There is, in a rather small subsection of the Reformed world, a rather curious conviction. Some otherwise sound folks take the true and sound notion that because God knows those whom He has not chosen, because it is a great sin against Him to not give thanks to Him, that it is wrong to speak of Him being gracious to those who were not chosen. Every time He sends them the rain, and they fail to give thanks, all that happens for those not chosen is that the thermostat in hell goes up higher still. These folks are right-He does send the rain, knowing they will not give thanks. He will heat up hell all the hotter because of it. But, contra this peculiar view, the rain is in fact grace. In fact, if it’s not grace the very conclusion we have reached, that they will receive greater judgment for their lack of thanksgiving, makes no sense. If God is in fact not being gracious toward them, why should they give thanks? You can’t have it both ways. You can deny that God is giving the reprobate unmerited (or demerited) favor, or you can affirm the reprobate has a duty to give thanks. But you can’t do both.
There is, on the other hand, in the whole of the Reformed world, a curious lack of conviction. That is somehow we have come to forget that we too are the recipients of His grace, that we receive so much better than what we deserve, and that we have a solemn duty to joyfully give thanks. One of the ways this broader failure manifests itself is in what some might call the objection to “worm theology.” “Worm theology” is that pejorative term given to those of us who are eager to affirm the biblical reality of two things- first, we are by nature children of wrath. We are born the enemies of God. We are totally depraved. We would, in our natural state, if we could, commit deicide. Second, when we are given new hearts, and we embrace the work of Christ, as we grow in grace, moving toward our glorification, we have sin yet remaining in us.
It is true, gloriously true, that when we embrace the work of Christ on our behalf we have peace with God. The Spirit indwells us. We are made knew, and are deemed righteous by the Father who adopts us as His own children. We are promised eternal joy at His right hand, and that one day all the remnants of our sin will be washed away. We are promised that every sin, past, present, future, has already been covered by the blood of Christ. We become saints, beloved of Christ. None of which changes the truth that until our deaths, our glorifications, we still sin, often in the most grievous ways. We are still, in ourselves, worthy of His just wrath, of His displeasure.
The challenge is to keep all these truths in their proper places. Where we are in danger of doubting His tender love for us, we must needs remember that He moves us from grace to grace, that all His promises are yea and amen, that He allows us to be called His children. When, however, we are in danger of believing we deserve all the good that we receive, we need to remember our true nature, what we are apart from His grace. We should never despair of what we are because we are already His, and are being remade. We should never demand what we haven’t been given, because are still sinners, and are always already living in the very lap of His grace.
I have noticed in recent years a great upsurge in objections to the objective truth to what we are. Anytime I speak of the believer as a sinner, let alone a miserable sinner, I can always count on someone to come along behind and chasten me for forgetting how God sees us. They will, happily, often do so by reminding me of the great truths of the gospel. But one thing the gospel doesn’t do is make our sin disappear on this side of the veil. It doesn’t make us incapable of committing this sin or that (with the exception of blaspheming the Holy Spirit). If we define “sinner” simply as “one who sins” then it doesn’t cause us to cease being sinners. And it certainly doesn’t mean that we are removed from our calling to recognize and give thanks for His mercy.
When we get ahead of ourselves, when we start to think not that we are deemed fine fellows by our Maker due to the life and death of His Son for us, but think instead that are fine fellows in ourselves, we lose sight of the marvel of mercy. We forget not only to give thanks for the redemption of our souls, but for the preservation of our bodies. We forget not only to give thanks for the goodness in our lives in all the things that give us pleasure, but for the goodness in our lives in all the things that give us pain. In short, when we miss the sin, we miss the mercy. When we forget what we are due, we forget all that we have been given.
We forget we are sinners, we forget to give thanks for His mercy precisely because we are still sinners. We preach this truth not to beat us down, but that we would look up. Jesus told us that the man who beat his breast, crying, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner” went to his home justified (Luke 18:13). He went home then joyful, thankful. He did not, however, from that moment forward never again beat his breast. He did not, from that moment forward, never again cry out to God, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.” But each time he returned to pray, he prayed the same prayer, and went home with the same joy. If we would remember the joy of our salvation, we must needs remember the sorrow of our damnation.
