“Glorification does not refer to the blessedness upon which the spirits of believers enter at death. It is true that then the saints, as respects their disembodied spirits, are made perfect in holiness and pass immediately into the presence of the Lord Christ…. Yet, however glorious is the transformation of the people of God at death and however much they may be disposed to say with the apostle that to depart and to be with Christ is far better (cf. Phil. 1:23), this is not their glorification. It is not the goal of the believer’s hope and expectation. The redemption which Christ has secured for his people is redemption not only from sin but also from all its consequences. Death is the wages of sin and the death of believers does not deliver them from death. The last enemy, death, has not yet been destroyed; it has not yet been swallowed up in victory. Hence glorification has in view the destruction of death itself. It is to dishonour Christ and to undermine the nature of the Christian hope to substitute the blessedness upon which believers enter at death for the glory that is to be revealed when “this corruptible will put on incorruption and this mortal will put on immortality” (1 Cor. 15:54). Preoccupation with the event of death indicates a deflection of faith, of love, and of hope. We who have the firstfruits of the Spirit ‘groan within ourselves,’ the apostle reminds us, ‘waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body’ (Rom. 8:23). That is the glorification. It is the complete and final redemption of the whole person when in the integrity of body and spirit the people of God will be conformed to the image of the risen, exalted, and glorified Redeemer, when the very body of their humiliation will be conformed to the body of Christ’s glory (cf. Phil. 3:21). God is not the God of the dead but of the living and therefore nothing short of resurrection to the full enjoyment of God can constitute the glory to which the living God will lead his redeemed.”

Welch’s book on depression is helpful on a number of levels. It presents both a clear-headed use of descriptive psychology, while providing an instructive example of how to apply biblical teaching about the nature of sin to a particular struggle in the Christian life. The church would do well to learn from his work.

Throughout Chapter 3, Welch makes it clear that we should be willing to learn from psychology at least as a descriptive discipline. This is an important point that we ought to observe and appreciate. The tendency of many in “Christian counseling” circles is to react against the misuse of psychology, claiming that it has no use whatsoever. But Welch clearly demonstrates that a method that recognizes the central authority of Scripture may still make use of insights gleaned from the discipline of psychology. One of the observations that we gain from psychology is that there are various conditions labeled “depression,” resulting in a continuum of severity (28). These things are important to recognize; “depression” is not a word with a definite denotation. We should be careful in our response to those who claim to suffer from it, being careful to diagnosis what, precisely, is going on.

Furthermore, Welch grants the theoretical possibility of medical causes of depression, but is careful to point out that “chemical imbalances” are nearly impossible to detect. Even if they were detected, it remains to be proven whether the chemical imbalance caused or was caused by the depression. For all of these reasons, we should be wary of a premature medical diagnosis (30-31). This is even more the case when we realize that such a diagnosis can have a negative effect on the effort to address other contributing factors and issues. The temptation will be for a medical diagnosis to make all else seem superfluous. It will feel like “prescribing physical exercise for baldness” (31). This would then preclude efforts to discover any other causes that Scripture may speak to, whether they be directly sin-related or environmental.

As the beginnings of a biblical way of dealing with depression, part one develops the thesis that depression is suffering (37-100). This is revolutionary; it provides us with a perspective from which to view and approach depression, as Scripture has much to say about suffering. Appropriately, though not facilely, Welch quotes James 1:2-4 at this point (38). Already from this one verse, it is clear that suffering – including depression – has purpose. What’s more, Scripture teaches us a number of the causes of suffering: others, ourselves, our bodies, Satan, and God can all play a role as the source of suffering. This, then, should color our approach to the problem of depression.

At this point, knowing that God is in control of our suffering and even uses it for our good, we may be tempted to respond with faithless rebellion. But Welch encourages us with two important biblical principles: 1.) Jesus shared in our suffering; and 2.) God is gracious and generous (47-52). What are we to do, then? The key is not to wait on God to magically strengthen out faith, but to exercise faith by calling upon the Lord (55-61).

Throughout his discussion, Welch is not afraid to point out the places where sin is a hindrance to defeating depression or even a cause of depression. He warns that if a particular passage of Scripture is not speaking to the one who is suffering from depression, it may very well be the result of a willful disregard for the truth that God is speaking to him at that point. (Consider his question, for instance, on page 72: “Do you want to change?”) He even presents a fairly detailed exploration of one’s over-all view of sin (75-78). But such admonitions are never in the direction of works-righteousness. Far from it. Indeed, they are exhortations to faith. So, when we struggle with depression, we should seek the heart of it in pride, in a desire for autonomy, and in the idolatry of self and self-indulgence (127-129). And even when we do find sin, we must be careful that we not too readily assume that sin is the only – or even the primary – cause of our depression (131).

For all he says of sin and the importance of faith, Welch does not neglect the external factors that may cause depression. We must recognize that we are involved in spiritual warfare (63). He discusses specifics, encouraging those who struggle with depression to list what they suspect to be their main causes. He also discusses general cultural trends that contribute to depression (113-122). In my estimation, this latter discussion is supremely valuable. His diagnoses of individualism, obsession with novelty, and the idolatry of happiness as sources of depression are absolutely correct. Welch’s work here is useful for all Christians, not just those who have particular struggles with depression. But this stands to reason. He has diagnosed depression as at least having an element of sin as its cause; that being the case, it is only natural that we would all benefit from the solution, as it is clearly the case that we all struggle with sin.

All in all, even in the context of his discussions of the problem of sin, Welch is consistently Christ-centered. Ultimately, it is only the suffering of Christ that allows us to make sense of our own suffering. “Since Jesus came, suffering is redemptive. When we keep Jesus in view, the `one who learned obedience from what he suffered,’ we can begin to understand how James could encourage us to have joy in the desert trek” (139).

If there is one serious criticism of Welch’s book, it is that he doesn’t seem to make sufficient use of the biblical motif of eschatology. To be sure, he refers to life as a “desert trek” (139), and he reminds us that an important motif for the Christian life is that of pilgrimage (16). In a brilliant chapter, Welch argues that a biblical sense of purpose is important in the fight against depression (90). Traveling, pilgrimage, purpose – all of these are important concepts, and Welch should be commended for making use of them. But it seems to me that he insufficiently develops the idea that on one level, we should all be discontent and dissatisfied with life in this world as we know it. John Calvin develops this theme heavily. A biblically-informed Christian spirituality will be dissatisfied with this life, longing for the life to come. It seems appropriate, then, to encourage those who struggle with depression to recognize where they may in fact be on to something. Their diagnosis of life in the here and now may not be that far off. But the key is to be faithful in what they do in response to that diagnosis. They must look to the hope that is ours in Christ, to the fact that God is making all things new. On that basis, then, even the present life is to be lived in joyful expectation of what is to come. What’s more, the Lord provides us foretastes of that life to come in the life of the church – in worship on the Lord’s Day, in the Lord’s Supper, and in fellowship with God’s people.

Ultimately, life in the church is the indispensable key to fighting depression, for it is only in the church that we taste the hope that truly makes life livable. We must embrace the paradox: in order to appreciate and enjoy this life, we must first realize its utter deficiency compared to the glories that are to come. For apart from the church’s eschatological hope, depression is the only sensible response.

Similar to the central themes of the other books in the “Resources for Changing Lives” series, Welch explicitly states the “point” to the book in the preface: “Theology makes a difference” (xvi). With relation to addictions specifically, then, this means that “Addictions are ultimately a disorder of worship.” In keeping with this central theme, the first part of the book, “Thinking Theologically” lays the foundation for the approach, while the second part develops specific “Essential Theological Themes.”

Welch begins by discussing the very idea of “practical theology.” Why is it that a faithful Christian who knows theology well, even teaching it at church, can respond to sin in such a way that seems to betray a lack of any theological knowledge at all? This is a common problem-the problem of a disconnect between faith a life-that Welch argues has at least two sources. First, due to the influence of unbelieving authorities, many of us have wrong theology in the first place. Second, even when we believe true things, our actions betray not a disconnect between faith and life, but a failure to really believe that which we say we believe. The solution is to turn to God’s Word for perspective, and to listen to the counsel of others when we may think we are self-deceived (3-10). In my estimation, this basic approach is of great usefulness, even far beyond the specific issue of addictions. When it is clear that we are living in a manner inconsistent with our confession, there are two things we need to do: turn to God’s Word and involve ourselves in the church. The usefulness of the rest of the book flows from this fundamental insight: addictions betray theological error; specifically, they betray a worship problem. Diagnosing the problem rightly is key to fixing it. Any source of help that denies this diagnosis is going to be of minimal lasting worth.

On the foundation of this broad diagnosis, Welch begins to explore issues specifically related to addiction. He wisely warns of misunderstanding that can arise from the term. It is fine as a description of behavior, but not necessarily as an explanation for behavior. He also argues that we ought to allow for a broad understanding of addictive behavior (beyond simply drugs and alcohol), for this more faithfully acknowledges the biblical teaching about the sins underlying addiction (11-15). In this connection, his chapter “Sin, Sickness, or Both?” is a veritable gold mine of insights. He sternly and pastorally insists on the necessity of dealing with sin as the foundational issue; his work here is a wonderful example of how to deal with difficult issues in decidedly pastoral fashion (17-22, e.g.). As we consider the sinful roots of drunkenness, for instance, we find that at root it is a lordship problem. “Drunkards are worshipping another god-alcohol” (23). But with all this emphasis on sin, what do we make of evidence that genetics can be a factor? Welch grants-again, wisely-that biological factors can certainly have influence. But he is quick to point out that the idea that genetics may influence a situation is importantly different from saying that addictions are determined by genetics. He illustrates this by discussing different types of cravings and demonstrating that even when the physical is an important factor, it is never the ultimate cause of sin or addiction. To be sure, sin may begin to feel like a disease, but this is a natural stage in the evolution of sin, even as revealed in Scripture (34-39). In “New Ways of Seeing,” Welch develops the metaphor of idolatry, along with other biblical metaphors, as a means of interpreting and approaching the problem of addiction. This is particularly important in response to the prevalent use of disease as a metaphor for addiction. In the fourth chapter, Welch describes “The Descent into Addiction” along five stages: the stages of being unprepared, of friendship, of infatuation, of love and betrayal, and finally of worship. For all of his talk of the importance of sin and biblical responses, Welch isn’t afraid to make use of a psychology of addiction, particularly as a descriptive tool. Throughout his discussion, however, all that he says is submitted to the interpretation of Scripture.

Welch spends the remainder of the book discussing eight theological themes that are essential to dealing with addiction: speaking the truth in love; respecting, listening, and inviting; knowing the Lord; fearing the Lord; turning from lies; saying “no;” staying violent; and being part of the body. The last two themes seem particularly helpful. “The problem is that as Christians, we often forget we are in a war. Or worse, we don’t even know that there is a war” (228-229). In the battle against addiction-and all sin-it is important that we take seriously the spiritual struggle in which we are involved. It is also important that the role of the church be emphasized. I would commend Welch for treating the church as an important biblical theme.

But it is at this point that his book should perhaps be faulted the most. He mentions, for instance, the importance of the church as a source of one’s identity. The one struggling with addiction should say, “I am part of the body of Christ” (250). Even one who struggles with alcohol is no longer defined as an “alcoholic.” To be sure, this theme of one’s identity in Christ (and his body) is important; but in my estimation, it is far more important than Welch makes it out to be. This is always the structure of pastoral exhortation in the epistles: live in the light of who you are in Christ. Furthermore, Welch fails to emphasize the importance of the means of grace as the means by which the Lord sanctifies us. It is beyond me how he can speak of one’s identity without mentioning baptism, or of unity in the church without mentioning the Lord’s Supper. These are not mere theological quibbles; in my estimation they are fatal flaws. The means of grace lie at the heart of Christian spirituality, and any discussion of struggling with sin ought to give them the central place.

Is lordship the problem? Let’s talk about how baptism defines you in terms of to whom you belong. Is the lack of edifying relationships with others the problem? Let’s talk about the Lord’s Supper and how it ties us together as the body of Christ. Is the problem one of incorrect theological perspectives? Let’s discuss how preaching goes far beyond simply informing us, to the point of shaping and molding us existentially. All else should flow from these means.

Despite this fairly serious shortcoming, Welch’s work is nevertheless a wealth of biblical and pastoral wisdom. His way of discussing the central importance of sin is worthy of imitation. He provides helpful insight into the psychological nature of addiction. And perhaps most importantly, his approach to handling addiction serves as a worthy model for any area in which Christians struggle with sin.

“Luke’s Gospel draws on other texts, for Luke especially those of the Greek version of what we have come to call the Old Testament. By this form of intertextuality, he locates his narrative in those texts so as to allow the significance of the ‘old story’ to shed light on the present one, just as the story of Jesus, then, is allowed to interpret the story of Israel.

“What theological agenda might be served by the use of the Scriptures in this way? First, it is transparent that the rich interplay of scriptural texts within the story of Jesus roots that story in the authoritative story of Israel. … Second, this intertextuality reveals the oneness of God’s aim…. Third, the possibility of parody is introduced. … This is of major importance for Luke because of his belief that what is happening in and through Jesus is not only the unfolding but indeed the fulfillment of God’s design, witnessed in the Scriptures” (25-26).

Green consistently describes all of this as calling forth a decision, a response of faith on the part of the one hearing the good news of God’s purposes fulfilled in Jesus the Messiah. The genre of Luke’s gospel is proclamation, kerygma, the announcement of the fulfillment of the story of Israel for the sake of the whole world.

“Finally, Luke’s unrelenting emphasis on the purpose of God is presented as an invitation. People within the narrative may embrace or reject the divine aim. Luke’s readers receive he same invitation” (48-49).

My intention through this project is to post favorite selections here as I come across them. We begin with a selection from Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure (Bloom, p. 122).

Be absolute for death; either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skyey influences,
That dost this habitation, where thou keep’st,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death’s fool;
For him thou labour’st by thy flight to shun
And yet runn’st toward him still.

“What does he do to breed confidence in the bridge? He looks at the bridge; he gets down and examines it. He don’t [sic] stand at the bridge-head and turn his thoughts curiously in on his own mind to see if he has confidence in the bridge. If his examination of the bridge gives him a certain amount of confidence, and yet he wants more, how does he make his faith grow? Why, in the same way; he still continues to examine the bridge. Now, my dear old man, let your faith take care of itself for awhile, and you just think of what you are allowed to trust in. Think of the Master’s power, think of his love; think how he is interested in the soul that searches for him, and will not be comforted until he finds him. Think of what he has done, his work. That blood of his is mightier than all the sins of all the sinners that ever lived. Don’t you think it will master yours?…

“Now, dear old friend, I have done to you just what I would want you to do to me if I were lying in your place. The great theologian, after all, is just like any other one of God’s children, and the simple gospel talked to him is just as essential to his comfort as it is to a milk-maid or to a plow-boy. May God give you grace, not to lay too much stress on your faith, but to grasp the great ground of confidence, Christ, and all his work and all his personal fitness to be a sinner’s refuge. Faith is only an eye to see him. I have been praying that God would quiet your pains as you advance, and enable you to see the gladness of the gospel at every step. Good-bye. God be with you as he will. Think of the bridge! Your brother, C. R. V.”