There's a woman I'm talking with online who is appalled at my lack of faith in God. She's said to me: "Having a FORM of godliness but denying its power. That's you....I would really rather be part of this world then grovel with you and your lack of knowledge of our Christ! I'm stunned......have you ever seen a healing....do you ever experience His unmistakable presence...or do you prefer to stick to your powerless doctrine to ease your own conscience??"
Regular readers of this blog may be surprised to hear such accusations aimed at me, especially considering my last post was on dealing with accusations that I trusted God with too much power, and much of this blog consists of knowing and experiencing God in intimate ways.
Some context is necessary. The person who said these things is a frequent poster on a Christian discussion board I'm an administrator of. Over the past couple weeks, she has stridently proclaimed, "the gospel of grace." She proclaims the law abolished by Christ's sacrifice and accordingly seems to think that any believer who feels obligated to obey any command of scripture (including the "law of Christ" from Galatians 6:2) is trying to earn their salvation. She repeatedly declares that the believer should have "no consciousness of sin," meaning they should be totally oblivious to it, to the point that she opposes a Christian confessing his sin as an abhorrent act (and going further, she opposes even the scriptural saying that we are "jars of clay," which is apparently demeaning to say about such "children of God" as we are). She maintains that her view does not promote a lifestyle of living in sin, nor that believers are themselves perfect, but how those two work out is a mystery to me. If we are not perfect, we sin, and if we are blind to all sin in our lives and yet still sin (because we are imperfect) we cannot but continue in that sin, oblivious to it. Somehow grace is supposed to fix that logical inconsistency. Additionally, because of grace, a true believer can never do anything to displease God (not that there is any restriction on their actions, just on God's emotional responses). All this is background however, to the remarks above. They actually took place in another discussion, where she preached a new part of this gospel: that God would never use sickness to discipline His children and--further--that any Christian with sufficient faith and knowledge would never know illness.
Scriptural proofs were traded back and forth. But I will not rehash the arguments here. My question regards her claim and accusation about me. Does her viewpoint represent "true grace?" By holding something different, am I holding something less? Is this "good news" she's proclaimed really better than what I have heard, or worse? To put it more concretely, does confession undermine grace or highlight it? Does humility glorify God or insult Him? Is God less loving if we can displease Him? And finally, is a God who allows sickness powerless?
In answer to the question about confession, it depends. I have to say, she's got a point here. With certain types of confession--the kinds I used to do and am sometimes still tempted to engage in, the confession undermines grace. This is because its a confession that's made not for forgiveness but for guilt. I used to do this all the time. I would sin and I would realize it and then turn around to confess that sin to God...and then confess it again (not sin again, confess the same sin twice)...and then again...and then again. All through the day I might bring the same sin I'd committed late last night before God, allegedly so He would forgive me. Really, while words asking for forgiveness came out of my mouth, my heart wasn't accepting any forgiveness at all, nor was I willing to forgive myself. My real purpose in "confessing" was so I could bring the sin back to mind and bludgeon myself with guilt over it. God had a thing or two to say about that and eventually got me straightened out (if you've been reading my blog, you've probably seen some of the entries that touched on that).
Now what I practice is a different kind of confession with a different intent and result. Rather than "bringing my sins to God" so I can wallow in guilt over them, I bring them to Him so I can be free of them. I realize, of course, that as a Christian I am forgiven and no longer subject to the penalty of sin (Hell), nor am I any longer sin's slave--but I sure can act that way! I can go out and chase after something I know is wrong by telling myself that it isn't wrong at all. Doesn't all temptation begin this way? A lust or desire rears its head where it ought not, and it just seems so innocent...what could possibly be wrong about entertaining it, just for a second or two. Of course I know it's not what God says I should do, but I'll ignore Him just for a second, and be right back! But seconds become minutes and minutes hours...if I'm not careful I can find myself having spent most of a day trying to shut out all awareness of God while I pursued some sinful desire. Confession is how I stop. Rather than beating myself up about those hours, its a simple admission that what I did in them was wrong and that I really do want to stop, an acknowledgement that I actually am trying to ignore God and a willingness to let down my walls before Him once more. Once I make such a confession, I am immediately aware of God's forgiveness and experience intimacy with Him once more.
I dare to say that this kind of confession doesn't undermine grace at all, but highlights it. After all, this confession hinges on grace. If not for God's grace, this confession is useless. Its entire intent is to admit mistakes so that they can be forgiven and reversed, but without grace there would be no forgiveness and no possibility of coming back into God's arms. Such confessions acknowledge grace, for grace is their end. They are said once, as I repent, and not repeated because the sin is gone, covered by grace, and the fellowship is restored by grace (since I, by grace, am no longer trying to block out God). One great advantage of these confessions over no confession at all is that these acknowledge the power of grace because they show what that grace has covered. If a man says, "My wife still loves me and forgives me," that sounds nice enough. It's nice to hear people love each other, though we really don't know how much the wife loves him or what she forgives him of. But if the man adds the explanation: "I had an affair and fathered a child with my wife's best friend," then it's a different story. Now we know that not only does this man's wife love him, but she loves him in a deep, profound way. Before, her forgiveness, which seemed a light thing (what did he do, leave the toilet seat up?) seems almost superhuman. The grace she shows her husband is magnified by the knowledge of what it covers. So also a man who stands behind the pulpit and says, "I'm forgiven by the blood of Jesus" magnifies God's grace, but a man who says, "I was employed by the Sanhedrin to imprison and exterminate Christian, but now I'm forgiven by the blood of Jesus" magnifies it more!
This brings us to the next question: does humility shame God or glorify Him? Paul I think, says enough that we can definitively say, "Yes" and even give a reason. He says, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (2 Corinithians 4:7, NIV). This is what humility does. True humility shows how great God is. It's like Indigo Montoya fighting with his left hand. That he uses the wrong hand doesn't demean him in any way. Rather, the results he's able to achieve using the wrong hand highlight just how skilled of a swordsman he is. So also it is with us. God uses us to accomplish His glorious will, when we are, really, nothing but dust (for that was what He made us from). He is not shamed by this, but rather it shows how great His power really is. If this is what He can do through fallible, mortal, human proxies, how great a God He must be in person! Now, of course, the woman had a point in her responses. She countered by saying I mustn't say such humble things for I was a "son of God." And she is right in that I am a son of God. But is this lessened in any way by admitting I am a "jar of clay" as well? By no means! Rather, to say I am a jar of clay, but that by grace I am a son of God glorifies God more! He can, literally from dust, raise up sons of God! And so, it is best to acknowledge both, to be humble and yet bear about and proclaim one's identity in Christ. In so doing, the grace of God that brings all-surpassing power to jars of clay is magnified!
For the next question, we'll use two foundational assumptions, which both sides would agree on. First, that God loves us unconditionally and independent of what we do or don't do (His love is not earned). Second, that we Christians are not perfect people, we still do the wrong things from time to time. So the question is, at those times, if our wrong behavior (sin) displeases God, does that make Him less loving? The poster seemed to think so, but I have to say she totally missed the point there. People, and God no less, have emotional responses to other people's actions. Certain actions from others bring them pleasure, certain others, displeasure. The degree to which these reactions can occur is directly proportional to the love and intimacy of the relationship in question. Take a simple situation: a co-worker you met yesterday (and talked to for only five minutes, during which it slipped that tomorrow was your birthday) forgets your birthday. Will this upset you? Unlikely. You are not very close to this person at all. You don't expect much of them. Even if this coworker were to be rude to you, it would probably only be a nuisance. But what if it's not a strange coworker, but your closest friend whom you've known for years and years. Now you're no doubt hurt and upset. How could your best friend have forgotten your birthday? And if your friend is rude to you--well, that's really upsetting1 Does all of this prove that you're closer to an unknown co-worker than to your best friend? By no means! The reason your friend's behavior can actually hurt you and displease you so much is because you love them more and are closer to them. So it is with God. If god were to keep smiling down on me and saying, "Isn't he something? I'm so proud of him," while I surfed porn or went on a shooting spree at the mall, I would have to conclude that god's love was very distant. If he doesn't care what I do with myself, its safe to say he doesn't care about me either. However, if doing these same things hurts and displeases God, and might even provoke Him, then I know He cares. If every idle word I speak makes a difference to Him, then how great and intimate His love must be!
Now we come to the final question: is God powerless if Christians get sick? First of all, it cannot be denied that Christians do, in fact, get sick. The answer, then, depends on why you think the Christians are sick in the first place. If Christians are sick not because God allows it but because of some failing of themselves that God can't help (which was, ironically, her position--she believed the failing was insufficient faith), then yes: sick Christians prove an impotent God. After all, if God were really powerful, nothing He didn't allow would happen. He would be able to overcome these Christian's deficiencies and heal them or--better still--keep them in perfect health. However, if God is in control of the sickness and the Christians are only sick because He allows it to be so, then God's sovereignty and power are absolute. He is not bound by faith or lack of faith, sickness or health: He does what He pleases. Now, does this show God is unloving, that He allows sickness? I do not think so. Paul provides an example. He suffered a "thorn in the flesh"--some unspecified malady that Christ simply refused to heal him of, no matter how many times He asked. But the reason Christ refused was that this "thorn" kept Paul humble. If not for the thorn, Paul might have been puffed up with pride, disrupting his relationship with God (who opposes the proud) and ruining his ministry. The fallout of such pride would have been enormous for Paul: it would have ruined him! By comparison, a nagging infirmity is inconsequential and when God chooses to deliver that to stave off Paul's ruining himself, He actually proves that He loves Paul enough to do whatever it takes to preserve him!
So, in conclusion, true grace is not what this woman proclaimed. Her gospel is not more glorious than the one I hold. It does not proclaim a greater grace, but a lesser one--one which cannot confess what it was we were saved from and cannot acknowledge the humble origins from which Christ has raised us up. It does not preach a more loving God, but a less loving God--one which does not give a damn what we do with our time or how we respond to Him. It does not preach a more powerful God, but a handcuffed one--who is powerless to control our sicknesses and can't even have a reaction to our behavior (even I can respond express displeasure toward anyone who does enough to provoke it--but god apparently cannot). True grace takes place in the true world--just as it is, full of Christians who sin, get sick, and are ultimately descended from a man created out of dust--and is administered by the true God--whose sovereignty is absolute and who's heart is close enough to be injured. This is true grace, that brings them together!
Regular readers of this blog may be surprised to hear such accusations aimed at me, especially considering my last post was on dealing with accusations that I trusted God with too much power, and much of this blog consists of knowing and experiencing God in intimate ways.
Some context is necessary. The person who said these things is a frequent poster on a Christian discussion board I'm an administrator of. Over the past couple weeks, she has stridently proclaimed, "the gospel of grace." She proclaims the law abolished by Christ's sacrifice and accordingly seems to think that any believer who feels obligated to obey any command of scripture (including the "law of Christ" from Galatians 6:2) is trying to earn their salvation. She repeatedly declares that the believer should have "no consciousness of sin," meaning they should be totally oblivious to it, to the point that she opposes a Christian confessing his sin as an abhorrent act (and going further, she opposes even the scriptural saying that we are "jars of clay," which is apparently demeaning to say about such "children of God" as we are). She maintains that her view does not promote a lifestyle of living in sin, nor that believers are themselves perfect, but how those two work out is a mystery to me. If we are not perfect, we sin, and if we are blind to all sin in our lives and yet still sin (because we are imperfect) we cannot but continue in that sin, oblivious to it. Somehow grace is supposed to fix that logical inconsistency. Additionally, because of grace, a true believer can never do anything to displease God (not that there is any restriction on their actions, just on God's emotional responses). All this is background however, to the remarks above. They actually took place in another discussion, where she preached a new part of this gospel: that God would never use sickness to discipline His children and--further--that any Christian with sufficient faith and knowledge would never know illness.
Scriptural proofs were traded back and forth. But I will not rehash the arguments here. My question regards her claim and accusation about me. Does her viewpoint represent "true grace?" By holding something different, am I holding something less? Is this "good news" she's proclaimed really better than what I have heard, or worse? To put it more concretely, does confession undermine grace or highlight it? Does humility glorify God or insult Him? Is God less loving if we can displease Him? And finally, is a God who allows sickness powerless?
In answer to the question about confession, it depends. I have to say, she's got a point here. With certain types of confession--the kinds I used to do and am sometimes still tempted to engage in, the confession undermines grace. This is because its a confession that's made not for forgiveness but for guilt. I used to do this all the time. I would sin and I would realize it and then turn around to confess that sin to God...and then confess it again (not sin again, confess the same sin twice)...and then again...and then again. All through the day I might bring the same sin I'd committed late last night before God, allegedly so He would forgive me. Really, while words asking for forgiveness came out of my mouth, my heart wasn't accepting any forgiveness at all, nor was I willing to forgive myself. My real purpose in "confessing" was so I could bring the sin back to mind and bludgeon myself with guilt over it. God had a thing or two to say about that and eventually got me straightened out (if you've been reading my blog, you've probably seen some of the entries that touched on that).
Now what I practice is a different kind of confession with a different intent and result. Rather than "bringing my sins to God" so I can wallow in guilt over them, I bring them to Him so I can be free of them. I realize, of course, that as a Christian I am forgiven and no longer subject to the penalty of sin (Hell), nor am I any longer sin's slave--but I sure can act that way! I can go out and chase after something I know is wrong by telling myself that it isn't wrong at all. Doesn't all temptation begin this way? A lust or desire rears its head where it ought not, and it just seems so innocent...what could possibly be wrong about entertaining it, just for a second or two. Of course I know it's not what God says I should do, but I'll ignore Him just for a second, and be right back! But seconds become minutes and minutes hours...if I'm not careful I can find myself having spent most of a day trying to shut out all awareness of God while I pursued some sinful desire. Confession is how I stop. Rather than beating myself up about those hours, its a simple admission that what I did in them was wrong and that I really do want to stop, an acknowledgement that I actually am trying to ignore God and a willingness to let down my walls before Him once more. Once I make such a confession, I am immediately aware of God's forgiveness and experience intimacy with Him once more.
I dare to say that this kind of confession doesn't undermine grace at all, but highlights it. After all, this confession hinges on grace. If not for God's grace, this confession is useless. Its entire intent is to admit mistakes so that they can be forgiven and reversed, but without grace there would be no forgiveness and no possibility of coming back into God's arms. Such confessions acknowledge grace, for grace is their end. They are said once, as I repent, and not repeated because the sin is gone, covered by grace, and the fellowship is restored by grace (since I, by grace, am no longer trying to block out God). One great advantage of these confessions over no confession at all is that these acknowledge the power of grace because they show what that grace has covered. If a man says, "My wife still loves me and forgives me," that sounds nice enough. It's nice to hear people love each other, though we really don't know how much the wife loves him or what she forgives him of. But if the man adds the explanation: "I had an affair and fathered a child with my wife's best friend," then it's a different story. Now we know that not only does this man's wife love him, but she loves him in a deep, profound way. Before, her forgiveness, which seemed a light thing (what did he do, leave the toilet seat up?) seems almost superhuman. The grace she shows her husband is magnified by the knowledge of what it covers. So also a man who stands behind the pulpit and says, "I'm forgiven by the blood of Jesus" magnifies God's grace, but a man who says, "I was employed by the Sanhedrin to imprison and exterminate Christian, but now I'm forgiven by the blood of Jesus" magnifies it more!
This brings us to the next question: does humility shame God or glorify Him? Paul I think, says enough that we can definitively say, "Yes" and even give a reason. He says, "But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (2 Corinithians 4:7, NIV). This is what humility does. True humility shows how great God is. It's like Indigo Montoya fighting with his left hand. That he uses the wrong hand doesn't demean him in any way. Rather, the results he's able to achieve using the wrong hand highlight just how skilled of a swordsman he is. So also it is with us. God uses us to accomplish His glorious will, when we are, really, nothing but dust (for that was what He made us from). He is not shamed by this, but rather it shows how great His power really is. If this is what He can do through fallible, mortal, human proxies, how great a God He must be in person! Now, of course, the woman had a point in her responses. She countered by saying I mustn't say such humble things for I was a "son of God." And she is right in that I am a son of God. But is this lessened in any way by admitting I am a "jar of clay" as well? By no means! Rather, to say I am a jar of clay, but that by grace I am a son of God glorifies God more! He can, literally from dust, raise up sons of God! And so, it is best to acknowledge both, to be humble and yet bear about and proclaim one's identity in Christ. In so doing, the grace of God that brings all-surpassing power to jars of clay is magnified!
For the next question, we'll use two foundational assumptions, which both sides would agree on. First, that God loves us unconditionally and independent of what we do or don't do (His love is not earned). Second, that we Christians are not perfect people, we still do the wrong things from time to time. So the question is, at those times, if our wrong behavior (sin) displeases God, does that make Him less loving? The poster seemed to think so, but I have to say she totally missed the point there. People, and God no less, have emotional responses to other people's actions. Certain actions from others bring them pleasure, certain others, displeasure. The degree to which these reactions can occur is directly proportional to the love and intimacy of the relationship in question. Take a simple situation: a co-worker you met yesterday (and talked to for only five minutes, during which it slipped that tomorrow was your birthday) forgets your birthday. Will this upset you? Unlikely. You are not very close to this person at all. You don't expect much of them. Even if this coworker were to be rude to you, it would probably only be a nuisance. But what if it's not a strange coworker, but your closest friend whom you've known for years and years. Now you're no doubt hurt and upset. How could your best friend have forgotten your birthday? And if your friend is rude to you--well, that's really upsetting1 Does all of this prove that you're closer to an unknown co-worker than to your best friend? By no means! The reason your friend's behavior can actually hurt you and displease you so much is because you love them more and are closer to them. So it is with God. If god were to keep smiling down on me and saying, "Isn't he something? I'm so proud of him," while I surfed porn or went on a shooting spree at the mall, I would have to conclude that god's love was very distant. If he doesn't care what I do with myself, its safe to say he doesn't care about me either. However, if doing these same things hurts and displeases God, and might even provoke Him, then I know He cares. If every idle word I speak makes a difference to Him, then how great and intimate His love must be!
Now we come to the final question: is God powerless if Christians get sick? First of all, it cannot be denied that Christians do, in fact, get sick. The answer, then, depends on why you think the Christians are sick in the first place. If Christians are sick not because God allows it but because of some failing of themselves that God can't help (which was, ironically, her position--she believed the failing was insufficient faith), then yes: sick Christians prove an impotent God. After all, if God were really powerful, nothing He didn't allow would happen. He would be able to overcome these Christian's deficiencies and heal them or--better still--keep them in perfect health. However, if God is in control of the sickness and the Christians are only sick because He allows it to be so, then God's sovereignty and power are absolute. He is not bound by faith or lack of faith, sickness or health: He does what He pleases. Now, does this show God is unloving, that He allows sickness? I do not think so. Paul provides an example. He suffered a "thorn in the flesh"--some unspecified malady that Christ simply refused to heal him of, no matter how many times He asked. But the reason Christ refused was that this "thorn" kept Paul humble. If not for the thorn, Paul might have been puffed up with pride, disrupting his relationship with God (who opposes the proud) and ruining his ministry. The fallout of such pride would have been enormous for Paul: it would have ruined him! By comparison, a nagging infirmity is inconsequential and when God chooses to deliver that to stave off Paul's ruining himself, He actually proves that He loves Paul enough to do whatever it takes to preserve him!
So, in conclusion, true grace is not what this woman proclaimed. Her gospel is not more glorious than the one I hold. It does not proclaim a greater grace, but a lesser one--one which cannot confess what it was we were saved from and cannot acknowledge the humble origins from which Christ has raised us up. It does not preach a more loving God, but a less loving God--one which does not give a damn what we do with our time or how we respond to Him. It does not preach a more powerful God, but a handcuffed one--who is powerless to control our sicknesses and can't even have a reaction to our behavior (even I can respond express displeasure toward anyone who does enough to provoke it--but god apparently cannot). True grace takes place in the true world--just as it is, full of Christians who sin, get sick, and are ultimately descended from a man created out of dust--and is administered by the true God--whose sovereignty is absolute and who's heart is close enough to be injured. This is true grace, that brings them together!
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