Time after time, God’s mercy and love are not prompted by our intrinsic worth or value or potential, but by love without reason—”great love.”

What we discover in God is that love is not love in the deepest sense if it is motivated by anything intrinsic in the beloved—another’s worth, value, gifts, or potential. If our actions are motivated by such things, it is not love. We are merely giving people their due, obligated by some value in them to honor and respect them. Love is not love unless freely given, given for no reason at all but merely out of that “great love.” Love needs no reason and has no reason. Love is its own reason.

It may seem circular, but such is the nature of the gospel. God loves us because he loves us. It doesn’t get any simpler, or more profound, than that.

Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy,
blot out my transgressions. (Psalm 51:1)

Help me, O Lord my God! / Save me according to your steadfast love! (Psalm 109:26)

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. (Eph. 2:4-5)

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Sweat Equity Salvation is of the Devil

Tuesday, November 24, 2009, 8:17 AM

Jared C. Wilson

A few months ago on my own blog I wrote about something I write often about: how the good news is that Christ’s finished work actually means the work of salvation is finished, so that even our feeble participation in sanctification is both covered by Jesus and empowered by him through the Spirit. A somewhat prominent blogger then brought up the idea of our own “sweat equity” contributing to our sanctification. I couldn’t think of a more abhorrent idea at the time, an idea more antithetical to the gospel, which suddenly becomes no gospel, because it means Christ made a down payment and now I’m on the installment plan.

I saw the idea again yesterday, as someone linked to the May 2008 edition of The Gospel Coalition’s Themelios journal, in an article titled “How a Mega-Church is Rediscovering the Gospel”. An excerpt, from the pastor of that church:

I met with a man who had been attending our church for four years. He said he needed to ask me a theological question before he could join our church. I never like those kinds of conversations since the question is usually about a distinctive rather than about something central. We met for breakfast, and his question was the best theological question I had ever been asked. He simply asked me how people grow. He said that he knew people were saved by grace, but he wanted to know if I thought people were sanctified through their own sweat equity. I thought for a moment and then told him that the only thing that ever really changed me was love. Ever since the mission trip, I had been feeling that it was more important for me to understand how much Jesus loved me than it was for me to figure out how to love Him. I watched in amazement as relief spread across my friend’s face. He said he had tried for twenty years to be sanctified through his own effort; it had ground him to powder, and he would not go back.

I know this myself personally. Talking about how the gospel and the law relate to sanctification is no mere intellectual exercise for me. It’s not just one more idea for the blog. It made the difference between the crushing weight of my own sinful failure and the freedom that comes from tasting and seeing that the Lord is good. This is a real freedom, a freedom that makes “good works” a celebratory dance, not a day-laborers’ accumulation of sanctifying sweat equity. That way leads to burn out and bitterness. “Do not again return to a yoke of slavery,” Paul practically yells at us.

And I don’t care if this offends you (because it needs to): If you don’t get this, you do not have the joy of gospel wakefulness.

Pastor Joe Coffey continues:

Gospel-driven transformation is both liberating and terrifying.

There are some in our church who have not yet rediscovered the Gospel this way. There are others who hear the terrifying part but not the liberating part, and they sit on pins and needles. Many of them will leave soon, I think. But there are many others who have felt the shackles start to fall off, and, like me, they are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.

It is counterintuitive, but wakefulness to the reality that the work is done makes us work more and harder. The gospel creates what the Law requires. And when we approach the notion of sanctification from the angle of “How much reminding of the spiritual homework can we do?” we miss the point entirely. It is often because we do not trust the proclamation to be effectual, and we do not really believe that the gospel is power in itself, that it bears fruit of itself.

[C]ontinue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose. — Philippians 2:12b-13

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. — Ephesians 2:10

“We must re-evangelize the church.” — John Armstrong

The word “enough” is the enemy of the Gospel. The word “enough” about killed me spiritually.

For many years I have lived with a complex… Have I given enough? Do I love enough? Do I share Christ enough? Do I sacrifice enough? Should I be living in a downtown Durham project? Should I adopt 3 adolescent runaways from Russia? Should I be sharing our house with a homeless man? Should I give away 50% of my income?

Every time I have heard a new preacher with a new “cause” I have left thinking, “Do I have to do that to be a real disciple of Jesus? Am I doing enough?”

That is because many well meaning (though I think misguided Christian preachers) preach a message built on enough. Their message often appears to be, “Do you give enough to the poor to really consider yourself a good Christian? Why don’t Christians in America die like Jesus’ first followers? After all, good Christians… adopt, live poor, die martyr’s deaths, win all their neighbors to Jesus, use only recycled cooking oil, drive hybrids… etc.” I am forever left thinking, “If I were a real Christian, I’d be doing this or that…” (and, to be fair, it’s not always the individual preacher’s fault, sometimes it’s how I misinterpret them–which has more to do with me… I seem addicted to works-righteousness and can turn anything into a new “standard” to reach.)

Obviously, giving and any form of sacrificial living are all important questions and things that many Christians who have experienced the love of the Gospel will want to do. But never in the context of “enough.”

Whenever we preach “enough” we preach legalism. Legalism has two unmistakable marks: pride in those who feel like they live up to the standard or guilt-complexes in those who don’t. The Gospel creates neither. The Gospel is not about how much you give, or whether or not you die, or if you adopt, or if you go overseas, the Gospel is about a heart of love that does things simply and freely in response to what God has done for us.

“Not under compulsion” is one of Paul’s favorite phrases in the context of generosity. The word “enough” is its own type of compulsion. The Gospel is not about any response that is “enough”; the Gospel is about the free response of love flowing from gratefulness for the sacrifice of Christ which set us completely free.

The Gospel is not about what we are to go and do for God, but about what He has done for us. There are only two ways to approach God… one says, “I’ll obey some standard, and because of that I’ll be accepted.” The other says “I’ve been accepted by what Christ has done for me, and I love in response.

This is why the preaching of the announcement of the Gospel (that Christ has DONE all that is necessary to save us) is so absolutely essential for all Christian living. If you do not preach the announcement of acceptance because of what Christ has done, there is no way he can create free love. Legalistic preachers, no matter how “evangelical” or “radical” they seem to be, don’t create love for Jesus in people, they create pride and guilt-despair. Because they don’t preach an announcement of freedom, they preach an obedience of captivity.

Paul said in 1 Cor 13:1-4 that “real Christianity” had nothing to do with “giving enough” or “dying enough” or “suffering enough” or “witnessing enough.” He said it had to do with love, and love, as I’m saying, only grows in absolute freedom.

The only time the word “enough” ought to be used for the Gospel is in reference to what Christ has done for us. Those who understand this will live their lives in response, and their lives will be characterized by radical love.

The Gospel is not spelled “D-O” or “D-O-N-T” but “D-O-N-E.” If you don’t love and live radically, think about what Christ has done. Repent of the idols and saviors you have served in place of Him, and when you do , He will change your heart from one of selfishness to one of love.

The following post comes from Tullian Tchividjian’s blog:

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My friend Scotty Smith has penned a prayer that I have made my own. I pray that you would make it your own as well.

In light of the trials I have been facing lately, I cannot think of a prayer that is more fitting, more comforting, more convicting. This prayer is a great reminder that in the end, those who believe that “salvation is of the Lord”–those who love and live the gospel–will be free. It is those who trust God even when they cannot trace him–-those who humbly leave all things up to him and who refuse to try and “save” themselves-–that will remain standing.

Gracious Father, today is a great day for me to be reminded that “salvation is of the Lord.”

You are the one who begins the “good work” of redemption in our lives; You are the one who is carrying it on, even when you’re not working according to my timetable and agenda; and You are the one who will bring redemption to completion on the Day Jesus returns to finish making all things new.

This is incredibly good news, as I ponder my own heart and the lives of other people I care about a whole lot. I cannot be my own savior, and neither can I be anyone else’s savior. What a relief, but also what a critical truth to remember. This grand affirmation leads me to offer these earnest supplications:

Father, give me the same confidence about your vigilance and faithfulness you gave Paul for the Philippians. Sometimes irritation, worry and fear loom larger in my life than patience, trust and hope. When this happens, I’m pretty worthless as a friend.

Father, teach me how to wrestle in confident prayer for others, like Epaphras wrestled in prayer for the believers in Colossae (Col. 4:12). My tendency is to wrangle emotionally rather than wrestle believingly. This leaves me worn out and it simply frustrates others.

Father, keep me tender enough to engage in my friends’ broken stories, but tough enough not to get entangled in “stuff” that has nothing to do with me.

Father, teach me how to wait on you without falling into self-protective passivity or self-validating activity.

Only the gospel is sufficient to help someone like me love others in such redemptive and healthy ways. So I abandon myself to you and your resources, Father, in light of the weight of grace and the Day of Christ.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

“He who is alone with his sin is utterly alone. It may be that Christians, notwithstanding corporate worship, common prayer, and all their…service, may still be left to their loneliness. The final break through to fellowship does not occur, because though they have fellowship with one another as believers and as devout people, they do not have fellowship as the undevout, as sinners. The pious fellowship permits no one to be a sinner. So everybody must conceal his sin from himself and the fellowship. We dare not be sinners. Many Christians are unthinkably horrified when a real sinner is suddenly discovered among them.  So we remain alone with our sin, living lies and hypocrisy. The fact is we are sinners.  But it is the grace of the Gospel, which is so hard for the pious to understand, that it confronts us with the truth and says: You are a sinner, a great desperate sinner; now come as the sinner that you are, to God who loves you…He does not want anything from you, a sacrifice, a work; He wants you alone. God has come to save the sinner.”

- Dietrich Bonhoeffer,  Life Together

It is forgiveness that sets a man working for God.  He does not work in order to be forgiven, but because he has been forgiven, and the consciousness of his sin being pardoned makes him long more for its entire removal than ever he did before.

An unforgiven man cannot work. He has not the will, nor the power, nor the liberty.  He is in chains.  Israel in Egypt could not serve Jehovah.  “Let my people go, that they may serve Me,” was Gods message to Pharoah (Exod. 8:1): first liberty, then service.

A forgiven man is the true worker, the true Law-keeper.  He can, he will, he must work for God.  He has come into contact with that part of God’s character which warms his cold heart.  Forgiving love constrains him.  He cannot but work for Him who has removed his sins from him as far as the east is from the west.  Forgiveness has made him a free man, and given him a new and most loving  Master.  Forgiveness, received freely from the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, acts as a spring, an impulse, a stimulus of divine potency.  It is more irresistible than law, or terror, or threat.

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Amongst other things, the gospel is the good news that if we, by faith, embrace all that Christ has done for sinners, then we can be assured that absolutely nothing “will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:39). Once we know that we’re forever loved by Jesus, we’re free to love others regardless of the risk, because our deep need to love will be satisfied.

A friend once told me, “My home is an unloving place.” When he returned there everyday from work, he said he wasn’t loved the way he longed to be loved by his wife and kids. I listened to him, and we talked further. Eventually I responded, “Maybe, just maybe, you’re looking at this from the wrong perspective.” I suggested that for six months he ask himself the following question each day when he came home from work: “Who here can I love? Who here needs my love right now?” I told him to pray about this before he walked in the door, asking God to show him the answer to that question. This man did that, and things at home changed.

Unfortunately, the fear that our love toward others will not be reciprocated is something that paralyzes many of us. It prevents parents from properly loving their kids, and husbands and wives from properly loving each other. We come to this conclusion: I will love you only to the degree that you love me. It’s an attitude that enslaves us. But the gospel frees us from that.

I too enjoy receiving love from my family. I’m ecstatic when my kids love me and express affection toward me. Something in me comes alive when they do that. But I’ve learned this freeing truth: I don’t need that love, because in Jesus, I receive all the love I need. This in turn enables me to love my kids without fear or reservation. I get to revel in their enjoyment of my love without needing anything from them in return. I get love from Jesus so that I can give love to them.

The gospel tells us that God in Christ loved sinners even while we hated him. Fully realizing this will pave the way for us to love others unconditionally as well. We realize and experience this liberating truth: “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1 John 3:16). This kind of lay-down-your-life love is the clearest indicator of a gospel-centered life.

But laying down your life for others is impossible. It’s too scary—unless you know you’ve been eternally loved by Christ. Then you’re free to give your life to others, because you’ve received so much yourself.

Do you realize how radically different this world would be if that was the rule instead of the exception in all our relationships? The most powerful way we can join God on his mission to bring heaven to earth—to warm this place up, and renew and redeem and fix this broken planet—is by applying the gospel in this way, in all our relationships.

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I mentioned a week ago that last week had been a long and difficult struggle to find joy. W week later I feel that God has really brought me through a tough time, but a time that was not in any way useless or wasted. This morning, when I sat down with The Valley of Vision, I came to the prayer titled “Contentment.” It ministered to me this morning. Isn’t it funny how a prayer can be such a great opportunity to learn? The author of this prayer writes about deliverance from trials, the fight against sin and the joy to come. Read it! Pray it!

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Heavenly Father,
If I should suffer need, and go unclothed, and be in poverty,
make my heart prize thy love,
know it, be constrained by it,
though I be denied all blessings.
It is thy mercy to afflict and try me with wants,
for by these trials I see my sins, and desire severance from them.
Let me willingly accept misery, sorrows, temptations,
if I can thereby feel sin as the greatest evil,
and be delivered from it with gratitude to thee,
acknowledging this as the highest testimony of thy love.

When thy Son, Jesus, came into my soul instead of sin
he became more dear to me than sin had formerly been;
his kindly rule replaced sin’s tyranny.
Teach me to believe that if ever I would have any sin subdued
I must not only labour to overcome it,
but must invite Christ to abide in the place of it,
and he must become to me more than vile lust had been;
that his sweetness, power, life may be there.
Thus I must seek a grace from him contrary to sin,
but must not claim it apart from himself.

When I am afraid of evils to come,
comfort me by showing me that in myself
I am a dying, condemned wretch,
but in Christ I am reconciled and live;
that in myself I find insufficiency and no rest,
but in Christ there is satisfaction and peace;
that in myself I am feeble and unable to do good,
but in Christ I have ability to do all things.
Though now I have his graces in part,
I shall shortly have them perfectly in that state
where thou wilt show thyself fully reconciled,
and alone sufficient, efficient,
loving me completely, with sin abolished.
O Lord, hasten that day.

[O]ne must distinguish between, on the one hand, the gospel as what God has done and what is the message to be announced and, on the other, what is demanded by God or effected by the gospel in assorted human responses. If the gospel is the (good) news about what God has done in Christ Jesus, there is ample place for including under “the gospel” the ways in which the kingdom has dawned and is coming, for tying this kingdom to Jesus’ death and resurrection, for demonstrating that the purpose of what God has done is to reconcile sinners to himself and finally to bring under one head a renovated and transformed new heaven and new earth, for talking about God’s gift of the Holy Spirit, consequent upon Christ’s resurrection and ascension to the right hand of the Majesty on high, and above all for focusing attention on what Paul (and others—though the language I’m using here reflects Paul) sees as the matter “of first importance”: Christ crucified. All of this is what God has done; it is what we proclaim; it is the news, the great news, the good news.

By contrast, the first two greatest commands—to love God with heart and soul and mind and strength, and our neighbor as ourselves—do not constitute the gospel, or any part of it. We may well argue that when the gospel is faithfully declared and rightly received, it will result in human beings more closely aligned to these two commands. But they are not the gospel. Similarly, the gospel is not receiving Christ or believing in him, or being converted, or joining a church; it is not the practice of discipleship. Once again, the gospel faithfully declared and rightly received will result in people receiving Christ, believing in Christ, being converted, and joining a local church; but such steps are not the gospel.

HT: Between Two Worlds