Love your enemies.

Matthew 5.43-44, Luke 6.27-28.

Sometimes I joke the two commands Jesus said are most important—love God and love your neighbor Mk 12.29-31 —are respectively the easiest and hardest commands. It’s really easy to love God. But the neighbors are such a pain.

Some respond with a laugh. Others disagree: For them, it’s actually a struggle to love God, because he’s invisible and unknowable. (He’s not, but they’ve never been taught how to interact with him, and their churches have been no help.) Whereas the neighbors are sometimes difficult… but sometimes not. And at least they’re visible.

Of course, sometimes their definition of “neighbor” isn’t quite what Jesus has in mind. When asked to define a neighbor, Jesus told the Good Samaritan Story, Lk 10.29-37 and deliberately picked someone Israelis would not care to identify as a “neighbor.” Samaritans were considered heretics of mixed-race ancestry, who insisted they were the real descendants of Israel, and all those Judeans down south were the real heretics. Yet in Jesus’s story, the Samaritan stepped up and helped the half-dead victim when Levites, the most Israeli of Israelis, would not.

Ask Christians who their neighbors are, and sometimes they’re fully aware of Jesus’s story, and try to love the unloveable. But most of us will only think of neighbors as good neighbors—as people who are friendly to us. The less-than-friendly neighbors “aren’t neighborly,” or “aren’t good neighbors,” and therefore aren’t neighbors. We figure they abdicated their status. We only love those who love us. Kind people are easy to love. Unkind people not so much.

In the Law, God obligated the Hebrews to love their neighbors:

Leviticus 19.17-18 Schocken Bible

17You are not to hate your brother in your heart;

rebuke, yes, rebuke your fellow,

that you not bear sin because of him!

18You are not to take-vengeance, you are not to retain-anger against the sons of your kinspeople—

but be-loving to your neighbor [as one] like yourself;

I am YHWH!

And God usually tacks “I am the LORD”—declaring his name YHWH/Jehovah—onto any commands he considers uniquely holy. Don’t hate sinners. Rebuke them, but don’t hate them, don’t take revenge on ’em, don’t stay angry with them; love them. Like God loves ’em.

Like you love yourself. Okay yeah, some of us don’t love ourselves; we got issues. But more often than not, people definitely love ourselves, and prove it regularly with selfish behavior. Now, turn that selfishness outward, turn it into selflessness, and there ya go: You’re loving your neighbor as yourself.

Pharisees strove to follow every command in the Law, including “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and were quite familiar with it ’cause more than one of their rabbis had claimed it’s one of the most important commands. Yet Pharisees were always on the lookout for loopholes, which let ’em look like they followed every command but not really. And if the LORD didn’t explicitly command ’em to love everybody, it meant there were some people they were permitted to hate. Like enemies. Hence the saying “Love your neighbor, and hate your enemy.” Which Jesus, in his Sermon on the Mount, rebuked.

And Jesus didn’t pussyfoot around. He jumped right to the hatable folks, the people who are just plain hostile and vicious towards us. Persecutors. Mistreaters. Cursers.

Matthew 5.43-44 KWL

43“You hear people say this:

‘You will love your neighbor,’ Lv 19.18

and ‘You will hate your enemy.’

44I tell you:

Love your enemies!

{Bless your cursers.

Do good to your haters.}

Pray over {your slanderers

and} your persecutors.”

Luke 6.27-30 KWL

27“But I tell you who listen:

Love your enemies.

Do good to your haters.

28Bless your cursers.

Pray for your accusers.”

The words in braces are what the Textus Receptus added to Matthew by splicing in the sayings of second-century Christians—gospel commentators like Origen, Cyprian, Clement, and Tertullian—who were trying to combine the ideas of the Sermon on the Mount and Sermon on the Plain. It’s not inaccurate to say Jesus taught us to bless our cursers and do good to our haters; he said exactly that in Luke 6. He just didn’t say it in the original text of Matthew.

The devil is a dirty liar.

Years ago I listened to a podcast where a pastor was talking about how he did what he called “spiritual warfare.” He didn’t mean resisting temptation, which is what the scriptures mean when they describe actual spiritual warfare; he means fighting devils.

Then he told a story about fighting a particular devil. A woman came to him for counseling, and in the course of talking with her, he determined she had an evil spirit in her. He demanded to speak to it. It answered. He ordered it to “be bound in Jesus name.” Then he asked it a bunch of questions about how it’s been bothering the woman. When it got started, how things escalated; things like that.

Nope, didn’t throw it out of the woman like he absolutely should have done—like Jesus did every time he realized someone had an evil spirit in ’em. I remind you Jesus forbade those spirits from speaking, Mk 1.34 but this guy got an interview out of the critter.

As I recall, he didn’t put the spirit under oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, like our courts of law do. Not that we should be so stupid as to think a devil would keep any such oath. Humans don’t; perjury happens all the time. To think a devil would be more honest, honorable, and oath-keeping than a human… well that’s ridiculous.

Popular fiction likes to depict Satan as “a man of his word,” because whenever humans in these stories make a deal or wager with the devil, then somehow outsmart or outperform it, it keeps its word and pays its debts. Sometimes ironically, but even so. But Satan is not a man of its word. It’s not even a man!

What it is, is a liar. Precisely as Jesus describes it:

John 8.44 KJV

Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.

There is no truth in the devil. Nor in any devilish spirit you encounter. Nothing any of them tell you can be trusted. Nothing.

Everything this particular pastor got the evil spirit in the woman to tell him: As far as we know, everything it said is pure garbage. Might’ve sounded plausible and convincing—either because devils can tell a good story, or they swipe someone else’s good story and tell that. And of course devils can easily identify a sucker who’ll believe it—who really wants to believe it, like this pastor.

But again: Pure garbage. Trust nothing.

Systematic theology.

My very first theology class in college was titled “Systematic Theology.” It was an orderly overview of all the important doctrines of Christianity, and all the major topics Christian theology touches upon. Didn’t hit every topic, ’cause there simply wasn’t time. (The upper-division theology classes went into much more detail.) But like I said, the main topics:

• God and his existence.
• Revelation and how God can be known.
• The scriptures and how to base theology upon ’em.
• The trinity and God’s mighty attributes.
• Jesus’s nature, person, and work.
• Jesus’s self-sacrifice and our salvation.
• The Holy Spirit and his activity in his church.
• The church’s governance and purpose.
• Death, afterlife, resurrection, and New Jerusalem.

On this blog, I am obviously not going through theology in any systematic way. Largely I’ve been discussing topics as they come up—either going into detail about theological issues in other articles I’ve written, or prompted by someone sending an email.

So if you want an overview of all the main topics of Christian theology, you might wanna buy a systematic theology book. They tend to be written by Calvinists, ’cause Jean Calvin wrote the first Protestant systematic theology, Institutes of the Christian Religion, and systematizing theology has kinda become a big deal to Calvinists ever since. They really like presenting all their doctrines in a tidy, logically consistent package. Makes God sound all orderly and quantifiable!

Is he really? Nah. God’s way bigger than the human mind can grasp. Even bigger than the scriptures can present. Jn 21.25 Systematic theologies can only tell us so much—and same as my theology class, try to hit all the major topics, but can’t get to all of ’em.

Some of ’em try! And, when they’re trying to be intellectually honest, they also try to cover all the major Christian viewpoints about these topics, ’cause Christians aren’t universally agreed on everything. (And, unless we joined a cult, don’t have to be.) Hence some systematic theology books are huge. One of my college textbooks, Millard J. Erickson’s Christian Theology, most definitely is; the current edition clocks in at 1,200 pages. He’s thorough.

Anyway, when Christians get it into our heads to study theology, some of us want this kind of overview. I certainly did; I wanted to make sure I filled in all the gaps in my knowledge. (Or at least learn where the gaps were.) So, there y’go: Systematic theology.

Bibliolatry: When Christians straight-up worship the bible.

Christianity is based on, and centered upon, the person and work of Christ Jesus. I hope you know this already. Most of us do.

But you’re gonna find a strain of Evangelicals who insist Christianity is based on the bible. They’re “bible-believing Christians,” as opposed to Jesus-believing Christians. (They would never say they don’t believe Jesus, but when they describe themselves, bible takes priority.) They attend “bible-believing churches”; I’ve attended more than one “Bible Church,” whether it be First Bible Church, Community Bible Church, Hometown Bible Church, and so forth. “Bible” has to be in the name somewhere, just to remind you they follow bible.

Being a bible-believing, bible-centered group, means they exalt the bible to a really high position in their religion. Nearly as high as God. Sometimes higher—and that’s where we cross the line into bibliolatry.

They will not call it bibliolatry, of course. They’ll call it love and respect for God’s holy word. Or “a high view of scripture” (a term which properly refers to how the Holy Spirit inspired it, not how highly we think of it). They’ll get into the Christian apologetics in which they argue for the bible’s centrality and preeminence.

But Jesus is meant to be center ad preeminent in our religion. If you put anything else there, no matter how good and useful it is, we’re talking idolatry. Doesn’t matter that it’s bible!

In my experience, bible-worship tends to happen most often among cessationists. No, they’re hardly the only ones who do it. But once you insist God turned off the miracles, and doesn’t talk to us anymore, what’re you left with? Well, your bibles. You’re kinda obligated to depend on your bible; it’s like if your mother abandoned you as a child, but left you a good-bye note saying she loves you, and you cling to that note and make it the most precious thing you own. It becomes a sad substitute for your mother. And for cessationists, that’s bible.

Likewise cessationists make bible a sad substitute for the Holy Spirit. We’re supposed to be talking to him, following his leading, developing his fruit. Cessationists believe we don’t do that; not really. They might imagine the Spirit afffecting our emotions somewhat, giving us nudges and warm fuzzy feelings… but as far as following his leading, nope; they follow the bible’s leading. The only way they expect to have a relationship with the Spirit is by reading what he inspired. By learning about him; not actually knowing him and having experiences of him. They reject such experiences.

So if we dare insult the bible, or show it what they consider a lack of respect, they’ll consider it blasphemy. They’ll actually call it that: We slandered their god. The bible must be treated with nothing but the greatest reverence. Never set your bible on the floor. Never doodle in it. Never toss it onto a table. Protect it in the biggest, thickest, real-leather bible covers. Capitalize “Bible” every time—even when we’re not talking about Christian bibles. To treat it as an ordinary book, is as if we treated God with anything other than majesty.

Yeah, the bibliolatry gets pretty blatant with them. It’s not at all hard to detect.

Too busy to pray?

Whenever I talk to people about prayer, and they confess they don’t pray, or don’t pray as often as they oughta, I have never yet heard one of them use the excuse “I’m too busy.” I have heard of people using that excuse—it’s why I bring it up today—but people have never used that excuse on me. More often they tell me, “It’s not a regular habit,” for they’ve not made it one. Or “I struggle to find things to pray about,” which is fair; they’ve made the common mistake of believing their prayers must be long, and consist of 15 minutes of prayer requests—and nevermind how short the Lord’s Prayer is.

I suspect that’s most of the reason people would claim they’re too busy to pray: They likewise think their prayers need to be padded into feature-length size. They think they don’t need a prayer minute; they need a prayer hour. Jesus used to pray to his Father for hours, Mt 14.23 so they figure we should at least be able to spare him an hour of our undivided attention.They need to get into their prayer closet, spend it sitting or kneeling or bowing on their prayer rug, with the candles and mood music and Jesus ikons, and bible opened up to an appropriate prayer passage.

But they don’t have time for that prayer hour. So they’ll get to it when they have a spare hour. And if you have work and kids—and probably read, or watch TV shows or sports, or play video games, which is where many of our “spare hours” usually go when we find some—good luck even finding a spare hour. Heck, once you find it, and get to praying, I betcha you’re gonna fall asleep in the middle of meditating.

Anyway let me back up and remind you prayer doesn’t have to take an hour. How long does it take to pray the Lord’s Prayer? Less than a minute? And can you pray the Lord’s prayer in the middle of doing something else?—obviously you can. So nobody’s too busy to pray.

That hour of undivided attention? That’s for advanced Christians. If you struggle to pray at all, you ain’t advanced! Stop running marathons when you can’t even make it round a track. Get in the habit of regular short prayers. Then—and only if the Holy Spirit tells you there’s an actual need for you to do this—start scheduling yourself longer prayer times. Meanwhile stick to the basics, and master them first.

How many times have you seen people in the grocery store, talking on their phones while they’re shopping? I see it every time I’m in the store. Are they giving their undivided attention to the people they’re talking to? Nope. Do the people they’re talking to, know this? Usually! Do they care? Most really don’t. Does God care if our attention is divided—if we’re praying to him while we’re shopping? Nope! If he does care—if you really should drop everything else, and do nothing but talk to him—the Holy Spirit will tell you so. But typically it’s not an issue at all.

So again: Stop fretting about your designated hours of prayer, and talk to God! Pray basic prayers. Anyone can do basic prayers. You included. Thank God for your meals. Thank God for your latest cup of coffee. Thank him when you get a green light or a parking spot. Especially thank him when you dodge a traffic accident.

If people pop into your mind and you think, “I oughta pray for them,” do that right now. You don’t need to pad your prayer till you’ve implored God on their behalf for 15 minutes; take however long it takes to let him know what you want, and how you’re feeling about it, which again might be less than a minute. If something interrupts your prayer, come back to it later.

Nobody’s too busy to pray. You included.

Jesus rejects karmic thinking.

Matthew 5.38-42, Luke 6.27-30.

There are plenty of people who incorrectly believe when we’re wronged, humans automatically, instinctively want justice and fairness. Nope! Humans are inherently selfish, and have to be trained and raised to want fairness and justice. Otherwise we’ll want vengeance and satisfaction. And vengeance and satisfaction are neither fair nor just.

Satisfaction doesn’t say “An eye for an eye”—it’s not at all about a proportional response. It’s about punishing people until we’re satisfied. Sometimes for sins against us; sometimes because they simply got in our way, and we’re petty like that. Some of us are satisfied with a sincere-feeling apology, but far more of us are only satisfied with our enemies dying in agony. It looks more like John Wick taking out an entire crime family because one of ’em killed his dog. Or, to use the bible, like Simeon and Levi ben Jacob killing a whole city of Hivites because Shekhém, the son of its prince, raped their sister. Ge 34 Killing Shekhem ben Hamór, I get; killing the city of Shekhém is literally overkill.

In order to mitigate this kind of vengeance, and keep it from escalating into generations-long feuds or genocide, God commanded the Hebrews to limit things to proportional responses.

Exodus 21.23-25 Schocken Bible

23But if harm should occur,

then you are to give life in place of life—

24eye in place of eye, tooth in place of tooth, hand in place of hand, foot in place of foot,

25burnt-scar in place of burnt-scar, wound in place of wound, bruise in place of bruise.

Leviticus 24.17-20 Schocken Bible

17Now a man—when he strikes down any human life,

he is to be put to death, yes, death!

18One who strikes the life of an animal is to pay for it, life in place of life.

19And a man—when he causes a defect in his fellow:

as he has done, thus is to be done to him—

20break in place of break, eye in place of eye, tooth in place of tooth;

as he has caused a defect in [another] human, thus is to be caused in him.

Deuteronomy 19.16-21 Schocken Bible

16When there arises a witness of malice against a man,

testifying against him [by] defection [from God],

17and the two men who have the quarrel stand before the presence of YHWH,

before the presence of the priests or the judges who are [there] in those days:

18the judges are to inquire well;

and [if] here, a false witness is the witness, falsely has he testified against his brother:

19you are to do to him

as he schemed to do to his brother.

So shall you eradicate the evil from your midst!

20Those who remain will hear and will be-awed;

they will not continue to do any more according to this evil practice in your midst.

21Your eye is not to take pity—

[rather] life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot!

I mean, if God hadn’t said anything, you’d get the more common practice of the death penalty for minor infractions; of an entire nation getting wiped out for one person’s crime. I was gonna say “more common ancient practice,” but it still happens. World War 1 started with an assassination.

But regardless of even these commandments in the Law of Moses, God’s standard is not proportional response, reciprocity, or karma as it’s often called. It’s not criminal justice. It’s grace.

And that’s the core of Jesus’s teaching in his Sermon on the Mount. He doesn’t want his followers to seek vengeance, or call it “justice” but really it’s vengeance. He wants us to be generous. And that includes generous attitudes towards those who wrong us.

Matthew 5.38-42 KWL

38“You hear it being said,

‘Eye for eye’ and ‘tooth for tooth.’ Ex 21.24, Lv 24.20, Dt 19.21

39I tell you:

Don’t hold your ground against evil.

Instead, whoever strikes your right cheek:

Turn the other to him as well.

40To one who wants judgment against you,

and wants to take your tunic:

Give them your robe as well.

41To whoever presses you into service for one mile:

Go with them for two.

42To whoever asks of you:

Give!

You ought not turn away

one who asks to borrow from you.”

Luke 6.27-30 KWL

27“But I tell you who listen:

Love your enemies.

Do good to your haters.

28Bless your cursers.

Pray for your accusers.

29To one who whacks you on the cheek:

Offer the other as well.

To one who takes from you your robe:

You ought not hold back your tunic.

30Give to everyone who asks you.

From anyone who takes away what’s yours,

don’t ask it back.”

Trinity Sunday.

For western Christians, Trinity Sunday is the week after Pentecost; for eastern Christians it is Pentecost, or part of Pentecost. It’s the day Christians are meant to observe, celebrate, and teach about, the trinity.

God’s a trinity. We know there‘s one God; we know Jesus is God, and Jesus’s Father is obviously also God, and the Holy Spirit is God. Ancient Christians determined even though there are three persons who are God, we still have and recognize only one God, and came up with very basic explanations for the paradox. (And every time we venture beyond these explanations, we either start denying God’s threeness or God’s oneness, so really we oughta just leave it at that.)

Once the ancient Christians made the trinity, or our understanding of it, a doctrine, they incorporated it into their Sunday worship liturgies. Every time Christians gathered together, they’d affirm God is a trinity. They’d sing Gloria Patri/“Glory Be to the Father,” a still-popular hymn; here’s the Anglican Church’s English translation.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son,

and to the Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be:

world without end. Amen.

Roman Catholics use the same words, but “Holy Spirit” instead of “Holy Ghost.”

Anyway for centuries, there wasn’t a special day for observing the trinity, although every once in a while there was a push for one—which church leadership resisted on the grounds that we observe the trinity every Sunday. Eventually Pope John 22 (reigned 1316–34) ordered a Feast of the Trinity for the Sunday after Pentecost—figuring that was the most appropriate time, ’cause humanity didn’t know God was a trinity till the Spirit descended on Pentecost in the year 33.

So what do Christians do for Trinity Sunday? Mostly just read the Athanasian Creed. Sometimes there are trinitarian prayers in the liturgy; sometimes the pastor preaches about the trinity. That’s about it.

Liberal and conservative theology.

If you’ve heard of theology, you’ve likely heard of “conservative theology” and “liberal theology”; of “conservative theologians” and “liberal theologians.” And you might presume you know what those mean: A conservative theologian is probably one who respects tradition and the bible, and a liberal theologian doesn’t.

Roughly that’d be accurate. Very, very roughly.

Properly, liberal theology is the same thing as unitarianism or deism: There’s one God, Jesus isn’t him, miracles don’t happen and never did and are myths (and therefore the bible is pure mythology), and those who consider themselves “spiritual” have gotta find a way to recontextualize Christianity for the present day. So, how you develop liberal theology is by following the present day’s lead: What do the people of today need to hear? What’s gonna make ’em feel spiritual, and feel good about themselves?

But how Christians typically use the term “liberal theology” is simply as a pejorative. Doesn’t always even mean liberal! An arch-conservative Jehovah’s Witness theologian, who interprets bible so strictly it gets ridiculous, who thinks God’s gonna smite everyone in the world but him, would be called a “liberal theologian” simply because he’s heretic. Liberal bad, conservative good.

Everybody’s kinda decided where they are on the theological spectrum. So, some woman might consider herself a theological conservative because she upholds the bible’s authority so very, very much. And most of us would agree, ’cause believing the bible is an infallible theological authority, is what we’d consider theological conservatism. But another person, a sexist man, might insist absolutely not; she’s obviously a liberal theologian. Why’s this? Well, she’s a woman. He insists the practice of doing and teaching theology is only for men, ’cause only men can teach, ’cause bible says so. She’s defying bible; ergo she doesn’t consider it an infallible theological authority, ergo she’s a liberal theologian.

I likewise consider the bible an infallible theological authority. I’d call myself a conservative theologian for this reason. But of course I’ve been called a liberal theologian—for a number of reasons. I believe the scriptures fully support women in Christian leadership, but sexists insist they fully don’t, and I must be twisting them to come to my conclusions; ergo I’m a liberal theologian.

Or I’ve expressed political views which they consider liberal. I was raised by political conservatives (and they’re still conservative), but as I became an adult and followed Jesus further, I chose to adopt a few “liberal” views because I think they’re consistent with Jesus’s teachings, and my former conservative views are not. I’m certainly not “liberal” across the board, ’cause I think my conservative views are likewise consistent with Jesus. It’s a hodgepodge of positions. But to political conservatives, any political heresy—for that’s what civic idolaters consider it—automatically makes me a “liberal theologian,” and untrustworthy when I discuss religion. Their partisanship takes priority over their Christianity. Or mine. Or yours.

Or it’s simply because I’m Pentecostal and they’re not; or because I uphold the ancient Christian creeds and they don’t. And you’d think upholding the creeds would make me considered more conservative than they, not less. But they covet the label “conservative,” and if I’m in any way wrong in their eyes, I get the label “liberal.” That’s my punishment for believing things they don’t.

So yeah—in practice “liberal theologian” means “more liberal than me,” and of course wrong and heretic.

“A man after God’s own heart.”

1 Samuel 13.13-14.

Throughout the books of the Old Testament which we call the “Deuteronomistic history”—’cause their author was showing how ancient Israel didn’t follow the book of Deuteronomy, and this is the reason the Israelis were banished from their land—the kings of northern and southern Israel were all compared with the greatest of all their kings, the third king of Israel, David ben Jesse.

True, Solomon ben David had expanded Israel’s borders and influence to their greatest limit, was ridiculously wise and outrageously wealthy, and had built God a really cool gold-covered cedar temple. But none of that matters to the Deuteronomist. David was his absolute favorite. Every king who followed, either “walked in all the way of David his father,” 2Ki 22.2 or “walked in all the sins” of some other forebear, but certainly not David. 1Ki 15.3 David was the paragon of what Israeli kings oughta be, and if you wanted to be a true “son of David,” you’d be just like David.

But wait: Didn’t David murder one of his loyal soldiers in order to steal his woman? Well yeah, he did do that. The Deuteronomist faithfully recorded the story in 2 Samuel 11. David was also a seriously lousy father; Amnon was a rapist, Adonijah an insurrectionist, and Absalom was both. The character flaws David exhibited would completely disqualify him from Christian leadership—which just goes to show you what an abysmally low bar there was for good kings. Not for nothing did we Americans decide to do away with monarchy. Power corrupts, y’know.

Still, the Deuteronomist loved him some David, and plenty of Christians are big fans too. More than one of my pastors, growing up, did entire sermon series on David. Multiple times! Regularly pointing out that, seriously flawed human being or not, David was bananas for the LORD, and loved him like crazy. David is, they loved to point out, “a man after God’s own heart.” As should we be.

They’re not wrong! But here’s why I decided to write a Context article about the phrase, “man after God’s own heart”: What they mean by that phrase, and what the scriptures mean by that phrase, are two wholly different things. And whenever Christians preach about being a person “after God’s own heart,” they’re not preaching the biblical meaning. They’re preaching their own idea.

Their idea, which we see all over the place in popular Christian culture, looks like this bit from Albert Barnes’ 1834 book Notes on the New Testament: Necessary and Practical, vol. III, Acts of the Apostles, which you can nowadays find bundled in a massive one-volume edition called Notes on the Whole Bible.

A man after mine own heart— This expression is found in 1 Samuel 13.14. The connection shows that it means simply a man who would not be rebellious and disobedient as Saul was, but would do the will of God and keep his commandments. This refers, doubtless, rather to the public than to the private character of David; to his character as a king. It means that he would make the will of God the great rule and law of his reign, in contradistinction from Saul, who, as a king, had disobeyed God. At the same time it is true that the prevailing character of David, as a pious, humble, devoted man, was that he was a man after God's own heart, and was beloved by him as a holy man. He had faults; he committed sin; but who is free from it? He was guilty of great offenses; but he also evinced, in a degree equally eminent, repentance (see Psalm 51); and not less in his private than his public character did he evince those traits which were prevailingly such as accorded with the heart, that is, the earnest desires, of God. Barnes at Acts 13.22

In more contemporary English: David was a devout, humble man who upheld and promoted God’s will. And when he sinned, ’cause David sinned big-time, he repented big-time. He just loved God so, so much.

In fact the way I’ve heard preachers describe him, David is “after God’s own heart” in that David chased after God’s own heart. He wanted to follow God and his will, so so much; just look at all the psalms he wrote about loving God, and calling upon him, and trusting in him; “the Lord is my shepherd” and all that. Seriously, bananas for the LORD.

I mean, doesn’t this sound like what “man after God’s own heart” oughta mean?

“I don’t know what to pray.”

Every once in a while I’ll hear this from new Christians: “I know I’m supposed to pray, but I don’t know what to pray. I don’t know what to tell God.”

Ridiculously simple answer to this one! Pray the Lord’s Prayer. Memorize a good translation of it, and tell it to God.

Matthew 6.9-13 MEV

9“Therefore pray in this manner:

Our Father who is in heaven,

hallowed be Your name.

10Your kingdom come;

Your will be done

on earth, as it is in heaven.

11Give us this day our daily bread.

12And forgive us our debts,

as we forgive our debtors.

13And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

And if reciting this prayer leads you to riff on it—to think, “Oh, here are some specific examples of ‘daily bread’ I’m gonna need”—share that. Or “I wanna apologize for specific ‘debts’ I owe God”—talk about that. Or “I need help forgiving my debtors”—ask for that. The Lord’s Prayer is just a starting point, and if it inspires you to pray other stuff, good!—you’re doing it right.

Okay yeah, sometimes it’s not gonna inspire you to pray other stuff. You’ll whip through these words, and you won’t know what more to tell God. Relax; it happens. Prayer’s a new and tricky thing for you. It’s why the Didache recommended newbies pray the Lord’s Prayer thrice a day. [8.3] ’Cause the more often you recite it—the more comfortable you get with these words—the easier it gets to start thinking about what more you might wanna tell God.