Al Ngu,  Jan 9, 2026

The New Testament bursts with accounts of signs and wonders—not only through Jesus Christ, the Son of God, but also through ordinary men like the apostles. Peter raised the dead (Acts 9:36–42), Paul healed the sick and cast out demons (Acts 19:11–12), and the early church witnessed healings, deliverances, and bold proclamations that turned cities upside down. These were not rare anomalies; they were the expected outflow of the Holy Spirit’s power.

Yet today, in many corners of the church, such demonstrations feel distant—sporadic at best, absent at worst. Why? Why do we read of an overwhelming abundance of miracles in Scripture, yet see so few in our own lives and ministries? This question haunts me, especially as someone who has ministered in charismatic contexts and now lives in the bustling, skeptical heart of New York City.

Jesus promised this power explicitly: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth” (Acts 1:8, ESV). The purpose is unmistakable: Holy Spirit empowerment for witness-bearing, from our local streets to the ends of the earth. When was the last time you stepped out to share the gospel in your city and felt genuinely electrified, expectant, and empowered? For too many of us, the answer is dishearteningly rare. We’ve grown accustomed to disappointment. Signs and wonders seem to have faded into the background, leaving us frustrated that the very power promised for evangelism is so often lacking.

This tension finds its mirror in Matthew 8:23–27, the account of Jesus calming the storm:

And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?”

The disciples panicked as the waves crashed over them. They cried out in fear: “Lord, save us! We are perishing!” Jesus’ response is piercing—first a rebuke: “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?”—and only then a command that brought instant calm. The disciples marveled at the authority of the One in their midst.

If we were in that boat, how would we react? Honestly, most of us—pastors, theologians, everyday believers—would likely do the same: cry out in terror. Yet Jesus held them to a higher standard. He expected faith that trusted His presence and authority, perhaps even faith to rebuke the storm themselves in His name.

Why this expectation? Because Jesus was physically there, mere feet away. Today, He is ascended, but the Holy Spirit dwells within every true believer (Romans 8:9–11; 1 Corinthians 6:19). So why the scarcity of signs and wonders?

The roots run deep. The Enlightenment of the 17th and 18th centuries shifted Western thought toward rationalism, empiricism, and a suspicion of the supernatural. Miracles came to be viewed as violations of natural law—improbable, superstitious, or impossible. Thinkers like David Hume argued that miracle reports could never outweigh the uniformity of nature. This mindset permeated education, culture, and eventually theology.

Thomas Jefferson famously created his own edited version of the New Testament, *The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth* (completed around 1820), by literally cutting and pasting passages to remove all miracles, references to Jesus’ divinity, and the resurrection—focusing solely on moral teachings. Later, in the late 20th century, the Jesus Seminar—a group of scholars—voted on the authenticity of Gospel events, dismissing most miracles as legendary inventions.

These efforts reflect a broader cultural trajectory: the supernatural was sidelined to make faith more “palatable” in a scientific age. Universities filled with secular professors and textbooks promoted worldviews that often excluded God, sometimes leaning toward materialism or even Marxist influences. The church was not immune. Many congregations gradually abandoned praying for the sick, prophetic ministry, and expectant faith for miracles. Services became centered on preaching and singing—good things, but often without the demonstration of power.

Is it any wonder signs and wonders are rare? Expectations have plummeted because teaching has shifted. As Paul reminds us, “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Romans 10:17). When we cease proclaiming a God who still intervenes—who calms storms, heals bodies, and empowers witnesses—faith naturally weakens.

The solution lies in a full reboot: a renewed mind, a philosophical and theological return to Scripture’s full witness, and a complete surrender to the Lord. We must embrace the congruent power of Spirit and Word—the Holy Spirit’s dynamic presence working through the authoritative Scriptures. This is the God who performed mighty acts through Christ and the apostles, and who still desires to do so today for His glory and the advance of His kingdom.

Let us pray for revival: that our churches would once again expect, pursue, and witness the signs and wonders that authenticate the gospel. In our cities, our nations, and to the ends of the earth—may the power promised in Acts 1:8 be unleashed anew.

Amen.

A Polarized Moment: Academia and Political Power in Early 2026

As 2026 dawns, American evangelicals stand at a peculiar crossroads of cultural influence and caution. The early days of January have already seen renewed debate over higher education’s ideological landscape, prompted by the lingering effects of the Trump administration’s 2025 “Compact for Academic Excellence.” This initiative, designed to tie federal funding to reforms promoting merit-based admissions, balanced hiring practices, and greater viewpoint diversity, was ultimately rejected by most elite institutions. Critics framed it as government overreach threatening academic freedom, while supporters viewed it as a necessary corrective to longstanding imbalances. Yale University’s December 2025 Faculty Political Diversity Report—released just weeks ago—has fueled the conversation. Analyzing 1,666 faculty members across undergraduate departments, law, and management schools, the report revealed Democrats outnumbering Republicans by more than 36:1 overall, with an astonishing 27 of 43 undergraduate departments registering zero Republican faculty members. Peer institutions tell a similar story: Harvard’s Faculty of Arts and Sciences continues to show roughly 63–70% identifying as liberal in recent surveys, Princeton maintains comparable left-leaning ratios in key disciplines, and Columbia’s humanities departments reflect the national trend where conservative voices are often outnumbered by margins exceeding 10:1.

Simultaneously, evangelical proximity to political power has reached levels not seen in decades. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, a prominent evangelical voice, has continued hosting high-profile Christian worship services at the Pentagon—a practice begun in 2025 that blends military tradition with explicit faith expression. These gatherings, attended by service members and occasionally livestreamed, have reignited longstanding debates over church-state boundaries and the rising visibility of Christian nationalism. Influential figures connected to Doug Wilson’s network in Moscow, Idaho, have gained advisory roles in policy circles, celebrating what they see as a long-overdue reclamation of cultural influence. For many believers, this feels like a moment of vindication after years of perceived marginalization. For others, it raises uncomfortable questions about the entanglement of faith and state power.

Paul’s Framework: The Power of the Cross Over Human Wisdom

In this charged and polarized atmosphere, the apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 1 provide a strikingly relevant framework for discernment: “For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power” (1 Cor. 1:17, ESV). Paul, writing to a fractured church in cosmopolitan Corinth, deliberately rejected the rhetorical sophistication prized in Greco-Roman culture. A former Pharisee with impeccable credentials, he could have dazzled with philosophical arguments or impressive oratory. Instead, he chose simplicity—not out of anti-intellectualism, but to ensure that faith rested solely on God’s power rather than human persuasion.

Craig L. Blomberg, in his commentary, explains that 1 Corinthians 1:18–2:5 expands this theme, contrasting divine wisdom with human wisdom while directly addressing the Corinthian problem of self-centered factionalism.[1] Believers were dividing into rival camps, boasting loyalty to charismatic leaders: “I follow Paul,” “I follow Apollos,” “I follow Cephas.” This wasn’t mere personality preference; it reflected a deeper captivity to worldly values—valuing eloquence, status, and human achievement over the unifying reality of Christ crucified. Paul’s response was uncompromising: the message of the cross, which appeared as foolishness to Greek philosophers seeking wisdom and as weakness to Jews expecting miraculous signs, is in fact God’s profound wisdom and power.

Dual Temptations: Silence and Over-Alignment

Two millennia later, evangelicals navigate strikingly parallel temptations amid 2026’s cultural battles. One path leads to retreat and relative silence. Despite possessing rigorous biblical and theological training—MDiv programs, seminaries, and doctoral work producing thousands of graduates annually—many pastors, scholars, and lay leaders with intellectual depth remain largely absent from public discourse on pressing issues. Topics like education reform, human sexuality, religious liberty, immigration policy, and bioethics often see robust secular commentary but muted evangelical contributions. This isn’t universal; voices exist on podcasts, books, and niche platforms. Yet in mainstream media, legislative hearings, or university panels, theologically informed perspectives are frequently underrepresented. Possible explanations abound: exhaustion from the culture wars of previous decades, fear of professional backlash or church splits, or a well-intentioned but narrow focus on “gospel ministry” that avoids “political” topics. The result, however, is consequential: younger generations within the church risk growing up spiritually vibrant yet intellectually under-equipped to engage a world shaped by sophisticated secular narratives.

The opposite temptation is over-alignment with worldly systems of power. When evangelical leaders celebrate political appointments, policy wins, or public displays of faith in government settings as unambiguous kingdom advances, Paul’s caution against “eloquent wisdom” takes on fresh urgency. Proximity to power can subtly shift dependence from the cross to human mechanisms—electoral strategies, institutional leverage, or cultural dominance. History offers sobering precedents: whenever the church has tied its fortunes too closely to empire, the gospel’s scandalous offense gets softened, its call to repentance muted, and its transformative power redirected toward maintaining influence rather than confronting sin in all quarters.

Paul drives this home in verse 19, quoting Isaiah 29:14: “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Blomberg notes that God actively frustrates superficial religion and prideful autonomy, clearing space for genuine revelation.[2] The “wisdom” Paul targets isn’t neutral intelligence but humanity’s rebellious attempt to define truth apart from the Creator—a pattern Paul traces in Romans 1:18–32, where suppression of truth leads to divine judgment. True wisdom, by contrast, begins with reverent submission to God (Prov. 1:7; 9:10).

 The Academy as Carrier of Worldly Wisdom

Elite academia today often functions as a primary carrier of this autonomous wisdom. The ideological homogeneity revealed in Yale’s report and similar studies isn’t merely statistical; it profoundly shapes institutional culture. Curricula prioritize certain frameworks—critical theory, progressive views on gender and sexuality, secular humanism—while biblical perspectives are often sidelined or framed as outdated. Students graduate equipped with sophisticated tools for cultural critique but little exposure to robust Christian alternatives. This isn’t conspiracy but consequence: when one worldview dominates hiring and promotion, echo chambers form, and dissenting voices self-censor or leave. The Compact for Academic Excellence sought to address this, however imperfectly, yet its rejection underscores how deeply entrenched these patterns have become.

Paul’s point, however, is ultimately hopeful rather than defeatist. God thwarts worldly discernment precisely so that “those who are called, both Jews and Greeks” might recognize in the cross “the power of God and the wisdom of God” (v. 24). What the world dismisses as folly—a suffering Messiah executed as a criminal—becomes the very means of reconciliation, resurrection, and renewal. The Spirit illuminates hearts across ethnic, intellectual, and cultural divides, revealing Christ’s death as the ultimate demonstration of divine love and justice.

Probing Questions for the Church Today

This biblical dynamic raises probing questions for evangelicals navigating 2026’s realities. If Scripture—from the prophetic confrontations of the Old Testament to the ethical teachings of the New—consistently addresses justice, human dignity, authority, family, and the common good, why do so many theologically trained voices remain on the sidelines? The prophets challenged kings; Jesus engaged Pharisees and Roman officials; Paul reasoned in synagogues and marketplaces. In a nation that still constitutionally protects free speech and religious expression, the relative absence of biblically grounded contributions risks ceding moral and intellectual formation to systems fundamentally at odds with Christian truth. An entire generation within the church could emerge passionate about worship yet unprepared to articulate faith in public square conversations.

Conversely, when faith becomes a tool for political branding—Pentagon services as photo ops, policy victories as spiritual triumphs—the cross risks being emptied of its offense. It ceases to confront all powers, including those friendly to the church, and instead serves human agendas.

Signs of Hope: Vitality on Campuses

Yet amid these challenges, encouraging signs are emerging, particularly on the very campuses often seen as lost causes. Despite faculty imbalances, 2025 witnessed continued vitality in student-led faith movements. Cru (formerly Campus Crusade) reported record participation in evangelistic outreach and discipleship programs, with thousands of students making faith commitments. InterVarsity Christian Fellowship expanded chapters and multi-ethnic witnessing communities, emphasizing biblical justice alongside personal salvation. Catholic campuses saw surges in Mass attendance and RCIA inquiries, with some diocesan reports noting double-digit percentage increases in young adult engagement. Apologetics-focused groups like Ratio Christi equipped students to engage professors and peers intellectually, hosting debates that drew hundreds. Events like UniteUS gatherings united thousands in prayer and worship, echoing the 2023 Asbury outpouring while sustaining momentum into the new year.

These developments reveal a generational hunger for authentic spirituality that transcends ideological conformity. Gen Z students, often portrayed as secular or disillusioned, are responding to the unadorned message of Christ crucified—finding in it not weakness but power to navigate anxiety, identity questions, and cultural chaos.

Confidence in the Cross

Paul’s message in 1 Corinthians 1 ultimately points beyond diagnosis to quiet confidence. The cross requires no supplementation—neither elite credentials nor political access—to accomplish God’s purposes. It stands as the divine instrument to confound the wise, save the called, and transform societies from the inside out.

For evangelicals in this pivotal year, the challenge is clear: to engage culture with intellectual rigor, prophetic clarity, and gospel humility—neither retreating into silence nor grasping at worldly power. By preaching Christ crucified plainly and trusting the Spirit’s illuminating work, the church can navigate polarization without losing its soul. In doing so, it offers a fractured world what it most needs: not another ideology, but the wisdom and power of God made manifest in a Savior who died and rose again.

[1] Craig L. Blomberg, *1 Corinthians*, NIV Application Commentary (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1994), 52. 

[2] Ibid

In an age dominated by self-promotion, ideological echo chambers, and relentless pursuit of human acclaim, the apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 1 cut through the noise with startling clarity. “For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power” (1 Cor. 1:17, ESV). Paul, a highly educated Pharisee turned apostle, deliberately eschews rhetorical flair and sophisticated argumentation—not because wisdom is unworthy, but because reliance on it risks diluting the gospel’s inherent power. The cross, in its apparent foolishness and weakness, stands as God’s ultimate demonstration of wisdom and might.

Craig L. Blomberg, in his commentary on 1 Corinthians, insightfully notes that verses 18–2:5 expand on this theme: “Genuine, full-orbed Christianity stands opposed to the fundamental values of a fallen, sinful world but provides the necessary antidote to the self-centered factionalism of the Corinthians.” This factionalism—divisions along lines of favorite leaders (“I follow Paul,” “I follow Apollos”)—mirrors the prideful rivalries Paul confronts. Extending this to our day, we see similar fractures not only in society but within the church: ministers vying for platforms, influencers building personal empires, and believers splintered by cultural wars. Self-centeredness breeds misery, as it isolates us from the communal joy found in Christ alone. Mortifying this ego-driven mindset is essential to our sanctification; a life orbiting the self is ultimately empty, while one centered on the cross brings true fulfillment.

Paul’s humility is striking. As a renowned apostle addressing a divided church, he could have asserted authority through impressive oratory. Instead, he declares that eloquent wisdom would empty the cross of its power. There is profound poise here: the cross needs no human embellishment. No preacher, no matter how gifted, can claim credit for its efficacy. Glory belongs solely to God, ensuring unity as all boast only in Christ. This culminates in verse 18: “For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

Paul bolsters his argument in verse 19, quoting Isaiah 29:14: “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.” Blomberg explains this as scriptural support for Paul’s thesis, where God judges superficial religion by upending human pride. The Hebrew term translated “thwart” or “frustrate” implies rejecting, ignoring, or invalidating worldly discernment. This is no petty divine sabotage but a merciful intervention. Worldly wisdom, crafty and seductive, suppresses truth and fuels rebellion (Rom. 1:18–32). By confounding it, God clears the way for revelation—true wisdom that begins with the fear of the Lord (Prov. 1:7; 9:10).

To the ancient world, the gospel was scandalous. Greeks sought philosophical sophistication; Jews demanded miraculous signs. A crucified Messiah—a suffering God, a criminal executed on a Roman cross—seemed absurd and weak. Yet Paul proclaims that human wisdom, in rejecting God, invites divine judgment: salvation through a cursed death appears foolish, confirming humanity’s blindness.

For “those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God” (v. 24). This calling is the Spirit’s work, convicting and illuminating hearts to see the cross as transformative. As Blomberg observes, the Spirit touches lives across ethnic divides, revealing Christ’s death as God’s profound wisdom (reconciling sinners through atonement) and power (conquering sin and death via resurrection).

This message resonates powerfully today. Our world, like Corinth’s, idolizes human wisdom: expertise, credentials, viral rhetoric. Elite institutions embody this “wisdom of the wise.” Recent reports highlight stark ideological imbalances in American higher education. At Yale University, the Buckley Institute’s 2025 Faculty Political Diversity Report analyzed 1,666 faculty members across undergraduate departments, law, and management schools. Findings reveal over 82% registered as Democrats or primarily supporting them, with Republicans comprising just over 2%—a 36:1 ratio. Notably, 27 of 43 undergraduate departments have zero Republican faculty. Similar patterns persist at peer institutions: Harvard’s Faculty of Arts and Sciences surveys show around 63–70% identifying as liberal in recent years, with conservatives often under 5%. Princeton and Columbia exhibit comparable left-leaning skews, contributing to a national trend where liberal faculty outnumber conservatives significantly in humanities and social sciences.

This entrenchment of secular worldviews in academia echoes Paul’s “wisdom of this age”—philosophies that marginalize biblical truth and promote self-autonomy. Generations are shaped by ideas dismissing the cross as folly, prioritizing human speculation over divine revelation. No wonder Christianity has retreated from many campuses; naive approaches—relying solely on emotional appeals or spiritual experiences—fall short against sophisticated intellectual challenges.

Yet Paul’s words compel engagement, not withdrawal. God intends to “destroy the wisdom of the wise” precisely through the gospel’s proclamation. Christians must confront worldly intellect with redeemed minds: robust apologetics, deep theological literacy, and confident articulation of Christ’s superiority (Col. 2:8). The book of Proverbs reminds us wisdom starts with fearing God; only then can we dismantle crafty ideologies.

Encouragingly, signs of vitality persist. Campus ministries thrive amid secular dominance. Organizations like Cru, InterVarsity, and Reformed University Fellowship report growth, with bold preaching, worship, and evangelism drawing students. Catholic Newman Centers and evangelical groups provide communities where faith flourishes. Recent revivals—as at Asbury—highlight Gen Z’s hunger for authentic spirituality. Christian universities see enrollment surges as students seek meaning and connection in faith-based environments.

Despite imbalances, God’s promise endures: He thwarts human discernment to exalt Christ. The cross remains the antidote to factionalism, pride, and emptiness—both in Corinth and today.

Paul’s approach models faithful ministry: preach Christ crucified plainly, trusting the Spirit’s power. No eloquent additives needed; the message itself transforms. In churches plagued by celebrity pastors and in societies fractured by ideology, this humbles us all. No one steals glory from the cross—not Paul, not modern influencers.

As we navigate intellectual battles and cultural shifts, let us embrace the “foolishness” of the gospel. To the called, Christ is wisdom and power, satisfying the soul’s deepest longings. May we proclaim Him unadorned, uniting believers and confounding the wise, until He returns.

Cultural apologetics refers to the defense and commendation of the Christian faith through deep engagement with culture—its art, stories, values, longings, and narratives—rather than relying exclusively on intellectual arguments or evidential proofs. Its goal is not merely to show that Christianity is true, but that it is beautiful, meaningful, and fulfilling.

A biblical model for this approach is found in Paul’s address at Mars Hill (Acts 17). Paul did not begin with Scripture quotations alone, but with Athenian poets, altars, and philosophical assumptions. He entered their cultural world in order to redirect their deepest longings toward Christ. Christianity was presented not as foreign or absurd, but as the true fulfillment of what their culture was already searching for.

Modern proponents of cultural apologetics—such as Paul Gould—emphasize the renewal of the Christian voice (reason), conscience (moral awareness), and imagination (a sense of awe and wonder) in an increasingly secular and disenchanted world. Yet at the heart of cultural apologetics—and indeed all apologetics—lies one indispensable reality: the conviction brought by the Holy Spirit.

The Necessity of the Holy Spirit’s Conviction

Jesus makes this unmistakably clear in John 16:8–11:

“And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment…”

No apologetic method—cultural, philosophical, historical, or scientific—has the power to bring a sinner to Christ apart from the convicting work of the Holy Spirit. Arguments may persuade the mind, but only the Spirit can awaken the heart.

Conviction targets the whole person. In contemporary culture, Christianity is often rejected not because of a lack of information, but because it is perceived as irrelevant, unattractive, or morally oppressive. The Spirit convicts in three interconnected ways:

• Concerning sin: exposing unbelief and revealing moral inconsistencies embedded in cultural ideals such as radical autonomy and moral relativism.
• Concerning righteousness: unveiling Christ as the true standard, in contrast to the counterfeit moralities of the age.
• Concerning judgment: revealing the ultimate futility of worldly systems operating under the dominion of the “ruler of this world.”

Cultural apologetics prepares the soil by highlighting truth, beauty, and goodness within culture and redirecting them toward Christ. But it is the Holy Spirit who causes the seed to take root, transforming the gospel from merely reasonable to deeply desirable.

Re-Enchanting a Disenchanted World

Modern secular culture is profoundly disenchanted—materialistic, utilitarian, and spiritually hollow. Yet beneath the surface lies a deep and persistent longing for meaning, identity, love, and transcendence. Cultural apologetics engages films, music, literature, and moral debates to re-enchant the imagination, showing that Christianity does not suppress human desire but fulfills it.

In this sense, cultural apologetics is spiritual warfare. The gospel confronts and subverts the idols of the age—wealth, sexuality, power, self-definition—exposing their inability to satisfy the deepest longings of the human soul. These idols promise fulfillment but deliver bondage. Christ alone offers true freedom, joy, and restoration.

Biblical Illustrations of Conviction and Desire

Consider the woman with the issue of blood (Mark 5). Socially ostracized, ceremonially unclean, and physically exhausted after twelve years of suffering, she heard of Jesus and believed that even touching the fringe of His garment would heal her. Her desperation overcame fear, shame, and cultural barriers. When she touched Him, she was healed instantly.

This story illustrates the triumph of gospel power over the false hopes of the world. Everything her culture offered had failed her. Christ alone satisfied her deepest need. Her faith was not produced by argument, but by conviction and hope awakened within her.

Contrast this with the rich young ruler. He was morally disciplined and religiously sincere. Yet when Jesus exposed his idol—wealth—and called him to surrender it, he walked away sorrowful. The allure of money proved stronger than his desire for the kingdom of God.

This is a sobering reminder that cultural apologetics does not guarantee conversion. When idols are cherished more than Christ, even the clearest invitation to eternal life can be refused.

Sexuality, Identity, and Cultural Confusion

Few issues reveal the need for cultural apologetics and spiritual conviction more than the modern crisis surrounding sexuality and gender. Among Gen Z, confusion regarding identity has surged in recent years, fueled by postmodern assumptions that sexuality is infinitely fluid and socially constructed.

At its core, this movement is not merely political or psychological—it is theological. Young people are asking profound questions: Who am I? Why do I exist? Where do I belong? The tragedy is that they are being offered identities that cannot bear the weight of the soul.

Scripture addresses this crisis not by beginning with prohibition, but with creation. In Genesis, God created humanity male and female, designed for covenantal union, fruitfulness, and shared dominion. Sexual difference is not arbitrary—it is purposeful, relational, and life-giving.

The distortion of sexuality described in Romans 1 is not merely moral failure; it is the result of exchanging the truth of God for a lie. When the Creator is rejected, creation itself becomes confused.

Cultural apologetics here must do more than argue ethics. It must present a better story—one where identity is received rather than constructed, where desire is ordered rather than suppressed, and where fulfillment flows from alignment with God’s design rather than rebellion against it.

Yet even here, persuasion alone is insufficient. Only the Holy Spirit can convict hearts, unveil deception, and awaken a desire for truth that leads to repentance and restoration.

Conclusion: Conviction Is Central

Cultural apologetics is valuable, necessary, and biblical. It clears obstacles, challenges false narratives, and exposes cultural idols. But it is not the engine of conversion. The Holy Spirit is.

Without conviction, apologetics becomes intellectual theater. With conviction, even a single word, gesture, or encounter with Christ can overturn a lifetime of deception.

Ultimately, the gospel advances not by cultural dominance or rhetorical brilliance, but by the Spirit of God awakening dead hearts to the beauty, truth, and sufficiency of Jesus Christ—the incarnate Son of God, the Messiah of the world, and the only source of eternal satisfaction.

In the middle of a psalm filled with enemies, danger, and warfare, King David pauses to voice the deepest desire of his heart: Ps 27:4

One thing I ask from the Lord,
    this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
    all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek him in his temple.

One thing. Not ten things. Not even two. In a life threatened on every side, David declares that everything else can wait; only one pursuit is non-negotiable: to behold the beauty of the Lord.

We rush past that phrase too quickly. Beauty. We immediately picture symmetry, color, or physical attractiveness—the categories our culture has trained us to notice. Yet the Hebrew word David chose, noʿam, carries a far richer freight. It means pleasantness, delightfulness, sweetness, favor—the quality in something that makes it irresistibly attractive and life-giving all at once. When Scripture elsewhere speaks of the “beauty of holiness” (Ps 29:2; 96:9) or the “beauty of the Lord” resting upon His people (Ps 90:17), it is this noʿam that is in view.

David is not imagining God as a handsome statue. He is longing for the radiant sum of all God’s perfections—His holiness, goodness, mercy, faithfulness, power, wisdom, and love—shining forth together in perfect harmony. To gaze upon the beauty of the Lord is to have the heart ravished by who God is and what God does rather than merely by how God appears. It is the moment when covenant promises cease to be ink on a page and become fire in the bones.

The Sweet Burning of Jonathan Edwards

Few have described this gaze more vividly than Jonathan Edwards. In his Personal Narrative he recounts seasons of private prayer when the glory of God in Christ suddenly overwhelmed him:

“The sense I had of divine things would often of a sudden kindle up, as it were, a sweet burning in my heart; an ardor of soul, that I know not how to express… Sometimes only mentioning his name would cause my heart to burn within me… I had an inward, sweet sense of Christ and the beauty of His person… My soul was melted, and tears gushed from my eyes.”

Notice the language: sweet burning, ardor of soul, heart melted, tears gushing. This is not cerebral appreciation; it is whole-souled captivation. Edwards was not abnormal; he was simply awake to what every believer is invited into. The beauty of the Lord is meant to be tasted, felt, and enjoyed—not merely assented to.

Answered Prayer and the Disclosure of Beauty

One of the most common ways Christians actually experience this beauty is through answered prayer. When we cry out in desperation and God bends low to meet us—when the doctor’s report turns, the prodigal texts “I’m coming home,” the marriage that was dead breathes again—we are granted an undeniable glimpse of God’s noʿam breaking into history. Answered prayer is the beauty of God made tangible. It is the moment abstract attributes become concrete faithfulness, and we taste that the Lord is good (Ps 34:8).

The presence of God and the beauty of God are inseparable. Wherever the Holy Spirit grants comfort in grief, strength in weakness, or joy in obedience, there the beauty of the Lord is being unveiled. The same Spirit who hovered over the waters at creation now hovers over our chaos, whispering, “Behold your God.”

A Beauty the World Can See

For those who do not yet know Christ, this beauty must first be displayed rather than merely described. Unbelievers cannot see what we see until it is translated into deeds of justice, kindness, and sacrificial love.

William Wilberforce spent decades in Parliament fighting the British slave trade. When he finally succeeded, the beauty of Christ—the worth of every human being made in the image of God—shone so brightly that even secular historians still speak of it with awe. On a smaller scale, every act of forgiveness in a fractured family, every refusal to gossip at work, every meal shared with the lonely widow is a public witness to the same beauty.

Jesus Himself made the connection inescapable: “When I was hungry you fed me… when I was in prison you visited me… Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matt 25:35–40). Feeding the hungry and visiting the hopeless are not merely social obligations; they are living demonstrations of the beauty of Christ.

When Christians live this way, the world is forced to ask, “Where does this kindness come from? Why do they love the unlovely?” The answer, whether spoken or unspoken, is always the same: we have seen the King in His beauty, and we cannot help reflecting what we have beheld.

Made for an Infinite Beauty

Augustine famously wrote, “You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in You.” The Latin is even more poignant: Fecisti nos ad te—“You have made us toward Yourself.” We are, by constitution, theocentric. Our intellect, will, memory, and especially our capacity to love are oriented toward the Infinite. We are capax Dei—capable of God.

This built-in restlessness is not a flaw; it is a mercy. It is the ache that keeps us from permanently settling for counterfeits. C. S. Lewis later reframed it memorably: “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

Every lesser beauty—however genuine—is finally too small. A sunset can stun us, but it cannot forgive us. A spouse can cherish us, but cannot justify us. Achievement can exhilarate us, but cannot ultimate satisfy us. Only the infinite beauty of God is large enough to fill the God-shaped cavity in every human soul.

From Duty to Delight

In recent decades, preachers like Tim Keller have recovered a vital emphasis: Christianity is not finally about fear-driven duty or cold legalism. It is about being captivated by the surpassing beauty of Jesus until loving and obeying Him becomes the most natural thing in the world.

Legalism says, “I must.” The gospel says, “I want to.” The difference is everything. When we behold the beauty of the Lord, our affections are re-tuned organically. Worship flows spontaneously. Obedience becomes delight. Evangelism is no longer a grim obligation but an overflow of joy: “Come and see!”

This is why David’s single request in Psalm 27:4 is so revolutionary. In the midst of real danger he sought refuge—not first in strategy or allies, but in the presence of the Beautiful One. There he found courage, comfort, and unshakable joy.

Learning to Linger

How, then, do we cultivate this gaze? The primary place Scripture appoints is gathered worship on the Lord’s Day and the daily rhythm of Scripture-soaked prayer. We come expectantly, asking the Spirit to “open our eyes that we may behold wondrous things out of Your law” (Ps 119:18). We linger in adoration longer than feels efficient. We sing until the truth moves from head to heart. We meditate on the gospel until we see fresh facets of Christ’s loveliness.

The promise is sure: those who look to Him are radiant (Ps 34:5). Beholding is how we become. As we gaze upon His beauty, we are slowly transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another (2 Cor 3:18).

One day the gaze will be perfect. Faith will give way to sight, and we shall see Him as He is (1 John 3:2). Until then, may David’s prayer become ours: Ps 73:25-26

Whom have I in heaven but you?
    And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
²⁶ My flesh and my heart may fail,
    but God is the strength of my heart
    and my portion forever.

By Al Ngu, MDiv

In an age where culture pulses with the raw longings of the human heart—from the defiant beats of hip-hop anthems to the introspective shadows of arthouse films—Christians are called to offer something more compelling than critique. We must present a vision of Christ that captivates the imagination, reshapes desires, and confronts the principalities of our time. To do this effectively, we need a theology that marries the profound beauty of the Lord, as emphasized in Reformed traditions, with the tangible presence of the Lord, as cherished in Charismatic circles. Far from being at odds, these streams form a symphony: one exalting the transcendent glory of Christ, the other inviting us into the awe-filled encounter of His nearness.

This synthesis is not merely academic; it is apologetics for the heart. As Lesslie Newbigin observed in *The Gospel in a Pluralist Society*, the gospel thrives when it addresses the deepest yearnings of culture—not just with arguments, but with a beauty and presence that satisfy. When we combine these emphases, we equip the church to engage a world enthralled by fleeting entertainments, offering instead the eternal fulfillment found in Jesus.

The Beauty of the Lord: Transcendent Glory Beyond the Physical

In Reformed theology, the “beauty of the Lord” is no superficial aesthetic. It is the radiant holiness that draws the soul into worship, as the psalmist declares: “Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness” (Ps. 96:9, NKJV). This beauty is profoundly appealing because it transcends the physical, pointing us to the moral and relational splendor of God Himself.

Consider the prophetic portrait in : 

Isaiah 53:2–3 (ESV)
2  For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
3  He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Here, the Suffering Servant—Christ Himself—is “marred beyond human semblance,” unrecognizable in His humiliation. Yet this very One is the most beautiful person in the universe. Why? Because His beauty is woven from threads of transcendent kindness, unwavering compassion, covenantal love, unyielding justice, sovereign power, and blazing glory—all perfectly united in the God-Man.

Jesus embodies our threefold need: as **Priest**, He intercedes for us before the Father; as **Prophet**, He reveals truth to our wandering hearts; as **King**, He rules over the spiritual cosmos now and will consummate His reign physically in the new heavens and earth. This is no abstract doctrine; it is an invitation to behold a Savior whose loveliness reorients our affections. As Jonathan Edwards wrote in his *Treatise on Religious Affections*, true faith awakens the soul to “the excellency of Christ,” a beauty so supreme it eclipses all earthly rivals.

In a culture obsessed with Instagram filters and fleeting idols, this Reformed vision calls us to a higher gaze—one that finds delight in the Lord Himself, reshaping our desires from the inside out.

The Presence of the Lord: Tangible Encounter and Heart-Moving Awe

If Reformed theology lifts our eyes to the *what* of God’s beauty, Charismatic streams draw us into the *how* of experiencing it: the tangible presence of the Lord. This is the fire that fills worship gatherings, where the Holy Spirit descends like a holy weight, stirring hearts with holiness, awe, and uncontainable joy.

Scripture abounds with such encounters—from the pillar of cloud and fire leading Israel (Ex. 13:21) to the upper room blaze at Pentecost (Acts 2:3). In charismatic practice, we sense this presence in the hush of prayer, the swell of congregational song, or the conviction of a preached word. It is not mere emotion but a divine reality: “The glory of the Lord filled the house” (1 Kings 8:11). Here, God’s nearness moves us—convicting sin, igniting passion, and imparting strength.

This emphasis complements the Reformed focus beautifully. Where one declares, “Behold your God!” (Isa. 40:9), the other cries, “Come, Holy Spirit!” Together, they remind us that theology without encounter risks aridity, while experience without doctrine veers into subjectivism. As one charismatic-Reformed hybrid voice might say, the beauty of the Lord is not just proclaimed; it is *felt* in the bones, transforming worship from ritual to revival.

The Power of Synthesis: What the Church Needs Now

Why does this matter? Because a divided church mirrors a fractured gospel. We need not choose between heady doctrine and heartfelt worship. Imagine Reformed precision fueling Charismatic passion: sermons unpacking Isaiah’s Servant alongside spontaneous prayers for the Spirit’s filling. This union births a faith that is intellectually robust and experientially alive—precisely what our polarized age craves.

In my view, this synthesis is the antidote to spiritual burnout. It honors the full counsel of Scripture, where God’s beauty (Ps. 27:4) meets His presence (Ps. 16:11). Churches embracing both will see renewed vitality: deeper discipleship, bolder evangelism, and a witness that draws the lost not by coercion, but by irresistible allure.

Culture’s Deep Longings: From Stadiums to Screens

Turn now to the arena of cultural apologetics. Everything from a coach’s sideline roar at a packed stadium—betraying hopes and fears—to the confessional lyrics of a hip-hop track reveals society’s soul-hunger. These are not distractions to dismiss but signposts of desire: for belonging, transcendence, justice, and meaning.

Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt captures this dynamic: “Reason may steer, but intuition moves. What the heart wants, the head will rationalize.” In the Augustinian tradition, cultural apologists recognize desire as faith’s prime motivator. We do not argue skeptics into the kingdom; we invite them to *fall in love* with a better story. And that story pivots on Psalm 37:4: “Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart.” Note the divine initiative: *He* gives the desires. As we savor His beauty and dwell in His presence, God rewires our longings—from consumerism’s itch to Christ’s contentment.

Offering Christ Against the Powers: Hope in Community

Thus, cultural apologetics contrasts the ugliness of “principalities and powers” (Eph. 6:12)—the dehumanizing lords of nationalism, exploitation, and despair—with the lordship of Christ. Against Western cultural nihilism, we proclaim hope: beauty that endures, justice that triumphs, peace that heals, truth that liberates, and goodness that satisfies.

This hope is most vividly encountered in the church community, where gospel effects shine through transformed lives. Here, the church becomes a “counter-climate”—a life-giving atmosphere amid cultural storms. It is in shared meals, fervent prayers, and honest testimonies that seekers glimpse the beauty and presence they crave.

Toward a True and Satisfying Faith

Our goal? To embed the Christian voice, conscience, and imagination so deeply in culture that faith is seen as both *true* and *satisfying*. If Christ is only intellectually credible, hearts drift to idols. If only experientially thrilling, truth erodes into illusion. But when He is both—the beauty that orders the mind, the presence that fills the soul—discipleship endures, and culture bends toward the kingdom.

Let us, then, build churches where Reformed depth meets Charismatic fire. Let us carry this vision into streets, screens, and stadiums, offering a greater glory to a world parched for it. In Christ, the marred Servant becomes the radiant King—and in His beauty and presence, we find our home.

Al Ngu is a writer and thinker exploring faith, culture, and apologetics. Follow him on X https://x.com/alngu ; https://www.youtube.com/@AlNgu https://alngu.com/ https://www.tiktok.com/@alngu2?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc

### References

1. Newbigin, Lesslie. *The Gospel in a Pluralist Society*. Eerdmans, 1989. 

2. Haidt, Jonathan. *The Righteous Mind*. Pantheon, 2012 (adapted). 

3. Newbigin, *The Gospel in a Pluralist Society*. 

4. Hansen, Colin, and Paul Gould (eds.). *The Gospel and the Christendom*. Zondervan Reflective, 2025. 

5. Gould, Paul. *Cultural Apologetics*. Zondervan, 2019.

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Mark 5:24–34 (ESV)

²⁴ And he went with him. And a great crowd followed him and thronged about him. ²⁵ And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, ²⁶ and who had suffered much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had, and was no better but rather grew worse. ²⁷ She had heard the reports about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his garment. ²⁸ For she said, “If I touch even his garments, I will be made well.” ²⁹ And immediately the flow of blood dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. ³⁰ And Jesus, perceiving in himself that power had gone out from him, immediately turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my garments?” ³¹ And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing around you, and yet you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ” ³² And he looked around to see who had done it. ³³ But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling and fell down before him and told him the whole truth. ³⁴ And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

The faith of this building woman healed her from her 12 years of bleeding problem as she touched Jesus’ rope. You know why? After pushing in in the midst of so many men and women in the state of being dirty and shameful and rejected by society because of her bleeding problem, Jesus saw her faith. It is her faith in Christ that gave her a strength encouraged to push through a crowd that would’ve rejected her. In spite of the social stigma because of bleeding, she overcame it and pushed it through, and Jesus saw that faith.

Why did Jesus say “Woman your faith has made you well?

And that’s why Jesus said woman it’s your faith that healed you. Of course it’s not only her faith alone because it is her faith Christ as the Savior & healer that opens the door of healing. Faith in God does not bring healing per se, but rather it is the faith in God that opens the door for Jesus to release the healing. Because without faith, it is impossible to please God.

Hebrews 11:1 (ESV)

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Faith is assurance of things we hope for, and the heart conviction of the things that we do not see yet. Conviction and assurance go hand in hand and there’s definitely the work of the Holy Spirit only know something achievable by human effort. We can preach we can exhort but deep down conviction and assurance comes only from God.

And without faith it is impossible to please God.

Hebrews 11:6 (ESV)

⁶ And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

And whoever would draw near to God must believe he exists and that he awards those who seek him. Our God is a very motivational God, it is his desire to reward those who seek him. He doesn’t want us to travel without any motivation and he knows this is more than just a motivation but this is actually a reward.

The concept of rewarding is a very much a divine godly attribute and we must understand that better.

It’s no shame to seek after God’s reward as long as we are seeking him. And seriously it doesn’t make sense if we just seeking after God’s reward or blessing without seeking him. That would be totally childish and unacceptable.

Pastors, we need to encourage our folks in church to strengthen and grow in their faith through preaching

So that our people will grow in their faith which will release the power of God in the supernatural. This can be best achieved by preaching and also by exhortation ad ministry in the power of the Holy Spirit amen.

Romans 10:17 (ESV)

¹⁷ So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.

Faith comes from hearing the word of scripture, hearing the word of Christ. Especially the spoken word of Christ creates faith in our spirits. The more we listen to the word of Christ the more we grow in our faith. In a sense it is different differently manifested and its effect through preaching the word of God depending on the spirit of the preacher which is shaped by his theological understanding and background. For example a reformed conservative preacher orthodox type will expound the word of God in great exegesis doesn’t quite produce the kind of faith for the supernatural example healing. On the other hand a charismatic pastor may be preaching with lesser exegetical understanding but with greater intuition in the realm of the supernatural will release more faith in the supernatural like healing and so forth. Therefore the congruent power of the word reformed theology in the charismatic gifting is phenomenal way to go fourth.

1 Corinthians 2:4–5 (NIV)

⁴ My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, ⁵ so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.

This is where the rubber hits the road. Paul said, “ my speech and my message were not with wise and persuasive words, but a demonstration of the spirit’s power.” Now that word demonstration is something tangible, feeling, perception or encounter with the Holy Spirit. Because Paul is saying his preaching comes with a demonstration of the power of the Holy Spirit and that is exactly all of us preachers and pastors need to develop and acquire. So that we just don’t preach intellectual mind sermon, but one that carries the power of the Holy Spirit. It is really interesting Paul said that this is for the purpose that our faith may not rest on human wisdom come upon God’s power. It is not God’s wisdom but God’s power.

The demonstration of the power of the Spirit of God in the souls of the congregation as we listen to the preaching of the word, something begins to stir within us and it is the conviction of the Holy Spirit and it is the power of God to stir our minds and souls and open our eyes . And I simply love to see more of that. And Paul also writes in the scripture thereafter regarding things that eyes have not seen nor ears heard what God has prepared for those who love him and that is an astonishingly profound statement.

1 Corinthians 2:9–10 (ESV)
9 But, as it is written,

              “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, 
  nor the heart of man imagined, 
              what God has prepared for those who love him”— 

10 these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God.

And that’s the result of what he calls in verse 10– things that God has revealed to us by his Spirit. It is only revealable by the Spirit of God or Holy Spirit. And that’s precisely why preachers should move in the gift of the power the spirit of God.

A sense of Faith preaching with destiny goal and preaching it’s based on the promises of Jesus for his disciples. This will go a long way.

Mark 16:17–18 (ESV)

¹⁷ And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; ¹⁸ they will pick up serpents with their hands; and if they drink any deadly poison, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover.”