Try the Spirits

There are some verses that can be tempting to consider out-dated. For example, verses about eating food sacrificed to idols seemed to me to be sort of a "not for today" thing. But then one day, I was a guest in a home with bona fide idols, and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of guidance.

So the problem was me, not the verse. That shouldn't surprise anyone.

1 John 4:1–3 is one of those passages. I never really seemed to need those verses, until all of a sudden I did. It seems to me like when I was growing up, there was a whole lot of distance between the sorts of churches where people would claim to have a new revelation from God and the sorts of churches that I would attend or visit. But (at least here in America) those lines are getting more and more blurry. There are certainly still some pretty hard-line "not for today" churches, but those are getting thinner and thinner on the ground. And I'm not entirely sure that's a bad thing... it seems to me some of those churches weren't so much faithful to scripture as they were faithful to their own preferences. But that's a discussion for another day.

Now, let me start out by saying that someone who claims to be hearing from God – either audibly or inaudibly – is making a very serious claim, with some very serious implications. Are they claiming that the Scripture is incomplete? Are they claiming some sort of new revelation? Are they saying they are speaking as an Apostolic authority? Are they claiming equal authority with the writers of the New Testament?

In some cases, that's exactly what they are claiming, and we can condemn that sort of thing very quickly, very easily. The written word of God is complete and authoritative. We don't need to spend a lot of time and effort analyzing that sort of thing.

But there is another case that is much more of a "grey area," the "God gave me this verse" area. I have no doubt that the Lord speaks to us individually: I have no idea what being led of the Spirit is if not that. And neither I nor my friends would claim such a thing is a new revelation. The Spirit of God speaks to us subjectively, sometimes it's just a matter of us seeing a verse for the first time, or in a new light. Sometimes it's realizing that the verse we've read thousands of times is saying something different than we'd always thought. This is legitimately the work of the Spirit of God, and we definitely don't want to condemn that!

When someone claims to have "a word from the Lord," we should listen carefully. But we don't listen naïvely, we test what is said against the Scripture. Does it line up with Scripture? 

1 John 4:1–3 gives us a test, and it's brilliant in both its simplicity and it's breadth. The question is, does the spirit speaking to us confess Jesus Christ come in flesh? It seems to me there are several claims – "confessions" if you will – packed into this sentence, and we are to test "the spirits" by them.

First, the Spirit of God confesses Jesus Christ. I've met many who claim to be Christians, who are much more interested in angels than they are in Jesus Christ. At best, this is a dangerous place to be, at worst, it's a denial of the faith. Colossians 2:18–19 warns against this very thing: it's possible to get distracted by spiritual things and "not hold fast the Head." Angels are real, but we are expressly forbidden from worshiping them (Revelation 22:8–9). We are to worship God, and God alone. Hebrews 1–2 picks up this theme: the Son is over the angels, because He is by nature their superior – He is eternal God – (Hebrews 1:4) and He has earned what they cannot (Hebrews 1:3). 

Notice this contrast: the Son sits at God's right hand (Hebrews 1:3, 13), angels don't sit in God's presence, they stand (cf. Luke 1:19).

Perhaps more subtly, there are those who are content to worship the Father, but seem to forget the Son. John 5:21–23 shows us that it is God's purpose for us to honor the Son just as we honor the Father. If we're not honoring the Son, we're not honoring the Father either. So when I hear someone talk a whole lot about the Father, but never mention the Son, I take careful note. The test in 1 John 4:1–3 isn't what they say about God, but what they say about Jesus Christ. Someone who has a whole lot to say about God but very little to say about Jesus Christ fails that test.

Second, the Spirit of God confesses Jesus Christ come in flesh. A confession of Jesus Christ that's limited to His earthly ministry isn't really enough. You and I didn't come in flesh, we've never been anything except flesh. We began as flesh, and will be eternally flesh – to be sure, it'll be redeemed flesh, but it's still flesh. We are physical beings with a definite beginning.

But Jesus Christ is eternal God. When there was no such thing as flesh, there was the Son. When there was nothing but God, He was there. He is eternal. The Spirit of God confesses not merely Jesus Christ as a real Man, but as truly God.

Third, the Spirit of God confesses Jesus Christ come in flesh. The Spirit of God confesses Jesus Christ as truly Man. There is a danger that we don't believe Jesus Christ is God. There is an equal and opposite danger that we don't treat Him as Man. The Apostles wrote against both errors, but we might not truly appreciate their warnings.

The gospel that Paul preached makes this very clear – He was buried (1 Corinthians 15:4). Notice the language: it's not that "His body was buried,"  but "He was buried." John's gospel makes the same point (John 19:42): "There therefore, on account of the preparation of the Jews, because the tomb was near, they laid Jesus." The Lord is so completely Man that the Scripture talks about His dead body as Him. He wasn't merely eternal God who took a body, He is eternal God who became Man.

So that's the test from 1 John 4:1–3. I don't think it's the only test, but it's a test, maybe the most important one.

I'm pretty open about the fact that I'm not a cessationist. I can't remember ever taking that position, even as a young person. But I believe it's extremely important for us to test so-called spiritual manifestations against Scripture. 1 Corinthians 14 gives us a series of tests that relate to order, 1 John gives us a series of tests that relate to content.  In all honesty, I can't remember ever being in a meeting where the "spiritual manifestations" passed either set of tests. 

I don't bring that up to be contentious, but because it's of the first importance to me that we don't condemn what Scripture doesn't explicitly condemn. Condemning "spiritual manifestations" that fail to meet the tests of Scripture is nothing but obedience. Condemning those very same things because they don't fit my personal theology is something I just can't conscience.

Anyway for better or for worse, a whole lot of things that were once "fringe" are now "mainline." As we wait for the Son of God to come for us, let's be sure we're testing what we see an hear against Scripture. If we're hearing from a spirit that doesn't confess Jesus Christ come in flesh, let's be clear that's not the Spirit of God.

Remembered

 Psalm 45 ends with a promise to the Son "I will make thy name to be remembered throughout all generations" (Psalm 45:17). I take this promise very seriously, because it ties in very closely with our role as Asenath.

Here we are, where the Man of God has been rejected, and we're waiting for Him to come for us (Philippians 3:20–21, 1 Thessalonians 1:9–10).  The Lord has told us we are to remember Him "until He come" (1 Corinthians 11:23–26). So here we are, waiting for Him to come back for us. And while we wait, we're to be remembering Him.

And we might not think that's very important: we might find any number of things that seem to be more important. But the Lord has asked us to remember Him until He comes.

When I think about the woman at Sychar, I remember the Lord told her that the Father is seeking worshipers (John 4:23). I find that striking: how many times do we read that the Father is seeking for something? As far as I can tell, this is the only time. And I notice the Father isn't seeking for servants, or champions, or talented people to advance the kingdom. He's seeking worshipers. And apparently He's content if they're just like the woman at the well, who've thrown away their lives already, and are wondering what they've gotten for it.

The Father is seeking worshipers, and the Son has told us to remember Him until He comes for us: those two things should align our hearts and – more importantly – our eyes while we're here. But if we go back to Psalm 45, we'll see there's one more thing. The Father has promised the Son that He'd be remembered throughout all generations. The Father has made a promise to the Son, and He's invited us to be part of its fulfillment.

Think about that for a while!

How many times do we get to be involved in the relationship between the Father and the Son? But that's exactly what remembering Him is.

So as hard as it is for me to do – much harder than it is for me to say – I need to get it into my head, and into my heart, that I am in this wicked world for a purpose. It's not to make a fortune here, it's not to enjoy what this world has to offer, it's not even to make this world a better place. The point of my being here is so that His name will be remembered until He comes back. And while I believe we are to make every part of our lives an act of worship – doing all things in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to the Father by Him (Colossians 3:17) – at the same time I realize that the most important thing is to be waiting for the Son of God from Heaven, remembering Him until we actually see His face.

Sacrifice for sins

1 Corinthians 15:1–8 tells us "Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures". 

We understand that Christ fulfilled each of the sacrifices in the Mosaic Law when He died for us. He was at the same time a burnt offering for our acceptance (Leviticus 1:2–3), a trespass offering for our guilt (Leviticus 5:1–6), and a sin offering for our sin (Leviticus 4:2–3). And those are just three of the offerings! He was the one single sacrifice to which each of the Old Testament sacrifices looked forward.

It's not the Christ died several times, but that in His one single offering, God saw every one of those prescribed in the Old Testament.

The value of the offerings to the Old Testament saints was a forward look to Christ. The value of those offerings to the New Testament saints is a clearer picture of what God saw in that once-for-all sacrifice.

I've heard many people say that the Levitical offerings are laid out from God's point of view, but we tend to see them in reverse. We tend to see the trespass offering first, because we are troubled by our sins. Then we move onto the sin offering, as we come to understand not merely that we have sinned, but that we are sinners. We might eventually come to appreciate the peace offering as making a place for us to sit in fellowship with God. Then we begin to understand the meal offering and see that value of the One who gave Himself for us. Finally we grasp that we are accepted by God, because of Christ, our burnt offering. That's probably a little simplistic, but there's more than a grain of truth in it. I'm not sure any lesson is ever learned only once, and it seems to me like we go through these progressions over and over, perhaps moving a little deeper each time.

I was struck a few years ago by the realization that the New Testament uses remarkably consistent language to describe Christ's offering His body and His blood for us. 1 Peter 2:24 tells us that Christ bore our sins in His body. Colossians 1:20 tells us He made peace through the blood of His cross. While those are certainly summed up in a single sacrifice, they're not at all the same thing. And they're illustrated in some detail in the Leviticus 16.

Leviticus 16:7–10 gives us a summary of two goats on the Day of Atonement. One goat is offered as a sin offering, the other is sent away into the wilderness. Both goats make atonement, but they do so in  different ways.

The goat offered for a sin offering is slaughtered, and his blood is taken "inside the veil" and sprinkled on the mercy seat (Leviticus 16:15–19). That goat's blood, we are told, makes atonement for the sanctuary (Leviticus 16:16), and for the tabernacle and the altar (Leviticus 16:20).

The goat who is sent away alive is taken, and all the sins of Israel are confessed over his head, then he is led into the wilderness (Leviticus 16:20–22). That goat, too, makes atonement (Leviticus 16:10).

Both goats make atonement, but they do it differently. The one goat makes atonement with his blood, propitiating God. The other goat, by bearing away the sins of the people.

One of my favorite papers by J. N. Darby draws the distinction between those two aspects of atonement. It's one of his shortest papers, and well worth the read:  "Propitation and Substitution" (Collected Writings, Vol. 29, pp. 286–288).

We need both of these sides of atonement. If God is propitiated, but we still bear our sins, then we're still guilty before Him. If, on the other hand, our sins are borne away, but God is not propitiated, then we find ourselves not guilty, but still estranged. We need to have our sins borne away, and God on our side.

In the New Testament, we find the language of propitiation is connected with the blood of Christ, while the language of substitution is connected with His body. He made peace with the blood of His cross (Colossians 1:20). He bore our sins in His own body on the tree (1 Peter 2:24). So it's not a stretch to say the goat for a sin offering prefigures the blood of Christ, while the scapegoat prefigures His body.

This touches on the burial of Christ (1 Corinthians 15:1–6). Having borne our sins in His body, He was buried. We've discussed before how "buried" in Scripture is all about hiding from view. The last time God saw our sins, they were buried out of His sight. He doesn't see them now.

Propitiation is a little harder to wrap our minds around. Substitution is particular, both in the Old Testament and the New. Aaron was to confess the sins of Israel over the head of the scapegoat (Leviticus 16:21). The Lord bore our sins (notice the plural) in His own body. Those are referring to specific sins. But there is no confession when the goat for a sin offering is slaughtered, nor when his blood is taken and sprinkled behind the veil. It's universal, as opposed to particular.

The idea is really that Christ's sacrifice has made God able to righteously act in love toward fallen men and women. Romans 3:25–26 tells us that the death of Christ allowed God to justly justify sinners. Notice it is the blood of Christ that Romans specifically references. It's worth meditating on Romans 3:25–26. Those verses give us a glimpse at God in a way we normally don't think of Him.

We see some connection with what theologians call "common grace." Common grace is the idea that God acts in grace in this life, quite apart from eternal salvation. God might well bless those who do not believe, even if those blessings are only temporal, limited to this life. Matthew 5:45 tells us that God causes the rain to fall on the unjust as well as the just. That blessing is surely limited to this life, but it's still a blessing that comes from God, and is a tangible form of His grace.  Paul's words to the men of Lystra are overflowing with this idea. He declares to them

God, who made the heaven, and the earth, and the sea, and all things in them; who in the past generations suffered all the nations to go in their own ways, though indeed he did not leave himself without witness, doing good, and giving to you from heaven rain and fruitful seasons, filling your hearts with food and gladness (Acts 14:14–18).

The blood of Christ, offered to God, forms the basis of God's righteously acting in grace to fallen men and women.

One last thought: J. N. Darby applies the distinction between propitiation and substitution to the Calvinist/Arminian controversy. His diagnosis is that their disagreement on the Atonement is because they each see only one part of it:

If we look at the difference of Arminian and Calvinistic preaching, we shall see the bearing of this at once. The Arminians take up Christ's dying for all, and generally they connect the bearing of sins with it; and all is confusion as to the efficacy and effectualness of Christ's bearing our sins, for they deny any special work for His people. They say, If God loved all, He cannot love some particularly; and an uncertain salvation is the result, and man often exalted. Thus the scapegoat is practically set aside.

The Calvinist holds Christ's bearing the sins of His people, so that they are effectually saved; but he sees nothing else. He will say, If Christ loved the church, and gave Himself for it, there can be no real love for anything else. Thus he denies Christ's dying for all, and the distinctive character of propitiation, and the blood on the mercy-seat. He sees nothing but substitution.

"Propitiation and Substitution," Collected Writings, Vol. 29,  pp. 287–288

 

Eating from the altar

The Pharisees were offended that Christ would eat with sinners (Luke 15:1–2). They didn't know the half of it: He came not merely to eat with sinners, but to give His flesh to be their food and His blood to be their drink (John 6:48–58).

It can be amusing to hear people speak about the latter part of John 6. I agree that sacramentalism has done its best to ruin this amazing chapter, but we oughtn't let fear of sacramentalism keep us from entering into what the Holy Spirit teaches here. It's obvious that Christ isn't literally speaking about eating His flesh, for the simple fact that He also taught His own resurrection. You have a bookkeeping problem if you try to believe in both Resurrection and literal eating of the flesh of Christ.

That being said, the Lord chose deliberately provocative language to describe His giving us life. We've noticed before that the Son of God can give life merely by calling the dead from the tomb (John 5:25). But when the Son of Man gives life, it costs His flesh and His blood. But I don't think that's all there is to John 6. There is not only His giving, but our eating and drinking. It's not just that we believe on Him (we do), but we must feed on Him as well.

1 Corinthians 10:15–23 brings this into the context of the Lord's table. 1 Corinthians 10:15–18 makes the association between our eating the loaf and drinking the cup and the altar. It takes us back to the Numbers 18:8–19, there the priests were to eat all the heave-offerings the people presented. 1 Corinthians 10:16 tells us this means they had communion with the altar.

There is an association between the Lord's table and the altar. We are making a statement about that association every time we break the one loaf and drink from the cup. We are claiming our communion with the death of Christ. By eating the one loaf and drinking from the cup, we are saying we are in fellowship with the sacrifice.

I don't question that we are to feed on Christ individually, but the feeding in 1 Corinthians 10 is corporate: we being many, are one Body (1 Corinthians 10:17).

The Old Testament sacrifices were all assumed to be more than enough: with a couple exceptions (Leviticus 6:23; Leviticus 6:30), there was something for the priest in every sacrifice. Even the burnt offering, which was wholly consumed, had a part for the priest – the priest gets the skin (Leviticus 7:8).

Of course they weren't really more than enough, but the principle was established. Really, the blood of bulls and of goats is incapable of taking away sins (Hebrews 10:4). But the sacrifice they pointed to – Christ offering Himself for us by the eternal Spirit (Hebrews 9:14) – that sacrifice was far more than enough.

Christ was both our sacrifice and priest. We, as family of the priest (Numbers 18:19), are to eat of the sacrifice. By feeding on the sacrifice, we express communion with the altar (1 Corinthians 10:16). What does it mean to have communion with the altar? At the very least, it means we recognize and agree with the need for the sacrifice. At the very least, when we contemplate feeding on Christ, we contemplate our deep need of Him.

I don't doubt there is the feeding on Christ in Resurrection as well as feeding on Him in humility. It seems to me John 6 is talking about the former: it is the One who has come down from Heaven.

Worship and Remembrance

Worship and remembrance are closely connected in my mind. It might be worthwhile to spend a few moments thinking about them.

1 Corinthians 11:23–24 come to mind when we talk about remembrance. The Lord's supper was a matter of special revelation to Paul (v. 23), suggesting some importance in the mind of God. He quotes the Lord as saying, "this do in remembrance of me" (v. 24).

The sign on the outside of the meeting hall advertises that "The Remembrance" is at 11:00 AM Sundays. That's an appropriate name.

We sometimes talk about worship in connection with the Lord's supper, but I don't think Scripture does.

We worship the Lord Jesus because He is eternal God, "God over all, blessed forever" (Romans 9:5). We worship Him because all things were made by Him (John 1:3). It was the Son who laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the works of His hands (Psalm 102:25).

But when He calls us to remember, we see what might be a deeper truth. The Son who created us, came here to die for us. It's not simply the Creator-creature relationship, it's the Redeemer-redeemed relationship.

We remember that He poured out His soul unto death for us (Isaiah 53:12). We remember that He bore our sins in His own body on the tree (1 Peter 2:24). We remember that He was made sin for us (2 Corinthians 5:21), that His soul was made an offering for sin (Isaiah 53:10).

These things ought to touch our hearts.

Psalm 84

At the start of this week I read the eighty-fourth Psalm during the Lord’s Supper. I don’t think my thoughts were very clear then, and I want to attempt to share them here.

The psalm starts out with the Chief Musician, which suggests it's at least partly Messianic.

As the Psalm opens, it tells us about an altar that's apparently abandoned: the sparrow and the swallow feel safe in building their nests and raising their young on it. We're told it's the altar of the Lord of Hosts, but it's apparently no longer in use (Psalm 84:3).

The unused altar suggests to us the need for sacrifice is over. It brings us to the state of affairs we see in Hebrews 10: one sacrifice has put away sins forever (Hebrews 10:11–13).

As we look further in the Psalm we come to two types of person: there are those who dwell in the Lord’s house (Psalm 84:4), and there is "the Man" whose strength is the Lord (Psalm 84:5). We understand it's because of this one Man that "they" can dwell in God’s house.

What is the prayer of those dwelling in God's house? It's "Look on the face of Your Annointed” (Psalm 84:9). That's our prayer too – "Don't look at me Lord, look at Him." This is our acceptance with God: He has looked in Christ and seen everything that He could look for in man. Christ is our "wisdom from God, and righteousness, and holiness, and redemption” (1 Corinthians 1:31).

J. N. Darby said, “The Christian is humble... because he has given up seeking good in himself to adore the One in whom there is nothing else” (J. N. Darby, "On Mysticism", Collected Writings, Vol. 32). That is really what it means to be “in Christ” – having no righteousness of my own (Philippians 3:9).

Finally the Psalm ends with a blessing: blessed is the Man who trusts in God (Psalm 84:12). The Pharisees accused Christ of trusting in God (Matthew 27:43). We bless that same Man.

So what?

I have a friend who speaks at Bible conferences a lot. I don't know how many times I've heard him say we need reality in our lives. Not only for our own benefit, but as a testimony to those around us.

We started out talking about how my co-workers and my neighbors and my friends and my family and the people in the little gathering here don't need to see me – not even the best version of me. They need to see the life of Jesus in my mortal body (2 Corinthians 4:10–11). Let's give some thought to that in practical terms.

2 Corinthians 4:10–11 tells us two things about this manifestation:

1. it's self-evident that it has to be Christ Himself they see, not my imitation
2. the cost is death working in me

May I suggest that the very first step is to go to the Lord Jesus in prayer, asking Him to manifest His life in my mortal body? May I also suggest that we ask for His patience and His grace as we contemplate the cost of death working in us? It is His work to do, but there will be very real pain associated with it, and we'll need His grace in the face of it.

The principle we keep coming back to is "abiding in Christ" (John 15:4). How do we abide in Christ? Robert commented

I was asked at the weekend, 'what does it mean in practice to abide in Christ'? I think John's answer may well have been, it means to be at the table and lean on His bosom John 13:23.

Paul's answer to the same question would have been, 'But we all, looking on the glory of the Lord, with unveiled face, are transformed according to the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Lord the Spirit' 2 Corinthians 3:18

Colossians 3:1 takes up this thread and talks about setting our affections on things above because that's where Christ is. We understand that if I continue to look for fulfillment and meaning down here, I'm not looking for it up there. This, too, has to be the work of God in my heart. Can I suggest we ask the Father to show us His Son? Can I suggest we ask Him to put Christ between my eyes and this world, to keep me from being distracted by the bright and shiny things here?

Exodus 24:9–14 tells us the story of Moses and the elders of Israel seeing God on Sinai, "they saw God, and ate and drank" (Exodus 24:11). Verse 14 is particularly interesting, because Moses specifically told them to wait there for him to return. But they didn't wait for him: they got impatient and turned to idols (Exodus 32:1–2). We do exactly the same thing when we decide The Man who brought us up out of bondage (Exodus 32:1) has been "up there" too long (Colossians 3:1–4). We soon start looking around for something down here we can turn into a god. So the New Testament tells us again and again, "He's coming back!" "Don't give up waiting!"

Let's not get tired of waiting for Him to come back down from up there (Philippians 3:20–21).

We come back to this theme of eating in God's presence in Joshua 5:8–12, where four things are associated with Gilgal:

1. circumcision, a rolling away of the reproach of Egypt (Joshua 5:8–9)
2. the Passover (Joshua 5:10)
3. eating the old corn of the land, a type of Christ in resurrection (Joshua 5:11, Leviticus 23:10–13, 1 Corinthians 15:20)
4. eating manna, a type of Christ in humility (Joshua 5:12, John 6:32–33)

For us too, there are these four things. We've discussed Romans 6:11 and Colossians 3:1–4 at length. We have died with Christ. But Gilgal reminds us more of Colossians 3:5–7. Here there is a mortifying, a putting to death. There is a real pain associated with Gilgal that's not associated with the Red Sea. And there is a real pain in Colossians 3:5 that's not in Romans 6:11. It's relatively pain-free to reckon myself to have died with Christ; it's not at all pain-free to put to death my members on the earth.

Here again, we need to go to the Father and ask Him for grace and courage.

But of course it's not all pain in Gilgal: there's eating too. There are three meals mentioned: the Passover, the manna, and the old corn of the land. If you look closely at the timetable in Joshua 5, there was just one day when they ate both the old corn of the land and the manna. We, too, have a very narrow window of opportunity to eat both. We'll never get beyond feeding on Christ in resurrection, but we can only feed on Christ in humility while we're here. The supply of manna ends when we're out of the wilderness.

When we eat with Christ, we can expect to get what my buddy Caleb calls "Luke 24 heartburn" (Luke 24:29–32). We all need that kind of heartburn, and we should all ask the Father to give us a really "bad" case of it. That kind of heartburn comes from lingering over the table with Him and contemplating Him "starting with Moses and the prophets" (Luke 24:27).

I've heard this time and time again, but I still fail really to practice it... Can I start to see time spent with the Savior as an investment? The very best use of time is to spend it with Christ.

Those are some simple suggestions for "where to go from here". They're simple, but hopefully practical.

A form of Godliness

It would be a terrible mistake to think I'm sitting at the end of the path, telling people how to arrive like I have arrived. Let's be clear that I write about things I've glimpsed, not things I've mastered.

Scripture warns about "a form of piety" without its power (2 Timothy 3:1–5). The more godly the path we attempt to walk, the more we need to be careful of this warning. We might remember Peter stepping out of the boat (Matthew 14:26–32). Had he stayed in the boat, he would have had no trouble staying above the water. But once he stepped out the boat, he was in a place where only Divine power could keep him up.

There is a path the vulture's eye hasn't seen (Job 28:7). We can't find it on our own. God doesn't really command us to do things we can do: He only really commands us to do what we can't. That's precisely why Jeremiah 17:5–9 warns against confidence in man. God's not interested in what man can do, but in what one Man has done. The more closely we try to walk with that Man, the more dangerous it will be to attempt it in anything but His power.

Here's an example: I've heard many, many talks about church order among "brethren". With very few exceptions, what I've actually seen are attempts by sincere believers to maintain proper church order in the power and energy of the flesh.

Of course church order is important, or Scripture wouldn't bring it up. Reading 1 Corinthians 14:26 was a real pivot point in my life, because I realized I'd never actually seen it practiced. Church order is absolutely part of the Whole Counsel of God, and learning about it should be life-changing.

But 2 Timothy 3:5 specifically warns about getting the form right while not having the power. It's warning about people who try to do the right thing from the wrong source. That's the error of the Galatians: thinking it's possible to start out in the power of the Spirit and finish in the power of flesh (Galatians 3:3).

J. N. Darby wrote:

[O]ur worship falls back into the flesh; our prayers (or praying well) form what is sometimes called a gift of prayer, than which nothing often is more sorrowful (a fluent rehearsal of known truths and principles, instead of communion and the expression of praise and thanksgiving in the joy of communion, and even of our wants and desires in the unction of the Spirit); our singing, pleasure of the ear, taste in music, and expressions in which we sympathise – all a form in the flesh, and not communion in the Spirit. All this is evil; the Spirit of God owns it not; it is not in spirit and in truth; it is really iniquity. ("Worship in the Flesh", Synopsis, Leviticus 3)

It's a very serious danger, but it's subtle. You can only fall into it when you're trying to do the right thing.

If you spend any time at all among "brethren", you'll hear guilt trips about silence in the meetings. For some reason, the very same people who most loudly condemn denominational churches for having clergymen ("they're not being led of the Spirit") hesitate least to pressure younger men to speak up. I'll be honest, the majority of times I've seen a younger man cave to the pressure and speak up in the meetings, I wished he'd kept silent.

We still haven't learned this lesson: it's not enough to do the right thing, we have to do it the right way. At the slightest provocation, we rest on the power of flesh. We still haven't learned Jeremiah 17:5–9. We allow our embarrassment goad us into trying to act when we should be sitting quietly, waiting on the Lord. I've heard Robert talk about Isaiah 40:30–31, pointing out that it's a promise. Think about that for a few moments. And then think about this: waiting on the Lord isn't easy. We're all willing to wait for about as long as it takes for the guy at the drive-through to make us a burger. But the Lord isn't on the drive-through schedule: He might make us wait a lot longer. Are we willing to wait for His timing?

Here I am putting the "assembly" back into "Assembly Quest".

Again, I am talking about something I have rarely seen, and even more rarely experienced. I'm not telling you to live like me, I'm telling you we both need to learn to wait on the Lord. And once the Lord has shown us something from His word, once we have seen a truth we need to live out, then we step into the truly dangerous realm: the place where we're tempted to have a form of godliness without its power.

Mortifying

My friend Caleb made a comment to me the other day that I thought I'd pass on:

Romans 8:13 says we're to put to death the deeds of the body. Colossians 3:5 says we're to put to death our "members which are upon the earth". There's one sure way to put to death what comes from the first Adam: looking at the face of God (Exodus 33:20). If we want to put to death our members on the earth, we need to look at Christ (2 Corinthians 3:18). As we behold the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ, death works in us.

Frankly, I need to be reminded of that.

Reception, again

It seems like the issue of reception keeps coming up. So I thought I'd write down some notes about it. I've already laid out what I think about reception ("Thoughts on reception"), but I'm not sure I did a good job of referring to Scripture. So I'd like to establish in just a few paragraphs what Scripture has to say about reception. Yeah, like that's possible...

The first thing we need to establish is that not everyone is supposed to be at the Lord's Table. Scripture specifically says we're to exclude some: 1 Corinthians 5 discusses putting believers out of fellowship who deliberately and unrepentantly persist in sin. What does it say we should do in this case?

• to have nothing to do with such a person (v. 11)
• not to eat with such a person (v. 11)
• to remove such a person from among ourselves (v. 13)

If we're supposed to remove the person, if we're not to mix with the person, if we're not to eat with the person, then that person sure isn't supposed to be at the Lord's Table. If we allow that person to the Table, then we've disobeyed these three commands.

This is only about removing someone from fellowship who is living in known sin. So no, these verse don't apply to someone who just walks in off the street. But it does establish the general principle that we aren't supposed to have everyone at the Table. There is at least one complete class of people we're specifically told to exclude. Not to exclude such people is sin.

So we've established the principle that the Lord's Table isn't for everyone.

The next question is, why shouldn't we allow this person to the Table? The question is answered easily in 1 Corinthians 5:6–8: "a little leaven leavens the whole lump". What does that mean? It means that sin spreads. It's possible for an entire gathering of the Lord's people to become defiled by the sin of one person.

This isn't an isolated statement in Scripture. The Scriptures mention it explicitly in other places:

• 1 Timothy 5:22 commands not to "partake in others' sins"
• 2 John 10 & 11 say that you "partake in [a false teacher's] wicked works" just by allowing him into the house, or greeting him

So we have a principle given three times in Scripture, that it's possible to become a participant in someone else's sins. How? 1 Corinthians 5 contemplates social interaction, and includes church activities. The assembly is supposed to "remove" that person. 1 Timothy 5 connects participating in someone else's sins just by "laying hands" on him. That is not, I take it, a physical touch, but a symbolic gesture, like a hand shake. 2 John says it's possible to become a participant in an evil teacher's "wicked works" by allowing him to come into your house, or even by greeting him. There's a reason I never let representatives of the Watchtower Society into my house when they knock on the door. No thanks, I'm not interested in getting in on their blasphemies.

But can we really apply a principle like that to the assembly? Isn't it talking about individual social interactions? That's not really a reasonable interpretation of 1 Corinthians 5. But if we want to argue about it, we have more of God's thoughts on fellowship in Revelation 2 & 3. In the message to the assembly in Pergamos, the Lord Jesus says He has two things against them:

1. they have those who hold the doctrine of Balaam (Revelation 2:14)
2. they have those who hold the doctrines of the Nicolaitanes (Revelation 2:15)

Let's be perfectly clear here: the Lord makes exactly two accusations against the assembly in Pergamos, and they're both that the assembly has allowed people in who hold to false doctrines. And then He warns them to repent (Revelation 2:16). So the teaching of Revelation 2 is that there is judgment coming on this assembly because of their fellowship with certain people.

We could go on. We could discuss Jude. We could talk about Romans 16. But in the end, it's an indisputable fact that the Lord takes our associations very seriously. The Scripture explicitly warns against becoming a partaker in someone else's sins, and Christ judges the assembly specifically in terms of the people they allow in fellowship.

But there's more. The Lord's Supper is not an individual thing. What does the Scripture say? "[W]e, being many, are one loaf, one body; for we all partake of that one loaf" (1 Corinthians 10:17). No, it doesn't mean we become one Body by eating the one loaf. The context makes that clear. What it means is that we announce our "One Body"-ness by eating that one loaf. Why do many Christians refer to the Lord's Supper as "Communion"? Because that's what 1 Corinthians 10 calls it. By eating the Lord's Supper together, we are demonstrating our communion.

Now we see why the Lord takes it so seriously to have an unrepentant fornicator in the assembly: the entire assembly is expressing unity with that man whenever they sit at the Lord's Supper together.

So let's talk about unbelievers for a moment. Do we believe they are part of the One Body? Of course not! It's only by baptism of the Holy Spirit we become part of the One Body (1 Corinthians 12:13). So then we're lying if we announce "One Body"-ness with an unbeliever, aren't we?

So we have the general principle that it's possible to become a partaker in someone else's sins. And we have some specific examples of how that works: things like inviting a false teacher into the house, or greeting him. And we have the explicit command that the assembly is to put unrepentant sinners out of fellowship: we're to have nothing to do with them, and we're specifically told not to eat with them. And we have the judgment of the Lord Jesus, that allowing people with false doctrine to be part of the assembly is a serious sin. So we can say with complete certainty that there are several reasons to exclude someone from the Lord's Supper. And in fact, Scripture makes it clear that if we don't exclude them, we come under the Lord's judgment (Revelation 2:14–16).

But what about 1 Corinthians 11? People have pointed out 1 Corinthians 11:28, "a man must examine himself, and in so doing he is to eat of the bread and drink of the cup" (NASB). People have taken that to mean that it's up to the individual to decide whether he ought to take part in the Lord's Supper. I suppose the verse might be taken that way, but I don't think it fits the context very well. Why would I say that? Because just six chapters earlier, the Scripture specifically commands we're not to eat with unrepentant sinners. Does the Lord's Supper count as eating? Of course it does! And 1 Corinthians 10 makes the point that in eating the Lord's Supper, we're expressing communion with each other. So 1 Corinthians 5 explicitly forbids eating with someone, can we then understand 1 Corinthians 11 to mean that it's up to them whether they partake of the Lord's Supper?

1 Corinthians 11 isn't saying that anyone who comes along is responsible to decide for themselves whether they ought to eat and drink: that would mean that the entire discussion in 1 Corinthians 5 is meaningless. It means that 1 Corinthians 5 and 1 Corinthians 11 together read something like this, "Have nothing to do with that person, don't even eat with them. But really, leave it up to them to decide whether they eat with you..." When we put it that way, it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?

1 Corinthians 11 is addressing the people who are in the assembly. This is a known group of people, and we know that by v. 23. They were ones to whom Paul had already given the truth of the Lord's Supper. He knew them, they weren't strangers. And he says to them that they ought to be judging themselves, because it's by self-judgment that we escape God's judgment.

The concept of an "open table" doesn't stand up to Scripture. But there's another question: what is our test of fellowship? If not everyone's allowed to the Table, then who should be allowed?

I've pointed out before that the test of fellowship isn't loyalty to the group: the test is loyalty to Christ. I'm not by any means condoning a sectarian membership. But I am saying the uniform testimony of Scripture is that God holds the assembly responsible for who's eating the Lord's Supper. And Scripture plainly states that this relationship can be defiling to an assembly.

As a final note: I wrote several years ago about reception ("Thoughts on reception"), but I didn't know then that J. N. Darby wrote something very much along the same lines. It wasn't for quite some time I found it, but Darby's paper "Principles of Gathering" is excellent. It's on STEM Publishing, and it's worth a read.

Ezekiel 8

I gave a talk on Ezekiel 8 the other day. It didn't come out at all like I had thought: I had a lot of trouble expressing what I was thinking. So I thought I'd give it another try here.

The book of Ezekiel starts with Ezekiel standing on the banks of the Chebar, in Babylon. There he sees a vision of the glory of the Lord. He sees what looks like a man made of burning brass on a throne, with four "living creatures" under the throne, and four "wheels within wheels" with the living creatures. He describes this vision in some detail in the first two chapters. Ezekiel sees this same vision three more times, or four times in total. He sees it again seven days later "in the valley" in chapter 3, then in Jerusalem in chapters 8--11. Finally, he sees the same vision in chapter 43.

These four appearances of the glory of the Lord form a simple outline of the book. Each appearance of this vision is followed by specific messages. We might think of these as "sections" of the book:

1. chapters 1--3:31 Following the vision on the banks of the Chebar (vv. 1:1--3:15), the Lord speaks to Ezekiel and gives him the rules of the watchman (vv. 3:16--3:21). That is, He tells Ezekiel his duty as a prophet. This section closes at v. 3:21, after essentially only one message from God.
2. chapters 3:22--7 The second section begins with the Lord revealing Himself "in the valley" (vv. 3:22--3:27). Ezekiel notes (v. 23) that this is the same vision he saw on the banks of the Chebar. Ezekiel's vision is followed by messages specifically for Jerusalem and her inhabitants (ch. 4--7). The key verse in this section is v. 5:5, "this is Jerusalem". All the messages God gives Ezekiel in this section are about Jerusalem and the surrounding area.
3. chapters 8--39 The third section begins with the same vision Ezekiel saw "in the valley" (v. 8:4) and "by the river Chebar" (v. 10:20). The Lord takes Ezekiel "in the visions of God" to Jerusalem (v. 8:3). I assume this means he wasn't looking at the literal Jerusalem, but a spiritual vision of it. The vision that begins in v. 8:2 continues through chapter 11. Following the vision in ch. 8--11, the Lord gives Ezekiel several messages. Unlike the previous section, these messages address not only Jerusalem, but the captives in Babylon, and the nations as well. This section is the largest in the book.
4. chapters 40--48 The fourth and final section is millenial: it starts with the Millenial temple and describes the nation and its worship under the Son (cf. Psalm 2). Ezekiel sees a vision "like the vision that I saw by the river Chebar" (v. 43:3). It's in this section that he sees the glory of God return from the mountains in the east back into the Temple.

There is a clear moral symmetry between the vision in ch. 11 and that in ch. 43. In chapter 11, he sees the glory of the Lord leave them Temple and head east into the mountains. In chapter 43 he sees it come back from the mountains through the east gate and into the Temple.

Ezekiel is characterized by conversations between the Lord and his prophet. Unlike Isaiah (largely composed of the messages the Lord has for His people) or even Jeremiah, Ezekiel is mainly the Lord telling Ezekiel what to tell the people. It doesn't really record that he actually passed the messages on. It's not a book about the prophet speaking to the people, it's a book about the Lord speaking to the prophet.

The characteristic title of Ezekiel is "son of man". He's one of two men called that in the Old Testament: the other is Daniel. This gives us a hint of where we'd look to see Christ in this book. Isaiah and Daniel describe the One who is coming: Ezekiel doesn't. In Ezekiel, the prophet himself stands in the place of the coming Son of Man. In type, Ezekiel is a book where the Father talks to the Son.

This brings us to chapter 8. Chapter 8 comes a little more than a year after the vision in Chebar (cf. v. 1:1--2; v. 8:1). Ezekiel is brought by the Lord into Jerusalem "in the visions of God" (v. 8:3). The story starts outside the Temple, by the gate (vv. 8:3--6). There is an image in the gate of the Temple, which Ezekiel describes as "the image of jealousy" (v. 8:3). Next the Lord has him dig a hole through the Temple wall, and he finds a chamber full of men burning incense to idols (vv. 8:7--13). Then the Lord brings him into the court of the temple, where women are wailing for Tammuz (vv. 8:14--15). Finally, the Lord takes him into the inner court, where 25 men are worshipping the sun, with their backs to the altar (vv. 8:16--18).

The first thing we notice in this sequence is the transitions between the visions. After the first three visions, the Lord asks Ezekiel if he sees what he people are doing, and He says Ezekiel will see something even worse (vv. 8:6, 13, 15). So we understand that these visions are actually a progression. It's not just that there are four different idolatrous practices going on, but each is worse than the one before. We also notice that the trend is inward from the Temple gate toward the sanctuary.

I'm not sure what the "image of jealousy" is (v. 3), but it seems to be an idol. That is, there was an idol in the entrance to the Temple. If we remember our Sunday School lessons, we recall that at least two kings of Judah set up idols in the Temple itself: Ahaz built an altar modelled after the idolatrous altar he saw in Damascus, and put it into the Temple, moving the brazen altar out of the way to make room for it (2 Kings 16:10--16). Manasseh also set up his idols in the Temple (2 Kings 21:1--9). No doubt there are others: these two spring to mind.

There's an enormous difference between going to bow down to an idol in its temple, and bringing the idol into the house of God. But that's exactly what these two kings did.

There are four steps from the "image of jealousy" in the gate to the sun-worshippers inside the Temple:

• the image of jealousy
• burning incense in the room of idols
• wailing for Tammuz
• worshipping the sun

These four steps form a sort of progression: inward into the Temple, as we mentioned earlier; but also a progression of the heart. First, there is an image in the gate (v. 3). No one is worshipping the image: it's just there. We might think of this as passive idolatry. Second, we have active worship on the part of Jaazaniah and the seventy elders of Israel (v. 7). Then we have emotional idolatry, the women wailing for Tammuz (v. 14). Finally, we have complete obeisance in the twenty-five men bowing with their backs to the altar (v. 16).

It's interesting there are four steps here. They remind us of the four downward steps in Romans 1:21--32 and those in Proverbs 30:11--14.

But the main point is the progression not only towards to the center of the Temple, but in the hearts of the idolaters. And we notice again that this is all in the Temple: in the center of the worship God Himself established. We might remember the last verse of 1 John: "Children, keep yourselves from idols" (1 John 5:21). There is a danger--- a very real danger--- of dabbling in idolatry, especially in the house of God. God doesn't have an house anymore, "The God who has made the world and all things which are in it, *he*, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not dwell in temples made with hands" (Acts 17:24). But the Scripture tells us that God has chosen the Church as "a habitation of God in the Spirit" (Ephesians 2:22). So there is a parallel, isn't there? The Israelites brought idolatry into God's habitation, and it offended Him. We ought not do the same. We need to be careful that we aren't dabbling in idolatry.

There's another thread in this story: it's the thread of God looking for a man He can confide in. The whole book of Ezekiel is characterized by the idea the God is baring His heart to the prophet, but it's particularly brought out here in chapter 8. At every step, the Lord asks Ezekiel, "Do you see what they're doing?" There's a sense where God is looking for someone to take His side against His people.

It's significant that the prophet who is so intimate with God's heart should be the prophet most particularly called "son of man". Really, God has found exactly one Man to whom He could completely pour out His heart. The Son of Man walked on this earth, and He saw exactly what grieved God. And there were conversations between the Father and the Son about it, although we only read one explicitly (John 17) and catch other small glimpses (John 5, etc.). The Lord Jesus, while eternally God, was here as the Man that God was looking for. He was the Man that God could take completely into His confidence.

And it's a sobering thought that He was the one Man who actually understood exactly how evil this world is. I will never know just how bad my sin is, because I'll never be required to pay its price. The Lord Jesus knows exactly how bad my sin is, because He suffered for it.

Can we imagine what it must have been like for the Eternal Son of the Eternal Father to walk down here in this wicked world? The Pharisees said, "This man receives sinners and eats with them" (Luke 15:2), which indicates just how seared their consciences were. Yes, this Man did eat with sinners: and had He eaten with the Pharisees, He wouldn't have been in any better company. He was the Son of God, He had come down from Heaven. To imagine there's any significant difference between different degrees of fallen men in comparison with Him is sheer foolishness.

And once again, we remember the God has found the Man He was looking for. Indeed, He had to provide the Man He was looking for, because there's no other man, woman, or child that is good enough. And now that God has found Him, He's not looking for another. He has found what He wanted, and He is content in Him. We ought to be content in Him too.

Well, that's more or less what I ought to have said the other day. What I actually did was go on long digressions through the histories of Ahaz and Manasseh, as well as a diversion through the identity of Tammuz. It was frankly a bit of a mess. Hopefully I'll be a little more to the point next time.

Imperfect Sacrifices

We've been going through the epistle to the Romans in our Wednesday night Bible readings. We're up to Romans 12 now, and I have to admit it's been very convicting.

Like a lot of Christians, I've gotten caught up from time to time in a sort of Gnosticism: a sort of a sickly pseudo-spiritual affectation that looks down on the physical world. Romans 12 really smashes that sort of thing to bits:

1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the compassions of God, to present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your intelligent service. 2 And be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is the good and acceptable and perfect will of God. (Romans 12:1--2, JND)

What is the very first thing Romans 12 asserts? It's that our "intelligent" service is to present our bodies as living sacrifices.

We ought to consider the context of Romans when we think of this passage. Remember it's Romans 8 that tells us our bodies aren't yet redeemed (v. 8:23). Well, it's not only Romans 8; Philippians 3 is quite clear as well.

20 for *our* commonwealth has its existence in the heavens, from which also we await the Lord Jesus Christ as Saviour, 21 who shall transform our body of humiliation into conformity to his body of glory, according to the working of the power which he has even to subdue all things to himself. (Philippians 3:20--21, JND)

So our bodies are yet unredeemed, even though we're spiritually alive. They'll be redeemed one day: that's the promise of Philippians 3. But right now, we're still in fallen bodies. But the shocking truth of Romans 12 is that God wants us to present these fallen bodies as living sacrifices.

And this truth ought to shock us. I was listening to a preacher once who was talking about this chapter. He made the statement that, "your [reasonable] service" means, "in light of all God has done for you in chapters 1--8, the reasonable thing to do is..." Which makes me think he wasn't really paying attention to the first eleven chapters of the book. The whole point of Romans is that there's absolutely nothing you have to offer God. The first three chapters are all about all the terrible things we've done. Chapters 6--8 are all about how we were so bad that God has to apply the Cross to us to cure us of ourselves. Chapter 7 reminds us that "in me, that is, in my flesh, good does not dwell" (Romans 7:18, JND). Chapter 8 reminds us "the body is dead on account of sin, but the Spirit life on account of righteousness" (Romans 8:10, JND). If you think you have anything reasonable to offer God, then you haven't been paying attention to the first eleven chapters.

But we come to Romans 12 and we find that God does actually want something: He wants our bodies. Our fallen, sinful, unredeemed bodies. He wants the "bodi[es] of humiliation" (Philippians 3:21, JND) that Christ is coming to change.

Now, there is an Old Testament picture of this. Consider Leviticus 22:

A bullock and a sheep that hath a member too long or too short, that mayest thou offer as a voluntary offering; but as a vow it shall not be accepted. (Leviticus 22:23)

We sometimes say the Law forbade offering a blemished animal as an offering. That's not strictly true. It was possible to offer an imperfect animal, but only as a voluntary offering. It couldn't be offered as a sacrifice for sin, or as a trespass offering. It couldn't bear sins. But it could be offered as a "voluntary offering."

I am not accepted with God for the sacrifice of my body. I can't earn a single thing by offering my body as a living sacrifice. I am accepted with God for exactly one reason: the Lord Jesus has died for me. But there is this business about a "voluntary offering," and that brings us to Romans 12.

Another passage in the Old Testament presents the concept of an imperfect offerings: Leviticus 27.

9 And if it be a beast whereof men bring an offering unto Jehovah, all that they give of such unto Jehovah shall be holy. 10 They shall not alter it nor change it, a good for a bad, or a bad for a good; and if he at all change beast for beast, then it and the exchange thereof shall be holy. (Leviticus 27: 9--10, JND)

Notice that phrase in v. 10, they can't change "a good for a bad, or a bad for a good." It's not just that they couldn't exchange a worse sheep for a better one, they couldn't offer a better sheep for a worse one.

There's a trap here for us. There's a temptation to look at our bodies and think, "this one isn't good enough." And that's true, in a way. We're waiting for the Son of God to come and change our bodies to be like His. So there's a lot of truth in the idea that the bodies we have aren't worthy of Him. I mean, if they were, the Son of God wouldn't be coming to change them.

But we're in the same position as the Old Testament saints: they weren't allowed to exchange a better sacrifice for a worse one. I'm bound to offer the body I have. I can't wait until the Son of God makes it better. I can't even wait until I drop a few pounds. I need to offer the body I have.

And it surprises us, but we find they are "acceptable to God."

We do well to remember that the Son of God came here as a Man. We are fallen creatures in a fallen world, but God's solution to that isn't that we somehow step out of the physical world. We're not called to some sort of neo-Gnostic super-spiritualism. We're called to honour God in these fallen bodies, in this wicked world.

But that doesn't mean we're allowed to settle down here. We can't forget that the Son of God is coming to get us. And the second verse of Romans 12 tells us that. We can't be conformed to this world: we're called to live here, but we're not called to live for here. Our life is in Heaven (Colossians 3:1--15). Someday we'll appear with Him in glory and the world will see He really is as wonderful as we [ought to] say. Indeed, we recall that "the things that are seen are for a time, but those that are not seen eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18, JND). This isn't home, but we live here. So we do well to remember both sides of the truth: we're called to glorify God in our physical bodies, but we look for the day when we'll see Christ face to face and forget all about this wicked old world.

One of my daughters and I were talking about baptism when she was very young (maybe 6). I was explaining to her that baptism is how we declare that this world is under judgment, and we are take the place of death with respect to it. She said to me: "So what you're saying, Dad, is that we're here on a business trip, not a vacation." That might have been the single best summary of the snare of worldliness I've ever heard. It's not that we don't live here, but we're here on business, not pleasure.

The Father and the Son

John 5 is to me one of the highest and most mysterious passages in Scripture. It takes us back into eternity before there was anything except God, and it takes us to the last day when Christ will judge all men. It pulls back the curtain a bit and gives us a rare and touching glimpse into the Godhead so we can see a bit of the eternal relationship between the Father and the Son.

The chapter opens with the Lord Jesus healing a man on the Sabbath, a man who'd been bed-ridden for 38 years. The Pharisees accuse Him of working on the Sabbath (which He had, in fact, done). The response of the Lord Jesus to the accusation of the Pharisees opens into an astonishing treatise on relationships in the Godhead.

The Lord Jesus' answer to the charge of working on the Sabbath is actually fairly subtle, and I have to admit I didn't really understand it until fairly recently. The argument basically boils down to this: the Son can't do anything on His own, He only does what He sees the Father do (v. 19). And the Father works on the Sabbath (v. 17), so the Son must work on the Sabbath. It's what the Father has taught Him to do.

I find it interesting that the Scripture doesn't tell us that Christ didn't really break the Sabbath. That's not the point. The Son had been told to do something by the Father, and that meant He wasn't going to keep the Sabbath. Interestingly, there is an Old Testament precedent for this in Joshua. It was a few years ago that an older brother pointed out that Joshua and the people were told to encircle Jericho once every day for six days, and seven times on the seventh. No matter how you figure it, those people broke the Sabbath. But they did it because God told them to. Similarly, Christ broke the Sabbath because He was obeying the Father.

But He goes beyond explaining His actions in vv. 19--30. He starts with an explanation of the relationship between the Father and the Son: "the Father loves the Son and shews him all things which he himself does" (v. 20). There is an interesting image here: the Father is bringing the Son into the family business. The Son doesn't do what He wants, He does what He sees His Father do. The Father deliberately shows the Son what it is He's doing.

Notice the titles Christ uses for Himself here: He mainly refers to Himself in John 5 as "the Son", but in v. 25 He's the "Son of God" and in v. 27 He's the "Son of man." Each of these titles holds a distinctive meaning. When the Lord Jesus refers to Himself in relationship with the Father, He calls Himself "Son." When He talks about raising the dead, He's "Son of God"; and when He talks about eternal judgment, He's "Son of man". In fact, it's because He's Son of man that all judgment is given to Him (v. 27).

(We should be very careful when we discuss Christ, because none of us can really understand Him: "no one knows the Son but the Father" (Matthew 11:27, JND). But I think it's worth emphasizing that when the Scripture talks about eternal relationships in the Godhead, it uses the title "Son", not "Son of God". Certainly Christ is the eternal Son of the eternal Father, but the title that conveys that isn't "Son of God," it's "Son". I say that carefully, because I've heard a lot of people insist that Christ is the "eternal Son of God". I don't think that's what Scripture teaches: He's the "eternal Son"; the title "Son of God" is different. This certainly isn't a hill I'm willing to die on--- I appreciate they're only trying to highlight Eternal Sonship--- but I think a careful reading of Scripture indicates the eternal title is "Son", rather than "Son of God". cf. Hebrews 1 & 2.)

There are several passages in Scripture that specifically outline God's purpose. For example, in John 4 the Father is seeking worshipers. Exodus 29 tells us Jehovah saved the children of Israel "out of the land of Egypt, to dwell in their midst: I am Jehovah their God" (Exodus 29:46, JND). Here in John 5 we have another purpose of God verse, v. 23. It is the Father's goal that all men should honour the Son just like they honour the Father. This verse has been very important to me over the last 15 or 20 years. It's like God's grand plan is really just for all men to honour His Son.

Now, the Lord Jesus gives us three specific similarities between the Son and the Father:

1. He raises the dead (v. 21)
2. He is the judge of all men (v. 22)
3. He has life in Himself (v. 26)

Raising the dead is God's exclusive right. It's not simply that only God has the right to raise the dead, but only God has the power to do so. We can't raise the dead, no matter how much we'd like to. Sure, we might witness a "medical miracle" where someone who's as good as dead recovers. Or we might even see someone "clinically dead" recover after a brief time. But the Lord Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead four days later. He'd been wrapped and buried: he wasn't in a coma, he was dead. But death is no barrier to the Son of God, He raises the dead. And He quickens "whom He will" (v. 21). It's not that He's under any obligation: He raises whomever He wants to raise. No one else gets a say in the matter.

Now, He applies this to two cases. The first is what we might call a spiritual resurrection in v. 25. The Scripture often refers to man's fallen state as a spiritual death. Christ's solution to that is to raise and quicken us. Notice Ephesians and Colossians follow this same thread, but Romans takes the opposite view. In Romans it's the lost who are alive (Romans 1--3), and the saved are dead (Romans 6).

The second application is two physical resurrections in vv. 29 & 30. One is a resurrection to life, the other a resurrection to judgment. You can't be in both groups: if you're in the resurrection to judgment, you're not in the resurrection to life. Notice this is what He insists on in v. 24. If we hear His word and believe on Him who sent Him, we have life and don't come into judgment. It's not just that we're judged and acquitted, but we're never even summoned.

This brings up an important point: judgment is always related to our physical bodies. When the dead are judged, they're raised first. And how are they judged? They're judged for what they did in their bodies.

There is no escaping the judgment of God. If you die first, He'll raise you from the dead to judge you. There's no statute of limitations, there's no way to avoid the bailiff. The only escape is to believe and pass from death into life: Christ has already been judged for those who believe. He has taken their punishment, so there's no judgment left for them.

I should think to the Pharisees at the time, certainly the next claim would be been shocking. They would have known that Abraham called God "the Judge of all the earth" (Genesis 18:25, JND), and here Christ is claiming that He is the exclusive Judge (v. 22). The Father has given all judgment to the Son. The Father won't judge anyone, the Son will judge everyone. Now certainly the Lord Jesus is God. I'm not denying that. But within the Godhead it's the Son who will judge.

I find it interesting that He is Judge because He is Son of man. This is closely echoed by Paul on Mars Hill: it's by this Man God will judge the world (Acts 17:31). Paul goes further than John 5 and tells us God has announced this publicly through the Resurrection. The message of the Resurrection, Paul says, is that God has publicly named His Judge by raising Him from the dead. But again, it's the "Man Christ Jesus" that will be Judge. Christ won't judge all men as God (although He is God), but as Man. He will judge as One who knows exactly what it's like to be a Man in a fallen world.

William Kelly says God created this world for Christ to have dominion over it:

Man is called to rule, to have dominion. God was looking on to His Son, the Son of man. For Him the habitable earth is destined. God has not made it in vain. (William Kelly, Hebrews, Chapter 2)

God created the world and gave it to man to have dominion over it. But it wasn't really Adam God intended to rule; it was the Last Adam, Jesus Christ. It is as Man that He will take dominion, and it is as Man that He will judge.

The last similarity Christ reveals is "as the Father has life in himself, so he has given to the Son also to have life in himself" (v. 26, JND). I find this one of the most mysterious and difficult verses in Scripture. Here's a time when the Son pulls back the curtain and lets us see into the light unapproachable where God dwells, and we can't really understand what we see there.

I have no idea what it means that the Father has "given to the Son also to have life in himself." No clue.

But little as I understand it, this verse forms the basis of Christianity in a sense. Colossians 3 says, "When the Christ is manifested who [is] our life, then shall *ye* also be manifested with him in glory" (Colossians 3:4, JND). It's not just that Christ has life in Himself, but that He shares it with us. And it's not that He gives us a little piece of it and sends us on our way: but He Himself actually is our Life. John says it a little differently: "God has given to us eternal life; and this life is in his Son" (1 John 5:11, JND).

God has no blessing for me that's not in Christ, and He has no intention of ever taking it out of Christ to give it to me. God doesn't give me blessings per se. He gives me Christ, and in Him are all the blessings God has.

Christianity is not just that Christ has died for me. That's important, but it's not really Christianity. That's not much more than Abraham, Moses, and the prophets expected. The really amazing thing about Christianity is that the Son of God has died for us and has given us an eternal claim on Him. Christianity is not so much justification: it's the ongoing, eternal, and uninterrupted relationship we have with the Son of God. He's died for us, He also lives for us. And He is personally our Life.

We're going to spend eternity getting a better idea who Christ is. And when we get to the end of eternity (you know what I mean), we won't be done. Of course, the real goal is not to wait until we're there to get to know Him. I'm not sure I'll ever understand this chapter: I'm just a creature after all. But it's in looking at Christ that we become like Him (2 Corinthians 3:18). So maybe the point isn't understanding, but just in looking and enjoying.

Law and Grace

It is impossible to overstate the importance of the distinction between law and grace. The question of law vs. grace lies at the heart of Scripture, and is foundational to the Christian life:

For sin shall not be master over you, for you are not under law but under grace. (Romans 6:14, NASB)

John's Gospel begins with the amazing statement that

the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth were realized through Jesus Christ (John 1:17, NASB)

So we have two foundational principles: first, Christ's coming is characterized by grace and truth in contrast to the Law; and second, that we are not under the mastery of sin because we're not under law, but under grace.

Now, Scripture differentiates between "law" and "the law". The first is a principle, the second is specifically the Law that Moses received from God. I've written about the Mosaic Law before, so there's perhaps nothing to be gained from going into great detail about it here. To a certain degree we can use the two interchangeably, because the Law of Moses is the most perfect law (Romans 7:9--12). This is really the only Law God gave, and so we might think of it as the ultimate example of the principle of law. Certainly if the Law of Moses was limited through the sinfulness in our flesh (Romans 8:1--4), then any other law must be just as futile.

But today I'm more interested in the question of "law" than "the law." That is, law as a principle as opposed to a specific Law.

Let's start by making it clear that God has never justified a sinner on the principle of law. Sinners have only ever been justified on the basis of faith (see Romans 4). From Abel to today, God justifies the one who does not work but believes. There has never been one sinner justified, but by faith.

But God did give the Law to Moses, and the people agreed to it (Exodus 24:7). And so they were tried (as it were) under law. The principle of law is, God deals with us based on what we do. We work to be accepted by Him.

Grace, of course, is the opposite principle. Grace is the principle that God treats us as He wants to, with no regard to what we deserve. Grace is the principle that we work because He has already accepted us. So where law says you get what you work for; grace says you get what God wants to give you, regardless of your work. Law is the principle of what man does, grace is the principle of what God has done.

Where law said, "forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors," grace says, "forgive one another as God for Christ's sake has forgiven you." Law says, obey and God will bless; grace says, God has already blessed, now obey.

We need to be jealous of grace. We need to be very careful that we don't give up the grace of God. It's easy to fall into legal thinking, and thus abandon grace. We're not justified by law, we're not to walk by law. We can't begin in the spirit and finish in the flesh: the principle of our justification is the principle of our sanctification.

There is no place we see the distinction between law and grace like in the whole notion of our approach to God. Believers under the Law couldn't approach God: the high priest alone, and only once a year, was allowed into God's presence (cf. Leviticus 16; Hebrews 9:6--10). And there was danger in approaching God: the high priest is warned in Leviticus that he might actually die if he approaches God unworthily. This is approaching God on the principle of law.

But Hebrews teaches that we are to approach on the principle of grace. We have an High Priest who has already been accepted into God's presence for us. And because He is there for us, we are to approach with full assurance (Hebrews 10:19--25). Our consciences are purged once, and now we have no more conscience of sins. We come into God's presence freely, with no thought of any judgment at all, because God has already declared us clean and fit for His presence. This is exactly the principle of grace: God has already done all the work, we are only called to reap the rewards.

Now, the whole question of law and grace centers on the paradox of God's Sovereignty and Man's Responsibility. Law says, "Man is responsible," while grace says, "God is sovereign." And Man's responsibility and God's Sovereignty meet in exactly one Person; the Lord Jesus Christ is both Sovereign God and Responsible Man. In fact, Man's responsibility is completely fulfilled and completed in Christ. God has looked for a righteous Man, and it was when Christ came that He found that Man. Christ is the Man that God was looking for, and He has stopped looking. This is the real point of Hebrews 1:1--3. God has found what He wanted: one Man has pleased God, and God's no longer looking for anything from Man. When I approach God, I have nothing to offer Him except Christ. And God is looking for nothing from me, except Christ. Christ is my righteousness, my holiness, my wisdom, and my redemption (1 Corinthians 1:30 & 31).

It's important for us to understand this principle: that God is no longer looking for anything from Man. What God wanted in Man He found in Christ. This bears repeating: God has found what He was looking for, and He's not looking any more. God is delighted in His Son, and He's called us to be delighted in His Son too.

So when I go to approach God, He's not looking at me to see whether I'm worthy to be there. He's already said I am (Colossians 1:11 & 12), and He's invited me to come in (Hebrews 10:19--25). So I approach God. But when I get into God's presence, I find that being in God's presence is a very cleansing thing. This is what 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, we become like Christ as we look at His glory. Notice the order: we don't see Him as a result of getting better; we get better as a result of seeing Him. The former is law, the latter is grace.

Someday we're going to see Christ physically, and that's a cleansing thing too (1 John 3:2 & 3). Notice, it's the hope of seeing Him that leads to purity. It's not that we purify ourselves so we can see Him, it's that we're guaranteed to see Him, and this makes us purify ourselves.

Law reasons from man to God; grace reasons from God to man. Law says, "I'm no good, so God can't possibly love me" but grace says, "God is unimaginably good, and therefore He loves me." Grace is sovereign. If I am reckoning on my own goodness, I find myself very quickly despairing, because I've basically none. But if I reckon on God's goodness, I can rest because I know that will never change.

Now it is true that God disciplines His children; but notice, He does it because they are His children. In fact, Hebrews makes God's discipline proof of sonship (Hebrews 12:7--11). We don't become God's sons through discipline, but we are disciplined because we are His sons. Notice that even God's discipline on us flows from grace. Again, grace is the principle that we are to live up to what God has already given. But He has already given it, regardless of whether we live up to it or not.

William R. Newell said it this way:

To believe, and to consent to be loved while unworthy, is the great secret. ("A Few Words about Grace," Romans Verse-by-Verse)

This is what Scripture presents as the Christian life. God has abundantly blessed me with all spiritual blessings in the heavenlies in Christ. This is where it all begins: there's nothing for me to earn, because Christ has already earned it. This is grace: not what I am for God (law), but what God is for me.

C'mon in!

There are a couple verses written on the fly-leaf of my dearest and most battered Bible:

And I will dwell in the midst of the children of Israel, and will be their God. And they shall know that I am Jehovah their God, who have brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, to dwell in their midst: I am Jehovah their God. (Exodus 29:45--46)

Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he shall tabernacle with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, their God. (Rev. 21:3)

They remind me of the most remarkable and surprising truth of Scripture: that God enjoys my company.

It's hard to remember that sometimes. Life can be a real struggle, and sometimes (as Rich Mullins pointed out) the road of righteousness can be really steep. And the better we get to know ourselves, the worse we know ourselves to be. The more we see of ourselves, the more we know God saw nothing in us.

But the shocking truth is, God doesn't save us as some form of urban renewal. He doesn't save us because He wants us to be good, He saves us because He wants us to be with Him. And everything He has done for us is to this end: Christ died for our sins to bring us to God. Our Advocate is with the Father, because we so often sin along the path. We have an High Priest over the house of God, because we are clothed with infirmity and we need someone to help us make it there. Christ has come down as the Bread of God because we can't make it through the desert without Manna.

It's sad, but we tend to assign ulterior motives to God. The Father doesn't need anything from His children. He is quite content to be everything for them instead. What He wants of us, is to come into His presence and enjoy Him. That's what Christ told the woman at Sychar, the Father is seeking worshippers. He doesn't look for servants, or ministers, or helpers. He looks for worshippers.

Johnny D said I better than I can:

The Lord does not need us to bless Him, but He is pleased to bless us: what He asks of us is to sit at Jesus' feet and receive the abundant grace He bestows on us.

(J. N. Darby, "Notes on 1 Chronicles 13-17", Collected Writings, Vol. 30)

So Hebrews 10 draws an application from the truth of the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ: we have a great High Priest over the house of God; He has shed His blood for us, He is our new and living way. He's done all this so we can come boldly into God's presence, so we should get in there. That's perhaps the main point of Hebrews: don't hang back, come boldly into God's presence.

God saves us so we can delight in His Son. We can do and say and think things that make that hard. We have a lot of trouble delighting in the Son when we're walking in a way that doesn't please Him. But what we don't immediately see is, it's not a godly walk that enables us to enjoy Christ; it's enjoying Christ that enables us to walk godly.

2 Corinthians 3 tells us it's by beholding the glory of the Lord that we become like Him. I suppose the immediate application there ought to be: we should spend more time beholding Him.

Hebrews 10 tells us that worshippers, once purged, have no more conscience of sins. Sins on our consciences can be a real weight on us; what's the solution? worship. It's the worshippers who have no more conscience of sins.

It's hard to believe God loves us, it's hard to believe He wants us to be with Him. But He does. We need to believe Him.

Complete Salvation

I'm in the last four volumes of J. N. Darby's Collected Writings. The end is close enough to see, so I've been really motivated to keep up the pace of my reading. But there's a danger to simply dashing through a book to finish it: go to fast and you might as well not read it.

All moralizing aside, Volume 31 has really been getting my attention. Don't get me wrong: at this point it's mainly repetition. There's bound to be, in that many volumes: most of what I'm reading now he said at some point in the previous 30 books. Still...

One really striking paper is "On Sealing with the Holy Ghost". This one gets a lot of press as a result of Darby's falling out with F. W. Grant on the subject, but there's a lot of meat in it that's easy to overlook.

I'm not sure whether I agree with Darby or Grant on the subject of sealing. Darby's writing is pretty convincing, but I'm not completely comfortable with his assertion that the man delivered at the end of Romans 7 can't fall back into it. But that's not really what I want to talk about right now.

To me the far more interesting and important thing discussed in this paper is Darby's assertion of complete redemption:

Bad teaching, which puts being born again (a vital and necessary truth, and examining whether we be in the faith, a very natural thing then, but a mere and entire misinterpretation of Scripture), instead of an accomplished and known redemption by the work of Christ, having led many true hearts away from plain Scripture truth, I add here what Scripture plainly states. If a soul can in truth before God say, Abba, Father, that soul is sealed. If a person really knows that he is in Christ, and Christ in him, he is sealed. If the love of God is shed abroad in the heart, the man is sealed. (Rom. 8; Gal. 4; Rom. 13; John 14; Rom. 10.) Other proofs may be given of if, for the whole life of a man is, save particular failures, the evidence of the Spirit of God dwelling in him; but I take the simplest and most immediate evidence in a man's soul purposely and such as are in terms stated in Scripture. Now what hinders the simple acceptance of this truth is, that the full doctrine of redemption is not believed. Forgiveness is looked at as forgiveness of so much past sins,* of sins up to our conversion, what was really Jewish forgiveness, which is contrasted in Scripture with Christian; Heb. 9, 10. What Scripture calls eternal redemption is not believed in. As to Christians in general, what it is to have no more conscience of sins, they cannot tell you, or even of the blessedness of the man to whom the Lord imputes no sin. No, all their past sins were forgiven when they believed, but sins since? well, they must be sprinkled again, or the present priesthood of Christ on high applies to it, neither of which is in Scripture.

Ask them what it means, when it says that by one offering He hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified; they cannot tell you: each sin, after its commission, has to find its forgiveness as and when it may; and people are taught that it is a very dangerous doctrine to think otherwise. Now there is an interruption of communion; there is a gracious washing of the feet with water; but when I have believed in Christ's work there is no more imputation of sin, I am perfected as to conscience. We have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus. He who bore our sins, and put them away long ago, is there. We must not confound the work of the Spirit, which makes me own my faults, and the work of Christ, finished and effectual once and for ever. He bore my sins when I had not committed one of them, and if forgiveness, in the sense of non-imputation, has to be gained now, it would be impossible; for Christ would have to suffer for them as the apostle says, "For then he must often have suffered from the foundation of the world." Hence he who has not the sense of redemption in his soul by faith, and he who really has, are by current teaching put on the same footing, though one has the Spirit of adoption, and the other has not — one looks for mercy, not yet obtained by faith, and the other, with God, cries Abba, Father; but both are taught to suppose sin imputable alike, and to search if they are children, and the delivered man is thrown back by false teaching under law in Romans 7. If you can really cry, Abba, Father, you are surely sealed; but then no sin can be imputed to you, or Christ is dead in vain. Judaism was, as to that, better than this half Christianity. There, if a man sinned, was a sacrifice, and his sin was forgiven. Here, once, perhaps, pardoned for what was gone before, he has nothing but uncertainty for all that follows. But Christ has obtained eternal redemption, and blessed is the man to whom the Lord imputes no sin. And the work being complete, and he who is sanctified perfected for ever, the worshipper once purged has no more conscience of sins, and Christ is sitting down on the Father's throne because all is finished. Of this the Holy Ghost is the witness; being born of God is not.

Darby's prose is tortuous and tangled; it requires some parsing.

First, "an accomplished and known redemption by the work of Christ... what Scripture plainly states". The most important point here is that redemption isn't known by subjective self-examination; it's known from Scripture. This is a very important point, and is one of the most significant points of Darby's teaching. Scripture teaches both objective and subjective truth. Justification is objective truth: it's God's declaration that a man is righteous. New birth is subjective truth: it is God's work in a man. Justification--- objective truth--- is known objectively. One doesn't look inside to find objective truth, one looks to facts. God acquits the one who believes: this is objective. It's entirely outside me. New birth is subjective---it's God's work in me. That is known subjectively, and is proven by my life. It's impossible to see evidence in me that I am justified, because justification implies nothing at all about me: it is entirely outside me. Darby is here insisting that I have peace with God not because I am born again, but because I am justified (cf. Romans 5:1). There is no proof in my life, the proof is in Scripture.

We are redeemed by Christ, and forgiven of sins. There is no way to see that, and really no way to experience it. It is something we accept by faith: God has promised forgiveness to all who believe. If you believe, it's yours (Acts 13:39; Romans 4:5). It's foolish to examine one's self to see whether one is redeemed: there is, by definition, nothing you'd expect to see in one who's redeemed.

Then, "the full doctrine of redemption is not believed... [w]hat Scripture calls eternal redemption is not believed in." This is where we get to the real crux of the matter. "Full redemption" means there's nothing that I can do to change my standing before God. Christ's work for me means all my sins--- even sins I've not yet committed--- have been forgiven. I've not committed them yet, but they're already forgiven. Regardless of what I do, I can't change my acceptance with God.

It's obvious that sins I haven't yet committed have already been dealt with; because when Christ died for my sins, I hadn't committed any of them. If it's truly by Christ's sacrifice that I've been forgiven, then that must apply equally to sins I've not yet committed.

Darby continues, "Ask them what it means, when it says that by one offering He hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified; they cannot tell you: each sin, after its commission, has to find its forgiveness as and when it may; and people are taught that it is a very dangerous doctrine to think otherwise." Scripture clearly teaches there is only one sacrifice for sins, and it cannot be repeated. This, Darby points out, is precisely what Scripture asserts is different between Judaism and Christianity. Under the Law, sacrifices were repeated; but Christ has died once, He cannot die again, and there is never another sacrifice for sins. This is the whole point of Hebrews 10:1–14. It is not merely that Christ need not sacrifice again for sins, but that He cannot. If the sacrifice He has already made is not enough, then you are certain of an eternity in Hell, with no recourse. There is absolutely nothing you can do; Christ cannot die for you again, you are lost without any hope at all.

There is a subtle subtext here. What Scripture insists on is, the perfection of Christ's sacrifice. But there are those who deny this plain truth out of fear. That is, they're afraid of what someone might do who really believed all his sins (even those not yet committed) are forgiven, and so they're not willing to believe what Scripture teaches. This is not merely theoretical, I have personally met people who believed that. In fact, one missionary told me they didn't like to teach eternal security on the mission field, because it might lead to licentiousness. What this really means is, this person was more willing to deny the completeness and perfection of Christ's work than to see a Christian fall into sin. It's not a matter of laziness or danger or license: denying that Christ's one sacrifice has covered all our sins (past, present, and future) is denying Christ. There is no other way to interpret Hebrews. God's Son has died for me, God says this one offering perfects the sanctified forever; to deny this isn't humility, it's blasphemy.

Let me diverge a moment here and point out that most people don't realize they're actually denying Christ. It's very difficult to accept that Christ's one offering is once for all, has covered all my sins, and there's nothing I can do to change that. It's not that they set out to deny Christ, it's that they can't bring themselves to believe what Scripture teaches. But the fact is, we need to let God be true and every man a liar. The Gospel is unbelievable: it has to be. The problem of sin is too big a problem to be solved by something believable. A gospel less than once-for-all isn't big enough for real sinners. Real sinners need a real gospel: something that requires nothing at all from them, something that rests entirely outside themselves. The Gospel of Scripture is exactly that. The "gospel" you hear preached rarely is.

Then, "We have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus. He who bore our sins, and put them away long ago, is there." Christ bore my sins in His own body on the cross (1 Peter 2:24). He took them all away, there is nothing left on me. My sins were entirely put on Him. Where is He? He's in Heaven. If one of my sins were left, if a single sin I've committed hasn't yet been dealt with, then Christ has taken it into Heaven. His presence in Heaven is proof my sins are gone. Now, I know there is more to the sacrifice of Christ than bearing my sins: there is propitiation and sanctification, etc. But the plain statement of Scripture is that He took my sins on the Cross. They're not mine any more: He took them. So if He's back in Heaven, sitting at God's right hand, then my sins must be gone. And they must be gone forever, because He's not going to be kicked out of Heaven. This is what Hebrews is actually all about: this is what Colossians 2 insists on.

Next, "We must not confound the work of the Spirit, which makes me own my faults, and the work of Christ, finished and effectual once and for ever." This is a repetition of the first point. The work of Christ for me has brought me peace with God. The work of the Spirit in me brings me into maturity and practical holiness. The Spirit works in me to make me like Christ. It's not that the Spirit's work in me isn't important: it's that God accepts me because of Christ's work for me. The relationship is established solely by what Christ has done on my behalf: the Holy Spirit's work in me doesn't enter into it.

I once read a quote by JND I've never actually found in any of his books: "It is Christ's work for me, not His work in me that brings me peace."

Then Darby makes a striking point: "Judaism was, as to that, better than this half Christianity. There, if a man sinned, was a sacrifice, and his sin was forgiven. Here, once, perhaps, pardoned for what was gone before, he has nothing but uncertainty for all that follows. But Christ has obtained eternal redemption, and blessed is the man to whom the Lord imputes no sin." The "christianity" that's taught in so many places is actually inferior to Judaism. At least under the Law there is another sacrifice coming if the old one wasn't enough. But under Christianity, there can never be another. If that wasn't good enough, you're going to burn in Hell.

And I might point out, this is the problem with all Arminianism. If you really can be saved and then lost, then you can never actually be saved. A "gospel" good enough to save you until you sin again is only a "gospel" good enough to taunt you. If that's the "gospel", then not one of us is saved, and we're all going to burn.

But the point is, Christ has obtained eternal redemption. Contingent redemption isn't eternal. If God were to impute sin to me, that would be exactly the same as His rejecting Christ's sacrifice. And that would mean not merely that I would burn in Hell, but you would too. There's only one sacrifice for sins: if God rejects it, then we all are destined for Hell. Think about that: if God were to impute a single sin to a single believer, then He would reject the same sacrifice that makes everyone else perfect. If God rejects me, He rejects Paul too. There is only one sacrifice for sins, it can only be offered one time, and it's been accepted absolutely, with no recourse. God has accepted Christ's sacrifice for our sins.

Finally, "the worshipper once purged has no more conscience of sins, and Christ is sitting down on the Father's throne because all is finished." If I have been purged by this one sacrifice, I can never again be conscious of sins. It's not that I don't sin, nor is it that the Holy Spirit doesn't deal with me when I sin. It's that those sins cannot ever appear before God as mine. God cannot impute those sins to me, because He's already imputed them to Christ. And Christ has already suffered for them, taking them away forever.

Is there such a thing as confession? Absolutely! But confession doesn't absolve me from sins: God has already done that. Confession is how God deals with me subjectively, bringing me closer to Himself. But I don't confess my sins to escape them: it is by one offering that Christ has perfected me. There is nothing else to add to that: not even confession.

And this brings us really to the main point. It's hard--- really, really hard--- for a true believer to believe this when he's sinned. Our conscience is burdened, our mind is troubled, we're upset with ourselves, we fear what we've done, we're ashamed. And so we look for something to soothe the conscience: some penance or confession that will bring us peace. The problem is, there's nothing in Heaven or on earth or under the earth that can do that, because the only remedy for sins that exists (or ever will exist) is that Christ has already suffered for it. And God has already accepted Christ's offering. There cannot ever be anything else if that's not enough.

So how to deal with this problem? The solution is simple: first, we have been once purged, that cannot be repeated. But we do need to trust God. God hasn't lied to us, we need to accept the forgiveness we already have. Second, it's the worshipper who's been purged. When we feel the weight of sin, we find (although it's hard to believe) that it's in God's presence we have no more conscience of it. We don't claim forgiveness out of arrogance, but because we can see what God has given us in Christ. Third, we see that Christ is seated at God's right hand. This is what perfects us:

But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, [even] as by the Spirit of the Lord. (2 Corinthians 3:18, KJV)

Wanna feel forgiven? Look at Christ on God's right hand.