A Few Thoughts on the Decalogue of Moses and the Disciple of Jesus

There are Christians today who teach that the Decalogue (or Ten Commandments) are inseparable from the Law of Moses and that the Law of Moses (as framed in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy) is inextricable from the Old Covenant in which it was given. Thus, as such, the Law of Moses (including the Ten Commandments as given through him) is not the positive rule of life for the believer, as we are not under the Old Covenant, but the New. These teachers include most who would identify themselves as “Dispensationalists,” but also those who hold to the recent movement in biblical theology called “New Covenant Theology.” However, the Reformed tradition going back to such reformers as Calvin, Zwingli, and Bucer and reflected in Reformed confessions would understand the Ten Commandments (the Decalogue) as in force today. They would be in good company, as many in the patristic and medieval churches would honor the Decalogue as a rule of life for Christians, reflecting God’s moral law as consistent with His moral character. This same moral law, incidentally, is viewed as concurring harmoniously with the natural moral law revealed in the heart of humanity (Rom. 2:14–15).

The present differing opinion between the abrogationist position and the continuationist position relates to an age-old debate regarding the right and proper uses of the Law for Christians. Most Protestants in the Reformation agreed (and still agree) that the Law of Moses (including the Ten Commandments) was intended to function for the Christian as a Sündenspiegel—a “mirror of sin,” revealing that we have sin and are guilty before God. It is also a Sündenriegel—or “restraint against sin,” holding back sin in our lives by revealing God’s disfavor of certain acts. However, a third use of the Law for the Christian was a point of some contention between some Lutherans and Calvinists—whether the Law (including the Ten Commandments) was intended to be a Lebensregel, or “rule of life,” that Christians were to positively follow as an external code, including the rule to keep the Sabbath.

Abrogationists take the position that the entire Law of Moses as codified and expressed in the commands and ordinances given at Sinai was part of a particular covenant relationship with Israel and with nobody else. Thus, technically, the Ten Commandments were given for Israel. Why? Because the Church does not relate to God through the Old Covenant of Moses but through the New Covenant of Christ. Does this, then, mean that abrogationists believe it’s permissible under the New Covenant to murder, commit adultery, worship other gods, or bear false witness against one’s neighbor? Is this antinomianism or libertinism? No. Those who hold that the Law was abrogated by Christ believe the Ten Commandments were covenantal and contextualized articulations of God’s positive eternal principles of love, goodness, justice, etc. They affirm that the Ten Commandments do reflect God’s eternal moral law, which is also reflected non-verbally in the heart as the law of nature. But the fact that God articulated the Ten Commandments as negatives (do not murder, do not commit adultery, etc.) would suggest to abrogationists that God’s eternal moral principles are refracted through the prism of a particular covenantal relationship at Sinai. That is, phrasing the commands in the negative implies that the people addressed would be inclined toward murder, adultery, lying, covetousness, etc. One would expect God’s moral principles, in conformity with His eternal nature and character, to be expressed positively—love life, be faithful, be truthful, be content.

Abrogationists would accept that the Ten Commandments are perfectly valid for showing a person how they fall short of God’s moral will; but the positive rule of life for the believer would be more like what the New Testament refers to as the fruit of the Spirit. That is, it is the Holy Spirit producing in the truly regenerate believers a spontaneous desire to love God and love others and thus manifest the “fruit of the Spirit.” Paul the Apostle said, “But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law. Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you, just as I have forewarned you, that those who practice such things will not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law” (Gal. 5:18-23).

Thus, in the abrogationist perspective, for Christians walking in the Spirit, neither the Ten Commandments nor any other laws, commandments, and statutes of the Old Covenant of the Mosaic code are the normal “rule of life.” This is not lawlessness; it is lawfulfillness. This would be the typical view among abrogationists who view the Ten Commandments as essentially inseparable from the moral, civil, and ceremonial laws as well as from the hundreds of other commandments that expound on details of the covenant life of Israel. Nor are they separable from the promised benefits or condemnations that came along with obedience or disobedience of the Law. As such, the Ten Commandments may be a contextualized and covenantal reflection of God’s eternal moral will for His people, but to the abrogationist, the eternal ethic is actually positive. When a confessing Christian fails to walk in the Spirit and thus fulfill the eternal moral law of God, the Ten Commandments can be appealed to as a Sündenspiegel to show a person their transgression—like guidelines and guard rails on a road. But those guards are not the road itself, and they only come into play when a person swerves from the path they’re supposed to be following (Sündenriegel). The abrogationist will generally argue that to use the Ten Commandments as the Lebensregel or “rule of life” could lead to a kind of superficial self-righteousnessthat says, “I haven’t murdered, so I’m okay with God” or “I haven’t committed adultery, so I’m good.” It would be like a driver saying, “I haven’t gone into the ditch, so I’m a good driver,” all the while swerving back and forth erratically and running over road hazards.    

As a rule, confessional Reformed Christians hold the Ten Commandments to be a revelation of God’s moral law that is binding on believers as a rule of life. Most are bound to this view by their governing confession of faith. However, other theologians from various traditions and confessions are free to discuss different perspectives on how the Ten Commandments and other Old Testament laws and statutes may or may not apply directly or indirectly to the life of the disciple of Jesus. The questions are not irrelevant. Are we obligated to rest on the seventh day (Saturday)? Or on the first (Sunday)? Or at all? Must we tithe ten percent of our income to the church? Stone disobedient children? Can we eat blood sausage (Blutwurst)? Bacon? How old and obsolete (and thus abrogated) is the Old Covenant Law for those under the New Covenant? Doesn’t the command to love God and love one another fulfill the spirit of the Law—that is, the eternal moral Law of God? The abrogationist would appeal to the New Testament idea that with the changing of the priesthood, the Law also is changed (Heb. 17:12); and that the death of Christ has abolished the Law of commandments (Eph. 2:15).

Abrogationists do not believe Christians under the New Covenant are free to murder, commit adultery, blaspheme, etc.—things forbidden by the Ten Commandments. What they say is that Christians are not a party to the Mosaic Covenant given at Sinai, where Israelites placed themselves under the Decalogue and the other ordinances and statutes as a response to their redemption from Egypt and as part of a unique covenant relationship with God. However, though the Ten Commandments were not for the Church, this doesn’t leave Christians without moral imperatives. In fact, the commandments of the Law of Christ to love God and love others, to reflect faith, hope, and love in everything, and to manifest the fruit of the Spirit in all situations—these things are more demanding, as Christ articulated in His Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5). To fulfill Christ’s law of love is to surpass the external stipulations of the Ten Commandments, as Paul taught in Galatians 5:18, 22-23.

Though this abrogationist approach may not be in conformity with the written confessions of the Reformed churches, this approach is not a novelty and not a heresy. It is similar to the view articulated by the second century Christian apologist, Justin Martyr (c. AD 150), in his Dialogue with Trypho, a dispute with an unbelieving Jew. Justin writes, “Nor have we trusted in any other (for there is no other), but in Him in whom you [Jews] also have trusted, the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob. But we do not trust through Moses or through the law; for then we would do the same as yourselves. But now—for I have read that there shall be a final law, and a covenant, the chiefest of all, which it is now incumbent on all men to observe, as many as are seeking after the inheritance of God. For the law promulgated on Horeb is now old, and belongs to yourselves alone; but this is for all universally. Now, law placed against law has abrogated that which is before it, and a covenant which comes after in like manner has put an end to the previous one; and an eternal and final law—namely, Christ—has been given to us, and the covenant is trustworthy, after which there shall be no law, no commandment, no ordinance” (Justin Martyr, Dialogue with Trypho 11).

Similarly, Irenaeus of Lyons, a late second century student of Justin Martyr and defender of the faith against heretics like the Gnostics and Marcion, put it this way: “Since, then, by this calling life has been given (us), and God has summed up again for Himself in us the faith of Abraham, we ought not to turn back any more—I mean, to the first legislation. For we have received the Lord of the Law, the Son of God; and by faith in Him we learn to love God with all our heart, and our neighbour as ourselves. Now the love of God is far from all sin, and love to the neighbour worketh no ill to the neighbour. Wherefore also we need not the Law as a tutor. Behold, with the Father we speak, and in His presence we stand, being children in malice, and grown strong in all righteousness and soberness. For no longer shall the Law say, Do not commit adultery, to him who has no desire at all for another’s wife; and Thou shalt not kill, to him who has put away from himself all anger and enmity; (and) Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s field or ox or ass, to those who have no care at all for earthly things, but store up the heavenly fruits: nor An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, to him who counts no man his enemy, but all men his neighbors, and therefore cannot stretch out his hand at all for vengeance.” (Irenaeus, Demonstration of the Apostolic Preaching 95).

Besides this, we have the evidence of the “Two Ways” section of the Didache, a first-century pre-baptismal catechetical manual (c. 50-70), the earliest of its kind writing during the age of the apostles themselves. In its opening chapters describing the “way of life” of a consecrated disciple of Jesus, the author gives no sustained, orderly articulation of the Ten Commandments as a Lebensregel. The ethical and moral principles reflected in the Ten Commandments are clearly present, but the expectation of the disciple of Jesus is quite clearly deeper, broader, and loftier than the stipulations of the Law. The Didachist writes, “And the second commandment of the teaching is this: Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not sodomize, do not commit sexual immorality, do not steal, do not practice magic, do not use potions, do not murder a child by abortion, do not kill the just-born one, do not yearn after the things of your neighbor. Do not commit perjury, do not bear false witness, do not speak evil of anyone, do not bear a grudge. You will be neither double-minded nor double-tongued; for being double-tongued is a snare of death. Your speech should not be false or empty, but filled with action. Do be not greedy, or vicious, or a hypocrite, or spiteful, or proud. Do take up not an evil plan against your neighbor. Do not hate any person, but some you should correct, others you should pray for and others you should love even more than your own life” (Didache 2.1–7). This articulation of the Christians’ “Do Nots” are not a framed, embossed, or stained-glass repetition of the Ten Commandments. These are much closer to Paul’s “deeds of the flesh” vices (Gal. 5:19–21).

In short, the abrogationist position on the replacement of the Ten Commandments as a rule of life (Lebensregel) by Christ, the law of love, and the fruit of the Spirit is certainly not the same as the later patristic catholic church, the Medieval Catholic Church, or the standard Reformed catholic confessions. But it is in keeping with some of the orthodox leaders of the earliest catholic Christianity of the first and second centuries. The Ten Commandments were not presented by the earliest Church as the foundation of its catechetical moral instruction, as evidenced by the first-century Didache.Yes, the Ten Commandments portion of the covenant with Israel at Horeb eventually worked its way into the deontological ethic of the church and became immortalized as a Lebensregel in especially the Reformed confessions. This is not disputed. But its place as a rule of life in the earliest apostolic and post-apostolic periods is not at all clear or secure. At least the abrogationist call for a deeper, broader, and loftier application of the eternal law of love and fruit of the Spirit, against which there is no Law, cannot be regarded as heresy without defining heresy as “taking a position that differs from our provincial denominational confession written less than 500 years ago.” The testimonies of Justin, Irenaeus, and the earliest church do not allow such a declaration.

My hope here is not to change anybody’s mind from a continuationist to an abrogationist position on the role of the Decalogue in the Christian life. It’s to clarify what is and isn’t being held and taught by the different positions. This isn’t a matter of orthodoxy and heresy, but a matter of confessional commitment. Incidentally, my own position lands somewhere in the middle. I’m neither a full abrogationist nor a complete continuationist. At the same time, I have sympathies with both perspectives. I fully embrace the function of the Decalogue as a Sündenspiegel and Sündenriegel. However, I also think the Ten Commandments can (and probably ought) to have an important pedagogical function as a Lebensregel for children being raised in the covenant community of the church and for new believers finding their footing in the Christian life. However, with Paul I also acknowledge that regenerate believers walking in the Spirit who manifest the fruit of the Spirit and fulfill the spirit of the Law have no need to constantly consult the Decalogue as a rule of life. Beyond this, I also believe the Ten Commandments serve an important function as a means by which God holds back wickedness in the church, which is necessarily, though not ideally, a mixed community of regenerate and unregenerate people. The Ten Commandments can also have a similar function in societies in which the church has exerted some influence on the morality and ethics of the culture.

“And Now for Something Completely Different”: Exploring Christian Theology

ECTnewSoon Bethany House (a division of Baker Publishing Group) will begin releasing a trilogy of mini-theologies entitled Exploring Christian Theology edited by Dr. Nathan Holsteen and me, with significant contributions by our colleagues in the theological studies department of Dallas Theological Seminary: Dr. Douglas Blount, Dr. Scott Horrell, Dr. Lanier Burns, and Dr. Glenn Kreider. We’re starting with what is actually the third volume in the series (The Church, Spiritual Growth, and the End Times), then releasing volumes 1 and 2 in the next couple of years.

But wait a second . . . Why another “systematic theology” when the market is flooded with them? To answer this question, let me say that ECT is not another systematic theology. In fact, I can honestly say that this series is something completely different. 

Let me explain.

Like any good introduction to evangelical theology, the three volumes in ECT will present believers with much-needed introductions, overviews, and reviews of key tenets of orthodox protestant evangelical theology without getting bogged down in confusing details or distracted by mean, campy debates. These three simple and succinct books will provide accessible and convenient summaries of major themes of evangelical Christian doctrine, reorienting believers to the essential truths of the classic faith while providing vital guidebooks for a theologically illiterate church.

But isn’t that what every entry-level theological intro promises? Yes, but let give you six reasons Exploring Christian Theology really is completely different.

First, we wrote Exploring Christian Theology for a genuinely inter-denominational evangelical audience. And when we say “inter-denominational,” we don’t mean that we’re trying to get conservative Lutherans, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, Anglicans, and Charismatics to read our theology in order to persuade them to leave their branch of evangelicalism and climb onto ours. Not at all! Instead, we’re descriptively presenting the whole tree of evangelical orthodoxy—as dispassionately and positively as possible. This means pastors, teachers, students, lay-leaders, new believers, and mature saints of every orthodox protestant evangelical church can use these volumes without feeling like they have to constantly counter our assertions with their own views on the matter. Simply put, we’re so interdenominational that if a reader doesn’t agree with our central assertions, they’re probably not orthodox, protestant, or evangelical.

Second, the style of this series will be genuinely popular, informal, and accessible. Sometimes extremely so. Think contractions . . . illustrations . . . alliteration. You’ll see generous bullet points, charts, and graphs instead of just walls of impenetrably dense text on every page. Brace yourself for the pace of a hockey game rather than a golf tournament (sorry, golfers, but . . . YAWN). We wrote this for people who don’t necessarily carry around a large arsenal of biblical, theological, and historical facts in a side holster.

Third, you’ll find this series to be worth every penny you spend on it and, more importantly, every minute you spend reading it. Let’s face it, some mini-theologies with a broad appeal are just fancy-wrapped junk food with very little spiritually nutritional value. Yes, these volumes are intended to be “stepping stools” to the bottom shelf—brief, succinct summaries of specific areas of doctrine that can each be read quickly, consulted easily, and grasped by anybody. But at the same time you’ll find them to be comprehensive, thorough, careful, and—if you bother to explore the endnotes—well-researched and documented.

Fourth, this is a community-authored theology. Rather than presenting the perspectives and opinions of an individual teacher, tradition, or denomination, Exploring Christian Theology is planned, written, and edited by several theologians who are experts in their various fields. We hold each other accountable to avoid personal hobby horses, pet peeves, and doctrinal idiosyncrasies. In other words, you’ll never get one man’s opinion about this or that doctrine. Instead, you’ll get a clear explanation of the classic orthodox, protestant, evangelical consensus and a dispassionate presentation of points of allowable disagreement and diversity within evangelicalism. As such, these handbooks can be confidently used for discipleship, catechesis, membership training, preview or review of doctrine, or personal quick reference by any orthodox, protestant, evangelical church or Christian.

Fifth, these volumes will serve as a foyer into a broader and deeper study of the Christian tradition. We didn’t design Exploring Christian Theology to compete with other systematic theologies in the marketplace. There are a lot of great ones out there—some reflecting the views of certain confessions or traditions, others the perspectives of specific teachers or preachers. Our volumes are designed to supplement (not supplant) more detailed systematic theologies . . . to complement (not compete with) intermediate and advanced works. We promise that after thumbing through ECT, you’ll be much better prepared to read more advanced systematic theologies with informed discernment and a firm grasp on  central tenets as well as an understanding of ancillary discussions.

Finally, there are unique features in Exploring Christian Theology you’ll have a hard time finding all together anywhere else. Right up front we present a high altitude survey of the doctrine in order to set forth the unity of the faith among numerous diverse evangelical traditions. Then you’ll find no-nonsense discussions of key Scripture passages related to that volume’s specific areas of theology. You’ll also find a very helpful narrative of the history of the doctrine throughout the patristic, medieval, reformation, and modern eras. We also provide a glossary of important terms related to the doctrines as well as a feature called “Shelf Space” with recommended resources for probing deeper. By the end of each part of the volume dedicated to a particular area of doctrine, you’ll be warned about the most prominent false teachings related to the doctrine and encouraged with practical application points flowing from a right understanding of the doctrine. Besides all this and more, I’ve been told that the generous first-hand quotations from church fathers, theologians, scholars, reformers, pastors, and teachers from the whole span of church history is worth the entire volume.

In short, Exploring Christian Theology is not my theology, but our theology—the theology of the orthodox, protestant, evangelical tradition. It’s presented in a winsome (and sometimes whimsical) way. It balances biblical, theological, historical, and practical perspectives. And it’s written with the whole evangelical tradition in view.

You can pre-order Exploring Christian Theology today from these sellers:

Dallas Seminary bookstore

Amazon.com

Barnes & Noble

 

 

 

[Y’all] Be Filled with the Spirit

Probably a dozen times a year I’m asked, “How can I be filled with the Spirit”? The motivations behind this question, I think, are two: First, many traditions of sanctification have emphasized the filling of the Spirit as the key that unlocks the spiritual life. Being filled with (or by) the Spirit has been set forth as the one thing a believer must do to experience the fullness of the spiritual life. Second, believers struggling against temptation and sin are looking for an antidote. Like an immunization against a nagging illness, the experience of being filled with the Spirit sounds a lot like a spiritual booster shot against chronic temptation and sin.

But have we misunderstood the filling of the Spirit? Does that classic text have something more to say to the way we live together as a church rather than how we behave as individuals?

Certainly, we have clear examples of the Spirit filling individuals for service (Exod 31:3; Acts 4:8; 13:9). The filling of the Holy Spirit is always manifested through observable effects. These include wisdom, understanding, knowledge, skill, power, prophecy, healing, boldness, faith, joy, hope, and peace, among others (Exod 31:3; 35:31; Micah 3:8; Luke 1:67; Acts 2:4; 4:31; 6:5; 9:17; 13:52; Rom 15:13). So, one knows that an individual is filled with the Spirit based on the effects of the Spirit, which often correspond to the “fruit of the Spirit” (Gal 5:22–23). If you see the fruit, you know the root. But this individual indwelling and enabling is only one aspect of the filling of the Spirit (1 Cor 6:19). Paul also refers to a community aspect of the Spirit’s filling. He describes the church in Corinth as a temple of God, indwelled corporately by the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 3:16). So, the filling of the Spirit occurs in individuals, but it also occurs in the Church community (Acts 2:4; Eph 2:22).

Almost everything I read about Ephesians 5:18 relates it to the Christian’s individual surrender, yielding, decision, or action that fulfills the command to “be filled with the Spirit.” But could Paul’s primary intention in that passage be the community’s experience of the Spirit rather than the individual’s empowering? When he uses the second person plural, is Paul saying, “Each and every one of you must be filled individually” or is he saying, “Let you all as a community be filled”? The negative command, “Do not be drunk with wine” is also plural, but its possible that Paul was contrasting an inherently selfish, individualistic pleasure (drunkenness) with a selfless, corporate participation (spiritual life). Possible . . . but we need to let the context of Ephesians 5:18 guide our interpretation.

Many point out that Ephesians 5:18 is a passive command. How do we obey a passive command—regardless of whether it’s addressing an individual or a community? Well, we may have to stop doing something that obstructs the Spirit, or otherwise allow the Spirit to do what the Spirit wants. If we emphasize the individual aspect of this command, the problem is a bit more difficult—I must personally must stop or start something to allow the Spirit to fill me. But if Paul intended to emphasize the corporate aspect of the Spirit’s filling, this opens up the fulfillment of the command to reflect mutuality—“one another” living in community, among which the Spirit is producing corporate effects.

In any case, the Spirit’s filling must involve both individual and community elements, though I believe the broader context of Ephesians 5 points us toward a corporate filling of the Spirit. In Ephesians 2, Paul compared the Church as a corporate body to a holy temple, “in whom you [all] also are being built together into a dwelling of God in the Spirit” (2:22). The rest of the epistle emphasizes togetherness, unity of the one body, corporate giftedness, and spiritual growth together (see especially Eph 4). Thus, the letter as a whole focuses on the corporate spiritual life. In fact, the immediate context of Ephesians 5:18 emphasizes this same corporate mutuality. Following the passive plural command to be filled with the Spirit, Paul attaches a series of participles indicating what being filled with the Spirit looks like. Note the corporate effects of this Spirit filling: speaking to one another with melodious thankfulness (5:19–20) and being subject to one another after the example of Christ (5:21–6:9).

Thus, it appears that the command to “be filled with the Holy Spirit” refers primarily to allowing the Spirit to work in and through our relationships with each other in the Church community. Of course, this requires individual responses and responsibilities as we submit to each other, look out for each other’s interests, meet each other’s needs, and allow others to reciprocate their love and concern for us. But Ephesians 5:18 has little to do with being filled by the Spirit in order to resist temptation, conquer sin, or lick a bad habit. That worn-out application of the passage doesn’t quite fit Paul’s point.

Read in this light, Ephesians 5:18 is extremely convicting to us as we consider our own local churches. It demands that we answer several probing questions. Is our church community filled with the Spirit? Do we exude the attractive aroma of unity, care, support, encouragement, subjection to one another, and uplifting, joyful attitudes? Or do we exude an odor of disunity, selfishness, criticism, discouragement, rebellion, and destructive, pessimistic cynicism? Ask yourself, as you wander the halls of your church, overhear conversations, or whiff the “whine” from the grapevine—do you sense the warm breeze of the Spirit? Or, instead of being continually filled with the Spirit, does your community seem to have outposts of the Spirit battling against a lingering insurgency of the flesh? Or is it even worse than that? Is our church building just a whitewashed tomb, impressive on the outside but lacking Spirit-enabled community life within? Think about your church—and about your participation in its spiritual health. Then answer this important question for yourself: Are we filled with the Spirit?

Working Out the Inner Work (or, "Sancti-fried… Revisited")

If you’ve ever had your vehicle stuck in the mud, you’ll remember trying anything to get out: shifting into low gear, jerking the steering wheel to the right or left, spinning the wheels in reverse, pushing the gas pedal to the floor, even emptying extra weight to lighten your load. Finally, with mud covering every square inch of your vehicle, you admit defeat. You accept the fact that the only solution to your inextricable dilemma is to call for help.

Whether we like it or not, that’s life. Each of us, left to ourselves, is hopelessly stuck in the mire of our own depravity. Apart from God’s sovereign acts of grace, we’re helpless. Without God pulling us free from the muck and washing us clean, we would continue to wallow in the slime of our own filth.

But thankfully, God didn’t leave us to ourselves. He provided the death and resurrection of Christ to pay the penalty for our sins and to grant us new life. He sent His Spirit to regenerate us—not merely on our spiritual birthday, but continually. We have an eternal relationship with the Spirit of Life, who continues His regenerating work in us. Yes, God has declared us righteous once and for all in Christ (“justification”). But we too often forget that God is also making us righteous by His Spirit (“sanctification”).

But if God does the work, what part to we play in sanctification? Is there nothing we can do to affect our spiritual growth?

More than Methods

Methods of nullifying the old nature and nurturing the new are almost as plentiful as the people who peddle them. Whole systems of sanctification have grown up over the centuries, each promising the most effective way. The victorious Christian life, exchanged life, Methodism, holiness, second blessing, sacramentalism, personal disciplines, corporate disciplines, mysticism, asceticism, monasticism, asceticism, contemplation . . . the list goes on.

My complaint about these various approaches is not that they are wrong, but that they often claim to be too right. Most of them have something true to contribute to a diverse tradition of Christian spirituality, but none of them can claim to be the sole biblical path to spiritual maturity. Some of the models of sanctification came on the scene when individual Christians (or small communities) experienced remarkable spiritual blessing while engaged in a particular approach to the Christian life. However, instead of viewing their method as a neutral means through which God chose to work His sanctifying grace, their gaze became fixated on the method itself.

Yet if the means of sanctification does not include some method, what should we do? Is the solution to be passive, to “wait on the Lord” for an instant change of heart?

This idea of passive sanctification reminds me of one of my Bible College roommates who would return to the dorm after a weekend of shameless fornication. When I confronted him about it, he responded, “God’s in control. When He wants me to stop living this way, He’ll take those desires away.” Yes, God is in control. And in His sovereignty He cast my roommate out of Bible College.

The answer is obviously not to passively wait for God to suddenly, instantly, and miraculously change us. Though that kind of deliverance may happen to some, it probably won’t happen to you and me. Instead, my own answer to the question of what we should do in response to God’s sovereignty over our sanctification is quite simple.

Do whatever it takes and do it now!

God’s Inner Work

In Philippians 2:12, Paul wrote, “Just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling.” I can’t think of a clearer text regarding our responsibility to obey. The verb “work out” in Greek is a simple command. This passage emphasizes working, not waiting; being productive, not passive. According to Paul, our responsibility for sanctification is to simply obey.

Paul could have stopped at verse 12 and his practical intentions would have been perfectly clear. But instead, he removed the service panel from the Christian life and revealed the inner workings of sanctification. In just a few powerful words we see that our work of willing, active obedience in salvation is not the cause of sanctification, but the effect. Paul said, “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Philippians 3:12–13).

All too often I meet Christians who want to somehow soften this language, to read into it some foreign concept of cooperation, of God’s response to our willing hearts, of the Spirit’s work of lending a helping hand to our honest efforts. Too many believers want to live the Christian life as if God were holding back His provision of power until we take the first step. This idea is completely contrary to what Paul says in Philippians 2 about our obedience in salvation. It is God who is at work in us, not only to work, but also to will. At the same time, God works all things in this world together for our good (Romans 8:28). So, by both inward and outward means, God affects our sanctification.

However, rather than instantly zapping us into mature saints, God gradually affects our spiritual growth through several means of sanctification that stir faith in us. That faith, itself granted by God, then manifests itself through the fruit of the Spirit.

What are these means of sanctification?

Means of Sanctification

One crucial means is God’s church. Yes, that place, or, more accurately, those people. Whether you’re ready to accept it or not, the gathering of a local church community is the primary means God uses to sanctify you. Hebrews 10:24–25 says, “Let us consider how to stimulate one another to love and good deeds, not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another.” Within the community believers exercise their spiritual gifts for the common good (1 Corinthians 12:7). Within the community gifted teachers grow believers into the image of Christ (Ephesians 4:11–16). And within the church community, God’s Spirit works through our observance of the Lord’s Supper, confirming our covenant relationship with God and others (1 Corinthians 11:20–32).

Another means of sanctification is personal discipline. Paul told Timothy, “Discipline yourself for the purpose of godliness; for bodily discipline is only of little profit, but godliness is profitable for all things” (1 Timothy 4:7–8). Spiritual discipline includes positive things like reading Scripture, prayer, fasting, and the like. But it also includes things you might do to protect yourself from temptation or break a pattern of sin. In my experience sin is like a fire—the more you feed it by, the stronger it gets. But if, by whatever means, you can keep from obsessively engaging in a particular sin, its controling power will wane. Spiritual disciplines are perhaps the most personal aspect of sanctification, for no believer’s struggles are the same, and not all individuals respond the same way to the same means. The key is to keep hard at it, engaging in spiritual disciplines that move you closer to God and to His people. Any of the numerous methods of spiritual growth may work well for many people. But it’s not ultimately the method itself that does the work. Through these means God works in you and for you. Instead of fixing your gaze on the method that seems to work for you, fix your gaze on “the author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2, KJV), for it is God at work in us to conform us to the image of Christ by the power of His Spirit.

To Him, not us, be the glory forever.

The Problem with Prayer

For many, there appears to be a problem with prayer. How many times have you heard (or thought) some of these responses to prayer?

· “It’s a one-way conversation.”

· “It doesn’t seem to work.”

· “God takes too long to answer.”

· “God does what He wants anyway.”

Crushed between the mortar and pestle of life, it’s easy to think there’s a serious problem with prayer: God. When God doesn’t answer according to our will, we can get frustrated. We can feel like our prayers are just floating around the universe like a comet adrift, too insignificant to catch the Creator’s attention. In the midst of this disappointment, we’re often too slow to accept that the problem with prayer is not God, but us.

I used to think that life would be a lot easier if God answered a few more strategic prayers—just a couple key petitions to remind us that He’s listening. I was convinced that a profound healing here and there would add spice to the life of the church.

Then God healed Karen.

Our Sunday school class gathered for desperate prayer the night before the surgery scheduled to remove a tumor from Karen’s brain. The surgery would probably render her unable to speak for a long time. Leading the prayer, I asked God to comfort her husband, daughter, and family at this time of crisis, to help the surgeons, to speed her recovery, and—if He willed—to miraculously heal her.

Of course, that last part was just to satisfy the expectations of the group. Although I believed God could instantly heal Karen, I was certain He would use less glorious means. As we drove home, I even told my wife, “Karen will probably never be the same again.”

The next morning the tumor had disappeared.

I assumed Karen’s response would be just as profound as God’s answer to prayer. After all, when a person experiences the awesome intervention of the Almighty God, we should expect an explosive revival, right?

Less than a year later, Karen left the church and divorced her husband.

I had always thought answers to prayer would strengthen faith and ignite thanksgiving. Disappointed in Karen’s life choices in light of her healing, I was reminded that even the Israelites grumbled and rebelled in the midst of powerful answers to their requests (Numbers 11:1-4).

You see, the problem with prayer is not God, but us.

There’s also a problem of abusing prayer. When I was a new Christian, I mistakenly followed the “prosperity gospel,” the “name it-claim it” theology that overwhelms Christian television and bookstores. “Don’t make negative confessions,” I was told. “If you’re sick, confess that you’re healed!”

On one occasion I mentioned to a self-proclaimed “prophetess” that I was going bald. Instantly, she placed her hand on my head and shouted, “No you’re not—in the name of Jesus!” That “prophetess” treated prayer like a gift card she could whip out at any time to make major purchases.

We may not be as extreme as that woman, but we can all fall into the trap of abusing prayer. While we may tack on a halfhearted “Thy will be done,” deep down we think, “No! My will be done!” Yes, Christ said, “Ask, and it will be given to you” (Matthew 7:7), but his brother James reminds us, “You ask and do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives” (James 4:3).

Once again, the problem with prayer is not God, but us.

How do we correct the problem with prayer? After a dozen years in Bible college, seminary, and Ph.D. studies, I’d hoped to finally have a handle on prayer. I don’t. In fact, the more I pray, the less I understand its profound mysteries. However, I’ve come to several conclusions that might help correct our perceived problems with prayer.

First, we need to understand that the purpose of prayer is not for God to please us, but for God to change us. If a father constantly gives in to a little child’s whiny demands, we’d take him for a lousy parent. Why, then, do some think God’s a stubborn God when He doesn’t give us everything we want? We need to trust that God is wise and powerful enough to answer rightly—and right on time. First John 5:14 says, “This is the confidence which we have before Him, that, if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.” That is, God won’t jump at every loose-lipped confession. Prayer offered up in true faith submits to His will—our sanctification (1 Thessalonians 4:3). God’s will is to change us, not please us.

Second, we need to accept that the power of prayer is perceived in even the smallest response. I’m convinced that humans don’t fully comprehend how little we deserve God’s love and grace. Consider that what we regard as “crumbs” of answered prayer may really be bountiful feasts once we realize that God owes us nothing (Genesis 32:9-10; Luke 7:6-9). When we adjust our attitude about our own unworthiness to receive God’s favor, we’ll never regard “small” answers to prayer as insignificant.

Finally, we need to acknowledge that the process of prayer is not as important as the attitude of prayer. When God chose in His sovereignty to heal Karen, He did so even though none of us expected it. Our feeble prayer was a simple act of faith—turning our worries over to God’s care (Philippians 4:6; 1 Peter 5:6-7). Christians can get hung up on method, worried that they haven’t said the right words, haven’t prayed hard or often enough, or haven’t believed deeply enough. That’s hocus-pocus, not prayer (Matthew 6:5-8). If you’re concerned about not praying with the right words or for the right things, memorize Romans 8:26—God’s Spirit even helped Paul pray!

Of course these reminders are easy to read, but they’re not easy to live. To our finite human minds, we’ll always perceive “problems” with prayer. Are you struggling with your prayer life, not seeing results, wondering if God is listening? It might be time for an attitude change. It might be time to finally accept that the problem with prayer is not God, but us.

[This essay is adapted from my article, “The Problem with Prayer,” Insights (October 2005): 1–2, (c) 2005, Insight for Living, and used with permission.]