On November 9th, 2011, I am giving away a kidney. The left one to be precise. Seriously.

The journey to this point has been a long one. For the recipient of my kidney, the story is even longer.

Ryan (that’s his name) has a rare disease in which his body attacks his kidney. In his early 30s (like me), Ryan currently lives with about 5% kidney function and has nightly dialysis in order to remove the toxins in his body. He’s a young guy, loves Jesus, works to protect abused and neglected kids at the Washington State Department of Social & Health Services, is recently married, and won’t live long without a kidney transplant. So, I’m going to give him one.

I met Ryan a few years ago when I lived in Washington. Ryan and I attended the same church in Washington, Oikos Fellowship, and my family and I got to know him over our time there. One day a friend of ours asked Jennifer to watch her kids so that she could go down to Seattle for some medical tests. It was then that we first learned about Ryan’s condition.

After a few weeks our friend told us that she was not cleared to donate her kidney to Ryan and that they would have to begin looking for a new potential donor. She said that the search was difficult because Ryan has O+ blood which is cool to have because you can donate to anyone, but tricky because you can only receive from someone with that type. When I heard this, my very first thought was, “I have O+. I could donate.”

I picked up the phone and gave Ryan a call. The truth is, I didn’t really know Ryan that well. We were acquaintances and spoke from time to time, but that was about all. The common bond we shared was the mercy of Christ in our lives and the connection of our church.

When I got Ryan on the phone, I’m pretty sure I said something along the lines of, “Hey, I heard you need a kidney and I think I have one you can use.” We talked for a bit and I got the details of his condition and the journey he’s been on with the disease. I got the number for the transplant center from him and gave them a call, throwing my hat into the ring. That was over a year ago.

About 6 months ago I received a call from the transplant center. They let me know that 2 other recipients had been through the screening process and been rejected for various medical reasons. They wanted to know if I was still interested in being a donor. I said yes and the testing began. Over the course of several months I was poked, prodded, and asked to pee in no less that 7 containers. Then, in September I was asked to fly out to Seattle for some final testing to ensure that I was a perfect match for Ryan. Long story short, I am.

So, we set a date and on November 9th Ryan and I will enter our respective surgery rooms and they will take out my left kidney and put it into Ryan. The result, God willing, is that Ryan will gain 20+ years of normal, dialysis-free, life and I will continue to live the normal life I already have. While there are risks for both of us, the risks for Ryan are far greater. For me, there is only minimal risks which are common to any surgery, a 3-6 week recovery period where I can’t lift anything over 10 pounds, and long term, studies show that kidney donors typically live very normal lives with no adverse effects from the surgery. For Ryan, his body will have to learn to use another person’s kidney. This is no small task and will require Ryan to take anti-rejection medication for the remainder of his life.

While that is the more “technical” side of the journey, I want to share some of the personal and spiritual aspects as well. To begin with, my wife and kids are all on board with this decision. As a family, we have prayed almost every night for nearly 2 years that God would heal Ryan and give him a kidney (Philippians 4:6). As a family, we have offered up prayers that if God would so chose, I was willing to be the donor. As a family we have placed our hope and trust for Ryan and this situation fully into the hand of the Lord. So when the call came that I may be the donor, it was simply the next step for us in our trusting God’s grace and provision (Proverbs 3:5-6).

One question that I commonly get when people find out that i’m donating a kidney to someone who isn’t a super-close friend or family member, is “why?” I’ve thought about that question a lot over the past year and it really comes down to two things: He needs it and I can do it. It seems like a somewhat simplistic answer for such a big decision, but through this journey I’ve come to realize more and more that this is just the kind of guy I am. When I meet people or situations that need something, I immediately begin to think about how I, or someone I know, could help. The best I can tell, it is just the way God wired me.

As a Christian, there is no doubt that my faith and hope in Jesus has played a part in this journey. I continue to think about the great lengths by which Christ gave of himself for me. As one who was far off and undeserving of mercy, Christ died to reconcile me to God (Romans 5:6-8). When you experience the gospel, it actually helps you to understand that life is about so much more than your own self-preservation. In the gospel you are free from the fear of saving your own life, but as Christ did, you can lay down your life for others (Philippians 2:3-8). Jesus lead the way in this not only in his death and resurrection, but even before that as he, the one through who all things were created (Colossians 1:16), knelt down and washed the feet of his disciples (John 13:1-17). Not worried about self exhalation, status, or the praise of men, he humbled himself and served others. Whether washing feet or laying down our lives, the gospel empowers us to live lives to the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31). And, for me, that path has lead to donating a kidney. But not only that, it is the very same gospel that leads me to love my wife (Ephesians 5:25), my kids, my neighbors. The gospel radically reorients our lives and frees us to no longer simply seek our own good, but rather the good of others to the glory of God (1 Corinthian 10:31).

As we progress down this road, I would ask for your prayers. Please pray for a smooth and successful surgery. For speedy and full recovery for Ryan and myself. For the peace of Christ to guard our families (Philippians 4:6-7). And most importantly, for the glory of God to be seen in all we do.

On July 4, 2011, we welcomed the newest member of the Burns family, Calvin Robert. For those wondering about his name, I thought I’d share a little about where it comes from.

To begin with, Robert is a family name. Both Jenn’s father and grandfather are “Robert.” Her dad was the only boy out of 5 kids and he went on to have 3 girls of his own. From his 3 girls he now has 5 granddaughters and, until Calvin, only 1 grandson. That’s a lot of ladies. As a way to honor Jenn’s father and grandfather (both great men in their own right), and to carry on a bit of the Jones lineage, we wanted to have Robert in his name.

As for Calvin, this name was in our queue long before we knew we were pregnant. After our first son Asher was born, I said I wanted our next son to be Calvin. While occasionally people think it is for Calvin from the comic strip Calvin and Hobbes, it isn’t. However, like the comic strip character, our Calvin is named after the 16th century theologian and reformer, John Calvin.

While there are many reasons we wanted to name our son after John Calvin, I’ll share three in particular.

First, John Calvin loved the gospel. Calvin experienced a conversion to faith, most likely in his college years. After his conversion, Calvin took every effort to help people see, hear, and savor the good news of salvation in Christ alone, by grace alone, through faith alone–whatever the cost. The cost of this love for the gospel was great and meant banishment from his home country, a life of constant persecution, and the looming threat of martyrdom. Despite these trials and challenges, it was his love for the good news of what God offers sinful man in the person of his son Jesus that motivated him and was at the very center of who John Calvin was.

Which brings me to my second reason we wanted to name our son Calvin, namely that John Calvin used every fiber of his being to serve the gospel. By all accounts, Calvin was an extremely brilliant man and a tireless worker who gave all his energy to whatever he put his hand to (often at the expense of his own health). After his conversion, he desired nothing more than to hide away to study, read, and write. But, obedient to the call of God, Calvin gave every ounce of his being to preaching, teaching, writing, and leading people to Jesus. He did this by preaching nearly 200 sermons a year, writing thousands of pages in books, tracts, and verse-by-verse commentaries on almost the entire Bible, and establishing a school for the training of pastors.

Finally, John Calvin changed my life. In my late twenties I sat in a Bible study class and heard, likely for the first time, someone open the Bible and explain the text in such a way that my vision of God was profoundly changed. The God I worshiped and served was now bigger and more glorious than I had previously seen. The subtle shift was that I now saw the story of the Bible, and all of history itself, revolved around God, not me (duh, right?). I came to discover that much of what I was hearing and seeing through the scriptures was nothing new, but the very thing boldly proclaimed by men like Martin Luther and John Calvin (though it is found much earlier in men like Augustine and the Apostles themselves). As I read Calvin and his contemporaries, I was pierced with a love for the gospel and the God who graciously saves sinners like me.

So, we chose to name our son Calvin with the hope that, like John Calvin, he would grow up with a deep love for the gospel and that he would use whatever gifts and talents God may give him to share that good news with others, leading them to worship the great and glorious God revealed to us in the Bible.

Finally, as a side note, his name is “Calvin” not “Cal.” Just like our other kids are “Asher” not “Ash” and “Grace” not “Gracie.” You have been warned ;o)

photo credit – Ryan Burns. Don’t steal.

The other day, Desiring God tweeted a quote from John Owen about the principal duty of a pastor. The tweet alone was challenging. I decided to pull the full Owen quote up in context. It is indeed more challenging than the tweet version.

The first and principal duty of a pastor is to feed the flock by diligent preaching of the word. It is a promise relating to the new testament, that God would give unto his church “pastors according to his own heart, which should feed them with knowledge and understanding,” Jer. 3:15. This is by teaching or preaching the word, and no otherwise. This feeding is of the essence of the office of a pastor, as unto the exercise of it; so that he who doth not, or can not, or will not feed the flock is no pastor, whatever outward call or work he any have in the church. The care of preaching the gospel was committed to Peter, and in him unto all true pastors of the church, under the name of “feeding,” John 21:15–17. According to the example of the apostles, they are to free themselves from all encumbrances, that they may give themselves wholly unto the word and prayer, Acts 6:1–4. Their work is “to labour in the word and doctrine,” 1 Tim. 5:17; and thereby to “feed the flock over which the Holy Ghost hath made them overseers,” Acts 20:28: and it is that which is everywhere given them in charge.

This work and duty, therefore, as was said, is essential unto the office of a pastor. A man is a pastor unto them whom he feeds by pastoral teaching, and to no more; and he that doth not so feed is no pastor. Nor is it required only that he preach now and then at his leisure, but that he lay aside all other employments, though lawful, all other duties in the church, as unto such a constant attendance on them as would divert him from this work, that he give himself unto it,—that he be in these things labouring to the utmost of his ability. Without this no man will be able to give a comfortable account of the pastoral office at the last day.

John Owen, vol. 16, The Works of John Owen., ed. William H. Goold (Edinburg: T&T Clark), 74-75.

So, pastors, what do you think?

I can’t say that many books I read talk about death much, however I find that it is a topic that I often encounter when reading Charles Spurgeon. What is even more interesting (in a good way) is that I always leave Spurgeon’s writings on the subject with greater peace and comfort. Here are two excerpts that I’ve found particularly encouraging to my soul (emphasis mine):

Oftentimes we look forward with forebodings to the time of old age, forgetful that at eventide it shall be light. To many saints, old age is the choicest season in their lives. A balmier air fans the mariner’s cheek as he nears the shore of immortality, fewer waves ruffle his sea, quiet reigns, deep, still and solemn. From the altar of age the flashes of the fire of youth are gone, but the more real flame of earnest feeling remains. The pilgrims have reached the land Beulah, that happy country, whose days are as the days of heaven upon earth. Angels visit it, celestial gales blow over it, flowers of paradise grow in it, and the air is filled with seraphic music. Some dwell here for years, and others come to it but a few hours before their departure, but it is an Eden on earth. We may well long for the time when we shall recline in its shady groves and be satisfied with hope until the time of fruition comes. The setting sun seems larger than when aloft in the sky, and a splendour of glory tinges all the clouds which surround his going down. Pain breaks not the calm of the sweet twilight of age, for strength made perfect in weakness bears up with patience under it all. Ripe fruits of choice experience are gathered as the rare repast of life’s evening, and the soul prepares itself for rest.

The Lord’s people shall also enjoy light in the hour of death. Unbelief laments; the shadows fall, the night is coming, existence is ending. Ah no, crieth faith, the night is far spent, the true day is at hand. Light is come, the light of immortality, the light of a Father’s countenance. Gather up thy feet in the bed, see the waiting bands of spirits! Angels waft thee away. Farewell, beloved one, thou art gone, thou wavest thine hand. Ah, now it is light. The pearly gates are open, the golden streets shine in the jasper light. We cover our eyes, but thou beholdest the unseen; adieu, brother, thou hast light at even-tide, such as we have not yet.

Charles H. Spurgeon, Morning and Evening : Daily Readings, Complete and unabridged; New modern edition. (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2006).

And

O CHILDREN of God! death hath lost its sting. It is sweet to die; to lie upon the breast of Christ, and have one’s soul kissed out of one’s body by the lips of divine affection. And you that have lost friends, or that may be bereaved, sorrow not as those who are without hope. What a sweet thought the death of Christ brings us concerning those who are departed! They are gone, my brethren; but do you know how far they have gone? The distance between the glorified spirits in heaven and the militant saints on earth seems great; but it is not so. We are not far from home.

C. H. Spurgeon, Daily Help (Bellingham, WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc., 2009), 86.

I wrote the other day about John Calvin’s call for depth in the music we sing in church. In it was a challenge for those who lead worship to not simply play and sing in such a way as to “tickle the ears” of the listeners, but to sing deep, theological songs that glorify God. Today, I was reading another sections of his Institutes that was directed towards musical worship. In it, John Calvin reminds worshipers that the heart is just as important in worship as the songs and words. In clear Calvin form, he explains it like this (emphasis mine):

Hence it is perfectly clear that neither words nor singing (if used in prayer) are of the least consequence, or avail one iota with God, unless they proceed from deep feeling in the heart. Nay, rather they provoke his anger against us, if they come from the lips and throat only, since this is to abuse his sacred name, and hold his majesty in derision. This we infer from the words of Isaiah, which, though their meaning is of wider extent, go to rebuke this vice also: “Forasmuch as this people draw near me with their mouth, and with their lips do honour me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear toward me is taught by the precept of men: therefore, behold, I will proceed to do a marvellous work among this people, even a marvellous work and a wonder: for the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be hid,” (Isa. 29:13.) Still we do not condemn words or singing, but rather greatly commend them, provided the feeling of the mind goes along with them. For in this way the thought of God is kept alive on our minds, which, from their fickle and versatile nature, soon relax, and are distracted by various objects, unless various means are used to support them. Besides, since the glory of God ought in a manner to be displayed in each part of our body, the special service to which the tongue should be devoted is that of singing and speaking, inasmuch as it has been expressly created to declare and proclaim the praise of God. This employment of the tongue is chiefly in the public services which are performed in the meeting of the saints. In this way the God whom we serve in one spirit and one faith, we glorify together as it were with one voice and one mouth; and that openly, so that each may in turn receive the confession of his brother’s faith, and be invited and incited to imitate it.

Institutes of the Christian Religion III, xx, 31

Head AND heart are vital for Biblical worship.

Photo credit: Vintage Collective

There was a lot of different worship music being played in the office today. Of it all, I was particularly drawn to the stuff done by Red Mountain Music, whom I had never heard before. While I am more naturally inclined to a folksy sound, I was mostly taken away by the beauty and depth of their lyrics, most of which are old hymns. If you haven’t heard them before, I highly recommend you check them out.

As the various songs and styles continued to be played throughout the day, I was reminded of a quote I read in John Calvin’s Institutes recently:

And certainly if singing is tempered to a gravity befitting the presence of God and angels, it both gives dignity and grace to sacred actions, and has a very powerful tendency to stir up the mind to true zeal and ardour in prayer. We must, however, carefully beware, lest our ears be more intent on the music than our minds on the spiritual meaning of the words. Augustine confesses (Confess. Lib. x. cap. 33) that the fear of this danger sometimes made him wish for the introduction of a practice observed by Athanasius, who ordered the reader to use only a gentle inflection of the voice, more akin to recitation than singing. But on again considering how many advantages were derived from singing, he inclined to the other side. If this moderation is used, there cannot be a doubt that the practice is most sacred and salutary. On the other hand, songs composed merely to tickle and delight the ear are unbecoming the majesty of the Church, and cannot but be most displeasing to God.

John Calvin and Henry Beveridge, Institutes of the Christian Religion (Bellingham, WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc., 2010).

Worship Pastor, please, no ear tickling in church.

Photo Credit: darkpatator

I enjoy reading John Calvin on baptism. The other day I read something that has stuck in the back of my head, so I thought I’d share it and see what you think. Here is Calvin’s comments on who should administer the sacrament of baptism.

It is here also pertinent to observe, that it is improper for private individuals to take upon themselves the administration of baptism; for it, as well as the dispensation of the Supper, is part of the ministerial office. For Christ did not give command to any men or women whatever to baptise, but to those whom he had appointed apostles. And when, in the administration of the Supper, he ordered his disciples to do what they had seen him do (he having done the part of a legitimate dispenser), he doubtless meant that in this they should imitate his example.

John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (Bellingham, WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc., 1997). Institutes IV, xv, 20

I feel like it has become more common these days for churches to allow believers to baptize other believers, for example fathers baptizing their children. Personally, I like the idea of “protecting” the sacraments so that they don’t become “common.” But, I also wonder if this is an area that falls into the “priesthood of all believers.”

So, what do you think? Can any believer baptize? What scriptural support do you see for/against?

Photo Credit: Jeremy Nelson

In reading Life of Owen, I came across a great section where Thomas points out the importance of actually living life. He says (emphasis mine),

A wish has sometimes been expressed, that men who, like Owen, have contributed so largely to the enriching of our theological literature, could have been spared the endless avocations of public life, and allowed to devote themselves almost entirely to authorship. But the wisdom of this sentiment is very questionable. Experience seems to testify that a certain amount of contact with the business of practical life is necessary to the highest style of thought and authorship; and that minds, when left to undisturbed literary leisure, are apt to degenerate into habits of diseased speculation and sickly fastidiousness. Most certainly the works that have come from men of monastic habits have done little for the world, compared with the writings of those who have ever been ready to obey the voice which summoned them away from tranquil studies to breast the storms and guide the movements of great social conflicts. The men who have lived the most earnestly for their own age, have also lived the most usefully for posterity. Owen’s retirement from the vice-chancellorship may indeed be regarded as a most seasonable relief from the excess of public engagement; but it may be confidently questioned whether he would have written so much or so well, had his intellect and heart been, in any great degree, cut off from the stimulus which the struggles and stern realities of life gave to them.

John Owen, vol. 1, The Works of John Owen., ed. William H. Goold (Edinburg: T&T Clark), lxviii.

There is something so true about this text. Those who retreat from the realities of life themselves seem to have little to add to the realities of life of others. Shear brilliance, without engaging the world, seems to have little value.

I wrote yesterday about the fact that John Owen didn’t need a bouncer. After reading the post, a friend of mine mentioned that John Knox, the 16th century Scottish minister and Protestant reformer, was a bouncer. After some googling, I discovered that he did, in fact, spend some time serving as a bodyguard for George Wishart, an itinerant preacher. I did a quick search in my Logos library and found the following:

Knox’s commitment to a Protestant position was more certainly established from December 1545, when he accompanied the itinerant preacher George Wishart on his brief tour around Leith and East Lothian. Bearing a two-handed sword on these travels, Knox acted as a bodyguard and assistant to Wishart, until in January 1546, suspecting a plot against himself, Wishart sent Knox back to his pupils, stating that ‘one is sufficient for one sacrifice’. Knox does not appear to have attended Wishart’s trial or execution in St Andrews, showing already an ‘instinct for self-preservation’ that would be evident throughout his career. He did, however, emulate the ministry of his mentor in energetic preaching and prophetic declarations, and embraced his scripture principle, sacramental memorialism and belief that the mass, images and other ceremonial activities were idolatrous.

Timothy Larsen, D. W. Bebbington and Mark A. Noll, Biographical Dictionary of Evangelicals (Leicester, England; Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2003), 345.

and

How or when Knox himself became a Protestant is not known, for he never reveals anything about his conversion, but it is known that it was by 1545. At that time a certain George Wishart, a Scot who had spent some time in Switzerland and England, returned to his native land where he began preaching the gospel. In January 1545, after preaching in other places, he came to East Lothian where Knox acted as his bodyguard, carrying a two-handed sword. Despite Wishart’s acceptance by the local gentry, however, he was arrested by the earl of Bothwell and taken to St. Andrew’s, where after a trial before Cardinal Beaton he was burned at the stake as a heretic in March 1546.

J. D. Douglas, Philip Wesley Comfort and Donald Mitchell, Who’s Who in Christian History (Wheaton, Ill.: Tyndale House, 1997).

John Owen, the 17th century pastor and theologian, apparently doesn’t take any crap from smart @$$ kids who decide they can do whatever they want to in the classroom. After taking over as vice-chancellor of the University of Oxford, amidst a time of hardship which included a nearly empty treasury, mounting debt, and many empty halls and colleges being closed, Owen set out to bring order to the licentious and insubordinate attitude that had covered much of the university. He was given occasion to prove who was in charge of the university early on, as Andrew Thomas recounts in his Life of Owen:

But, amid these generous and conciliatory measures, Owen knew how, by acts of wholesome severity, to put a curb upon licentiousness, and to invigorate the whole discipline of the university. At a public Act, when one of the students of Trinity College was Terrœ filius, he stood up before the student began, and told him in Latin that he was at liberty to say what he pleased, on condition that he abstained from all profane and obscene expressions and personal reflections. The student began, but soon violated all the conditions that had been laid down to him. Owen repeatedly warned him to desist from a course so dishonouring to the university; but the youth obstinately persisting in the same strain, he at length commanded the beadles to pull him down. This was a signal for the students to interpose; on which Owen, determined that the authority of the university should not be insolently trampled on, rose from his seat, in the face of the remonstrances of his friends, who were concerned for his personal safety, drew the offender from his place with his own hand, and committed him to Bocardo, the prison of the university,—the students meanwhile standing aloof with amazement and fear at his resolution. Was there not something, in this scene, of that robust physical energy which had distinguished Owen at Oxford in earlier days in bell-ringing and the leaping of bars?

John Owen, vol. 1, The Works of John Owen., ed. William H. Goold (Edinburg: T&T Clark), li–lii.

But it wasn’t by mere force that Owen sought to bring peace and order to the Oxford. He knew that it was only through the gospel that the students and university had any true hope.

But the aims of the vice-chancellor rose far above the mere attempt to restrain licentiousness within moderate bounds;—his whole arrangements were made with the anxious desire of awakening and fostering among the students the power of a living piety. His own example, as well as the pervading spirit of his administration, would contribute much to this; and there are not wanting individual facts to show with what earnestness he watched and laboured for the religious wellbeing of the university. It had been customary for the Fellows to preach by turns on the afternoon of the Lord’s day in St Mary’s Church; but, on its being found that the highest ends of preaching were often more injured than advanced by this means, he determined to undertake this service alternately with Dr Goodwin, the head of Magdalen College, and in this way to secure to the youth of Oxford the advantage of a sound and serious ministry. It is interesting to open, nearly two hundred years afterwards, the reminiscences of one of the students, and to read his strong and grateful testimony to the benefits he had derived from these arrangements of the Puritan vice-chancellor. We have this privilege in the “Memoir of Philip Henry, by his son.” “He would often mention, with thankfulness to God,” says the quaint and pious biographer, “what great helps and advantages he had then in the university,—not only for learning, but for religion and piety. Serious godliness was in reputation; and, besides the public opportunities they had, many of the scholars used to meet together for prayer and Christian conference, to the great confirming of one another’s hearts in the fear and love of God, and the preparing of them for the service of the church in their generation. I have heard him speak of the prudent method they took then about the university sermons on the Lord’s day, in the afternoon, which used to be preached by the fellows of colleges in their course; but that being found not so much for edification, Dr Owen and Dr Goodwin performed that service alternately, and the young masters that were wont to preach it had a lecture on Tuesday appointed them.”

John Owen, vol. 1, The Works of John Owen., ed. William H. Goold (Edinburg: T&T Clark), lii.

I love that John Owen took his charge seriously. It was out of his concern for the spiritual well being of the students that he risked injury and disgrace by physically removing a rebellious student from the class. It was the very same concern that caused him to labor in the teaching and preaching of the gospel. May we have more preachers with “the anxious desire of awakening and fostering among the students [church] the power of a living piety.”

*Photo from Washington Post.