It is hard to believe the Gospel because it is hard to understand how it could possibly work.

“Believe in Jesus” sounds like something overly simple; it does not sound like it would “do” anything to simply trust him, to put faith in what an old book says he has done for you and for me.

So… how does it work out practically?

One very important glimpse into the daily-living working out of the Gospel is found in Hebrews 9. The whole chapter is worth considering at length, but let’s just focus in on vv. 13-14:

For if the blood of goats and bulls, and the sprinkling of defiled persons with the ashes of a heifer, sanctify for the purification of the flesh, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify our conscience from dead works to serve the living God.

Interesting. The point being made is that faith in Jesus Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice does something to us. What does he do? He cleanses our consciences.

Specifically, he cleanses our consciences from dead works. This is a huge practical glimpse into the gospel. Because all of us know that we do wrong. We think wrong thoughts. We do wrong deeds. Even our best works have threads of imperfection in them.

If you honestly look at your life, you know that you should be better. The Law points out that you should be better. And so our conscience condemns us. All your efforts to atone, all your gifts and promises to God, don’t do the trick. Your conscience, that inner judge of right and wrong, knows that you aren’t worthy to be in the same room as God.

But in the Gospel… something amazing happens. By faith in Jesus… your conscience can be washed. No guilt. Not because your moral compass has been tossed, oh no. Sin is sin. But by looking to Jesus, and trusting in what he has done.

Angry at your brother? Yes, your conscience, it calls sin what it is: sin. And you can declare, “I am clean, Jesus’ blood has cleansed me.” Immorality? Yes, your conscience, it calls sin what it is: sin. And your conscience does not condemn, because you trust in the blood of Jesus.

Do you see? Your conscience has been purified from dead works. Those are works that you’d otherwise do to try and cleanse that selfsame conscience. Self-atonement, acts of contrition. Like animals sacrificed to atone for sin. Yech. Dead end.

Conscience purified to serve the living God. Because if you trust in Jesus… you are free to not worry about you, but to respond by laying down your life. Not to make yourself pure—rather because you are pure.

The working of the Gospel in the life of the believer is the realization of a cleansed conscience by the finished work of Christ who gave his very blood for you. Not that you in your work keep yourself clean, but that Jesus cleansed you.

So guilt is good if it drives you to the cross. Where you get rid of that guilt forever.

And guilt is bad if it is your conscience condemning you in Christ. Christ paid everything. Are you saying his payment was not enough?

What God has made clean, don’t call common.
God has made you clean. Forever. By the once-and-for-all sacrifice of Jesus.

Press into him. Put your trust in him. Dwell on what he has done. Respond in a life that is pure by the blood of the sanctified lamb.

It seems to me that Christians over get confused over what is elementary and what is beyond, what is maturity. Usually we think of the ‘basics’ as how you get saved, the news the Jesus died for you and you need to believe in him. The ‘mature’ things are harder doctrinal issues, textual criticism, or even more of the laws and rules that inform daily living.

That model makes sense in terms of complexity, but it fails an important test: what Scripture says.

I’m referring to an interesting and informative passage in Hebrews. Let’s take a look at Hebrews 6:1-2:

Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again a foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God,  and of instruction about washings, the laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment.

 Interesting. The “elementary doctrine of Christ” is the foundation of three couplets: repentance from dead works and faith toward God, instruction about washings and laying on of hand, and resurrection of the dead and eternal judgment.

Whoa! Those don’t seem elementary. Well… maybe not at first blush. But think. All of these are a revealing of your need. That’s one of the very basic points of the Old Testament, and one of the very basic points of Christianity.

You need to see your need for repentance from your own dead works, and you need to trust Yahweh, God. You need to see that you need cleansing, washing… you need healing, laying on of hands.  You need to see that resurrection will happen, and you face eternal judgment.

These are all statements of your need. And you get that from the Old Testament.

So what he’s saying is – you precious people, you are caught in arguments about yourselves. Your own need. That’s the basics. How good your work is, how sick you are, how much cleansing you need… even if there’s a resurrection. You’re focusing on you.

And then he says – we need to leave that. You need to see your need and get deeper.

You need to leave the elementary doctrine of Christ – elementary doctrine of MESSIAH, you know, your need for a Messiah… and into the specifics of Jesus.

That’s what Hebrews is going after. Getting maturity is getting deeper into the realities of what Jesus Christ has done. Jesus is the incredible high priest according to the order of Melchizedek, Jesus is the better blood, the better sacrifice, and he mediates a better covenant.

These things are the ‘going on to maturity.’ If you see your need, if you’ve had your eyes opened to the great need you have, the maturity is Jesus.

Our maturing is not advancing beyond Jesus, needing him less and less as we improve in practical living. Our maturing is growing in our depth of understanding of who Jesus is and what he has done. Let’s see our need… and dive into Jesus.

³ And this we will do if God permits.

John 1:9 If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

What a wonderful statement, that our God hears our confession, forgives and cleanses.
But has anything ever struck you as odd about this verse?

It was a thought today that the word ‘just’ in this statement seems out of place. Wouldn’t it make more sense to us if it said “if we confess our sins, he is faithful and merciful to forgive us…”? Justice is sin condemned and wrath applied, right? Mercy is when we are given what we don’t deserve, or at least not given what we do deserve.

So in what way can John say that God is ‘just’ to forgive our sins?

I believe it is the same way that Jesus is our advocate, our forever-high-priest in the way that supercedes even the perfect law given to Moses. Jesus lives forever to intercede for us – and I used to think that this was like him standing before the judge, pleading for us in our sin. Something like a lawyer throwing his client on the mercy of the court.

But perhaps it isn’t like that at all. Perhaps Jesus has already won the case, and is claiming justice. ‘Look,’ he might say, ‘this case has been won! I demand justice!’

And when he claimed justice, he pointed at his blood, poured out for the sin of each and every person who has put their faith in him, who is in union with him.

Mercy and justice kiss in the person of Jesus. And so in Christ we get justice. The justice of Jesus having won our case. The justice of Jesus having paid our sin, all of it, forever.

And it isn’t like God is an angry judge, looking to hurt; he sent Jesus! Yet his judgment on sin revealed through the law hangs over each of us. This is what we need deliverance from. This is what Jesus has done.

So our God is faithful and just to forgive us our sin. Because justice for the one hid in Christ is that your sin has been taken care of. It isn’t a constant plea of mercy; it is a settled claim of justice. In Christ alone.

Yahoo!

At Grace, we’re almost through our study of Acts, which is about the acts of the Risen Jesus. This week, we are considering Paul’s sea voyage.

Sea voyages are common in Greek literature. Ocean voyages symbolize life’s journey as the protagonist overcomes obstacles of evil and chaos (think Jason and the Argonauts, or Odysseus). So… here’s Paul, on the sea, and the storm rages… how will he get through?

Let’s leave him there and consider Jewish stories of the sea for a moment. There aren’t many. But one comes immediately to mind: Jonah. Jonah, the wayward prophet, told in the book of the same name. He’s on a boat headed for Tarshish, until a mighty tempest threatens to break up the boat and kill all on board. In their despair and desperation, the pagan sailors end up throwing Jonah into the sea… and immediately, the sea was calm. They were saved.

That’s an amazing picture when you think of Jesus. In Matthew 12 and Luke 11, he said that “a one greater than Jonah is here.” Normally I’d think of him referencing the three days in the grave (commonly thought to be the ‘sign of Jonah’)… but perhaps also Jesus is referring to this sacrifice of Jonah.

A sea of chaos and storm… a fear of death… desperation. Who will save? Well, the sacrifice of one prophet saved those ungodly Gentile sailors.

And the sacrifice of one prophet, who is also the Son of God, who lived perfectly, who gave his life for us, who does that save? What storm does that rescue from? How much more does the sacrifice of Jesus save us from the chaotic storm of sin and evil that has engulfed us!

Jonah really does point to Jesus. Because the sacrifice of one leads to peace from God where before there was enmity.

Which brings us back to Paul. He’s still in the storm, the sea raging. How does he get through? Will he also be sacrificed right there? Is he another type of Jesus?

No. Jesus has already been sacrificed. Paul may give his life, but his life isn’t the answer for stopping the storm. Paul points to something else, something for us to hold to: God’s sure promise. He has to believe it. He says in v. 25, talking of his assurance from God, “so take heart, men, for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told.”

This is what gets us through our storms today. Not the sacrifice of ourselves, as if our merit gets us through. But faith in the one who did sacrifice, the one who was meritorious. Faith in the one whose sacrifice was acceptable to God, whose sacrifice calmed the seas of enmity, and who heralds peace. He is our only hope, and the promise is that if we believe in our hearts and confess with our mouth the Lord Jesus, we will be saved (Romans 10:9).

Storms rage… but faith holds us fast. No matter what seas we are on, may we rest in the object of our salvation: Jesus Christ, the resurrected one, our Lord and Savior!

Songs have a wonderful way of wiggling into our lives. I am so grateful for the writers of hymns and melodies who capture the Gospel of Jesus Christ in pithy, short statements that I can remember.

One such is Robert Robinson, who wrote “Come Thou Fount” in the 1700’s. Take a look at this remarkable verse:

“O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!Let thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee.”

It isn’t so much that he mentions grace, or our wandering hearts, or God’s goodness. All great. But I was struck that he managed to get in a key word: “daily.”

How great a debtor I am to grace every single day.
Every single day, this wounded and fallen pastor again looks to the cross, and realizes what wondrous grace is there for all who are in Christ.

And tomorrow again. And again. And again. O to grace how great a debtor – except it is grace, never to be paid back, always and only a gift.

And I receive of it every day. Ha.

After “Come Thou Fount,” I listened to another of my favorites, Chris Rice. No 18th-Century theologian he; his “Untitled Hymn” comes straight at my generation. Yet it strikes me with grace again:

“Weak and wounded sinner, Lost and left to die
O, raise your head, for love is passing by
Come to Jesus, Come to Jesus
Come to Jesus and live!”

Catch that image: weak, wounded, left to die… come, raise your head just a little, here comes love. And love’s name is Jesus. He passes near, and he brings life.

There is such hope in this world. Not because of people. Because of my God of grace, whose mercies never fail.

May Christ’s goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart forever to my Savior!

For most believers in Jesus Christ, our main problem is not ignorance about how we ought to live. At least, not in most issues. We understand all too well the sinfulness of sexual immorality, of coveting, of dishonesty. The problem is in our obedience. We know a great deal about how to live, but we simply do not live up to what we know.

What’s the answer?

Iain Duguid, a professor at Westminster Theological Seminary, answers it this way (in Is Jesus in the Old Testament?):

“How do we address the gap between what we know and what we do? Sermons and bible studies that focus on ‘law’ (the demands of Scripture for our obedience), no matter how accurately biblical in content, tend simply to add to the burden of guilt felt by the average Christian. A friend of mine calls these sermons ‘another brick in the backpack’—you arrive at church knowing five ways in which you are falling short of God’s standard for your life, and you leave knowing ten ways, doubly burdened.

He goes on to say:

“In my experience such teaching yields little by way of life transformation, especially in terms of the joy and peace that are supposed to mark the Christian life. Focusing on the gospel, however, has the power to change our lives at a deep level.”

That change is linked to the reality that Jesus has been perfect for you, and your holiness and righteousness and goodness are only found in Him. Our fruitfulness comes from this reality, and not toward it. May we continue to link everything to the greatest truth we will ever know!

It has been a privilege these past few days to teach at a local retreat. People come from all over to enjoy the lakeside setting and beautiful environs. We have talked about the incredible message that Jesus Christ himself brings, not only in his person, but also in his teaching.

The teaching we’ve looked at has been the unique parables of Luke. We’ve had our hearts swell in thinking of limitless love as Jesus comes to a beat-up world and ministers mercy as the Good Samaritan (Luke 10). We have marveled at the shameless grace that the Father has for lost and shameful sinners in the Prodigal Son (Luke 15). We’ll wonder at our new identities in Christ put forth in Luke 16, and see how the whole Bible sings of Jesus, Old Testament and New.

In the midst of all this wonder, amazement, marvel and worship… we still are so fallen.

In a way that is a surprising statement. I’m interacting with people who have been Christians for 20, 30, 40 years. If anyone has a chance at being a present-day picture of total restoration, it is these marvelous saints. But they are as fallen as ever.

It is easily seen physically: almost all of the saints at the retreat are over 60. Two-thirds have hearing aids. Many use walking devices. The pianist has arthritis. Bodies are failing, not improving. The life-boats of our confidence in our own bodies are going down. Strength is waning; faculties are declining. We can only hope in the reality of a risen savior who will give real lasting resurrection bodies free of decay and disease.

It is harder to see spiritually. But our misguided hopes are quickly unearthed there as well. We long to brag on our kids and put our hopes in how we raised them. ‘My son has started his own business,’ one proud mom announced to me. Yet even that achievement comes, in further questioning, in the context of a broken marriage, hurt grandchildren, and a turning from church life. ‘Well, my grandchild is a missionary,’ says another, leaving out that the mother and father of that missionary are no longer following Jesus.

The things we desperately want to boast in turn out to be… less than what they should be. No matter what position we are in, what we desperately need to stand on is… the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ. He is our perfection. He is our righteousness. He is our sanctification. He is our only hope.

That seems to be true maturity that years of living brings. An ever-increasing steadfastness, an increasing reliance on the grace and knowledge of Jesus Christ. He is our only hope.

May our other hopes be seen for what they are: empty and fallen. At the same time, may our ever-increasing growth in the depth of our salvation lead us toward amazing acts of love and mercy ourselves, as we respond to the wonder of what has been really, truly done for us in Jesus.

Hold the center, friends. In His faithfulness is our salvation. And in him is life abundant – now and forever.