The whole

I had an extremely encouraging conversation with a friend who is both much younger and much smarter than I am. Those conversations can be challenging, but also rewarding. I realized in the conversation that our faith must embrace everything that we are. 

It seems to me that we fall constantly into the trap of denying one truth in order to believe another. And that seems evident in our attempts at spiritual growth: some of us attempt to deny our emotions, others attempt to deny our wills, or our bodies, or our intellects in order to achieve some sort of spirituality. But of course none of those things is actually spiritual. True spirituality is not a denial of any part of what we are, it's being all that we are under the control of the Holy Spirit, under the Lordship of Christ (Colossians 3:17).

So the path to spirituality isn't denying our emotions in order to focus on our intellects, any more than it is denying our intellects in order to focus on our wills. We are made in the image of God, and we have emotions, intellects, wills, physical bodies, and so on. We don't become more spiritual by being less intellectual, any more than we become more spiritual by being less emotional, or by being less physical. The point of Christianity isn't that any part of what we are becomes less, it's that all that we are comes under the Lordship of Christ, under the control of the Spirit of God.

 

Our faith is to be intellectual, but not merely intellectual. It is to be emotional, but not merely emotional. It is to be intentional, but not merely intentional. It is to be physical, but not merely physical. But all under the Lordship of Christ.

 

But of course that's not really enough. Our faith is transformational: we who have died with Christ are transformed by it. We die as one thing and are raised another (1 Corinthians 15:40–45).  So please don't misunderstand me to be saying that spirituality is continuing exactly as we were as unregenerate people, that's not at all true. My point is that Christianity doesn't involve becoming less human: Christ is completely Man in His resurrection, just like He was before He died. We, too, will be fully human when we have been raised with Him. Christian perfection is not to be less intellectual, or less emotional, or less physical. We will be all those things in the resurrection.

My point is that denying our wills, or our emotions, or our intellects, or our bodies isn't spirituality. Spirituality is to have a will under God's control. It's to have emotions under God's control. It's to have a body under God's control. It's to have an intellect under God's control. Spirituality is being what God has made us to be, especially being subject to Christ in everything we do, think, and feel.

 

Many years ago I was reading Watchman Nee, and I was struck by his statement that Romans 6 isn't aspirational: it's not that we aspire to be crucified with Christ. It's a statement of fact: we have died with Christ.

Many of the sermons I listen to go off the rails at precisely this point. When those preachers talk about New Creation, they're not talking about something they believe to be real. If you listen – really listen – to what they say, they believe Romans 6 and Colossians 3 and Galatians 2 are metaphors: they are statements we should all be working hard to live up to.

I absolutely believe this is the leaven of evangelicalism: it's the idea that new birth is an addition, as opposed to a replacement. Nothing could be farther from the truth! 

 

But having said all that, the Christian life is nothing less than the life of Jesus in our mortal bodies (2 Corinthians 4:6–12). It's not a diminishing of the mortal body, it's not a diminishing of what we are as God's creations. It's a transformation. It's a change. But it's the life of Jesus worked out in mortal bodies. We can't shortcut the Holy Spirit's work in us by denying our intellects (although our intellect gets us into trouble) or by denying our emotions (as messy as they are) or by denying we have wills (as problematic as our wills prove) or by denying our physical bodies (as much as we might long for transcendence). The Spirit of God is working in us to reveal Christ in those things. And we are foolish to think we can help Him out by denying them.

Creation

I'm no great hunter, but I very much enjoy hunting. I'm enthusiastic rather than skilled.  Last year, I was trying to get a clear shot at an elk who walked down into a gully, out of my sight. Not wanting to lose a chance at him, I climbed down from  the tree stand and started making my way carefully down the hill after him. When I gave up and turned to go back for my pack, I saw two black, furry ears peaking out over a bush extremely close to where I had left my pack. I was so intent on the elk I was stalking, I had completely missed the bear that was much closer.

We all have trouble with tunnel vision. We all tend to focus so much on one thing we can't see anything else. One of the issues I have with a whole lot of ministry by "brethren" is precisely tunnel vision: a focus so intent on one issue, they are oblivious to all other issues. But I am just as bad as any of them.

One area where I've had really bad tunnel vision has been the whole area of New Creation.  The Pauline epistles bring New Creation into view sharply, front and center. "For [in Christ Jesus] neither is circumcision anything, nor uncircumcision; but new creation" (Galatians 6:15). God isn't looking for us to improve what we are by nature in Adam, He is looking for something entirely new, what we are in Christ.

But the equal and opposite truth is, New Creation isn't some ethereal, vague place. It's not nirvana. We know this, because the Lord Jesus, having been raised from the dead, was as much a physical Man as any of us are. John 20:26–28 tells the story of Thomas not believing the Resurrection. So the Lord appears to the disciples, and invites Thomas to touch the nail marks in His hands and the spear wound in His side. Notice it's a physical touch that the Lord offers as proof. This isn't some discorporeal apparition, it's a real Man, with a real body.

And 1 Corinthians 15 brings both these truths to equal light and importance: the core of our faith – the single most important thing we believe – is that Christ has been raised from the dead in His physical body. If we don't believe in the bodily Resurrection of Christ, we're not Christians, period. This isn't negotiable (1 Corinthians 15:11–17). And Christ being raised from the dead, we shall also be raised from the dead (1 Corinthians 15:19–28). That's one truth, the bodily Resurrection.

The other truth is that Resurrection changes us (1 Corinthians 14:42–45). We won't be raised exactly like we are now, we'll be raised into incorruptibility. Our bodies will be changed to be like His. Not new bodies, but changed bodies, certainly. That's what we're waiting for: the Son of God will come from Heaven to transform our bodies (Philippians 3:20–21).

I have trouble keeping both these things in mind at the same time. I tend to think about the Lord coming to transform my body in such a way that I forget it'll still be a human body. I tend to think lose sight of the truth of bodily resurrection when I am thinking about the truth of our being raised into incorruptibility.

But the reality is that the end goal isn't for me to be any less human than I am. I'll be transformed, certainly, but not less human for all that. Francis Schaeffer might argue I'll be more human. I'm not sure I really buy that, but it's worth thinking about.

Or to put it another way, New Creation is still the sort of thing where we wash dishes and learn to play guitar. It's not a place where we sit around like a cartoon parody of Heaven, with gentle background music and harps and clouds. Ellis Potter points out that the Lord baked bread, build a fire, and roasted fish after His Resurrection. So New Creation definitely doesn't exclude mundane tasks.

There's a lot more to be said, but I think this is a good place to stop for now.

Experimental

My dad told me one time, "when Moses struck the rock a second time, he was wrong... but water still came out" (see Numbers 20:7–13).  I've thought about that comment many, many times. It's entirely possible – even likely – that God will bless us regardless of our obedience or our disobedience. God's blessing isn't evidence that we are obedient, it's evidence that God is good. In the story of the water from the rock, everyone was wrong except God; but He still gave them what they needed.

So let's don't allow ourselves to fall into the trap of thinking that God's blessing is proof of our own goodness. It isn't. A friend told me many years ago (quoting someone else), "God blesses us because He is good, not because we are."

But the fact remains that I'm not terribly interested in a Christianity that doesn't actually work. And this brings me to a sort of a conundrum: on the one hand, faith is believing that God has said. "The just shall live by faith," is really the central message of Romans (Romans 1:17), Galatians (Galatians 3:11), and Hebrews (Hebrews 10:38). There's not much more central than that!

But on the other hand, the epistles teach a transforming sort of faith. 2 Corinthians 4:6 tells us that the same God who commanded light to shine out of darkness has shone in our hearts. God's having called light to shine out of the darkness of our hearts (which is really the point Paul is making) suggests a visible effect.

Note I'm not talking about counterfeit spirituality. I am convinced nothing has done more to hurt the testimony of believers than trying to produce spiritual fruit from carnal energy. And I suppose that's really the point I'm trying to make. Moses and Aaron acted carnally at Meribah, but water still came out. See, it's possible to act with fleshly energy, and still see tremendous blessing. Isn't that what Philippians 1:15–20 teaches? It's possible to preach Christ out of envy, out of a desire for strife. And it's possible people will be brought to repentance out of it, not because God approves of the preaching, but because God blesses out of His own goodness.

I know for a fact that we can be fleshly in our preaching, our prayer, our Bible study, and even our declaring the Gospel. We know for a fact that God can and does bless us, and through us, even when we're acting badly, even when we're flat-out wrong. And seeing "results" isn't proof that we're right, it just means that God is acting like He always does – out of grace.

Priesthood

I read somewhere that Psalm 110 is the most-quoted passage in the New Testament. I don't know whether that's actually true, but it does seem to form the basis of our Christology. No, I don't mean everything we know about Christ is in Psalm 110 (we wouldn't need the gospels if it were), I mean that the New Testament authors quote Psalm 110 to show that God's plan with regard to Christ hasn't gone awry. The Lord Jesus Himself quotes Psalm 110 to show that He is David's Son as well as David's Lord, baffling both the Pharisees and the Sadducees (Matthew 22:41–46). Peter quotes the Psalm to show that Christ is now sitting at God's right hand (Acts 2:32–35). And, of course, Hebrews uses the Psalm to establish the connection between Christ and Melchizedek (Hebrews 5:6–10; Hebrews 7).

J. N. Darby's paper "The Melchisedec Priesthood of Christ" is well worth reading. It's been about twenty years since I first read that paper, but I remember being struck by the observation that Melchisedec – the first person the Scripture refers to as a priest – doesn't offer for sins. 

J. G. Bellett wrote a book on Hebrews called, The Opened Heavens. I'm ashamed to admit I don't recall very much about that book, but the title is profound. The story of the golden calf at Sinai begins with the people getting tired of waiting for Moses (Exodus 32:1). He had gone up to speak with God, and they said, "we do not know what is become of him." We are very much in danger of saying the same thing: the Man who has delivered us has gone up into God's presence, and we have exactly the same tendency to get tired of waiting for Him to come back down (Acts 1:1–11). At the simplest level, Hebrews is written to tell us what's going on up there, where we can't see Him.

Darby links this current state of affairs with the Day of Atonement in Leviticus 16. We have a great High Priest who has passed into the heavens (Hebrews 4:14). Like the people of Aaron's day, we can't see what's going on with our Priest. What's He doing up there? The children of Israel might have wondered if Aaron had died when they couldn't see him (Leviticus 16:2, 13). We don't have that fear, but it does seem like He's been in there a long time...

Well, Hebrews tells us that He's in there for us (Hebrews 9:24). It's not that He got tired of us and left (although really, who could blame Him?), it's that He is appearing before the face of God for us.

What got me thinking about this was Exodus 28:29–30. Aaron was to have the names of the tribes of Israel over his heart whenever he went into the Tabernacle: " Aaron shall bear the names of the children of Israel in the breastplate of judgment on his heart, when he goes in to the sanctuary" (Exodus 28:29). He wasn't supposed to be able to forget that he was in there for them.

It's striking that Peter offered the return of Christ and the commencement of the Millennium if only the children of Israel would repent (Acts 3:19–21). I don't doubt that the Son of Man will come from Heaven to receive a kingdom (Daniel 7:13–14). Right now we're living in that intermediate period, where He is sitting at God's right hand, waiting for His enemies to be made His footstool. And there are deep and profound consequences of that.

But at the same time, He's now in Heaven for us. This is worth contemplating.

 

 

Ponzi Scheme

There is a recurring theme in a lot of the sermons I've been hearing over the last couple decades. It seems like a lot of people believe that our primary role is evangelism. I heard one recording where the speaker said the best way to honor the Lord is to share the gospel with lost sinners. I'm not convinced that's true.

I know, 2 Timothy 4:5 says, "do the work of an evangelist." Isn't that a slam dunk? Doesn't that prove we're to focus on witnessing?

Well... it's a little more complicated than that. Let's start with the context of that verse: v. 9 says "Use diligence to come to me quickly," and then goes on to detail that he should bring Mark, a cloak, and manuscripts (2 Timothy 4:9–13). I find it interesting that people are quick to say 2 Timothy 4:5 is a command to us, who don't then make a pilgrimage to Troas. It's clearly the same person being addressed in v. 5 and v. 9–13. What reason do we have to think the one verse applies to us, but the others do not?

I'm not trying to be pugilistic here, I'm just pointing out that reading 2 Timothy 4:5 as a command to us is an untenable hermeneutical position. There's not justification for it in the text. It's a command to Timothy, not to us. And the context makes that clear.

Just today I read an article that said, "Let’s start with the premise that the paramount mission of the church is the proclamation of the gospel and creation of disciples" (emphasis in the original). That's quite a statement, and one the author doesn't really demonstrate from the texts he quotes (Matthew 28:19, Mark 16:15).  There are (at least) two problems with this reasoning:

First, the Lord wasn't addressing the church, which didn't exist at the time. He was addressing the Eleven. 

Second, I don't see anything in the text that claims these verses are somehow more important than the rest of what the Lord commanded. I know it's common to label those passages "the Great Commission", but the Scripture does not. There's nothing in the text to suggest these verses take primacy over anything else the Lord commanded. It's just not there.

Of course none of this is to say we ought not to evangelize. It's just to say that dubious hermeneutics and careless handling of the text aren't a solid foundation for building much of anything. It's certainly not sufficient for the claim that evangelism is "the paramount mission of the church."

It seems to me there are several problems that spring from this sort of carelessness with the Word of God. There are probably many, but I'll just mention a few.

The first problem is that we end up messing with the gospel. I've mentioned at least a few times that the Scripture talks about the gospel a lot, but it only tells us what the gospel is twice: 1 Corinthians 15:1–8 and Revelation 14:6–7. 1 Corinthians 15 lays out the gospel Paul preached (1 Corinthians 15:1). When he says, "if even we or an angel out of heaven announce as glad tidings to you [anything] besides what we have announced as glad tidings to you, let him be accursed" (Galatians 1:8). That's a serious statement, and it should catch our attention.

If we examine the gospel Paul preached, we see it doesn't bear a lot of resemblance to most of the "gospel preaching" we hear most places today. How many "gospel messages" have you heard that mentioned the burial of Christ? I've heard "gospel messages" that don't even mention the Resurrection!

Further, the gospel Paul preached is remarkably devoid of appeals to repent, or even urging to believe. It wasn't much of a sales pitch.  Acts 13:16–41 records Paul's message to the synagogue in Antioch of Pisidia. We notice immediately the lack of the pressure to "close the deal". There just isn't that high-pressure sales tactic here.

We might see a bit more of an appeal in Acts 2:14–40, in Peter's sermon on Pentecost. But the context sheds some light on that: notice that Peter's urging the hearers to repent comes after they ask him what they should do (Acts 2:37). Peter tells the people that the Man they had crucified was the Messiah, and He had been raised from the dead, and is now sitting at God's right hand. They respond by asking what they should do, having crucified the Lord, and he tells them, "Repent, and be baptised, each one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for remission of sins, and ye will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:38).

Someone pointed out many years ago that the book of Acts doesn't even mention the love of God. Not once. I'm afraid that our "gospel preaching" is a whole lot more like a sales pitch than it is like the preaching of the Apostles. 

The second problem is that we reduce Christianity to a race to sign people up: a membership drive, if you will. It seems to me that evangelicalism frequently reduces to a Ponzi scheme. It's people working hard to sign others up, so they can sign others up, so they can sign others up... there doesn't seem to be a lot of point to it.

The point of Christianity – at least according to the Word of God – is to know God (John 17:3). It's to know Christ (Philippians 3:8–12). It's to have fellowship with the Father and the Son (1 John 1:3). I can't recall ever reading in the Scripture that the point of Christianity is to get as many other people on board as possible. 

The third problem is that high-pressure tactics create false profession. I personally have seen – I was there – people who put so much pressure on the gospel, that entirely unrepentant sinners repeat a prayer just to get the "evangelist" to shut up. How do I know that's what happened? Because the supposed "new convert" said that's what happened. I heard Robert say something like, "the devil has made enough false professors, let's not help him by making more."

So let's do invite sinners to repent, let's do tell them about that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised the third day according to the Scriptures, and that He was seen by Cephas and the Twelve. But don't let's miss out on what Christianity actually is: fellowship with the Father and the Son.

Not now, not here

1 Corinthians 14:27–33 presents us with some scenarios that should surprise us, if we're paying attention. In the first, we have someone in the assembly who wants to speak in a tongue, but there is no interpreter. So he is told to speak to himself and to God, but not out loud (1 Corinthians 14:28). In the second, we have someone who is prophesying – giving a word from the Lord – but someone else rises to speak, so he is to sit down and let the other person speak (1 Corinthians 14:30). And then we're given a remarkable statement, "spirits of prophets are subject to prophets" (1 Corinthians 14:32).

What's surprising here is that the text treats both the tongues-speaker and the interrupted prophet as having a legitimate thing from God. Neither one is treated as "out of order" in what they would say, but they would be "out of order" to say it at that time, in that place.

In other words, we are responsible to assess the situation, see how it lines up with 1 Corinthians 14, and then possibly refuse to say what the Spirit of God has given us to say. It's entirely possible that He will give us something to say, and then expect us not to say it, according to 1 Corinthians 14:32.

The first few times I experienced this, I tended to echo the disciples in John 9:2, "Who is in sin? Is it me for thinking I had something from the Lord? Or is it that other guy who stood up third, so now I can't?" But I've come to understand it might be more like the Lord's answer to the disciples, "Neither you nor he sinned, but this is the for the glory of God" (John 9:3).

There is a story in the Old Testament that seems appropriate to bring up here. David had a genuine exercise to build a temple for the Lord (2 Samuel 7:1–2). Nathan the prophet recognized it was a genuine exercise from the Lord, and told him so (2 Samuel 7:3). But the Lord spoke to Nathan, and told him that it would be David's son, not David, who would build the temple (2 Samuel 7:4–17).

So I've become a little more comfortable with the idea that I've gotten a genuine exercise from the Lord, but it wasn't ever His intention for me to be the one to act on it.

I'm not saying that third guy who stood up to speak in the assembly wasn't wrong to do so. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. I confess there are a lot of times someone stands up and I am quite convinced they had nothing to say. But to be honest, there are a lot of times someone else stood up, and it was a great act of love for me not to roll my eyes... but then someone else would tell me afterwards that they felt the Lord gave them something they really needed in that message. In other words, He knew much better than I what was best for the assembly.

And that's the big lesson in 1 Corinthians 14. There is real responsibility in the assembly, but at the end of the day, the Lord doesn't need me. He is perfectly capable of doing what is best for the believers there without my help. 

Underneath a whole lot of what we do is the fear that if we don't intervene, things will go sideways. That's not even close to what Scripture teaches. God who raises the dead might well use me, but He certainly doesn't need me.

Cessationist?

Someone asked by email about my views on cessationism. So I thought I'd try and lay those out a little more explicitly. When I was somewhere about 20 years old, I read the statement of faith from a church that said something to the effect that speaking in tongues is not for today. I remember being struck forcibly that Scripture says "forbid not to speak in tongues" (1 Corinthians 14:39), and here was a church doing exactly what Scripture commanded not to do. That was the exact moment I realized I couldn't be a cessationist.

So on the simplest level, I gave up cessationism when I realized I couldn't obey 1 Corinthians 14:39. 

It strikes me when I read Acts 2:32–36 that Peter reasons almost exactly oppositely from the majority of Christians I know. Peter says, the Holy Spirit's presence is proof that Jesus Christ is sitting at God's right hand. And Paul says the Galatians ought to have recognized their desire to live under Law was wrong, because they had received the Holy Spirit on the basis of faith, not of works (Galatians 3:1–5 ).  So the New Testament points to the Holy Spirit's presence as observable evidence a doctrine is true.

But the majority of ministry I have heard says, you can know you have the Holy Spirit, because Christ is sitting at God's right hand. In other words, the Holy Spirit's presence is something we have to take on faith, because we know our doctrine is correct. I don't see that argument in Scripture. And I have to say, it's odd to believe that God would be present, but we wouldn't notice Him.

What I see in Scripture is, the presence of the Holy Spirit is obvious, visible, and noticeable. 

If we read 1 Corinthians 14:22–25, we find that what characterizes the Holy Spirit's presence is not necessarily speaking in tongues (1 Corinthians 14:22–23). It's not that we're looking for an ecstatic experience: we don't judge the Holy Spirit's presence by sensationalism, but by conviction (1 Corinthians 14:24–25). Spirit-filled ministry will strike the heart of the unbeliever, making him admit God is there. He might shrug off ecstatic utterances as madness, but he can't deny the effect of Spirit-filled "prophesying" on his heart and conscience.

Few passages have ruined the comfort of my life like 1 Corinthians 14. Without in any way trying to give an explication of that chapter, let's notice some highlights and themes.

First, we don't see a lot of schedule or agenda in that chapter. 1 Corinthians 14:26 says that whenever we come together, everyone brings something – a song, an exhortation, a teaching, etc. And we're to have the freedom to share those, but there is prescribed order. That verse led me into a long adventure when I was younger, because I realized the "open brethren" I was meeting with never practiced it. Sure, they had a more-or-less open format for the Lord's Supper, but every other meeting was carefully scheduled and planned. And the more I looked at 1 Corinthians 14:26, the more I saw the weight of the words whenever ye come together. I didn't see a lot of room for the agenda-driven meetings I was used to.

Second, we see a prescribed order for speaking in tongues in the assemblies of Christians: two or three ("at the most three") can speak in tongues, separately (1 Corinthians 14:27).  So when there are a whole lot of people all speaking at once, we can know they're not obeying the Word of God. There can be at the most three, and they must speak one at a time.  And there must be an interpreter (1 Corinthians 14:27). If there's no one there to interpret, then the tongues-speaker must be silent (1 Corinthians 14:28).

I have only once seen these two verses obeyed. I was in a meeting, and a man stood up and began speaking in Spanish. Another man stood up and interpreted every sentence. They spoke one at a time (the first man would make a point and then pause, the second would interpret what had been said). That was exactly according to 1 Corinthians 14:27–28.

Now, some would say that was a legitimate experience, because it was Spanish, not some "unknown tongue". I disagree. The reality is that as far as I'm concerned – as far as most people are concerned – the majority of human languages are "unknown tongues." It makes little difference to me whether someone speaks in the tongue of angels, or if someone speaks in Swahili. They are equally unintelligible to me. I likely couldn't tell them apart. 

I find the need to decide whether speaking in tongues is legitimate based on whether the tongue is a currently-spoken language entirely irrational. If someone speaks in a language I don't know, then it doesn't matter to me where or who speaks it. 1 Corinthians 13:1 talks about the tongues of men and of angels, and I am content to lump them together.

Third, we find a prescribed order for prophesying in the assemblies of Christians (1 Corinthians 14:29–33). Two or three prophets may speak, the rest are to judge (1 Corinthians 14:29). They may only speak one at a time (1 Corinthians 14:31), they are not to be speaking over one another. And if one begins speaking while the other is still speaking, then the first – the interrupted, not the interruptor – is to stop (1 Corinthians 14:30). 

This section ends with the remarkable statement that "spirits of prophets are subject to prophets" (1 Corinthians 14:32). That is a remarkable statement, and I don't think we take it seriously enough. I can only take that to mean that if I am sitting in a meeting and I feel particularly led of the Lord to say something, then if it would violate the order in 1 Corinthians 14:29–33, I need to not say it. Let that sink in – even if I feel led to say something, I am responsible not to say it if it would violate this passage.

I have experienced this many times. I don't know how many times I've been struck by a thought in a meeting, and been about to stand up and talk about it, when someone else rises to speak. The Word of God is clear that I have been interrupted, and I need to stay silent. Or sometimes I've been in a meeting and two other people have already spoken, when I feel led to speak on something. Then someone else stands up. Scripture is specific that only "two or three" may speak (1 Corinthians 14:29): I, as the fourth, must be silent.

Fourth, we have instructions concerning women in the assemblies of Christians (1 Corinthians 14:34–35). Women are to be silent in the assemblies (1 Corinthians 14:34), not even asking questions (1 Corinthians 14:35). Notice this is "in the assemblies," not in every part of life. This isn't a stricture against women speaking in general, but specifically in the context of addressing the assembled church.

On this last note, let me say that there are many women I know who are over me in the Lord. There are many women who have corrected me,  encouraged me, exhorted me, and admonished me. They were not at all wrong to do that. But it wasn't in the context of the assembled church. That's all I have to say about that.

What I find fascinating about 1 Corinthians 14 is that it's an appeal to order that implicitly expects visible, noticeable effects from the presence of the Holy Spirit in the assembly. The effect is not necessarily ecstatic experience (although that can certainly be part of it), but it's an effect that should drive and characterize everything.

And here's where I most often have seen failure in the assemblies of Christians. It's almost like the Christians I have known most closely have been content with an entire lack of the Holy Spirit's power, as long as they can check the order items of the list: "Let's see, women silent? check! Only two or at the most three? check!" But that's not all that the chapter says. The chapter specifically requires the Holy Spirit's power  that would be so visible even an unbeliever would not be able to deny it (1 Corinthians 14:24–25). Why are we so hung up on the other rules, but ignore this one?

I don't know how many times I've heard someone "minister in the assembly" with nothing to say. That's not obeying 1 Corinthians 14! It might not be violating the "two or at the most three" rule, but it certainly violates the "is God among you" rule (1 Corinthians 14:25). Someone giving a pointless, powerless, anemic talk in the assembly is as much a violation of 1 Corinthians 14 as ten people speaking in an unknown tongue, all at once, without an interpreter.

And that's really why I'm not a cessationist. It began when I realized I couldn't forbid speaking in tongues (1 Corinthians 14:39).  If the Lord chooses to give someone a miraculous gift, I won't be part of gainsaying it. I cannot build a theology that forbids God from working however He sees fit. That doesn't mean I think there must be miraculous signs, it just means I'm OK with God doing what He wants, even if it involves so-called sign gifts.

But more importantly, I realize I have largely bought into a theology that asserts the Holy Spirit's presence based on doctrinal assumptions, which is the opposite of what the Apostles taught. The Apostles used the Holy Spirit's visible, noticeable presence as proof of their doctrine, not the other way around. Again, they didn't always do that in terms of ecstatic experience: sometimes it was the conviction of the hearer. But the Scripture always assumes people notice when God is there.