The Secular Eschatology of Doom

The Secular Eschatology of Doom

For much of my Christian life I didn’t think eschatology mattered. That word comes from the Greek eschatos, which means last or farthest, so it means the study (ology) of last things. Since the Late Great Planet Earth 1970s, Christians have come to think of it as the study of “end times,” given the popularity of dispensational theology that believes the world is going to the proverbial hell in a handbasket; the ship is sinkin’ fast, so we have to save as many as we can, and prepare for the end. That view of eschatology isn’t as popular as it once was given the end is always around a corner never seeming to come, but it still informs much Christian understanding of “end times.” That, as the title implies, is not the subject of this post. Here I’m going to take on the secularists because in the title of the YouTube channel I contribute to, eschatology matters. In other words, how we see the end of things has an impact on how we live in the present, and everyone alive has some kind of vision in their mind of the end of things, even if most secularists suppress it with games and distractions. They want to enjoy their Nihilism until the bitter end.

What inspired this post is a TV series my wife and I recently watched on AppleTV+ called Silo (season 1 and 2). As with most of what we watch on streaming TV, it reveals the glories of secularism, or not. We enjoyed it, and I decided to read the book, the first of three in a trilogy. The story is a perfect example of something inevitable in a worldview where God is persona non grata: THE SECULAR ESCHATOLOGY OF DOOM. I don’t normally do all caps, but I want to emphasize the poverty of secularism as an exhausted vision for life. This is extremely important to understand as we do spiritual battle at the end of this secular age (see Eph. 6:12, but only in the context of Eph. 1:18-23). I write about this a lot in my work because we’re at a profound turning point in history, which is a culmination of almost 400 years of thinking and cultural change in the West (which is most of the world today). Intellectuals thought we could build societies and lives where God was a bit player, at best, and we could conquer reality to our indomitable will. It looks like reality isn’t so malleable after all; reality is winning. The liberal progressive secularists, the Western elites who ran things, the “experts,” thought they could mold reality to their wishes, but instead they have encountered the unmovable structure of God’s created order. Let’s take a look at how we got here.

A Brief History Secular Disappointment
From the beginning of the Enlightenment, and it’s development into secularism in the 17th century, until the early 20th century, everything was Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. Sing it with me, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood . . .” Uh, maybe not. Even as difficult as life could be in the 19th century, an infectious optimism gripped the imaginations of all but the most downtrodden. Industrialization brought a new kind of misery to cities exploding in growth, but the blessings of technology and knowledge were undeniable. To cite only one of those blessings, clean water was brought to the masses and saved untold lives from disease because of indoor plumbing and public sanitation.

A good example of the understandable hubris of the time was the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair. Held around the world annually, fairs showcased some of the world’s most revolutionary inventions and concepts known at the time, and the period between 1880 and World War I was the golden age of fairs. At the Chicago fair, known as the World’s Columbian Exposition celebrating Columbus’ arrival in the New World in 1492, the world-changing technology of electric light made its debut. It really seemed humanity could accomplish anything, and conquer the limits imposed by nature. Without God, however, as Nietzsche prophesied, disaster loomed.

Although a staunch atheist, Nietzsche realized Christianity had created the moral framework that made Christian Western civilization possible, and without something in its place, bad things were bound to happen. Branches can’t be cut from the tree and live. According to Walter Kauffmann, Nietzsche’s writings abound in prophecies of doom.

“If the doctrines . . . of the lack of any cardinal distinction between man and animal . . . are hurled into the people for another generation,” if mankind realizes the unique worth of the human being has evaporated, and that no up and down remains, and if the tremendous event that we have killed God reaches the ears of man—then night will close in,” an age of barbarism begins,” and “there will be wars such as have never happened on earth.”

Next to this paragraph in the book I wrote, “The 20th Century!!!” And remember, this comes from a convinced atheist, but one who realized the West wasn’t just cutting off branches, but cutting down the entire tree! It’s safe to say, no other thinker at the time would have said anything like this, and his prescient prophecies proved disastrously true.

I place the beginning of the end of modernism and its inevitable secularism with the sinking of RMS Titanic in April 1912. While the builders and White Star Line, the technological marvel’s operator, never actually declared it unsinkable, that was the impression in popular imagination. The sinking was a huge cultural blow to the dominant hubris of the time. A little more than two years later a war of unimaginable horror and carnage swept up the most educated and civilized nations in the world. This “war to end all wars” had many horrific unintended consequences, as all wars do, and two decades later led to an even more deadly and horrendous war. One of those consequences was the Russian Revolution, leading to Soviet communism and tens of millions more dead. The communists seemed to want to outdo each other in the mass murder sweepstakes, and Mao, Pol Pot, Castro and others gave the world by most estimates north of 100 million corpses. An “age of barbarism” only begins to describe it.

Ironically, despite all the carnage and destruction, Western cultural and political leaders were more confident than ever “progress” would continue. Technocratic man and “scientific management” would solve all problems sooner or later. The post-World War II period was an especially heady time. People in the 1950s and early 1960s pre-Vietnam believed anything was possible. Kennedy’s administration was staffed with the “best and the brightest,” young guns who never doubted their ability to do great things with their power. Kennedy’s promise of landing a man on the moon in 1961 was indicative of the can-do spirit. Under the surface, however, cracks were beginning to appear.

Technology, like anything sinful human beings create, can be used for good or evil. As Blaise Pascal put it so memorably:

Man’s greatness and wretchedness are so evident that the true religion must necessarily teach us that there is in man some great principle of greatness and some great principle of wretchedness.

The cracks leading to the eschatological doom I speak of started with the 1962 book by Rachal Carson called Silent Spring, which set the stage for the environmental movement. She exposed the hazards of the pesticide DDT, and questioned humanity’s faith in unlimited technological progress. In due course, environmental doom and gloom became a staple of the left’s worldview. Global warming transmogrified into “climate change,” and is only the latest catastrophe awaiting mankind if radical revolutionary changes are not enacted. The changes just happen to conveniently require globalist, leftist, tyrannical, anti-free enterprise solutions, always top down, never bottom up.

The Influence of Christian Eschatology
It’s important to remember the concept of eschatology, of history going somewhere with an inherent telos, or purpose, is a solely Jewish/Christian concept. Prior to God calling Abram out of Ur of the Chaldeans (Gen 12), history was literally going nowhere. Humanities’ conception of time and life itself changed that day.

Thomas Cahill in his The Gift of the Jews tells the story of that change. The subtitle isn’t hyperbole: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels. He explores the many ways Jewish belief and practice was completely unique in the ancient world. Here are just a few of these gifts:

  • Fate: Before the Hebrew people came along, life was viewed as something determined by inscrutable forces beyond any person’s control. There was nothing to be done about it but submit. That changed forever when God revealed through Scripture that He created man, male and female He created them, in His own image.
  • Time: Prior to the idea of “In the beginning God,” all peoples of the world viewed time cyclically, one season moving into another, a wheel turning forever going nowhere. The people of Israel, by contrast, introduced the concept of past, present, and future; that history was going somewhere, something inconceivable to all other ancient peoples.
  • A transcendent, personal Creator God: All other ancient peoples believed in gods who were visible (idols), and in fear of the forces of nature, believed they could manipulate the gods who presumably controlled those forces. The Hebrews introduced a concept no other peoples could conceive: a personal God, in some way like them, and the only true God. I can imagine an ancient person encountering these strange people saying, One God… who created everything? That’s crazy! Cahill writes that the God of Abraham, “no longer your typical ancient divinity, no longer the archetypal gesturer—is a real personality who has intervened in real history, changing its course and robbing it of predictability.”

Secularism hijacked the Jewish and Christian worldview, threw God out the door, and thought it could fly the plane of reality anywhere it wanted. Man was finally in control of his own existence without all the pesky divine interference. As Karl Marx said in his Communist Manifesto, man could now “move around himself as his own true Sun.” That was the plan anyway, but it hasn’t quite worked out as planned. Providence, however bastardized it becomes, is an inescapable influence of Christianity. Every worldview influenced by Christianity has an eschatology, a vision of the end of things, including secularism, and given the obvious dysfunction of the world, they inevitably tend towards the negative.

Which brings us to the Book of Revelation. Any providential discussion of history, as well as the present and that to come, can’t escape the most influential biblical book in Western history, eschatology or not. It’s instructive to consider the Greek word John uses for revelation as he begins his letter to “the seven churches in the province of Asia.” His first words are, “The revelation of Jesus Christ . . .” Revelation in Greek is apokálypsis and simply means unveiling, uncovering, revealing, revelation, and has no inherent positive or negative connotation. The word in English as it has come down to us, apocalypse, has only negative meaning when we see, hear, or use it ourselves. That is the influence of a certain interpretation of Revelation, but left or right, secular or religious, what often unites them all is the conviction the worst is yet to come.

The Inevitable Hopelessness of a God-Less World
One of the things Silo reminded me of is how important our fundamental assumptions are about the ultimate nature of reality, and in the Western mind there are only two mutually exclusive assumptions. Either God revealed to us in the first chapters of Genesis is real, or it’s all a cosmic accident, a product of chance. Charles Darwin and his theory of evolution is the creation myth for the secular eschatology of doom. If there is no God who sovereignly ordains all things for the good of is creation, then there is nothing upon which humanity can base their hope for a bright and positive future. Without God, there is nothing to counter human sin and its attendant evil. Dysfunction will always win in the end, inevitably leading to despair, and logically that leads to dystopia.

Speaking of dystopia, such a concept didn’t exist until Western culture fully embraced secularism. The idea is the flipside of “utopia,” which literally means no place, and was coined by Thomas More in his book Utopia in 1516. In it he describes a fictional island in the Atlantic Ocean that is a satire on the state of England. We think of it as an impossibly idealized place that cannot exist, and those who think they can achieve it on this earth generally end up in a very bad place. Inspired by More’s writings, the English philosopher John Stuart Mill coined the word dystopia, meaning ‘bad place’ in 1868 as he was denouncing the government’s Irish land use policy. As the 20th century developed, any kind of Utopia looked increasingly unlikely, and fiction started to embrace this concept of history inevitably going to this bad place, this dystopia. In a God-less universe man was ill equipped to overcome himself. The story behind the Silo series is a perfect example of this. I could probably write an entire post just listing the dystopian novels and movies of the last hundred years. Anyone reading or listening to this could pull numerous of them to mind. And this is only just the fiction. We’re almost daily reminded by the leftists in politics and culture that dystopia is inevitable if we don’t listen to them and give up all our freedoms and wealth so they can save us.

Why is it that God-less secular man is so given to a penchant to doom? I previously talked about the importance of ultimate assumptions for how people view the world, their worldview. Human beings are question raising animals specifically because we are not cosmic accidents, and fundamental questions about the nature of reality will be asked and answered. Nobody can remain a functional agnostic in their actual lives, and what they choose for entertainment will reflect that. I will briefly mention four that all people go through their lives asking and answering. This will of necessity be brief, but each could be developed in a post of its own, not to mention the tomes that have been written on them for thousands of years. Human beings can’t stand unanswered questions, but without God that’s all we got. Christianity is infinitely superior to secularism in the answers it provides to these questions.

  • Origin – Where do we come from? How did we get here? These questions are asked a lot in Silo because 10,000 people live in a hole in the ground and have no idea why. As mentioned above it’s either Darwin or God, either we’re merely animals, clever apes who fell out of the void, or creatures lovingly created and determined to exist by an Almighty Creator God who designed the world and everything in it specifically for us. The former is inherently hope-less; we are hurdling toward death in this mist of a life, and then it’s into the void, nothingness, it’s over. How inspiring! Or God and enternal life in paradise with no more sin, suffering, or death. Let me think about it.
  • Meaning – If all we are is matter in motion, so much lucky dirt, where does one get meaning? People try to squeeze it out of all kinds of things in life, but those things can’t give us ultimate meaning. Those are merely individual puzzle pieces that have no puzzle within which to fit, no big picture to give them meaning, and thus they never ultimately satisfy.
  • Morality – All human beings long for justice, for wrongs to be righted. They know intuitively, deeply, that right and wrong are not merely like preferences in ice cream. There has to be some kind of transcendent moral standard beyond matter, some kind of ultimate straight line that tells us when all the other lines are crooked and by how much.
  • Destiny – And finally, our destiny is either Utopia or Dystopia. It can be nothing in between. People read the book of Revelation and come to the wrong conclusion because they’re stuck on not only the wrong definition of the word apocalypse, but also on the wrong interpretation of the story. It doesn’t end in a bleak and dreary lifeless landscape, but a glorious place of God living with his people. We’re told what it will be like in Revelation 21:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Only God in Christ offers us answers to all our questions and satisfies all our deepest longings. As Augustine put in most memorably, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.”

 

Why Christianity Isn’t Moralism

Why Christianity Isn’t Moralism

I was born-again as an 18 year old college student into a kind of fundamentalist Christianity. In the late 70s there were two types of conservative Bible believing Christians, fundamentalists and Evangelicals. The former grew out of the fundamentalist-modernist controversies in the early 20th century, and were seen as backward rubes after the 1925 Scopes “Monkey Trial.” In the 1950s, a group of conservative Christians reacting against this anti-cultural, anti-intellectual type of Christianity decided to call themselves Evangelicals. They came out of Fuller Seminary in Pasadena, California, and Billy Graham, growing in popularity, joined them with the founding of Christianity Today. They wanted a more culturally engaged and intellectually robust Christianity. Today, there is no distinction; all conservative Christians are referred to as Evangelicals, and the word fundamentalist in reference to Christians has disappeared.

This Christianity I was born-again into didn’t exist in an historical vacuum, although for the Christians I was around, the history of Christianity seemed irrelevant. I often say when referring to this version of Christianity that it was anti-intellectual, anti-theological (or anti-doctrinal), and ahistorical. It was just me and the Bible. We didn’t want any of that other stuff getting in the way of our relationship with Jesus. This wasn’t overtly taught, for the most part, but it was part of the spiritual dynamic of that kind of fundamentalist Christianity. I began to realize all this after I came across Francis Schaeffer’s The God Who is There, probably in my junior year. From him I realized how truncated this version of Christianity tended to be, as if entire parts of life were cut off from it, and narrowed down to just what was seen as the “spiritual.” It wasn’t long before I rejected the fundamentalist label and started calling myself an Evangelical. The fundamentalist label has completely disappeared over the last 40 years.

I distinctly remember the realization dawning on me that my early understanding of Christianity came from somewhere, and how thrilling that was. That was only the beginning, though, because I didn’t fully realize it had practical consequences until I was introduced to Reformed theology in February 1985 when I was only 24 years old. That’s when I learned about the anti-theological nature of fundamentalism, and the implications of that for my newly Reforming faith. But before I get to some history and theology, it would be helpful to explain what I mean by moralism.

Everyone knows what morals are or what morality means. A dictionary definition puts it this way: “of, relating to, or concerned with the principles or rules of right conduct or the distinction between right and wrong; ethical.” Moralism related to Christianity is simply the focus on right and wrong, be it in conduct, thought, or speech. This, it was implied, was what Christianity was all about, mediated through the Bible and my relationship with Jesus. The gentleman who introduced me to Reformed theology told me this turned Christianity into a jumping through hoops exercise. If you jumped through all the right hoops, doing good and right, you knew you were right with God, but when you failed, guilt was a constant companion. That struggle, striving to do right, failing all the time, trying again, an endless exhausting cycle, explained my experience quite well, and put me on a journey to a more full-orbed Christianity that I continue on to this day.

Pietism and Perfectionism
I remember him telling me this Christian experience came from Pietism, something I’d never heard of. I had no idea my experience of Christianity had been influenced by something that started developing over 300 years ago. In the 17th century a movement in German Lutheranism arose responding to Scholasticism, a dry doctrinal orientation of the Christian faith. The Pietists were looking for something more dynamic, more personal, more experiential that touched the whole person, not just the mind. Christianity had to be more than just propositional statements of doctrines about the Bible. A significant aspect of this experiential Christianity of the Pietists was a focus on holy living. In due course Pietism would grab hold of John Wesley, and his influence would come to dominate modern Christianity. Wesley was an intense character, to say the least. When he and his brother Charles were at Oxford in 1729 they started a religious study group derisively called the “Methodists” because of their emphasis on methodical study and devotion. The “Holy Group,” as they were also known, were active in doing good works in the community and intense in their religious devotion, and John applied his intensity to a critical self-examination. Striving for holy living, and failing, became a theme of his life.

In due course as Wesley’s influence grew so did his twofold emphasis, a conversion experience and holy living. He eventually came to believe that Christians could completely overcome sin and live a perfectly holy life, that Christians could completely overcome sin. In the 19th century this made its way into a stream of Christian thought called perfectionism, developing and growing in influence in various holiness movements such as victorious Christian living and the higher life movement. Evangelist D.L. Moody (1837-1899) did as much as anyone to bring perfectionism into the American Christian bloodstream, even though he didn’t teach the doctrine itself. We can see in him the transition from perfectionism to moralism by promoting holiness with an ethical emphasis. A perfect example of such moralism was his focus on the will. “Whatever the sin is,” Moody exhorted in a typical statement, “make up your mind that you will gain victory over it /” (from George Marsden’s Fundamentalism and American Culture). This became much of my early Christian experience. I obviously wasn’t very good at making up my mind because I didn’t get much in the way of victory. I imbibed the idea that if you were a serious Christian and worked on it hard enough, you could overcome sin in your life, but given sin isn’t what we do but part of who we are, these movements were destined to fail in the face of human experience. I was a perfect example of this.

My mentor introduced me to a book by the great Princton theologian B.B. Warfield called Studies in Perfectionism that helped me think through what up to that point was my lived Christian experience. This passage explains the problem perfectly.

Perfectionism is impossible in the presence of a deep sense or a profound conception of sin. This movement proclaimed, it is true, only an attenuated perfectionism—a perfectionism merely of conduct. But this involved a correspondingly attenuated view of sin. The guilt of sin, the corruption of sin, were not denied, but attention was distracted from them and fixed on the practice of sin. This is a fatally externalizing movement of thought and brings with it a ruinous underestimate of the baneful power of sin.

Warfield calls perfectionism and its attendant moralism a “fatal externalizing movement” because it trivializes sin by making it primarily about our actions, or lack thereof. Sin is a far more profound dilemma than just what we do; rather, it is who we are, our being, in philosophical terms, our ontology. We are sinners, saved sinners, but sinners, nonetheless. Alas, sin is not like the water you dry off your skin when you get out of the pool; it is your skin!

Paul uses the Greek word σάρξ- sarx translated in English as flesh. He doesn’t mean a la Plato and the Greeks that our bodies are what make us predisposed toward sin, but rather it is our immaterial sinful natures. Our self-centered sinful inclinations are who we are as embodied, fleshly creatures, and thus mere will power can’t overcome it. Moralism makes sin about our wills, thus fatally externalizing it. D.L. Moody was wrong; making up our minds is worthless in our battle to overcome sin. What we need is a new nature, biblically speaking, a supernatural work of the Holy Spirit, to be born again (John 3). The most vivid Old Testament image is found in Ezekial 36. In striking typological imagery, we see the Lord restoring Israel to the land of Promise. He’s clearly speaking about more than a plot of land because what’s in view is a personal transformation of His people He came to save (Matt. 1:21). It’s worth quoting at length because it helps us understand this process is far more profound than our merely willing it. There area a lot of “will’s” in this passage, but they are all God’s.

24 “‘For I will take you out of the nations; I will gather you from all the countries and bring you back into your own land. 25 I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. 26 I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. 27 And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws. 28 Then you will live in the land I gave your ancestors; you will be my people, and I will be your God. 29 I will save you from all your uncleanness. I will call for the grain and make it plentiful and will not bring famine upon you. 30 I will increase the fruit of the trees and the crops of the field, so that you will no longer suffer disgrace among the nations because of famine. 31 Then you will remember your evil ways and wicked deeds, and you will loathe yourselves for your sins and detestable practices. 32 I want you to know that I am not doing this for your sake, declares the Sovereign Lord. Be ashamed and disgraced for your conduct, people of Israel!

The more profound the nature of sin, the more profound our salvation is from it. Only a supernatural work of God can transform a human heart from dead inanimate spiritual stone to living, vibrant, beating flesh. Born His enemies, we are transformed into his children who cry Abba, Father.

Thankfully, perfectionism is forgotten, a relic of a bygone more naïve era when an obsession with progress dominated Western culture. When I became a Christian, though, the spirit of perfectionism was still in the air even if not overtly taught. I eventually came to call it moralism. As Wesley’s life reflected, it’s easy to fall into a kind of morbid introspection, which is one reason it took him until he was 35 to believe he was actually a saved Christian. Although I was nothing like Wesley, my early Christian experience was moralism, and it was exhausting.

Unfortunately, because of the thin theological foundation of much modern Evangelicalism, most Christians confuse Christianity with moralism. One of the reasons skeptics and non-Christians in general think Christianity is all about ethics, obsessing about right and wrong, guilt and shame, is because for many Christians it is exactly that. Because God is merciful in the power of the cross most Christians don’t live guilt ridden lives on a roller coaster of success and failure to overcome sin. Even the most theologically ignorant among us know Jesus paid for all our failures, past, present, and future. For me, though, having a solid theological foundation was invaluable in helping me overcome my own morbid introspection.

What Exactly is the Gospel?
Have you ever asked yourself that, or has someone else, and you’ve had to come up with an answer? What would you say? It’s so simple it’s difficult. As sinful human beings we want to have something to do, to work out, basically save ourselves, but that’s not possible. No matter how “good” we are, it will never be good enough because we can’t change who we are, born enemies of God. In Pauline terms, no one will be saved by obedience to the law. The first night I was introduced to Reformed theology, my mentor painted a picture for me of man in his lost state. He said it’s like we’re dead at the bottom of the pool. There’s absolutely nothing we can do to save ourselves because, well, we’re dead. Our only hope is to be brought back to life by Almighty God. That is our predicament in our lost sinful state apart from God. In the contrasting version, we’re now drowning in the pool calling out for someone to save us, to throw us a rope so we can grab it and in effect save ourselves.

The way I’d seen it previously, and the way I think most Evangelical Christians do, is that we’re drowning—not dead. As Miracle Max says in The Princess Bride, “Your friend here is only mostly dead. There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.” Many Christians mistakenly believe we’re “mostly dead” in our sins, as I did before I embraced Reformed theology, or Calvinism. It wasn’t difficult for my new friend to convince me of this because I seemed to know it intuitively. I can’t save myself. Plus, he told me something I already knew; the wages of sin is death, as God told Adam would happen if he ate of the tree he was commanded not to eat. He and all his progeny, us, are now alienated from God and by nature want to hide from Him because we know we are guilty. Plus he shared with me a bottom-of-the-pool verse in Colossians (2:13):

13 When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins.

It seemed impossible to argue with that. And in Ephesians 2, Paul also says, “As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins,” and then he adds, God “made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions” Death to life seems pretty clear. Then he tells us how he did it:

And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.

This is all gospel 101, but it’s amazing how easily we forget it when it comes to living the Christian life. Prior to embracing Calvinism, I had even memorized verses 8 and 9, but since I didn’t have any theological grounding, I believed non-Christians were just drowning and needed to hear the gospel. It was up to them to receive it or not, and if they “made a decision for Jesus,” then they would be born-again. But after my introduction to the 16th century Reformer, I realized nobody chooses to be born! In that passage in John 3, Jesus tell us this means we are “born of the Spirit,” or in Ezekiel’s terms, our hearts by God’s Holy Spirit are transformed from stone to flesh!

In theological terms we call this justification, but the Christian life doesn’t stop there. God saves us to make us holy, what is called sanctification. While it’s relatively easy to buy into God doing the work to save us from our sins, justification, we then think making ourselves more holy is our work, up to us; it’s not. In fact, that’s impossible. The confusion comes in confusing our choosing and efforts with God’s supernatural transformational work. The former is our responsibility, the latter is God’s. The transforming of our being, of our becoming more holy, more set apart to him for service to others, is God’s job and He’s quite good at it, even as we fight it every step of the way. After decades of living the Christian life, there were two verses that brought this to life for me and took off all the pressure of performance. The first is 1 Corinthians 1:30:

It is because of him [God] that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, sanctification and redemption.

When I finally grasped that transformation of who I am to become more like Christ was as much God’s job as saving me from my sin, it was life changing. The other passage is from John 3, the “born-again” chapter. What at first glance seems a bizarre analogy to salvation, makes total sense in I Corinthians 1:30 hindsight:

14 Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, 15 that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.”

I wrote about this in detail in a previous post, but all we have to do is look up to Jesus, both for being saved from sin and being transformed to overcome it. The word believe means trust, so we don’t have to understand “how” it works, but only trust that he has to power to pull it off. Our tendency is to look down at the bite, the pain, the circumstances, the situation, at us. Don’t do that! Look up to Jesus because the reason he came to earth was to both save us and sanctify us from sin. In fact, that is why he was given his name, as the angel of the Lord told Joseph (Matt. 1:21):

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

Not try to save us, but to actually do it! God doesn’t do try. Believe it, trust it, Him, and you’ll know exactly what the gospel is.