Don’t forget that today, at 7:00 eastern we continue our live study, working together through my father’s classic work, The Holiness of God. We will cover this week chapter 3. All are welcome to join us online. If, however, you are in the area, you are welcome to join us in our home. We serve a meal to our guests at 6:00. Do please let us know if you’d like to be here in person for the study or both the meal and the study. We hope to see you here.
You can’t make that sure, which is one of the keys to understanding this text. Assurance of salvation is one of the most common pastoral challenges, and understandably so. It matters, forever. And we struggle with sin until the day we die. A robust view of election sadly often doesn’t help as we end up fearing we may not be elect. Add to that this anecdotal evidence- nine times out of ten when I am seeking to help those who struggle deeply with assurance the person also has a struggle with OCD.
I was seeking to serve a brother just recently when I saw something I’d missed a hundred times before. When the goats are sent on their way their objection is all that they had done in His name, “On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness’” (). The goats are reasoning that because they had done such wonderful things for the kingdom that they deserved a place in it. They were like the Pharisee who prayed, “I thank you Lord that I am not like other men.” It was, however, the one who beat his breast crying out, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner” that went home justified.
But what about verse 21? “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” Isn’t Jesus making the exact opposite point, that not just those who profess faith, but those who obey will make it into heaven? If we don’t do the will of the Father, Jesus makes crystal clear, we won’t enter the kingdom. Isn’t it the will of the Father that we should prophecy in Jesus’ name, cast out demons in Jesus’ name, do mighty works in Jesus’ name? Perhaps. But this is certainly the will of the Father, that we would believe on the one He sent. The work of the Father is to rest in the Son.
When we stand before the judgment seat the last thing that should come out of our mouths is “Did we not…” The only safe thing to say is “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Our assurance, in the end, is grounded in His faithfulness, not ours, what He has done, not what we do, His holding us, not we holding on to Him.
It is a terrible thing indeed to fall under the judgment of God, to hear those dreadful words from Jesus. We, however, who speak on that day of all He has done for us and not what we have done for Him, will surely hear this, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter into your reward.” And we will dance.
The fall of Adam and Eve is one of the stickiest theological wickets we encounter in the Bible. How could both of them, whom God had declared good, do bad? But there is a stickier wicket still, perhaps made so by the fact that it’s not in the Bible. For an event of such cosmic proportions, the Bible is surprisingly silent. How did Lucifer, the angel of light, come to be the Serpent, the father of lies? Some suggest that it was pride that got in his way, that he aspired to the very throne of God, and when he could not have it, he was cast down. Along a similar note, some suggest that it was his pride, but that it was a being lower on the chain that tripped him up. That is, it wasn’t that he wanted to be God, but that he refused to serve man. Some suggest that he balked when God revealed His plan, including the call of the angels to serve man. Man, after all, was made lower than the angels. Why should the greater serve the lesser? It seems it was the devil himself who first determined it’s better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven.
If the latter theory is the right one, we know who was the first to confuse ontology and economy, being and doing. But he was by no means the last. There is something in all of us that makes it seem somehow not right for the greater to serve the lesser. That something is pride.
The modern feminist movement, whether secular or “evangelical” suffers from the same sort of pride. The rejection of the plainly biblical affirmation that wives are to submit to their husbands (Ephesians 5:22) is driven by this objection- how can I be equal to my husband, if I am called to submit to my husband? Equals do not submit to one another, the reasoning goes, they are equal.
Sadly, too often husbands reason the same way. They also see the plain teaching of Ephesians, and conclude that since their wives are called to submit to them, that they as husbands are the superior being, that they are imbued with greater dignity and worth. That foolishness also feeds the foolishness of the feminist movement.
Egalitarianism in all its forms flows out of the same notion. We are a culture that is fast losing any sense of manners, indeed any sense of honor. We seem to believe that showing respect to another is a denial of the equality of men. Worse still we seem to go out of our way to show disrespect, that we might prove our own equality. Or we go out of our way to push away the respect directed toward us. While Lisa and I want our boys to address adults as “Sir” and “Ma’am,” too many sirs and ma’ams are teaching them not to, asking, “Oh, please don’t call me that. It makes me feel so old.” I suppose if growing older doesn’t bring with it a greater level of respect, that I can understand why so few people want to grow old.
Of course some older folks are foolish. On their merits respect is the last thing they would deserve. In like manner some husbands are buffoons. But without exception every older person is an older person, and every husband is a husband. Role relationships do not exist in a way that perfectly mirrors objective qualities. The race doesn’t always go to the swift. Every soldier knows that not every superior officer is actually superior. But every soldier is taught to “salute the uniform.” Honor is due to the office, even when not due to the man in the office.
If we would dispel the destruction of honor in our day, we would do well to start by dispelling the myth that to serve is to be less, and to be served is to be greater. And there is no greater argument against such folly than God. One of the benefits of a careful study of the covenant of redemption is that it makes this very point. God the Father not only does the work of electing a bride for the Son, but He does the job of making the assignments. With the respect to the persons of the Trinity, He is in charge. The Son, we confess, proceeds from the Father. The Spirit, we confess, proceeds from the Father and the Son. But we also confess this, “That these three are one God, the same in substance, equal in power and glory” (Westminster Shorter Catechism, question 6).
The Son does not proceed from the Father because the Father is smarter than the Son. They, along with the Spirit, know all things. They are all equally omniscient. Neither is it because the Father is stronger than the Son. Each of the members of the Trinity are equally omnipotent. With respect to their ontology, or their being, each member is the equal of the others. But with respect to their work, there is genuine submission. If the feminists are correct, that submission means unequality of being, then the Unitarians are also right. There can be no trinity.
If then, these roles are not determined by ability, by what are they determined? Both the covenant of redemption and the covenant family operate the way they do because such is what manifests the glory of God. For the dance to proceed, one must lead, and others must follow. Anything else may seem more “fair”, but it won’t seem like a dance. And that, more than anything else, was what enraged the devil.
It takes one to know one. Among the realms in which this truism is true is the world of the writer. Writers know writers. While science-y things are well beyond my decidedly non-STEM minded mind I do have some skill in discerning not just who is a writer, but which writers some writers read. I know there are companies out there that promise, with a spit and a promissory note, to tell you your genetic background. What though if we could list our 23 writing ancestors? If you cut open my writer’s mind and put it under a microscope, whose inky fingerprints would you find? I’ve thought it through, and have come up with my own list. I encourage you to do the same. It is, if we are honest with ourselves, a healthy experiment. If you’re so inclined, I’d love to see your literary gene mapping as well. I list these in a broad order, making no promise to being exact. Nor do I wish to defend these influences. I’m trying to be honest here, not put up a pious front. Here is mine-
1. RC Sproul– Of course no one else could top this list. Some of my favorite memories were those times when I was privileged to read his books in manuscript form. He is not to blame for my weaknesses. If I have any strengths, one way or another they likely came through him.
2. CS Lewis– Shocking to me that someone not Reformed, and so often so badly wrong, would make the list. Until you realize it’s CS Lewis.
3. Matthew Henry– I have more than my share of commentaries. None can hold a candle to Henry. He always got to the heart of the matter.
4. GK Chesterton– First a writing grandfather, as he would surely be first on Lewis’s list, but along with his “son,” tops in both piercing insight into the human condition and in the earth shaking turn of a phrase.
5. John Gerstner– Another writing grandfather, as he would surely be high on my father’s list. Absolutely penetrating mind. In person, absolutely humble heart.
6. Sinclair Ferguson– Greatest pastor/theologian, theologian/pastor of the last centuries. A pen flowing with the blood of Christ.
7. Neil Postman– Amusing Ourselves to Death made me a reader of substance. Which led me to reading more Postman.
8. E. Michael Jones– His capacity to connect personal history with ideology that has shaped the world is like no one else. He makes Romans 1 breathe.
9. Paul Johnson-Steady and fruitful from beginning to end.
10. Pat Conroy– Reading Conroy’s prose is like watching Liddell run, and knowing in both that God takes great pleasure.
11. Doug Wilson– Here I name the one who shall not be named. I’m no fan of the serrated edge, but his butter knife is as smooth as butter.
12. John Calvin– No one, outside of the Bible, has ever bound together more tightly orthodoxy and doxology.
13. JD Salinger– Dialogic rhythm like Thelonious Monk. Even internal monologues are dialogue.
14. PG Wodehouse– Joins Lewis and Chesterton in the Holy Trinity of wordpsmithing. Plus, no one more fun to read.
15. Dorothy Sayers– The Margaret Thatcher of writers. ‘Nuff said.
16. Richard Weaver– His dissertation is a eulogy, his most famous work a world-changing call to arms.
17. Gordon Clark– Greatest philosopher of the 20th century whose exposition of the pre-Socratics is a rosetta stone of my own worldview.
18. Gene Edward Veith– a living Paul Johnson- deep historical insight to go along with a style that goes down easy as silk.
19. Saint Augustine– The first to open vein and bleed.
20. Francis Turretin– Calvin filtered through the diligently ordered mind of an accountant.
21. Anthony Burgess– Lover of language and lover of humanity.
22. Ian Murray– Never once have I read a sentence from Murray and thought either, “What does that mean?” or “What does that matter?”
23. Jon Krakauer– I have zero interest in mountain climbing, disaffected youth, Mormon splinter groups or battles against Jihadis. But I love reading whatever this man writes about.
There it is. Honorable mentions to Philip K. Dick, BB Warfield, Kurt Vonnegut and Jack Kerouac. Let’s hear from you.
My hero and teacher, Dr. John Gerstner, in dealing with one of the errors of dispensationalism, its rejection of the doctrine of limited atonement, referred to this error as, “beating the ‘L’ out of TULIP.” Though we believe the five points of Calvinism are of a piece, that to reject one is at best to confuse the others, at worst to deny the others, it is limited atonement that most people have a struggle with. And this text is a common proof-text for those wanting to affirm that it was the purpose of Christ that He should suffer the wrath of the Father due to all men for all sins.
This error, like many such errors on this issue, is at base a failure to understand the context of the New Testament Church. Two hundred years later the church struggled with the issues of the Trinity and the incarnation. Fifteen hundred years later they struggled with how to understand justification. But the first century church, by and large, had one great issue to deal with- what about the Gentiles? Huge sections of the book of Acts cover this issue. Galatians deals with this issue. I Peter deals with the issue. Even Hebrews, in a mirroring kind of way, deals with the issue.
In the time that Jesus took on flesh, we need to remember, even pious Jews looked at the world as being divided into two kinds of people- God’s people the Jews, and the rest, the dogs. God had since the time of Abraham dealt with a single people. Now everything was changing. At the beginning, the church was made up mostly of Abraham’s ethnic heirs. It was not long, however, before the Spirit was poured out amongst the Gentiles. Soon after Gentiles made up a majority of the church.
So what is John telling us? If he means what our friends who don’t believe in limited atonement think he means, just as with the rest of what they would see as “proof-texts,” then he means too much. That is, if the text means that if it was the intent of Jesus to cover all the sins of all people, then we can rest assured that all people will be in heaven. The text, if this perspective is correct, then teaches not unlimited atonement, but unlimited salvation, universalism. How could a person suffer in hell if his sins had already been covered? Instead what John is telling us here, in context, is simple enough. Jesus did not come to atone only for the sins of the Jews. God’s plan was neither to condemn all the Gentiles, nor to send a savior different from Jesus to cover the sins of the Gentiles. Instead, Jesus came and suffered for the sins of all of God’s people, the Jews and the Gentiles, who are one people.
The good news isn’t that Jesus merely made it possible for all people to be saved. The good news is that all those who are His have had their sins covered. And in Him we are all one, with neither Jew nor Greek. The gospel is about one kingdom, one king, and one people, the people of God who are all those for whom Jesus suffered. One Lord, one faith, one baptism. He is indeed the propitiation for the sins of the world, for those whom He chose before the foundation of time, whether they be in Boone, North Carolina, or Yangon, Myanmar, whether they be in Antioch or in Fort Wayne whether they be in Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, or the outermost parts of the world.
There are, in the end, essentially only two forms of ethics. One approach is pragmatic, the other principled. Pragmatism on its own, of course, is always incomplete. That is to say, we can’t answer the question of what works until we know what it works for. Ethics, for instance, in Soviet Russia affirmed that the good is that which promotes the interests of the party. Utilitarian ethics affirms that the good is that which promotes the most happiness for the most people. Whatever you plug in as the goal, pragmatism then picks what best serves the goal.
The principled approach, on the other hand, does not look to the future and guess what will come to pass. It affirms that we are called to do what is right because it is right, not because it will create a hoped for outcome. Indeed it would go so far as to say we ought to do what is right even if it were to bring a bad outcome.
Most Christians naturally lean toward the principled approach. Paul tells children, “Obey your parents in the Lord for this is right” (Ephesians 6:1). It’s true enough that the Bible does speak to the blessings of obedience. Ephesians 6:2 reminds us that the command of children to honor their parents is the first command with a promise, that it would go well in the land. We start, however, with “for this is right.”
While Christians instinctively lean toward the principled approach we also find ourselves pulled toward the consequential. We don’t like seeing bad things happen, and so begin to strategize. And that’s when the wheels start to fall off. Most Christians know that it is wrong to disobey a direct and clear command of God most high. But most Christians also believe it would be great to be more like God, that it is desirable to be made wise. And so, the very first consequentialists, believing their disobedience would bring blessing, ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. They thought it would be better to disobey than to obey.
Consequentialism is no way to make moral decisions. And arguing the awful consequences of not doing so is just begging the question. God promises that if we obey Him He will bless. If not, He will curse. We don’t have access to the future. We do have the law of God. Ours is not to strategize, but to obey. God has not placed upon us a burden to make sure things work out the way we would like. He has not called us to maximize the greatest happiness for the greatest number. He has instead called us to hearken to His voice and to obey all that He commands. And called us to teach the nations to do the same.
We would be wise to remember that the challenge of ethics is much less knowing how to discern right and wrong, much more doing what we know the right to be. Consequentialism is just another in our bag of rationalizations that always let us down. Let us do the right because it is right, because it is right to trust our Father and because we are usually wrong.
