Lately, I’ve been focusing a lot of study on the doctrine of soteriology (the study of salvation). I’ve let it be known before that while I may not necessarily agree with John Calvin on everything, his doctrines of salvation seem to me to be the best reflection of the Biblical texts. And yet, as any theologian should, I’ve been compelled of late to study and search out varying opinions and theologies, to question their validity (and that of my own).

Those who would disagree with Calvin’s strong take on God’s election often speak of prevenient grace. Whereas Augustine first used this term to describe the grace required to facilitate repentance and faith of the elect who were dead in their trespasses, Arminian and Wesleyan theologians “rejected the distinction between common grace and the grace in salvation, seeing only a single divine grace held out to every person” (280). In other words, contrary to Augustine’s understanding that God gives common grace to all of humanity, and saving grace to his elect, Arminians and Wesleyans reject the delineation. Wedding the two, they believe that just enough grace is extended to all of humanity in order to give them the ability to respond to God’s grace.

But, I don’t encounter that theology in Scripture. I certainly don’t see that in Ephesians 2 where Paul writes,

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved.”

Paul says that we were dead, and that God made us alive. That implies two states: dead and alive. Prevenient grace would require some sort of spiritual zombie that was dead, but is now the walking undead waiting to opt for some sort of life, doesn’t it? In fact, for those who would hold onto this understanding of prevenient grace, wouldn’t that eliminate the reality of death? If just enough grace has been extended to all, wouldn’t that mean that everyone is either spiritually alive in Christ, or spiritually prowling about the earth in some undead, zombie state?

I have not been able to find a single text in the canon of Scripture that implies any sort of half-regenerate heart, or semi-elect person.

The good news of the gospel is that Christ makes dead men live! The good news of the gospel is that God does not require any of us to accomplish anything in order to earn his gracious love. And the good news of the gospel is that God’s grace does not open the door to salvation, but accomplishes it.

Finally, notice Paul’s words at the end of the passage above. “By grace you have been saved.” It says nothing of half-saved. Grace that requires anything else is not grace. It knows nothing of save-able.

He then repeats it in worship in verse 8:

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God.

The gift of God, is saving, effectual, grace. Grace that is not dependent upon our own action or activity, but in spite of it.

That sort of grace is quite amazing.

Source: New Dictionary of Theology

(image via flickr: hollowcrown_)

People do not drift toward holiness. Apart from grace-driven effort, people do not gravitate toward godliness, prayer, obedience to Scripture, faith, and delight in the Lord. We drift toward compromise and call it tolerance; we drift toward disobedience and call it freedom; we drift toward superstition and call it faith. We cherish the indiscipline of lost self-control and call it relaxation; we slouch toward prayerlessness and delude ourselves into thinking we have escaped legalism; we slide toward godlessness and convince ourselves we have been liberated.

D.A. Carson in For the Love of God, Volume 2: A Daily Companion for Discovering the Riches of God’s Word

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HT: Challies

As a youth pastor, I had the opportunity to watch many Christian illusionists. I loved it all – the sights, the sounds, the escapes – it was phenomenal. And whenever I went to see a Christian illusionist, the Gospel presentation almost always went the same.

After getting the attention of the crowd through humor, they would urge the crowd to get serious for a bit, and they would begin to talk about sin. Usually, as they spoke of sin they began to either chain themselves up, or have an assistant help them.

They would always mention that the shackles represented sin, and how it bound us and prevented us from living in the freedom we were meant to live. And finally, when they were bound by chains and shackles, they would usually up the ante even more by getting into a black bag, or some other additional hindrance (maybe even talking about how sin leads to darkness and shuts out the light).

Then they play some dark, foreboding music as they either ask the audience for complete silence or to cheer them on. And in dramatic fashion, they twist and move and talk about how they might not be able to get out “this time,” until they have the audience completely riveted, and then (like magic) they escape.

They usually follow with a presentation of the Gospel that says something along the lines of, “our sin shackles us, but by the power of Christ, we can be set free!”

And for some reason, it took a decade’s worth of watching this act that it dawned on me

This teaches a completely false gospel

The gospel does not, and has never, given us the strength to escape the shackles of sin by our own intelligence, training, maneuvering, or wisdom. In fact, only a great failure of an escape artist can adequately display the gospel.

Only when a master escape artist shackles themselves to the extent that their lock picks, their double-jointedness, and their experience fails them and after 5-10-15-30 minutes they realize that they will not be able to escape on their own and with raw bleeding wrists and ankles they cry out in agony in their failure to rescue themselves.

And in that moment, a rescuer steps on stage with the keys.

And they begin to free the escape artist, one lock at a time.

That’s the gospel. That’s what it means to have been set free from slavery to sin (Rom. 6:17).

The gospel is not your training.

The gospel is not your bobby pin that you use to pick the lock.

The gospel is not adjusting your body in just the right way.

The gospel is Jesus Christ removing the shackles that you never could remove, despite your best attempts.

I’ve been reading Leonard Verduin’s book, The Reformers and Their Stepchildren for my Baptist Heritage class at Southwestern this semester. In it, I came across a very startling and sobering reminder.

The author writes of Constantine, and his “vision” of a cross in the clouds along with the words “in hoc signo vinces” (in this sign conquer), which led him to declare Christianity as the official religion of Rome, paint crosses on his soldiers’ shields, and attempt to return Rome to her former glory. Verduin writes,

This was to read a new and totally strange meaning into the “Cross.” Is the Cross of Christ then a thing whereby emperors’ ambitions are realized? A device that sees the political aspirations of a power-hungry ruler through to victory? Surely Constantine had grasped little or nothing of the ideas set forth in the Cross of Christ!

And yet Constantine’s misapplication of the cross is ours as well. How many have gone to Christ in effort to receive their selfish desires, their narcissistic ambitions, their grabs for power?

How many times have I?

How much ink has been spilled and sermons written that teach that Jesus is “for us,” that his desire is to “increase us,” and “make much of us?” Isn’t this the message that we long to hear?

We are all children of Constantine.

So many are willing to take only as much Jesus and Christianity as needed to gain what they truly desire – which usually includes some sort of financial blessings, physical blessings, and selfish gain.

But at the cross, we’re called to give all of that up for the sake of Christ.

The Cross is not the guarantee of our pursuits, but the declaration that Christ has conquered sin, shame, hell, and death. We don’t conquer by this sign. We surrender to the reality that by that sign, we have been conquered. We cease our attempts to make much of ourselves and fall on our faces and worship, and bring glory to the One who so rightly deserves it.

What do you think? Does that communicate it?

HT: Z

Matt Chandler explains the difference between a moralistic interpretation and a gospel-centered interpretation of the story of David and Goliath.

HT: Trevin Wax

For more on The Gospel Project, click here.

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HT: Challies