How time slips by… for me, it has come with much effort on our new church location. Hope it is done soon!We’ve been dwelling on Galatians over the past weeks. Paul’s fiery passion for the Galatian’s identity and grounding in Christ has come blazing through. It is so strong I want to “fight back.”
Objection, Paul!
Don’t you need some caveats about my need for sacrificial living? Don’t you need to combat license as you lay down the gauntlet of “Christ plus nothing”?
Galatians has been good for me to chew on… because the strength of Paul’s conviction has led me to see that my flesh raises its head so very, very easily.
In my flesh, my focus of obedience, so often, is on me and for me. I live a clean and disciplined life, so that others will think well of me. Even my standing with God… and my view of myself… is seen through the lens of how well I’m obeying the rules.
So it has been good for me to think about what the content of my obedience is. It can’t be the Mosaic Law – not if the inspired words of the Apostle to the Gentiles is to be believed. So what is the object, the content, of my obedience?
Could it be the Gospel?
In the midst of illuminating true righteousness, Paul speaks of the condemnation of “those who have not obeyed the gospel” (Romans 10:16). This is the disobedience which leads to judgment: vengeance is on “those who do not know God and on those who do not obey the gospel of our Lord Jesus.” (2 Thessalonians 1:8).
“The gospel of our Lord Jesus.” This seems to be the central obedience piece. How do I “obey” the good news of our Lord Jesus?
Perhaps I must believe it. Perhaps I must forsake all my works and my standing and my own striving… and trust completely in His finished work. Perhaps I must continue to trust in His finished work, in His shed blood, for my whole life long… even though friends and flesh and world call out to me to prove to them my worth through my own effort. To warp His work into something that includes mine. To not be true to the truth — the truth that my only hope, even after conversion, is Jesus.
Perhaps there is more to obedience than following my internal set of “do’s and don’ts”.
So sacrificial living does come out of me as a Christian. My will is engaged in living for Jesus, not for me… but that’s a fruit of true obedience – the obedience of faith. And it spans so much more than a rule set… because the impact of what Jesus Christ has done changes me forever.
Yep, couldn’t move my fingers so well after walking from my car to the church this morning. Cold! And those who experience real cold will undoubtedly laugh at me… but cold for Bellingham.
Can’t resist posting a quote from Tullian Tchividjian, pastor of Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church, this morning:
…The bottom line is this, Christian: because of Christ’s work on your behalf, God does not dwell on your sin the way you do. So, relax and rejoice…and you’ll actually start to get better. The irony, of course, is that it’s only when we stop obsessing over our own need to be holy and focus instead on the beauty of Christ’s holiness, that we actually become more holy!
It is his main point in a couple of excellently thoughtful posts on Christian ‘accountability.’ Read the whole thing here.
If those two words don’t seem to go together, consider this excellent excerpt of a post by Dane Ortlund, a senior editor at Crossway Books:
You wrote that we live “in a restraint-free culture dominated by Eat, Pray, Love spirituality and Joel Osteen-grade theology.” I am as averse to such things as you are. But there are two ways to seek to redress this.
One way is to balance gospel grace with exhortations to holiness, as if both need equal air time lest we fall into legalism on one side (neglecting grace) or antinomianism on the other (neglecting holiness).
The other way, which I believe is the right and biblical way, is so to startle this restraint-free culture with the gospel of free justification that the functional justifications of human approval, moral performance, sexual indulgence, or big bank accounts begin to lose their vice-like grip on human hearts and their emptiness is exposed in all its fraudulence. It sounds backward, but the path to holiness is through (not beyond) the grace of the gospel, because only undeserved grace can truly melt and transform the heart. The solution to restraint-free immorality is not morality. The solution to immorality is the free grace of God—grace so free that it will be (mis)heard by some as a license to sin with impunity. The route by which the New Testament exhorts radical obedience is not by tempering grace but by driving it home all the more deeply.
Let’s pursue holiness. (Without it we won’t see God: Matt 5:8; Heb 12:14.) And let’s pursue it centrally through enjoying the gospel, the same gospel that got us in and the same gospel that liberates us afresh each day (1 Cor 15:1–2; Gal 2:14; Col 1:23; 2:6). As G. C. Berkouwer wisely remarked, “The heart of sanctification is the life which feeds on justification.”
I love church. Not as much as I love Jesus, but I’m constantly thankful for how our Lord uses the body to sharpen me and grow me. This week, a brief discussion about guilt and its relationship to the Christian life has made me think and pray much.
Guilt is, per one online dictionary, “an awareness of having done wrong, usually accompanied by feelings of shame and regret.” For the Christian, at the point of salvation, it’s commonly agreed that our guilt – and the sin that caused it – is removed. God’s forgiveness in Christ (as well as aspects of salvation like justification) pretty clearly remove guilt (i.e., see Romans 4:5-8 or 1 John 1:9). D.A. Carson, in For the Fame of God, writes that “for the gospel to be effective it must clear us of our guilt.”
Yet we run into guilt all the time, in our Christian life, after conversion. I am constantly tempted to carry it around with me. Guilt over past offenses… guilt over what I have done (or haven’t)… guilt can guide behavior, prevent peace, and worm its way into many, many areas of our lives.
Don’t get me wrong. An active conscience is a good thing. By it the Holy Spirit helps me avoid sin, and to quickly confess sin. If guilt is because of ongoing sin… then maybe it shouldn’t be called guilt, but conviction. We need to confess the sin. That’s an easy theological answer.
The difficulty is that even after confession… the feeling remains. That shame over what has already been confessed. Is that ok? Should we soak in this feeling of “I’ve let God down… I’m unworthy and ashamed… I’ll never measure up”?
I’m coming more and more to think that our overwhelming need is an increasing awareness of our relationship with Christ. It is His forgiveness, His love, His work that clears my guilt forever. Even guilt after conversion. One of my greatest continuing problems is that I let guilt drive me from Christ. I think this probably means that I have too high a view of myself – instead of trusting totally in the work of the Savior, I trust in my own work. I don’t want to “impose” on Jesus again… as if there is any way that I could ever not need His righteousness instead of my own. So, in this sense, guilt becomes a marker for pride.
Elyse Fitzpatrick, in Counsel from the Cross, writes:
“We can’t overemphasize the importance of knowing that all our sins are forgiven, once for all time, when we strive to become more like him. Love is the only motive that can impel true heart transformation, and love will be present only when we see, demonstrated before our eyes, how we’ve been loved. Guilt over former sins never propels obedience; it only breeds doubt, fear, and bitterness.”
I like this because I do strive to be like my Savior, I have a motivation to follow and obey what he says. But this is because of love – his love for me, which births in my heart new desires and motivations. Continuing to carry guilt after my sin is forgiven seems to be a rejection of the love of Christ. If I am motivated primarily by guilt I am not actually understanding the work of Jesus Christ, nor am I understanding the grounds of my acceptance and righteousness.
It seems a bit paradoxical (as many biblical concepts) but true – that crucifying of ungodly behaviors requires a realization that we have absolutely died to it in Jesus. We don’t get ‘superpower’ to overcome sin (though we progressively become more like our Savior)… what we primarily get is a relationship which lets us lean upon the risen Savior, to see ourselves with entirely different lenses… by which our guilt… and with it sin’s power… has truly been broken.
William Romaine, an evangelical pastor in England in the 1700’s, puts it this way (in his Treaties Upon the Life, Walk, and Triumph of Faith):
“No sin can be crucified either in heart or life unless it first be pardoned in conscience, because there will be want of faith to receive the strength of Jesus, by whom alone it can be crucified. If it be not mortified in its guilt, it cannot be subdued in its power. If the believer does not see his perfect deadness to sin in Jesus, he will open a wide door to unbelief, and if he be no persuaded of his completeness in Christ, he gives room for the attacks of self-righteousness and legal tempers… The more clearly and steadfastly he believes this, as the apostle did – ‘I am crucified with Christ,’ in proportion will he cleave to Christ, and receive from him greater power to crucify sin. This believing view of his absolute mortification in Christ is the true gospel method of mortifying sin in our own persons.”
How incredible it is that we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are… yet without sin. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:16).
Hasta la vista, prideful guilt. Hello, wonderful Savior.
In light of my previous post, and especially as we go through a critical portion of Jesus’ teaching in the Gospel of John, I’m struck by a complaint I occasionally hear from others, and occasionally find in myself. It’s basically that our main issue as Christians is laziness.
This view concedes that (perhaps) you’ve put your faith in Jesus, but your main problem is that you aren’t as committed as you should be… you aren’t doing enough… so you should doubt whether or not you are a believer. Exhortations in the faith become exhortations to work harder, do more, and simply work.
What are you examining?
‘Examine yourself,’ the statement goes, ‘are you doing all you can?’ The implied answer is that if you aren’t, you might not be saved. And really, if you’re honest, the fear is that the answer is always no – that you’re never doing all you could, and should always be doing more. Welcome to the Christian treadmill…
Examine yourself. Not good enough. Try harder. Repeat.
I think this line of reasoning has some twists in it that aren’t healthy. I’d like to explain why in two ways.
The first unhealthy twist is that this particular exhortation usually gets the context wrong.
Mostly people who exhort constant self-examination are thinking of 2 Corinthians 13:5. It says “Examine yourselves… test yourselves.”
But note the ellipsis. What did I leave out? Let’s look again at the whole verse.
“Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith. Test yourselves. Or do you not realize this about yourselves, that Jesus Christ is in you?”
Interesting, isn’t it? That the purpose of the test isn’t how much you’ve done, but whether you are in the faith. Whether Jesus Christ is in you. So the examining I’m told to do is actually primarily an examination of my heart’s faith in Jesus Christ. Not a scorecard (i.e., 7 out of 10, let’s try for 8 out of 10!) but a thumbs up or down.
The verb (to examine) is used in 1 Corinthians 3:13 about testing what kind of work we’re doing; in 1 Corinthians 11:28, 2 Corinthians 8:22, and Galatians 6:4 of testing motives, and even in 1 Thessalonians 2:4 of God examining hearts. In fact, 1 Thessalonians 5:21 tells us to examine “everything” to see if it is good or bad.
So my self-examination really should not based on quantity. It is not based on “am I doing all I can.” It isn’t primarily a question of laziness. It is a question of kind.
And thus the second way in which this can be an unhealthy twist (related to the first). The exhortation, as stated, is being used to examine production rather than connection.
The Bible’s strong statement is that connection leads invariably to production. Not that production can force connection. The Bible is all about true connection to Christ alone. This is what we’ve seen in John 15. Are you a branch that is alive, or dead? Is there any fruit on that tree, or not? The single determining factor of whether there is or is not fruit is whether you have or have not been united to Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit. Whether you abide in him.
If I have faith in Christ, I’m connected to the vine. If so, I will bear fruit. And that fruit is great assurance… because without him, I can do nothing. Fruit is a sign of connection. And that vital life that produces fruit in me is not my own… it is Christ’s (John 15:1-5).
But it isn’t the amount of fruit. Fruit is only a sign of something that is actually present. To think of this through the context of Jesus’ statements in John… Jesus is my life… even after I sin, letting my own personal frustration offend my spouse. He’s the source of living water, even if I oversleep my own prayer time. He’s really the only reason to be at church, singing. And even as I bear fruit (because of the vital connection I have with Jesus), the one who makes me bear more isn’t me (what ability do I have?), but rather the Father (John 15:2, Ephesians 2:10).
So it is important to self-examine… but in the right context. Our examination is – is it true that I believe’? Do I really trust in Jesus’ righteousness? Do I really humble myself before him? If the answer to this self-examination is a ‘yes!’, then that should lead to joy… and not a treadmill. The ‘yes!’ means fruit will follow, not ‘ok… that’s great that you trust in Jesus… but prove it’.
We are our own fruit-inspectors… and if we see any… any… then we are thrilled that a true connection is there. Life from the source. That’s Jesus. Often true faith is to continue to believe that I am in union with Jesus Christ in spite of my failings and my sin which I see more and more as I grow.
Perhaps another way to get to the same place is to see what Jesus said in a familiar passage in Matthew 7:
“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of min and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it” (vv.24-26).
Do you see? Both the wise and foolish man built. There isn’t really a statement of how hard they worked; they both may have sweated much. They may both have had a Protestant work ethic. It didn’t matter. What mattered was what they built on.
The one who builds on Jesus’ message – the Gospel, the good news of faith alone by grace alone in Christ alone, an alien righteousness imputed to us, a Holy Spirit living in us – is the one who stands… not the one who builds (even zealously/thankfully/wonderfully) in their own righteousness.
What matters is what we build on. And we’re all building.
So if you are examining, today… go ahead, examine why you’re motivated to play guitar… to watch a movie… to come to church… to enjoy a walk. In things called work. In things called leisure. And in things in between. Your whole life is being used by Christ, pruned by the Father, to bear fruit. As you see selfishness and pride, repent. But may you more and more see the fruit of joy, of peace, of patience, of kindness… as you live each and every day in trust of Jesus Christ, thereby building on the rock that is the only chance we will ever have of eternal life with the incredible God who calls us friends.
If you have time, consider watching John Piper’s recent address at Together for the Gospel. The conference was on the “unadulterated Gospel,” and Piper particularly looked at imputed righteousness — is it what Jesus taught, or only Paul?
That might sound heady… but I appreciate how it is so impacting to practical living, to get the foundations of faith right.
I particularly was impacted by how Jesus does not justify the one who is thanking God for righteousness based in himself. This is not legalism, but a trust in your own righteousness, even righteousness that you trust God has given you. Wow. Piper does a wonderful job exposing Christ’s view of salvation and the proper view of our works.
It appears they are ok with embedding it, so it’s below… if I find out otherwise, I’ll replace it with a link… Be sure to persevere, as the first 10 minutes are pretty heady… but it is really worth listening to the whole thing (and it gets easier!).
I think sometimes that I’m too much of an optimist.
It’s true. I bounce. I love the beauty of the sky. I have experienced such blessings.
Beautiful creation... soiled, polluted
But I also tend to think that people are innately ok. Especially Christians, with the new creation, the new covenant.
And so I speed over the sea of sin that we swim in. Really. Sin is real. Sin is horrific. Husbands, wives, parents, kids, work relationships… fallen. We experience pain – not just physical pain, but the pain of disappointment, of spiritual hurt and loss.
The very best Christians I know, pastors, servants… flawed.
Perhaps a more realistic view of my world – less unreal optimism, more recognition of sin – actually leads to a more worshipful relationship with my God.
That’s because reality is that sin does hang on. The life-and-godliness-power that I’ve been given is a knowledge of Jesus Christ, which is to say, of the gospel (2 Peter 1:3).
And the knowledge of Christ is incredibly freeing because it stands is such stark contrast with my experiential knowledge of me and of other people.
Think on this, from Elyse Fitzpatrick and Dennis Johnson, in Counsel from the Cross:
“Either we train ourselves and others to put our trust in our ability and then hope for the best, or we train ourselves and others to self-despair and to live ‘on in naked confidence in the mercy of God.’ We will view God as either the “rewarder of all our ‘good’ works, the pot of gold at the end of our rainbow of merit,” or as our merciful Father who inexplicably identifies with us, loves and welcomes us, and rewards us with blessing despite our sin and failures…
The point is precisely that the power to do good comes only out of this wild claim that everything has already been done.” (pp. 180-1)
I need to stop, again, and not put my trust in my ability… but instead wholly trust Jesus Christ.
The gospel is that Jesus Christ, the firstborn of the dead, has “freed us from our sins by his blood” (Revelation 1:6) even when I don’t exhibit it, nor feel freed.
The gospel is that Jesus has ransomed people for God with his blood, at great cost. His blood is the grounds for my acceptance, not my moral fiber. And it continues to be the grounds… all through life.
The Bible actually says this in wonderful ways.
Let’s just take one, 1 Corinthians 6:11. Speaking of our sin, Paul writes:
And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.
It isn’t that we became more moral, or had some extra individual goodness. It is that we were washed, and sanctified, and justified by Jesus.
Washing in 1 Corinthians 6:11 (as in other verses, like Titus 3:5) doesn’t refer to moral amendment or inward holiness but to deliverance from guilt, and the estrangement from God which sin has caused. These passages, as George Smeaton in his excellent book on the atonement notes, “are rightly explained only when we take them in their sacrificial reference.”
My sin has been atoned for, regarded as if it had never been. It is my Savior’s bloody death which makes me clean… not my post-salvation perfection or moral aptitude.
I can still experience sin and the effects of sin, and I still struggle with sin… but I know it is covered… and the grateful fruit of worship and service grows.
That fruit may mean that I struggle less… but even when I fall, I know that my standing is sure, because it is not based on my struggle, but on the blood of Jesus Christ. By faith I am saved, and even that a gift.
We have such great reason to be optimists… not because we will not experience pain, disappointment, and sin… but because we know our standing is sure, and our Savior has removed our guilt, and we have a glorious future in Him.
Truly he has saved us according to his own mercy… praise be to Jesus Christ forever!
2010 has officially begun. Every year seems to go more quickly than the last; it will probably take me three months just to get my mind to think of this year as 2010 and not 2009.
Thinking about the New Year and times passing makes me think of Auld Lang Syne. The song is an old Scottish one, and the phrase is, loosely translated, Times gone by.
Times gone by. 2000 years since my Savior was on earth. 233-odd years of the United States as a country. 4-some odd years since my grandparents went to be with the Lord. 3 years since we were blessed with our first child.
Times gone by.
Theologically, I wonder about humanity in all these years. Are the issues the same, through the centuries? Does the church struggle with the same doctrinal questions? Were people of years past more strongly planted, more firmly founded, than we in our day are?
I’ve just finished reading a book which speaks to that question… it’s called The Christian Leaders of the Last Century. But it’s not about the 1900’s. It was written by J. C. Ryle in the 1800’s, of Christian leaders in the early 1700’s. So it is fascinating to see what he (in the 1800’s) thought the issues of church leaders were 100 years prior… what he brings out, and how the men are presented. He details 11 men in England, all clergy, including a couple that you’ve heard of (Whitehead, Wesley) and many that you (probably) haven’t.
I’ve been amazed at the piercing commentary that Ryle has of the spiritual walk and foundation of these men who lived before the United States existed. He could be speaking of people I know, of concerns I have, of struggles seen all around me.
Let me quote just a couple:
On John Berridge, curate of Stapleford:
“Berridge entered on his duties with great zeal, and a sincere desire to do good, and served his church regularly from college for no less than six years. He took great pains with his parishioners, and pressed upon them very earnestly the importance of sanctification, but without producing the slightest effect on their lives. His preaching…was striking; his life was moral, upright, and correct. His diligence as a pastor was undeniable… (but) the fact was that up to this time he was utterly ignorant of the gospel. He knew nothing aright of Christ crucified, of justification by faith in His blood, of salvation by grace, of the complete present forgiveness of all who believe…”
Berridge himself relates that He “saw the rock on which he had been splitting for many years, by endeavoring to blend the Law and the Gospel, and to unite Christ’s righteousness with his own.” His ministry over the next thirty years then bore much fruit as he preached Jesus Christ alone and salvation by faith alone.
It is striking and helpful to see J.C. Ryle, in the 1800’s, look at spiritual growth in John Berridge, in the 1700’s, and positively represent the necessity of the gospel – faith alone, imputed righteousness alone.
It’s not only with John Berridge. Another example is another clergy, James Hervey of Weston Favell. Ryle relates his early ministry as one of sincerity and purity of mind and zeal… but one who had not yet got his feet on the Rock. He relates a letter by George Whitefield, a contemporary, to Hervey:
“I long to have my dear friend come forth and preach the truth as it is in Jesus; not a righteousness or holiness of our own, whereby we make ourselves meet, but the righteousness of another, even the Lord our righteousness; upon the imputation and apprehending of which by faith we shall be made meet by His Holy Spirit to live with and enjoy God.” (Whitefield, to Hervey).
Hervey, like Berridge, was preaching morality and self-righteousness mixed into the gospel.
The wonderful account that is recorded by Ryle is… that Hervey grew.
At a later date, Hervey wrote to Whitefield:
“I own, with shame and sorrow, I have been a blind leader of the blind. My tongue and my pen have perverted the good ways of the Lord, have darkened the glory of redeeming merit and sovereign grace. I have dared to invade the glories of an all-sufficient Saviour, and to pluck the crown off His head My writings… presumed to give works a share in the redemption and recovery of a lost sinner…”
Ryle notes how interesting to see the work of the Spirit slowly in the life of Hervey, moving his theological opinions more in line with God’s truth in the grace of His Son.
How fascinating! This is the 1700’s!
From reading this book about men I do not personally know who lived before my great-great-great grandfather was alive, I’m encouraged. The issues are the same: the gospel vs. anything else. And the Spirit worked then, as now, in opening eyes and changing hearts… some quickly, some slowly, but all who are His come to know His redeeming grace from which truth, righteousness, and salvation flow.
Happy New Year, all. And as Auld Lang Syne, may you (and I) continue to grow in the grace and truth that is in Jesus Christ. To Him be the glory, now and forever.
It seems I am always in need of remembering the righteousness of my Savior.
This is because I know a Christian must do the following things:
• Surrender to God’s will (Romans 12:1-2)
• Truly die to sin and live to righteousness (2 Peter 2:24)
• Do whatever God says (1 John 2:3-5)
• Love God more than anything (Luke 14:26)
• Be God’s instrument for righteousness (Romans 6:13)
I am a Christian. The difficulty is, at any given point in time, these statements do not seem to describe me. I understand that they need to be true, and I continue to try and try to figure out ways to make them true.
I get discouraged, sometimes, when they don’t seem to be true. Quite honestly, at least one of them (loving God more than anything) never really seems true.
Faith: trust in the righteousness of another... because we cannot make our own
This seems to be the Christian equivalent of low self-esteem. The problem isn’t that I don’t love myself… oh, I do. The problem is that I continue to see that I don’t match up to God’s requirements. My self-love combines with my continuing guilt to add up to real doubt that I’m headed anywhere but bad.
I try to convince myself that I have supernatural power to do these required things.
Then I don’t do them. And I’m really in trouble again.
And I can doubt that I’m really saved.
Because saved people have supernatural power.
Sermons about God’s enabling power to do good seem to rub wrongly, because I don’t do good. Well, I do some good… but loving God to the extent that my love for my kids seems like hate (Luke 14:26)? Hmm.
Is there anything that helps this?
Yes there is.
Consider this quote, from William Newell:
“Christ’s work, though on behalf of man, was wholly His: glorious and perfect, yet to be received by man in its blessed results of eternal pardon, peace and blessing. To be received, we say, by simple Faith, unmixed with human effort. A humbling process, indeed! For man must go out of the righteousness-producing business, and rest wholly and forever on the work of Another, even Christ” (Hebrews, pp. 238-239).
This is important foundational knowledge. What saves me is the grace of God. This grace of God is seen in the death of Jesus Christ for my sin. I brokenly and humbly put my trust, my faith, in Jesus. I am not only forgiven of all my sin against a holy God, but also I am given Christ’s righteousness.
His perfect work saves me… really, Jesus Christ saves me… not my commitment, not my work. Because I’m justified freely by His grace, I measure up to the full demands of God’s righteousness in Christ (2 Cor 5:21). Right now. Done.
How I am amazed… that it isn’t my commitment that saves me, but my Christ. That it isn’t my really hard effort that saves me, but my Savior does. That it isn’t what I do for God, but what God has done for me.
This puts a little different twist on the start of this post.
The righteousness I have to stand before God isn’t my own. All those requirements listed above, they are what happens in the life of one who is already saved. Not one who hopes to be saved. That’s an incredible difference.
My increasing knowledge of the incredible grace of God that has been and continues to be poured out on me, my increasing knowledge of the overwhelming love of Christ for me… results in me actually more and more desiring those top things. I can actually trust that God will work in me, even if on a day-by-day basis I seem stalled. Patience, believer. Keep after the knowledge of God’s incredible love for you in Christ.
Because this is the truth:
The sure result of His perfect work for me is that I will surrender to His will (Romans 12:1-2)
The sure result of His perfect work for me is that I will learn to truly live (2 Peter 2:24)
The sure result of His perfect work for me is that I will want to do whatever He says (1 John 2:3-5)
The sure result of His perfect work for me is that I will love Him more than anything (Luke 14:26) (!)
The sure result of His perfect work for me is that I will want to be His instrument (Romans 6:13)
Perfection isn’t had right now. Perfection is not to be had on earth. And I have to trust…when my will is engaged, and yet I flop again. This is the work of faith. I have to trust forgiveness really is full and free. Growth makes faith easier, but faith must continue even when growth seems so slow. I know that the sure result of His perfect work for me is that I will have an eternity of perfection, worshiping Him forever.
Just a quick thought stimulated by a recent book by Tim Keller (The Reason for God) that our church is reading in a men’s group.
I like the thought (which he makes) of distinguishing between religion and gospel. Religion as a whole pushes one toward salvation through moral effort. The Gospel is about salvation through grace, entirely by the work of another, Jesus Christ.
So there’s two ways to reject that gospel, that good news. Both ways are essentially being your own Lord and Savior.
The first way is to be a rebel: “I can live my life just how I want to!” This is obviously a desire to be one’s own Lord.
The second way is also to be a rebel… internally: “I can trust my own goodness, avoid sin, and live morally so God blesses me!” This is the same rebellion as the first, really – I will decide for myself the mode and method of God’s grace. I won’t submit to the way of Christ. This second rebel is who Jesus addressed throughout the gospels… folks we usually refer to as Pharisees.
Both ways of rebelling are a rejection of the gospel. You really can avoid Jesus as Savior as much by trying to keep all the rules you find in the Bible as by ignoring them.
I wonder how many of us are really Pharisees… internally driven by despair caused by sin, with no identity as a truly righteous adopted child, united to the Son of God through the blood and sacrifice of that Son, Jesus Christ. Pharisees… always wondering if we’re good enough, always comparing selves with others, always realizing that the inside doesn’t match the outside.
May we never build our identity on our moral achievements (religion), just as we rightly flee from building our identity on our job, our hobby, or our spouse. May our identity be foundationally grounded on the rock that is a relationship with Jesus Christ, the living God.
“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live I in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.” (Galatians 2:20)
Who I was, my self-identity, self-righteousness, self-orientation – he is dead. My only hope is Christ. May I not return to trusting in who I was, in what that flesh through its own effort could do. May I trust wholly in Christ, in what He has done. By God’s Word and His mercy toward me, I know this is the gospel of grace.
Galatians 2:20 says that our life now is by faith in the Son of God. The content of that faith is that His righteousness truly does save me, that I have an eternal future with Him. My life now is wholly given over to Him, not as effort for more righteousness of my own, but for grateful living in His ways, building up other people, worshiping this God. The fruit of my mouth, praising Him; the fruit of my life, shining forth the result of the Spirit working in me. United to Christ forever.
