity.” But it’s going to be hard for anything I read last year to top Jones’s Faith, Hope, Love.

What’s one book you wish every pastor would read?

So I think there’s an easy answer here and a more complicated one: my easy answer is That Hideous Strength. The book has everything—we get to see Lewis’s remarkable skill as a satirist, which is only really apparent in Screwtape among his other books. More importantly, the book combines a pervasive and profoundly Christian critique of modernity with a quite robust hopefulness. I don’t think anyone would regret the time they spent with That Hideous Strength.

The more complicated answer is that when I think about my own growth as a writer and thinker, the role of my friends and their reading has been every bit as important and often even more important than my own. It’s that scene in Lord of the Rings when Frodo says he wouldn’t have gotten far without Sam. That’s how it is with good friendships.

So more than having a short-list of “must read” books for pastors, I would say the best thing they can do for both their heart and mind is to cultivate strong, mutually edifying friendships with other Christians who read well. I’m blessed with such friends through both my time in Reformed University Fellowship in college (there are 10 of us who still get together once a year for a weekend retreat) and also through my work with Mere Orthodoxy and the Davenant Institute.

The conversations I’ve had with those friends have been deeply formative for me and have allowed me to read many, many books vicariously, if I can put it that way. So I don’t actually want to say “hey, go read these three books,” because there will always be “must-read” books and pastors will always be pressed for time and, perhaps even more important, mental energy. I think the better counsel is “give yourself to good friendships and benefit from what your friends are reading.”

What are you learning about life and following Jesus?

Dumas ends Count of Monte Cristo with a penitent letter written by a chastened Edmund Dantes in which Dantes tells him that all human wisdom is summed up in two words: “wait” and “hope.” Life for our family has basically been hard and painful for most of the past two years. My dad suffered a traumatic brain injury in December 2015 that has transformed his life, my mother’s life, and the lives of myself, my wife, and our kids. Alongside that great suffering has been a number of other things, none of which is small but none anywhere near the magnitude of dad’s injury. When you link up these personal difficulties with much of the anxiety and fear one can reasonably feel about the future of the Western world, it’s easy for me to become despondent.

This is most of my last two years: you’re already down because of hard personal circumstances. And then you hear news about another shooting or you read a story about the opioid epidemic or another instance of police brutality or you get anxious that your parents are going to lose their insurance because of what’s happening in Washington or you see another story come out about a Christian business facing legal challenges because of its commitment to orthodoxy . . .  all these things take a mental toll on you.

So I’ve thought a lot about Dumas’s words, and I spent a great deal of time working my way through the “hope” section of Jones’s book. I’m an eager person, which means I’m not given to half-measures or patience. I’m always ready for revolution, always ready to fight, and when the path toward revolution doesn’t seem clear to me I can give into despair easily. Much of the past two years has been about learning to slow down, trust God, remind myself of what is true, and place my hope in the return of Christ and the coming of the eternal city and my citizenship in that place, which is secured for me by Christ and Christ alone.


Also in the On My Shelf series: Cherie Harder • Russ Ramsey • Jason Allen • Jason Cook • Mack Stiles • Michael Kruger • Robert Smith • Tony Merida • Andy Crouch • Walter Strickland • Hannah Anderson • S. D. Smith • Curtis Woods • Mindy Belz • Steve Timmis • David Mathis • Michael Lindsay • Nathan Finn • Jennifer Marshall • Todd Billings • Greg Thornbury • Greg Forster • Jen Pollock Michel • Sam Storms • Barton Swaim • John Stonestreet • George Marsden • Andrew Wilson • Sally Lloyd-Jones • Darryl Williamson • D. A. Horton • Carl Ellis • Owen Strachan • Thomas Kidd • David Murray • Jarvis Williams • Gracy Olmstead • Matthew Hall • Drew Dyck • Louis Markos • Ray Ortlund • Brett McCracken • Mez McConnell • Erik Raymond • Sandra McCracken • Tim Challies • Sammy Rhodes • Karen Ellis • Alastair Roberts • Scott Sauls • Karen Swallow Prior • Jackie Hill Perry • Bruce Ashford • Jonathan Leeman • Megan Hill • Marvin Olasky • David Wells • John Frame • Rod Dreher • James K. A. Smith • Randy Alcorn • Tom Schreiner • Trillia Newbell • Jen Wilkin • Joe Carter • Timothy George • Tim Keller • Bryan Chapell • Lauren Chandler • Mike Cosper • Russell Moore • Jared Wilson • Kathy Keller • J. D. Greear • Kevin DeYoung • Kathleen Nielson • Thabiti Anyabwile • Elyse Fitzpatrick • Collin Hansen • Fred Sanders • Rosaria Butterfield • Nancy Guthrie • Matt Chandler

Browse dozens of book recommendations from The Gospel Coalition’s leaders and sign up your church at Hubworthy.

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