Relatively Unimportant, not Unimportant

Affections for good gifts and the good gift Giver, rightly ordered

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As a child, I hated to read. School had a way of ruining it for me, making it mundane. I couldn’t enjoy anything I read because there was always a book report or a litany of comprehension questions waiting for me when I finished. I quickly learned that reading cliff notes was simply easier so that I could earn the good grade without the monotonous workload.

When I was in college, as a fairly new Christian, I finally discovered genres of books that I enjoyed, entirely non-fiction. For at least two reasons, I saw absolutely no reason to read fiction:

First of all, I hadn’t enjoyed it while in grade school so certainly it was because stories and myth weren’t for me. I didn’t like fiction, or so I thought, so I didn’t read it.

But secondly, and more to the point of this essay, I found it rather pointless, a waste of time even. In fact, I bragged that I would only read books which were of benefit to my growth spiritually or for increasing my knowledge (and sadly, I didn’t see fiction as being able to do either of those things). Having been recently saved, I was thirsty for truth and knowledge and somewhere along the way, the Puritan view of fiction had rubbed off on me and I picked up the attitude that what I desired could only be found in heady books and through intense study.

It had been taught to me, either directly or indirectly, that my time in books should be spent exclusively in that which would directly inform my Christian walk. I devoured books about theology, apologetics, and Christian living: John MacArthur, Voddie Baucham, David Platt, Ron Rhodes, AW Tozer, Gary Thomas, John Piper, and later finding my way to men like R.C. Sproul, James White, Francis Schaefer, Jonathan Edwards, and John Bunyan.

From my perspective, reading fiction meant reading for pleasure and enjoyment while reading non-fiction was solely for the purpose of feeding the mind, growing in knowledge, and maturing the spirit (disregard that fiction can do all of those things, but I was ignorant of this).

I had created a false dichotomy: the earthly versus the spiritual.

I believe that this posture, opposed to fiction and in favor of non-fiction, runs parallel to a broader situation that we face within Evangelicalism today, probably directly influenced by Puritanism (this view was widely adopted by many Puritans and I adore them for so very many things, but this general view of the material world was incorrect).

This is of course a broad generalization, but the society of GK Chesterton has summarized his view of Puritanism this way:

Puritans argue against the goodness of creation, finding the source of evil in material things of pleasure (as tobacco, alcohol, art, and so on) rather than in the disordered human will to misuse the good things nature affords us.

False Dichotomies Abound

Perhaps somewhere along the way you’ve heard phrases like, “this world is not my home, I’m just passing through” or “all I need is Jesus, nothing else matters” or “there is only one King and His name is Jesus.”

All of these are false dichotomies. In all three instances, it’s not a matter of which but instead it’s both, but in proper ranking. And when we take two things that are good and pit them against one another rather than properly grading them in a sort of taxonomy, placing them in rightly ordered categories, we exercise a shallow ability to reason.

For example, my ultimate home is with Jesus in eternity, on a new earth, but that doesn’t negate the fact that right now, this is my home; this earth, this nation, this neighborhood, this physical house where my family resides. It’s not permanent, but it is real and true. And to deny that truth is to deny reality.

I understand Jim Reeve’s heart when he sang that song, but it was not only faulty logic, but unbiblical. I’ve written and continue to write regularly about the broad and specific concept of home. There are both physical and spiritual ramifications of neglecting such a thing out of an inability to rightly order our affections and what we value. As I’ve said before:

Our home on this earth is temporal, of course. But it points to something eternal, which is our heavenly home. This means that it is not unimportant, but instead should be treated as an essential to this physical life. Our homes then ought to reflect the things of God, especially His Truth, Beauty, and Goodness.

The writer of Hebrews tells us that the saints before us desired “a better country, that is, a heavenly one” (Hebrews 11:16). The implication here is gradation. Better does not mean singular, but instead it implies superior. There is a ranking, an order. The entire book of Hebrews demonstrates this ordering. Think of it in terms of good, better, best.

A Lesson from the Exile of Judah

We understand that Canaan, the land flowing with milk and honey, as a geographic earthly location ultimately points to “a better country” but we also understand that for a time, Canaan was a literal, physical home for God’s people. Israel was to defend their country, divide up the land specifically as God instructed, treat the land according to His law, and build and decorate His tabernacle and later His temple according to divine specifications. Just because it pointed toward something eternal does not erase its value and significance as something material. In fact, God exiled Judah in part because they did not properly treat the physical land according to His command in Leviticus 25:2-4,

Speak to the people of Israel and say to them, “When you come into the land that I give you, the land shall keep a Sabbath to the Lord. For six years you shall sow your field, and for six years you shall prune your vineyard and gather in its fruits, but in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of solemn rest for the land, a Sabbath to the Lord.”

Shortly after handing down this command through Moses, the Lord recounts what the punishment will be if Israel disobeys:

And I myself will devastate the land, so that your enemies who settle in it shall be appalled at it. And I will scatter you among the nations, and I will unsheathe the sword after you, and your land shall be a desolation, and your cities shall be a waste. “Then the land shall enjoy its Sabbaths as long as it lies desolate, while you are in your enemies' land; then the land shall rest, and enjoy its Sabbaths. As long as it lies desolate it shall have rest, the rest that it did not have on your Sabbaths when you were dwelling in it. Leviticus 26:32-34

Seems like such severe punishment for something that “doesn’t really matter.” What I think we can draw from this is that the material matters precisely because it is tied to the spiritual, the eternal. We cannot sever that connection without there being truly devastating consequences.

Do I get to take my home with me when I die? Of course not. But does the state of my home impact and affect the life that I live before death comes? Absolutely. Let’s not be so simplistic in our thinking that we miss, or even reject, the good and beautiful things God has granted to us in the here and now.

Paul understood this connection between the physical and the spiritual when he writes this warning for Timothy to pass along to the rich:

As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. 1 Timothy 6:17

He doesn’t say to throw it all out, or consider it as unimportant. He tells the rich to rightly order their affections toward their riches. Our ultimate hope is not in them, but on God, the One who gave them for our enjoyment.

Proper Ranking is Biblical

We miss something when we simply reject good things because we erroneously pit them against their Creator. We miss the reason God has given us these wonderful things, because we miss the ranking He’s woven into scripture. Consider Psalm 19:10 and what it says about the precepts of God:

More to be desired are they than gold,
even much fine gold;
sweeter also than honey
and drippings of the honeycomb.

Do you see the ordering here? More to be desired than gold. Sweeter than honey. In both cases, the implication is that gold is to be desired and honey is sweet. But God’s Law is more so. There is the good, better, best structure. We see it, as I mentioned earlier, in the book of Hebrews when the writer compares the Old and New Covenants. The New is better, but that doesn’t mean the Old is to be trashed. No, Paul tells us in Romans 7:12 that it is good. Jesus is better than the angels. But that doesn’t mean the angels are of no use or value.

They are not unimportant, even though when compared to Jesus they are relatively unimportant.

And the same applies to material possessions, life on earth, and temporal things. They aren’t the best. They aren’t supreme. They aren’t sweeter or better. But they are good gifts from the Father of lights (James 1:17) given to us for our enjoyment because God desires for us to enjoy even little things. Ultimately the purpose for all of these things down here is to point us back to the One who gave it all to us. Without them, we’d have a harder time recognizing His goodness.

The Integrated Approach

Joe Rigney refers to this, in his book Strangely Bright, as “the integrated approach” in which “God and his gifts are enjoyed together so that we don’t separate them or treat them as rivals.” He makes the very apt point that in order for us to treat God’s gifts rightly, as a way for us to recognize His better goodness and better sweetness, we need to be able to enjoy the gifts themselves. If we relegate them to merely “unimportant”, then relative to those things, God isn’t all that magnificent. But if the honey truly is deliciously sweet and our home really is very warm and inviting and if the art on our wall is beautiful and the view on our hike breathtaking, then wow is God so much higher and better and more beautiful and lovely than those really, really good things.

It’s actually a necessity that we appreciate the temporal things in order that we may rightly order our affections for God Himself as the Maker of things that are just so unimaginably good. To deprecate the gifts belittles God in our eyes. But to elevate the gifts to their right place, elevates our view of God as well.

Enjoy that magnificent sunset, and let it drive you to consider how immensely more magnificent the Artist is who painted it.

Ultimately what Rigney says is that instead of treating the gifts and the gift Giver as rivals, pitting them against one another and comparing, what we ought to be doing is enjoying God in everything and everything in God. As he writes,

God’s gifts can serve our love for him by creating mental categories and emotional frameworks for engaging and delighting in God himself. Because God’s goodness is really present in his gifts, we are free to enjoy them deeply for his sake. God’s gifts become avenues for enjoying him, beams of glory that we chase back to the source.

But What About Idolatry?

This brings me to one reason I believe some people are apt to misorder affections, or reject the goodness of created things altogether (I don’t think anyone actually does this in practice, short of the monk who takes a vow of poverty, but despite their inconsistency, the heart posture remains: nothing down here matters).

The concern we hear most, especially from TGC and the like is, “if you enjoy it, it must be idolatry!” (As an aside, Graham Gunden does an amazing job countering that claim about family in this Founders Ministry lecture.)

This betrays, yet again, a lack of thinking in proper categories. The gifts and the Giver of the gifts are not mutually exclusive. If you love one, it doesn’t preclude that you don’t love the other. It also doesn’t mean that you worship the thing you love simply because you love at all, or even a lot (you better love your spouse and children a lot!).

We can rightly order our affections. Scripture requires, commands even, that we do so. Instead of rejecting a thing altogether because it might become an idol, we obey God rightly. We love our neighbor the way He commands us to. We love our husband or wife the way scripture requires us to. And we enjoy the gifts that God has given us, with proper gratitude and thanksgiving, just how Paul instructs us to.

This doesn’t mean that we aren’t on guard for idolatry. Calvin is right after all that the heart is an idol factory. As Rigney writes:

Idolatry, then, is the separation of the gifts from the giver and then a preference for the gifts over the giver. We separate, and then we elevate. We exalt created things, including ourselves, above God. God’s gifts ought to be avenues for enjoying him, beams we follow back to the sun. Instead, we make them into his rivals, rejecting him in favor of them.

Gratitude and Adoration

We fight against idolatry with gratitude and adoration.

Speaking of beams back to the sun, it was C.S. Lewis who wrote. “Gratitude exclaims, very properly, ‘How good of God to give me this.’ Adoration says, ‘What must be the quality of that Being whose far-off and momentary coruscations are like this!’ One’s mind runs back up the sunbeam to the sun.”

We must be able to enjoy temporal gifts from God as a means of gratitude and adoration for Him. Obviously we don’t worship the things, but to love them and to thank and adore God for them isn’t idolatry. And it isn’t wrong. It’s actually necessary. Let us conclude with more from Lewis’ letter:

The distinction ought to become, and sometimes is, impossible; to receive it and to recognise its divine source are a single experience. This heavenly fruit is instantly redolent of the orchard where it grew. This sweet air whispers of the country from whence it blows. It is a message. We know we are being touched by a finger of that right hand at which there are pleasures for evermore. There need be no question of thanks or praise as a separate event, something done afterwards. To experience the tiny theophany is itself to adore.

We can look forward to those “pleasures for evermore” precisely because we’ve been able to experience pleasures on earth. Sunbeams.

And so I conclude by imploring you, Christian, to rightly order your affections in this area. You know when I began to realize that reading fiction for pleasure might actually be alright? When I learned that the favorite book of my favorite modern theologian, R. C. Sproul, was Moby Dick.

There are material and temporal things in your life that are good. They are not better so don’t get it misordered. But they also are not unimportant, so don’t reject them either. Instead, enjoy God in everything and everything in God.