The Righteousness of Christ vs. Personal Righteousness

“God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.  And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’” -1 Corinthians 1:28-30 (ESV)

When it comes to salvation, we as believers rest in the work of Christ alone.  It is His righteousness that redeemed us from the penalty of sin; His work that secures our salvation.  We have no ground for boasting in our own righteousness, because as the prophet Isaiah said, “We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment.” (Isaiah 64:6)  You see, it is not that good deeds have become evil for us, it is that our evil trumps all of our good deeds, so that they become worthless, stained and defiled, an insulting thing to present to the Lord as a tribute to Him.  Will He accept an offering of a few good deeds from a soul that stands in rebellion to Him, as payment to wash away all of the wrongs that we have done?  Absolutely not.  Scripture is clear that it is only through the work of Christ, not of ourselves, that we can be accepted by God.

Where does this leave us then?  If we are saved solely by the righteousness and grace of God, of what use is personal purity and good deeds?  If we are referring only to salvation, the answer is clear: absolutely nothing.  It is of no use to use to be good, pure and righteous in ourselves as this will in no way secure salvation for us.  We are as lost if we do evil as we are if we, being evil, make every effort to do good, for “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, “ (Romans 3:23) and “the wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23).

Is there any value then in living righteously?  If the believer is altogether saved by the work of Christ, then it follows that his salvation is also secured and maintained by Christ, not himself.  If this were not so, and a man, having once been lifted out of the depth of his depravity strictly by the saving work of Christ and the grace of God, could then lose that salvation by his deeds, then it follows that the deeds of man are greater than the work of Christ, as they can undo it.  But this cannot be, for if God will stoop himself to save what cannot save itself, and to apply his own righteousness to that which has no righteousness of its own, then certainly it follows that once His divine merit has been applied to a life that had none, that life’s own lack of righteousness is not suddenly in a better position to incur the wrath of God, wrath which was its sole and just reward prior to the saving act of God.

This being the case, does it not also follow that as Christ’s righteousness is the only righteousness that is of value when we stand before God as our divine Judge, that we may therefore take no further thought for our own personal purity, seeing as it can neither increase nor decrease our standing before Him?  Taken in a vacuum, this is true: our salvation is not dependent upon our works, neither for the saving nor for the keeping, and therefore those works are irrelevant.  However, the truth of God’s salvation does not occur in a vacuum.  You see, God did not save us as a man might save a turtle that he finds lying on its back by flipping it over and then walking away, unconcerned with the rest of its life.  No, God saved us, not merely from the penalty of sin, but he saved us for Himself.  Jesus did not die solely so that we might escape the punishment of Hell, He died so that we might be adopted as the sons and daughters of God Himself.  He died because He loves us, and loving us, He does not turn away from the souls that He has saved.

Paul deals with a similar question in his letter to the Romans.  Coming to the end of a discourse of how the righteousness and grace of God trumps the sin of man, so that “where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” (Romans 5:20), he begs the question: “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound?” (Romans 6:1).  We may be tempted to think that this is a ridiculous argument.  Who can think like this?  Who can imagine intentionally living in sin so that God’s grace can shine?  Consider it well, though, because Paul’s reasoning is very sound.  You see, God is glorified through the work of salvation; His love for us burns brightly in salvation, visible to all, because “God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8).  His act of saving those who have nothing to recommend themselves to Him clearly illustrate the incredible, unknowable depth of His love and grace.  Therefore, as Paul notes, there may be temptation to say that since God is glorified in showing this grace to sinners, we ought to continue in sin, so that He may continue in showing grace.  This, however, is a terrible heresy, as Paul answers “By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?  Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?  We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:2-4)  We can see, then, that as believers we are not only saved from the penalty of our sins, but raised to a new life.  What does this mean for us?

Consider Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 5:17, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”  When we are saved, we are not only forgiven, but we are made new; we have a new life, with God, in Christ.  The old life, of sin and death, is now gone.  This is not merely a matter of starting over with a clean slate, as it were, but is a true newness of life, illustrated by the presence of the Spirit of God as He personally indwells each believer whom He has redeemed.  God revealed this in the times before Christ came when He bade the Prophet Ezekiel to proclaim “I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.” (Ezekiel 36:27)  Paul reiterated this truth, admonishing the believers in 1 Corinthians 3:17, “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?”  If then we have been created new, it is certain that this newness will shine forth in our lives, or else these are just words on a page.  How does it shine?  Jesus Himself answers pretty clearly: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.  This is the great and first commandment.  And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.  On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40).  Again He says “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” (John 14:15) and yet again, “By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35).  If God has saved us, made us knew, and placed His Spirit within us, then it is unquestionable that love and gratitude will follow this divine act.  If love for God, then obedience to God.  If obedience to God, then love for each other.  If love for each other, then it will be clearly seen by all that we have been saved by God.  Apart from this, there is no evidence that salvation has ever taken place, and therefore we find ourselves on perilous ground should we defend sinfulness by some weak argument that it is irrelevant seeing as how we have been saved, and cannot be un-saved.  To make such an argument is like meeting the advances of a beautiful woman (or man, if you’re female) with a slap in the face.  They’ve offered love, and you’ve offered cruelty and rejection in return.  You cannot love God if you turn your back on His commandments, and if you cannot love God, then you cannot have been saved by Him.  In this we can clearly see that our righteous deeds are of no value whatsoever securing or maintaining our salvation, but that their presence will certainly stand as a testimony to it, if indeed we have been saved.

What then of the sins that we commit as believers?  As Christ’s righteousness has been applied to our account before God, erasing all the debt of our sins and redeeming us from the penalty due, we see that we continue to contain the potential for unrighteousness within us.  Each of us sins every day, and if we do wrong, does this mean that we ourselves are lost?  No, and Scripture addresses this directly.  Throughout we see that God refers to Himself as our Father.  This is not merely a reference to God as Father in the sense that all things came from Him, as though the role of a Father and that of Creator were one and the same.  God is the Creator of all, but He is not the Father of all.  Jesus pointed this out when addressed by a group of Pharisees who argued that God was their Father, a statement He rejected by stating “If God were your Father, you would love me, for I came from God and I am here.”  He then went on to say “You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires.” (See John 8:42-44)  As believers, though, we are the children of God, and He is our Father, as Paul states in Galatians 4:4-7, “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.  And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’  So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.”

If then we have been created new, indwelt by God and adopted into His family, we can expect to be treated as His children.  This involves full expectation of blessing as God’s children, but also full expectation of discipline.  The author of Hebrews addresses this, pointing to Proverbs 3:11-12 when he states “’My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor be weary when reproved by him.  For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.’  It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?” (See Hebrews 12:5-7).  If we are the children of God and we do what is sinful, we may certainly expect the correcting discipline of our Father, just as we would expect it from our earthly parents.  We cannot continue living in sin, because God will not allow this, and will certainly discipline us should we insist upon it.  Moreover, not only will he discipline us for sin, but He Himself will work within us to do what is good, as Paul points out in Philippians 2:13 when he says “for it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”  This certainly connects with Jesus’ statement in Matthew 7:16, when he warns His followers about those who claim to be from God but are false, stating “You will recognize them by their fruits.  Are grapes gathered from thornbushes, or figs from thistles?”  What is the fruit of a true believer?  As he is indwelt by the Spirit, he will show evidence of that which Paul points out in Galatians 5:22-23, “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.”

So we can clearly see that salvation is the work of God, dependent upon the righteousness of Christ alone, not of ourselves.  We cannot add to it, nor can we take away from it by our deeds, whether good or bad.  Yet at the same time we see clearly that good deeds are not irrelevant in the life of the believer, as the true believer, the one who has been adopted, indwelt and made new, will certainly and inevitably begin to show signs of that salvation through the fruit that the indwelling Spirit will begin to grow in his or her life, as well as through the discipline of God in those areas that require correcting.

Song of Solomon - Breasts, Romance and Sex

“Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, that graze among the lilies.  Until the day breathes and the shadows flee, I will go away to the mountain of myrrh and the hill of frankincense.” –Song of Solomon 4:5,6 (ESV)

The Song of Solomon is always a refreshing book to come to after proceeding through the somewhat dry book of Proverbs and the heavy book of Ecclesiastes.  After hiking through all the wisdom of Solomon, we end with his crowning achievement, a treatise, in poetic form, on romantic love, and it comes like an oasis in a desert.

So, while we're here I want to touch upon a specific, historically favorite topic of the male of the species: the female breast.

Recently, a comment was made by a female member of my wife’s family that she did not understand why men are fascinated by breasts.  This alone wouldn’t have been too shocking, except that my wife also echoed the statement, which left me a little floored.  On the one hand I shouldn’t have expected her to understand the attraction the same way that any male does (i.e., from experience) but the fact that it was regarded as a puzzling peculiarity of the male sex was fascinating to me.  My answer, as it always has been, is that whereas man has always been captivated by the beauty of the fair sex, it is insofar as woman physically differs from man that she is most captivating, and the female breast is one of the most uniquely feminine traits that she possesses.  If men everywhere were not taken with them, I should consider it truly puzzling; that they are strikes me as being the most natural thing in the world.  Certainly it was true of man some thousands of years ago, as attested by the account of Solomon here.  In his Song he focuses his creative energies towards descriptions of his brides’ physical appearance, and although he touches on her from head to toe, he comes back to her breasts on multiple occasions.  Even outside of the Song, in his Proverbs he admonishes men to rejoice in their wives, stating “Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight” (see Proverbs 5:18,19)

Of course, one may accuse me of being entirely too pedestrian with the message of the Song of Solomon.  Many, throughout history, have attempted to sanitize the book, regarding it as purely allegorical of the relationship between Christ and the Church.  It is true that God uses the imagery of marriage as a picture of our relationship to Christ, but it is also true that, although God did in many cases implant a prophetic double-meaning into many Old Testament scriptures, Solomon almost certainly had no such thing in mind when he wrote it.  Moreover, although the parallels between marriage and Christ and the Church are useful so far as they go within scripture, much of the Song uses imagery that is so explicit it becomes difficult to reconcile with a purely spiritual meaning.  If one examines the two voices in the book, that of Solomon and his bride, both extol the physical virtues of the other, but the bride often focuses on the character of Solomon, his strength and power, and her delight in both captivating him and resting securely underneath his protection; she delights in being delighted in.  Solomon, on the other hand, speaks of his wife in largely physical terms, exalting not only in her beauty, but much more intimately in their physical relationship, making allusions to the captivating nature of her physical scent and taste, themes which the bride picks up on herself, beckoning “Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind!  Blow upon my garden, let its spices flow.  Let my beloved come to his garden, and eat its choicest fruits.” (4:16). The message is extremely sexual in nature, which is awkward in a treatise of Christ’s love for the Church, and also, if allegorical, it appears backward, as the Church is now beckoning Christ to come and enjoy her delights, when in reality Christ’s relationship with the Church is more properly seen in the book of Hosea, who married a prostitute who betrayed him, running away and making herself destitute, but whom he, through no action of her own, brought back to himself to be his bride once more.

I can only assume that people wish to view the book as strictly allegorical because of a reluctance to view sex in a holy light, but in the Song of Solomon we see romantic, marital, sexual love lifted to a place of prominence, being joined to the rest of the holy scriptures; and what God has joined together, let no man tear apart.

Biblical Sex: An Answer to "Educational Pornography"

“Is it okay to watch porn?  It is if it teaches you new ways to love your woman.”

I've heard the above rationalization tossed out as a legitimate answer to the question “is it okay to watch porn?” and I feel that it is worth taking a close look at.  It is easy to say that something, say, pornography, is a sin, and it is also easy to rationalize sin by coming up with an easy-to-swallow explanation of its supposed benefits.  The problem is that when we rationalize behaviors that we know are wrong, we do so by re-defining reality on our own terms.

Consider the assumption in the above justification.  It claims that porn is perfectly acceptable if it helps you to “love” your wife in new ways.  Love is good, therefore porn is achieving a good end.  The problem is that this statement redefines sex as love; it is not.  Certainly sex is intended by God as an expression  of love between a husband and a wife, inasmuch as it was created for any other purpose (such as procreation).  It is a private union between one soul and another, wherein each delights fully in the other through intense emotional and physical pleasure.  It is close, it is special, it’s even fun.  It is an act that is both far too serious to take lightly, and also far too much fun to take too seriously.  It draws people together and binds them at a very fundamental, emotional level, just as it is written “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” (Genesis 2:24 ESV)  The problem is that sex, in and of itself, is not love.

Sex can, and very often is, be removed from the realm for which God intended it.  Like a man steeling apples from a farm, the pleasures of sex may be stolen, taken in a selfish manner for one’s own sole pleasure.  This is the very foundation of porn: It is sexual pleasure divorced from any form of personal interaction.  This fact is admitted in the rationalization under examination, as it suggests that if porn informs and educates the individual, so that they may then take what they have learned and use it to properly love their spouse, then clearly it has been used in a good manner and not merely as a selfish attempt to make oneself feel good without the bothersome mess of interaction.  It assumes that apart from this utilitarian, educational function, porn is in fact sinful.  If it did not, then there would be no reason for the one speaking to state that it is good IF it is used in this manner, as he could otherwise state that “porn is good” and move on.  So what we know from the one making this statement is that they believe that porn is sinful, unless it may be used for the noble end of loving ones spouse.  But since sex is an expression of love and not love itself, how can porn achieve this good goal?

Now the veil is truly being torn from this rationalization.  Consider, if you will, the individual watching porn solely for the intent of learning some new method for pleasuring their spouse.  They sit watching acts being played out, taking notes and looking on with a purely intellectual interest, as though studying the finer points of Calculus.  Does this image strike anyone as altogether ridiculous?  Surely it is difficult for anyone to honestly conceive of such a dispassionate viewing, for the whole purpose of porn is to play upon one of the deepest, programed desires of human beings: Sex.  Male or female, no one is immune to its effects and lures. It would be like studying science by taking narcotics; certainly you will experience the effect of chemicals on the body, but certainly there will be nothing academic about the experience as one’s judgment and outlook will be impaired by the very thing being studied, perhaps permanently so.  It is the same with sex.  Sex is a powerful drug, easily addicting and always available through one means or another.  It is a drug intended for the sole indulgence of a man and a wife, together, with each other.  “Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the wife of your youth, a lovely deer, a graceful doe. Let her breasts fill you at all times with delight; be intoxicated always in her love.” (Proverbs 5:18-19, ESV)

What if we allow this fact?  Perhaps, let us say, it is acceptable to view porn precisely in the manner intended, full of lust and self-inflicted, self-focused pleasure, if, after we have experienced such self-inflamed fits of passion, drooling over men and women who are not our spouses, we then look back upon the experience and allow it to inform our future lovemaking toward our spouse?

To answer this, consider: is your wife willing to allow you to sleep with any other woman (or would you allow her to sleep with any other man man) provided you learn some new tricks in bed?  Will she look the other way if it means increasing your “sexual skill”?  Do you expect her to look into your eyes and say “My, I’m certainly glad you slept with so-and-so, you’re getting so much better at this”?  The mind revolts at the thought.  What could you expect to see in the eyes of your wife except pain if you tell them that you learned any particular “trick” from time spent with another woman?  Porn is no different.  True, you are not physically with another, but you are with them mentally and emotionally.  There is a reason the term “emotional affair” exists; pain and separation between two people can be caused just as easily by an inappropriate thought-life as by inappropriate physical actions.  “Why should you be intoxicated, my son, with a forbidden woman and embrace the bosom of an adulteress?” (Proverbs 5:20, ESV)

Prior to my wedding, I recall a co-worker asking me whether or not I would be going to a strip club for my bachelor party.  I was a bit surprised by the question, as the individual asking seemed to assume that the answer would be yes (this individual was also a woman).  I said that I would not, to which I was asked why, seeing as it is apparently the stereotypical “bachelor party” thing to do.  My answer was then as it is now: Why would I, on the eve of being with the woman I love more than any other in the world, spend my night lusting after numerous girls I neither know nor care about?

Porn is this very thing.  It is you, lusting and pleasuring yourself over women or men whom you neither know nor care for.  To take such a selfish and uncaring act, and then to justify it to yourself by saying that it helps you to “love” your spouse is the very height of self-deception.  There is nothing loving in intentionally steering your desires towards countless others.

Sex is a beautiful, magnificent thing.  So much so that an entire book of the Bible (the Song of Songs) is dedicated to it.  Biblically, sex is not intended to be dull and uninteresting.  Indeed, sex is, by its very nature, exciting and fun.  But it is also intended to create an environment for closeness and connection, even for exploration, but exploration of one’s spouse, not of other people.  It matters very little what anyone else does in bed, certainly it matters nothing what any number of porn stars are doing; all that matters is what you and your spouse desire together, and to grow, explore, love, enjoy, and comfort one another through your lovemaking.

Consider the following passage from the Song of Songs, as the husband and lover appraises his bride in the most intimate, even playful, terms: “How beautiful and pleasant you are, O loved one, with all your delights! Your stature is like a palm tree, and your breasts are like its clusters. I say I will climb the palm tree and lay hold of its fruit. Oh may your breasts be like clusters of the vine, and the scent of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” (Song of Songs 7:6-9, ESV)  Consider also her reply in verses 9 and 10: “It goes down smoothly for my beloved, gliding over lips and teeth. I am my beloved's, and his desire is for me.”  Are these the thoughts and is this the lovemaking of a couple anxious to spice up their life with new things learned from others they've been lustfully watching or physically interacting with?  No, it is nothing more and nothing less than the ecstasy of two people who are deeply in love, concerned only with each other, delighting only in each other, without a thought for the rest of the world around them.  This is Biblical sex, and this is the goal for which all married couples should strive.  It is not obtained by studying the sexual habits of anyone else; indeed, it is only obtained when one learns to put one’s own desires aside and strive solely to please and to enjoy one’s spouse, and them alone.

Christ's Presence in the Eucharist

I read an article today from Grace to You detailing what they consider the "gruesome" and "biblically indefensible" idea of Transubstantiation (the Catholic doctrine that the Lord's Supper, during Mass, becomes the literal body and blood of Christ, while maintaining the physical appearance and attributes of bread and wine). The problem with the whole article, and indeed with many a protestant's objection to the idea, is that the argument is presented with bold, emotional language while very light on scriptural support, as though saying that it ought to be plain to any sane man that Jesus certainly could not have meant it literally when he said "Take this and eat it, for this is my body." (Matthew 26:26, NLT)

The typical protestant line is to regard the Eucharist entirely as a memorial, as though Christ had set up a figurative tombstone for himself by so that believers everywhere could see and remember his sacrifice.  That alone strikes me as puzzling, since the whole of the Gospel that we preach is entirely consumed by the death and resurrection.  Why, if it is no more significant than a ritualistic act of remembrance, would such a thing be bothered with?  Especially why, if this is all that it is, is it treated with such gravity in the rest of the scriptures?  Why does Paul, when writing to the Corinthians say "So anyone who eats this bread or drinks this cup of the Lord unworthily is guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord." and "That is why many of you are weak and sick and some have even died." (see 1st Corinthians 27-30)?  Why the stress upon this particular act of sacrilege, as though of all the manners in which one might lightly deal with the things of God, beware lest you deal lightly with this?

I do not know that I believe in the strictly Catholic view of transubstantiation, but I do consider that the weakest support of all lies with the doctrine that the Eucharist is nothing more than symbols, no more than a memorial.  There is too much stress, too much significance placed upon the thing in scripture.  There is some manner of mystery present within the Eucharist, and I stand with Martin Luther who wrote:

"Who, but the devil, has granted such license of wresting the words of the holy Scripture? Who ever read in the Scriptures, that my body is the same as the sign of my body? Or, that is is the same as it signifies? What language in the world ever spoke so? It is only then the devil, that imposes upon us by these fanatical men. Not one of the Fathers of the Church, though so numerous, ever spoke as the Sacramentarians: not one of them ever said, It is only bread and wine; or, the body and blood of Christ is not there present.

Surely, it is not credible, nor possible, since they often speak, and repeat their sentiments, that they should never (if they thought so) not so much as once, say, or let slip these words: It is bread only; or the body of Christ is not there, especially it being of great importance, that men should not be deceived. Certainly, in so many Fathers, and in so many writings, the negative might at least be found in one of them, had they thought the body and blood of Christ were not really present: but they are all of them unanimous.” (Luther’s Collected Works, Wittenburg Edition, no. 7 p, 391)

The Dark Path of Spiritual Empowerment

Growing up charismatic, a lesson I learned all-too-well as a child was one of empowerment; that because I was a child of the King, I had power over devils, to cast them out, as well as to “bind Satan”, a common phrase that was often doled out during prayers and which essentially meant that you tied Satan up (spiritually of course) so that he could no longer take a part in whatever particular situation you were praying about.  This was hammered into me from multiple pastors at multiple churches, and as a child I accepted the theological ideas wholesale.  I was quite the little charismatic kid, and accepting that this was how the spiritual landscape worked, and that I was a little soldier boy in a vast, cosmos spanning spiritual war with the devil, I prayed continuously, every day, casting devils out of the shadows, binding Satan over everything I could think of, and asserting to Satan, like Sarah standing before the Goblin King Jareth, “you have no power over me!” (sorry, Labyrinth reference.  RIP David Bowie!)

The whole thing was a shame.  Sure, I received lots of praise from other students at church who commented that I prayed like a pastor, and teachers who thought that I was quite the little prayer warrior.  I absolutely believed in what I was doing, and there was no insincerity in my heart about any of this; regardless, this entire theology of spiritual warfare that I had been handed left me, as a child, altogether empty and absolutely terrified of the spiritual forces around me.  This was not something that I spoke of to anyone.  Occasionally I would have conversations with my mom in which I would reveal some of my insecurities, but for the most part I kept them to myself because I felt that, if this was how things were, then all of my fears and uncertainties were the result of my lack of faith.  That frightened me most of all, because, you know, “it is impossible to please God without faith.”, which is part of Hebrews 11:6.  I say part, because I've ripped it entirely out of context, but as a child what did I know of context?  Actually, as an adult I've come to discover that this entire theology I had been taught as a child had been based on scriptures ripped out of their context.

Now, not to blow my own horn here, but I was really a pretty sharp kid growing up.  I've always had an analytical mind, even from a young age.  As child, though, I accepted what I was being taught from my pastors and teachers because they were adults (and supposedly subject experts) and as such they were supposed to know this stuff and I was simply supposed to learn from them.  I had my own Bible but the idea of reading scripture in context was foreign to me.  Unlike other books, the Bible was taught to me by men and women who opened it and simply picked out verses.  The Bible simply seemed more like a dictionary of disjointed spiritual ideas rather than a cohesive narrative work.  Given this shaky foundation it’s natural that, when analyzing the problems I encountered with the theology I was being taught, I didn't come to the correct conclusions, and so I placed the blame on myself.  But I knew there were problems.  I was taught, and believed, that there were demons all around us, constantly seeking to bring about our destruction.  Demonic possession was a common thing, and every church, pastor (and occasionally kid) I met had their own personal story of encountering someone who was possessed.  Although believers themselves could not be possessed, there was this other thing sometimes referred to as demonic oppression which was kind of the version of possession that Satan dished out on believers, where a demon couldn't enter your body and take control, but they could follow you around all day filling you with despair and fear and all manner of spiritual ill.  I also learned that demons were specialists: you had your demons of sickness, of poverty, of “heaviness” and every other ailment, whether spiritual or physical.  Anything that was wrong in the world, you had a demon to blame, and if you had a demon to blame, you had a demon to target.  Enter the prayer warrior, dressed in the armor of God, ready to wage spiritual warfare, binding and casting out the evil one!

I very quickly learned that binding and casting out demons was perhaps the emptiest spiritual experience I have ever had.  I was told I was empowered because I was an heir of Christ.  I was shown verses from scripture that explain that if I resisted the devil, he would flee from me.  Taught from the Bible that I could lay hands on the sick and cast out devils and perform miracles, and all I had to do was stand up and proclaim it all in the name of Jesus.  So I stood, I proclaimed, I invoked the name of Jesus, and I absolutely hated the fact that God had placed such responsibility on me.

You see, this is where my analytical nature kicked in.  If devils were in the shadows making me afraid and I stood up and cast them out, shouldn't I be less afraid?  But rather than feel any sense of relief when I was scared, I only felt that if there were demons watching me from the shadows, they were laughing at me.  I would ask God to forgive me because I did not enough faith, but more faith never came, and I wondered if God was angry, or if he was listening at all because of that same lack of faith.  I felt hopeless, because I knew that all I had to do was have faith and proclaim that faith, but when I did, I felt that nothing was happening, which only meant that I didn't have faith after all.  In this manner I went around and around, guilty, afraid and confused.

It wasn't just my childish fear of the dark that had taken on such a confusing spiritual tone.  When I was young, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She was undergoing chemotherapy and often sick and stuck in bed.  This may have been frightening enough for a child, but what made it worse is that I fully understood the risk involved, because just before my mother was diagnosed, my aunt had been diagnosed and died of the same illness.  Learning that my mom had the same cancer was not just unsettling, it was terrifying.  I didn't know if my mom was going to live, and every day I had the horrible thought that my mother could die.  However, I had been taught all about faith and healing and casting out demons of sickness, and so my prayers were continuously turned towards my mom.  The problem was, she wasn't being healed.  I prayed, I proclaimed, I tried ever so hard to believe that she was healed “in Jesus’ name!”  but she wasn't healed.  There was no miracle, no instant faith healing like individuals the likes of Benny Hinn were selling (TBN was a common fixture at my grandparents’ house).  Again I recognized that, this being the spiritual reality of the world, if nothing was happening, then it was my own fault.  After all, God had made all the tools available, therefore the problem was clearly my failure to use them.  God desired his children to be healthy and prosperous (also a staple line in the churches I attended) and therefore I could not accept that God didn't want to heal my mother.  No, the fault was my own, because I did not have faith to declare her healed.

Now, it should be apparent that one of the major issues with this “faith” theology is not just the utter ineffectiveness of it, but the fact that God had ceased to be a father.  He was more like a blacksmith, like the Greek Hephaestus, hammering out spiritual weapons and giving them to us to wield.  He may desire our wellbeing, but rather than seek it himself he simply gives us tools and tells us to use them in faith.  I believed with all my heart that there was no reason for Mom to have cancer, because if I had faith and did not doubt I could declare her healed and she would most certainly be healed, altogether in an instant, just the same as Peter taking a lame man by the hand and bidding him walk.  But I was in despair because she was not healed, and if she was not healed then I did not have faith.  Mind you, I was not at this point concerned for myself because of my lack of faith, but in absolute despair because she was still sick and might even die.  I was in despair because I knew that I could heal her if I could just believe, but her continued sickness was evidence of my failure.  I was not failing myself, not only failing God, but I was failing my mother, and because I could not simply make myself have more faith, I felt that there was no hope at all.  Eventually I began to withdraw from prayer, not privately, but publicly for others.  I didn't want to pray for people, because I began to recognize that even when I was at my best, my prayers did not move mountains, did not bring healing, did not do much of anything so far as I could tell.

In the midst of all of this I never turned away from God, for I recognized that Jesus was the only source of salvation.  But I knew that if we were engaged in spiritual warfare as I had been taught, that I was an altogether useless soldier, unskilled and ill-suited for war, and God was probably very unhappy with me.  Perhaps, being so weak and faithless, I would never see Heaven.  Thankfully, God, in his mercy, grace, and providence, pulled me out of this mire of theological confusion and slowly helped me to see the fallacy of it all.  He helped me to realize that he is in control of my life and my destiny, as well as that of everyone around me.  That he, as a father, has a purpose even in the unpleasant things that he allows his children to experience, to train us and to teach us what is right and wrong, and to rely solely upon him.  He taught me that he is not a blacksmith crafting weapons for us to wield, but a caring, divine parent who will himself protect us when the need arises, even when we do not call upon him at all, because he loves us more deeply than we can ever imagine.  He taught me that the burden of faith does not lie with me, because it is his gift which was to me when he granted me to believe on his son Jesus.  He taught me that my prayers for my mother were not unanswered, but misguided, because the burden of healing was never on me, but always a part of his divine plan (I am pleased to report that my mother is a cancer survivor and still with me today).  He taught me to let go of the responsibilities of so-called spiritual empowerment, saying, as he said to his disciples years ago, “don’t rejoice because evil spirits obey you; rejoice because your names are registered in heaven.” (Luke 10:20)

Now I myself am a father, with a beautiful little girl who just celebrated her first birthday.  If there is one thing I would teach her, it is to rest herself fully in God, to trust in him to care for her and seek her good.  I hope that my own parenting will model this lesson for her, so that as she learns to trust in and rely upon me, she will find it an easy lesson to apply when she considers her heavenly Father, who loves her even more than I.

A Consideration of Purgatory

“According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building upon it. Let each one take care how he builds upon it.  For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.  Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw— each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done.  If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward.  If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.” -1 Corinthians 3:10-15 ESV

The doctrine of purgatory is an interesting and divisive point between Protestants and Catholics.  The idea being that after death, believers, prior to entering into the presence of God in Heaven, undergo a final act of cleansing, wherein they are purified from any remaining sin that clings to them after death.  Leaving, for the time being, the argument of whether or not the scriptures directly reference a state of purgatory, the Protestant argues that this “cleansing after death” diminishes the work of Christ on behalf of the believer, as though Christ had only provided us with a down-payment for our souls, after which we must then pay the rest ourselves in this intermediate state after death.  Catholics, on the other hand, make the argument that it in no way diminishes Christ’s work, which bought and paid for our salvation, but is part of the processes of sanctification in the life of a believer, the gradual work of the Spirit to conform us to the image of Christ.  We still commit sins, and God punishes His children, not as an unbeliever subject to Hell, but as a Father disciplines His children when they do wrong.  “For what son is there whom his father does not discipline?” (Hebrews 12:7, ESV)

The argument from the Catholic perspective is quite rational when one takes a larger look at the course of a man’s life.  As Protestants, we seem to believe that although men are sinners now, and continue to sin after Christ has redeemed us (though we are subject to discipline from God), once we die we are immediately purged of all traces of sin, as though someone entered a dark room and suddenly switched on the light.  Perhaps Protestants believe that all sin is somehow tied to our mortal bodies and that, once they are removed, our saved spirits will shine without trace of wrongdoing.  I cannot accept this, as one look inside of myself reveals that sin is ever present within my heart; not the physical one, but my spiritual heart, which remains broken and damaged, even though it has been claimed by Christ and is undergoing His work of sanctification.  Indeed, the Bible tells us that the heart is “deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9 ESV).  I cannot allow myself to believe that all my sins can be blamed upon purely physical causes.  Christ did not die to save me from my physical body, but from a spirit that was altogether dead in sin.

With this in mind, that Catholic teaching on purgatory is simply an acknowledgement that sanctification, the process of becoming like Christ, of being made holy in Him, is gradual and may be observed to work over the course of a person’s life, but rarely, if ever, is it seen to be completed within that life.  So what of the process after death?  Does the man who has walked with God for many years, whose life shows remarkable transformation, enter into the presence of God directly?  What of the man who has only been saved for a short time, whose life is still filled with many unclean things?  Do they both alike enter into God’s presence altogether purified, without any further process of sanctification, merely through the accident of their death?

It may be so, and my point is not to argue for purgatory directly, only to point out that it is not an irrational concept by any means.  As we must be holy to enter into the presence of God, purgatory simply acknowledges that we may not be altogether sanctified at the time of our death, although we have been altogether purchased by the blood of Christ.  One noted Protestant apologist, C.S. Lewis, in his book “Letters to Malcom”, argued for the existence of purgatory by suggesting that without some manner of final sanctification after death, it would be as though we were to enter into Heaven welcomed, loved, fully accepted, clothed in a white spotless garment, and yet still with faces smudged in dirt and offensive breath.  Purgatory, he argued, would be merely the state of having a final wash after arriving from a long journey.  By no means would we be less accepted or loved in heaven, but would any of us, having arrived, desire to enter into the presence of God without first visiting the nearest sink to wipe the last bits of dirt from our faces?

Sometimes purgatory is suggested as a terrifying vision of punishment, somewhat akin to a Hell which only differs in that the believer may eventually leave, whereas the sinner may not.  This cannot be further from the truth.  Indeed, if there is any form of purgatory, it must necessarily be a place of hope and rejoicing, even though it is a place of purification (that is to say, discipline).  The best view of purgatory that I have read is in the second part of Dante’s “The Divine Comedy”.  Many are familiar with the first part of this poetic work, “Inferno”, but few seem to realize that his depiction of Hell is only the first of a three-part work which goes on to speak of Purgatory and Paradise (Heaven).  Purgatory, in Dante’s imagination, is a mountain leading upwards to Heaven.  Along the way as one climbs, the faithful are disciplined for all remaining traces of sin within them, so that they will be altogether free of its stain and influence when they reach the top.  No discipline is pleasant, but the believers rejoice, thank God and praise Him all the while because they know that without fail they will reach the top and enter into the presence of God, and so every moment that passes only serves to increase their joy.  Indeed, with the promise of God visibly before you and the knowledge that nothing can take it away, it would be impossible to have anything less than continual praise upon your lips and joy in your heart, no matter how difficult the circumstances of getting there may be.  I am convinced that if there is a purgatory, it is a silly thing to live in fear of it; when you stand before it, you will want nothing more than to pass through it.

This is not to say that although we should not fear purgatory, as one may fear Hell, we ought to live with a cavalier attitude toward sin.  Anyone who has been reading this blog will realize that I am a full believer in Reformed doctrine (i.e., Calvinism), after years spent defending Arminianism (which is, under observation, a close bedfellow to Catholic doctrine).  As such I firmly believe in the perseverance of the saints, which is sometimes referred to as “eternal security”.  This doctrine teaches that all true believers, having been redeemed, will necessarily remain redeemed and have Heaven as their guaranteed, unalterable future.  It does not, as has historically been accused, mean that one may sin as much as one wishes without fear of consequence.  Indeed, the believer is still subject to God’s discipline and His work of sanctification.  What it does mean, however, is that these processes are sure and will, without fail, ultimately meet their goal in the life of the believer.  However slow the process, the believer will certainly be conformed to the image of Christ.  Much like the souls in Dante’s Purgatory, the believer now may rejoice in all circumstances because the end is altogether sure in their sight, and every moment, however hard, draws them closer to the presence of God.  This future can never be altered.  However, although the end is sure, the severity of God’s discipline in sanctifying the believer depends upon the believer’s cooperation with God.  As His children, God will see us sanctified, but that may be with little discipline or with much, depending upon our obedience to Him.

So it must be with purgatory; one may live without fear of the outcome, and rejoice in the security of salvation, but one must also consider whether one wishes to enter into Heaven after a period of long and severe discipline, or more gently, as obedient children.  It is not necessary for us as believers to experience harsh discipline from God, but if we behave as obstinate children, we certainly will, for He will by no means allow us to pass into His presence unsanctified, any more than He would ever cast us away and disown us.

Upon these reflections, perhaps purgatory is not such a strange idea.  Indeed, as it is a time of being sanctified, perhaps we, as believers, are in it already, as God works within us and disciplines us in order to make us holy in Him.  And what if there is a form of purgatory after death?  Consider the passage in 1 Corinthians 3 which opened this article.  It speaks of a time of judgment for the believer, not for his eternal destiny, which is secure, but judgment of the works one has performed, some of which are described as being burned up by fire.  This may or may not be purgatory in the Catholic sense, but it is certainly a type of purgatory as, at the last, the believer is faced with the reality of their works and how empty many (in some cases all) of them have proven to be.  The believer is saved and is welcomed into the arms of Christ and into eternal bliss, yet is said to “suffer loss”.  It cannot be that loss or regret will enter into the eternal state with God, but certainly there is a very real sense in which, at that moment, they will experience loss prior to entering into their eternal bliss.  It may be that, in addition to simply not receiving a reward for works that will last, they will experience the loss of pride and a sense of true humility before God as they see that all of their actions on earth go up in flames when brought into the light and perspective of eternity, and certainly this will be a final act of sanctification, when the believer sees themselves in proper light before God, and is left with nothing more but to fall upon their knees in exaltation of Him.

On the Loss of Salvation According to Hebrews 6

"For it is impossible, in the case of those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, and then have fallen away, to restore them again to repentance, since they are crucifying once again the Son of God to their own harm and holding him up to contempt." -Hebrews 6:4-6 ESV

One thing that is doggedly defended by Arminians is the idea that a Christian can lose (or, if you prefer, reject) their salvation after it has been granted.  Having previously accepted Arminianism for the greater part of my life, I understand first-hand the furor with which this point is defended.  Regardless, I think you will find yourself very hard-pressed to find a believer who accepts Arminianism and who also accepts the above verse at face-value and will admit that a person who “backslides”, that is, one who falls from grace after having received it, is incapable of returning to Christ in repentance and once more receiving salvation.  Indeed, my experience growing up with Arminianism is that churches are filled with stories of backsliders who return to Christ.  Unfortunately, the above passage doesn’t seem to allow for this at all.

As a former Arminian turned Calvinist, I have no problem with the above passage.  Although on the surface it does refer to the loss of salvation, there are two ways of understanding it.  One (which I do not accept, but will lay out anyway just to be thorough) states that those who have “tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit” were never believers to begin with, but only had a direct and undeniable understanding of the truth and then rejected it.  To me this seems to be stretching the text in order to avoid the idea that it deals with a true “falling away” from grace.  Indeed, how else does one deal with the statement regarding the impossibility of restoring them again to repentance?  How can they be turned again to repent if they had not already truly repented before God already?  The language in the verse is strong, and I can only conclude that it refers to someone who truly shares in the grace of God, not someone who only understands it.  This brings us to the second possible interpretation: that the passage does indeed refer to a true believer rejecting the salvation given, turning from the Holy Spirit who indwells him.  This I accept entirely, as it seems an obvious interpretation of the statements given.

Now as to doctrine, the verse is not a pronouncement that people will turn from God, but is in fact a hypothetical situation intended to make a point.  In the verses prior to this passage, the writer of Hebrews states that the believers should mature in Christ, and not be continually re-laying the foundational doctrine of repentance and salvation; in effect, he’s saying “you know this much, you understand, you’ve accepted and are saved, now let’s study and learn more of God instead of continuously re-hashing the point where you started; after all, if a believer should reject the salvation given, it is impossible for them to turn and repent again, so now that you have been saved let us move deeper into the things of God.”  By no means does this mean that rejecting salvation after receiving it is possible, but it is a hypothetical statement; if it were possible, and someone did reject their salvation, there’s no hope left for them, so in either case, as believers, move on in your walk with God and seek to learn more than just the fundamental doctrine of salvation, which you already know, accept, and walk in.

Indeed, the difficulty this passage presents is not a difficulty for the Calvinist, who regards the idea of rejecting salvation as a peculiar, illogical notion (how can the new creation become old again?), but it is a difficulty for the Arminian, who must come to terms with the finality of the verse’s pronouncement: if a believer should reject their salvation, then it is impossible, according to the Scripture, for them to be brought back to repentance again.  This means that for one who has truly backslidden, they have, in effect, committed the “unforgivable sin” and the doors of grace are no longer open to them.  What does one do with this?

Of course, any given supporter of Arminianism may come up to me and say that they do in fact believe that if someone rejects their salvation, it is absolutely final.  I have simply never met the believer who rejected eternal security and yet accepted this idea that eternal damnation necessarily follows the “loss” of salvation.  But if we choose to soften the argument, to say that one may fall into sin (indeed, we all sin at various times, and are all still prone to weakness), but that this does not mean that salvation is therefore lost to us, I say bravo, and agree.  The Spirit of God draws His children back to Himself, urging them to repent, and will discipline them in order to restore them to a right relationship with Him.  This is absolutely true.  But at no point in that process do those children cease to be children because of this.  This is not a case of rejecting salvation at all, and so that argument has no bearing on Hebrews 6.

As past defender of Arminianism, my own response to this verse was to pretend that this pronouncement of the impossibility of restoring such a person to repentance (without which there is no salvation) was to ignore it.  It was a fearful prospect, and so I simply hoped that there was something else here that I was missing.  Certainly I couldn’t live under this assumption, especially since my own father was a professed Christian who turned from his faith shortly after marrying my mom.  The idea that he could never be saved was a frightening thought that I simply could not accept.  In the end, my father did return to Christ, and has been following Him now for years.  What do I make of this?  Well, as a Calvinist, I can only conclude that either his professed faith before was never truly within his heart, or else that he never truly lost that salvation but was simply living as a disobedient child for some time.  If the former, then at some point in his life (as many others have openly testified of their own lives) the truth of the Gospel suddenly became real, whereas before it had only been an intellectual acknowledgement or a ritual they had been trained to march in.  If the latter, then his life simply shows the incredible patience of God with His children, whom He by no means rejects but will always restore back to Himself without fail.  But if for any moment I accept that his prior salvation was genuine and his falling away equally genuine, then his restoration would have been impossible according to Hebrews 6.  I thank God that this is not the case.

Indeed, I thank God for the promise of His salvation that was not granted on the basis of my actions, nor can be sustained by them.  If I do good, it is not through myself, but because the same God who turned my heart to Him is also at work in me, “both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” (Philippians 2:13, ESV).  To will, that is, to desire to follow Him, and to do, that is, to perform the actions that please Him.  Remember that Galatians 5:22-23 details what the fruit of the Spirit is, not what the fruit of our own efforts are.  It is the Spirit who bears the fruit of good works and virtues within us, so that those who are saved will necessarily show the grace of God in their actions as He works within them.  It is not our own effort that produces good within us, but the good that our lives produce is a direct result of the eternal salvation He secured for us, a salvation that was given when we were altogether lost so that we might never be lost again.