Accountability & Good Governance
Good morning, brothers.
Man, it is profoundly good to be back in Lynchburg, Virginia, after ten days amid the distant, yet familiar hills of Medellín, Colombia. There is something deeply invigorating about stepping away, gaining fresh perspective, and beholding the vigorous advance of God’s Kingdom. Kari and I relished every moment with our sons, forged warm fellowship with new friends, and sat among welcoming saints in a Medellín church. Though the words were largely beyond our grasp, the Spirit spoke clearly through what we saw, heard, and felt: the living pulse of worship, the fun and familiar laughter of children, the elderly loved and pushed in wheelchairs, and the stained glass windows that beautifully captured and reflected the Light of Christ. We return home grateful, hearts expectant for Easter unfolding before us.
Having pressed through 1 and 2 Samuel and into the Kings, I am now moving slowly once more through 1 Chronicles and the Gospel of John. This morning a striking note on accountability struck me as I lingered over the closing chapters of King David’s life, particularly his repentance after the great sin of numbering the people.
Even in old age, David kept maturing in God. We never know it all, we never will. Yet we, like David, stand in perpetual peril of pride and complacency, perhaps especially as the years accumulate and victories accumulate with them.
David had learned this lesson repeatedly, often the hard way. But the census in 1 Chronicles 21 remains a sobering climax. Fresh from triumph in Rabbah and the defeat of the Philistines at Gath, the king’s heart swelled. Success, that subtle intoxicant, opened the door. Satan is rarely more dangerous than when he turns God’s own favor against us. Be vigilant after victory. Stay sober in triumph as surely as you stay watchful in defeat. The enemy delights in weaponizing blessings into self-congratulation.
Numbering troops, tallying treasures, cataloging trophies, these come in endless flavors. I have tasted them far too often: the old war stories where we star as heroes, the mental résumés heavy with numbers and notches, the quiet inner applause that steals glory from the Giver of every good gift. “Every good and perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). To count our strength as though it were our own is to forget the Source.
Look around: headlines daily remind us how swiftly all can be stripped away. Yet the same God who humbles can multiply His people, His armies, and His favor a hundredfold. The increase is His, never ours. When we, like David, insist on our own way in arrogant rebellion, “I will know the number of my fighting men”, we receive exactly that: our way, stripped of blessing. Without the restraining mercy of God, the consequences fall hard.
David’s response, however, shines with grace. He saw the angel of the Lord poised over Jerusalem and cried out in broken accountability: “I have sinned greatly… But these sheep, what have they done?” (1 Chronicles 21:17). He did not shift blame. He did not minimize, conceal, or justify. He stood before God and before the leaders of Israel and repented. And the Lord, rich in long-suffering, relented from the full measure of judgment David deserved.
How rare such accountability has become among leaders today, whether in the church, the state, or the marketplace. Bragging abounds; honest confession seldom follows. Yet God still honors the man who owns his sin, casts himself on mercy, and calls others to join him at the altar of Grace.
A brief aside: the closing chapters of 1 Chronicles overflow with God’s delight in order. He appoints priests, officials, administrators, judges, gatekeepers, treasurers, musicians, each in his place, each with his charge. Our Father loves beautiful structure. Gaze at creation: the exquisite geometry of a snowflake, the ordered migration of birds, the majestic choreography of galaxies. Good governance, rightly ordered authority, and cheerful obedience flow from His hand. Chaos and dysfunction bear another signature entirely.
Jesus Himself affirmed this when He declared He would build His church and the gates of hell would not prevail (Matthew 16:18). He entrusted the keys of the kingdom to His apostles and, by extension, to the ordered community of faith, authority exercised not for domination but for binding what heaven binds and loosing what heaven looses, all under the headship of Christ. God-fearing order and active obedience to the living King remain essential for the church’s health and advance.
The church is not dead in Canada or Europe, nor anywhere else, despite premature obituaries. Look at Poland. Look at Colombia. Look even here in the United States, where fresh streams of believers are flowing toward the Bride of Christ. The Reformation recovered vital truths, yet the longing of our Savior in John 17 presses still: “that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you… so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” That prayer is no sentimental footnote; it is the heartbeat of mission. One faith, one baptism, one Lord, expressed visibly in the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church. As a lifelong Southern Baptist still processing these things, I take my Savior’s words with utmost seriousness. He prayed for our unity because He knows what disunity costs the Kingdom and what harmony unleashes.
May we know the one true God and Jesus Christ whom He has sent. May we trust Him more fiercely today than yesterday. And may the Father keep us from evil, knitting us together in the unity for which His Son bled and prayed, so that the world might see and believe.
Lord Jesus, help us this morning. As we approach the sacred season of Your resurrection, make us mindful of our own grievous sins. Grant us the courage to confess them honestly to You and to one another, as You command. We thank You for every good thing, knowing it comes from Your hand alone. Without You, we are lost. Draw Your people together in true unity. Bless our friends, bless Your church beyond measure, and cause Your face to shine upon us. Amen.
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