Tom Schreiner joins Matt Harmon and Ben Gladd to discuss why biblical theology matters, how to read the whole Bible as one story, and how typology, covenant, and careful attention to the text help Christians interpret Scripture faithfully. They also reflect on the future of biblical theology, the value of humility in difficult passages, and the rich Old Testament background behind Mary’s song in Luke 1.

One of the best things about being a grandparent is the things you can pass down to your grandchildren. Grandchildren need some things from their grandparents that they can’t get from their parents.

7 Practical Lessons Esther Has for You Today

What the Church Is Really Here to Do… and How to Do It

If you’d asked me years ago how Jesus would meet me in the wreckage of church hurt, I never would’ve guessed he’d use the story of Jonah. When most of us hear Jonah’s name, our minds fill with storybook images of a raging sea and a prophet in the dark belly of a fish. I grew up reading this story like an amusing fable, gleaning wisdom but not necessarily relating to Jonah’s position. I couldn’t understand his reluctance to obey, his unforgiveness toward people God wanted to save, or his despair. I viewed my life as marked by grace, and I didn’t think there was “Nineveh” in my heart. That was until I endured a hurtful church experience that shattered many of my assumptions about both myself and God’s work. Suddenly, Jonah didn’t read like a fable anymore. I wanted to run. I felt angry with the very people God called me to love. The church, once my home and adopted family, felt more like an enemy city. God’s gentle command to love and belong to his people in passages like Hebrews 10:24–25 felt impossible, something I’d rather die over than obey. Then Jesus met me in this story of the reluctant prophet. I see now that he always wanted to meet me there. In Matthew 12:39–40, Jesus linked Jonah’s experience to his own death, burial, and resurrection. God redeemed the story of a man who ran from the Lord and struggled to forgive. I’ve come to see he can redeem mine too. God Hears You. He Won’t Leave You in the Dark. Church hurt is agonizing and deeply complex. Cases of abuse, in particular, are instances of wicked injustice that deserve our anger and must be confronted and dealt with boldly. I faced grievous pain I didn’t cause. But with that suffering, I was also tossed in a raging sea of bitterness and swallowed up by a dark belly of unforgiveness. Like Jonah in the fish, I had to come face to face with what was happening in my heart, not just with what had been done to me. Like the reluctant prophet, I wondered whether God would still hear me or abandon me to “never again [see his] holy temple” (2:4, CEV). God redeemed the story of a man who ran from the Lord, despaired, and struggled to forgive. I’ve come to see he can redeem mine too. In that isolating season, I learned from Jonah that the Lord is merciful even in the blackest night when we’re hurt and our hearts resist him. The darkness isn’t permanent, and it won’t consume us if we cry out to him. When the fish swallowed Jonah, the Lord heard his cries for mercy even as his “life was fainting away” (v. 7). And after three days and nights, at God’s command, he was spat back into the light. This moment is a sign of something greater (Matt. 12:39–40). Jesus entered a far heavier darkness on the cross. Though he was entirely without sin, he cried out to the Father, “Why have you forsaken me?” (27:46) as his life fainted away. He endured the judgment you and I deserve but will never face. Yet just as Jonah didn’t remain in the fish’s belly, Jesus didn’t stay in the grave. After taking the darkness of the world on himself, he conquered it so our dark places won’t consume us. We can cry out to the Father and trust he hears and offers mercy and a redeemed family on the other side of our hurt. Because of Christ, We Can Choose a Better Ending Jonah’s story ends unresolved, with him stewing in bitterness under a withering plant. Though he finally obeyed God’s call to preach to Nineveh, Jonah couldn’t find it in his heart to forgive the Ninevites. This was a city of idolaters that had brutalized Jonah’s people in war. He’d rather die than see God’s grace poured out on them. So he sat far off and watched God’s mercy unfold at a distance. I relate to Jonah at this point in his story too. Even when I felt ready to visit a new church, I struggled to open my heart to God’s people again. Hiding alone under my withering plant of self-protection felt safer. But Jesus didn’t want my story to end there. He invited me to something greater. This meant seeing the more beautiful story he was writing, one where the Father, not I, was the main character. If we want a better ending than isolated bitterness, we must embrace what Jonah couldn’t: God’s relentless pursuit of sinners and his invitation to join him in pursuing them. Like the Father in the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15), God runs toward the lost. We can run with him and embrace the family he’s forming, or we can sit outside like the older brother and Jonah, watching grace from afar. We can run with him and embrace the family he’s forming, or we can sit outside like the older brother and Jonah, watching grace from afar. Not every church or Christian will repent like Nineveh and the Prodigal Son did, so sadly, we won’t always be able to reconcile with those who have sinned against us or rebuild trust with them. Like Jonah, most of us will have parts of our story that remain unresolved—relationships that don’t fully mend in this life. I grieve what’s unresolved in mine. But what is resolved is the Father’s fixed love for his people. So when you find a trustworthy community, one brought from darkness and marked like you by the Father’s love, you shouldn’t let fear or bitterness rob you of the call to join that family. By grace, God is using a healthy church community to heal my reluctant heart. I’m learning that the church’s story is a far more breathtaking narrative to be part of than what I’d write for myself. May everyone who experiences church hurt jump, by God’s grace, into that story again.