Tullian Tchividjian's Blog, page 36

You Have An "A"

My friend Steve Brown tells a story about a time his daughter Robin found herself in a very difficult English Literature course that she desperately wanted to get out of.

She sat there on her first day and thought, "If I don't transfer out of this class, I'm going to fail. The other people in this class are much smarter than me. I can't do this." She came home and with tears in her eyes begged her dad to help her get out of the class so she could take a regular English course. Steve said, "Of course."

So the next day he took her down to  the school and went to the head of the English department, who was a Jewish woman and a great teacher. Steve remembers the event in these words:

She (the head of the English department) looked up and saw me standing there by my daughter and could tell that Robin was about to cry. There were some students standing around and, because the teacher didn't want Robin to be embarrassed, she dismissed the students saying, "I want to talk to these people alone." As soon as the students left and the door was closed, Robin began to cry. I said, "I'm here to get my daughter out of that English  class. It's too difficult for her. The problem with my daughter is that she's too conscientious. So, can you put her into a regular English class?" The teacher said, "Mr. Brown, I understand." Then she looked at Robin and said, "Can I talk to Robin for a minute?" I said, "Sure." She said, "Robin, I know how you feel. What if I promised you and A no  matter what you did in the class? If I gave you an A before you even started, would you be willing to take the class?" My daughter is not dumb! She started sniffling and said, "Well, I think I could do that." The teacher said, "I'm going to give  you and A in the class. You already have an A, so you can go to class. Later the teacher explained to Steve what she had done. She explained how she took away the threat of a bad grade so that Robin could learn English. Robin ended up making straight A's on her own in that class.

That's how God deals with us. Because we are, right now, under the completely sufficient imputed righteousness Christ, Christians already have an A. The threat of failure, judgment, and condemnation has been removed. We're in–forever! Nothing we do will make our grade better and nothing we do will make our grade worse. We've been set free.

Knowing that God's love for you and approval of you will never be determined by your performance for Jesus but Jesus' performance for you will actually make you perform more and better, not less and worse.

If you don't believe me, ask Robin!

You Have An "A" is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Rethinking Progress

The gospel has me reconsidering the typical way we think about Christian growth.

It has me rethinking spiritual measurements and maturity; what it means to change, develop, grow; what the pursuit of holiness and the practice of godliness really entails.

What's been happening in me recently is similar to what happened in me when I first became a Calvinist back in the Winter of 1995.

Everything changed.

I began to read the Bible with new eyes. The sovereignty of God and the sweetness of his unconditional grace were EVERYWHERE! I remember thinking, "How did I miss this before? It's all over the place."

Well, the same thing has been happening to me with regard to how I think about Christian growth.

If we're serious about reading the Bible in a Christ-centered way; if we're going to be consistent when it comes to avoiding a moralistic interpretation of the Bible; if we're going to be unswerving in our devotion to understand the many parts of the Bible in light of its unfolding, overarching drama of redemption, then we have to rethink how we naturally and typically understand what it means to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12).

In his 2008 movie The Happening, writer, producer, and director M. Night Shyamalan unfolds a freaky plot about a mysterious, invisible toxin that causes anyone exposed to it to commit suicide. One of the first signs that the unaware victim has breathed in this self-destructing toxin is that they begin walking backwards—signaling that every natural instinct to go on living and to fight for survival has been reversed. The victim's default survival mechanism is turned upside down.

This, in a sense, is what needs to happen to us when it comes to the way we think about progress in the Christian life. When breathed in, the radical, unconditional, free grace of God reverses every natural instinct regarding what it means to spiritually "survive and thrive." Only the "toxin" of God's grace can reverse the way we typically think about Christian growth.

For a whole host of reasons, when it comes to measuring spiritual growth and progress our natural instincts revolve almost exclusively around behavioral improvement.

It's understandable.

For example, when we read passages like Colossians 3:5-17, where Paul exhorts the Colossian church  to "put on the new self" he uses many behavioral examples: put to death "sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry." He goes on and exhorts them to put away "anger, wrath, malice, slander" and so on. In v.12 he switches gears and lists a whole lot of things for us to put on: "kindness, humility, meekness, and patience" just to name a few.

But what's at the root of this good and bad fruit? What produces both the bad and good behavior Paul addresses here?

Every temptation to sin is a temptation, in the moment, to disbelieve the gospel–the temptation to secure for myself in that moment something I think I need in order to be happy, something I don't yet have: meaning, freedom, validation, and so on. Bad behavior happens when we fail to believe that everything I need, in Christ I already have; it happens when we fail to believe in the rich provisional resources that are already ours in the gospel. Conversely, good behavior happens when we daily rest in and receive Christ's "It is finished" into new and deeper parts of our being every day— into our rebellious regions of unbelief (what writer calls "our unevangelized territories") smashing any sense of need to secure for ourselves anything beyond what Christ has already secured for us.

Colossians 3:5-17, in other words, provides an illustration of what takes place on the outside when something deeper happens (or doesn't happen) on the inside.

So, going back to Philippians 2:12, when Paul tells us to "Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling" he's making it clear that we've got work to do—but what exactly is the work? Get better? Try harder? Clean up your act? Pray more? Get more involved in church? Read the Bible longer? What precisely is Paul exhorting us to do? Clearly, it's not a matter of whether or not effort is needed. The real issue is Where are we focusing our efforts? Are we working hard to perform? Or are we working hard to rest in Christ's performance for us?

He goes on to explain: "For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (2:13). God works his work in you—which is the work already accomplished by Christ. Our hard work, therefore, means coming to a greater understanding of his work. As I mentioned a few posts ago, in his Lectures on Romans Martin Luther wrote, "To progress is always to begin again." Real spiritual progress, in other words, requires a daily going backwards.

I used to think that when the Apostle Paul tells us to work out our salvation, it meant go out and get what you don't have—get more patience, get more strength, get more joy, get more love, and so on. But after reading the Bible more carefully, I now understand that Christian growth does not happen by working hard to get something you don't have. Rather, Christian growth happens by working hard to daily swim in the reality of what you do have. Believing again and again the gospel of God's free justifying grace everyday is the hard work we're called to.

This means that real change happens only as we continuously rediscover the gospel. The progress of the Christian life is "not our movement toward the goal; it's the movement of the goal on us." Sanctification involves God's attack on our unbelief—our self-centered refusal to believe that God's approval of us in Christ is full and final. It happens as we daily receive and rest in our unconditional justification. As G. C. Berkouwer said, "The heart of sanctification is the life which feeds on justification."

2 Peter 3:18 succinctly describes growth by saying, "But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." Growth always happens "in grace." In other words, the truest measure of our growth is not our behavior (otherwise the Pharisees would have been the godliest people on the planet); it's our grasp of grace–a grasp which involves coming to deeper and deeper terms with the unconditionality of God's grace. It's also growth in "the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." This doesn't simply mean learning facts about Jesus. It means growing in our love for what Christ has already earned and secured for us, then living in a more vital awareness of that grace. Our main problem in the Christian life is not that we don't try hard enough to be good, but that we haven't believed the gospel and received its finished reality into all parts of our life.

Gerhard Forde insightfully (and transparently) calls into question the ways in which we typically think about sanctification and spiritual progress when he write:

Am I making progress? If I am really honest, it seems to me that the question is odd, even a little ridiculous. As I get older and death draws nearer, I don't seem to be getting better. I get a little more impatient, a little more anxious about having perhaps missed what this life has to offer, a little slower, harder to move, a little more sedentary and set in my ways. Am I making progress? Well, maybe it seems as though I sin less, but that may only be because I'm getting tired! It's just too hard to keep indulging the lusts of youth. Is that sanctification? I wouldn't think so! One should not, I expect, mistake encroaching senility for sanctification! But can it be, perhaps, that it is precisely the unconditional gift of grace that helps me to see and admit all that? I hope so. The grace of God should lead us to see the truth about ourselves, and to gain a certain lucidity, a certain humor, a certain down-to-earthness.

Forde rightly shows that when we stop narcissistically focusing on our need to get better, that is what it means to get better! When we stop obsessing over our need to improve, that is what it means to improve! Remember, the Apostle Paul referred to himself as the chief of sinners at the end of his life. It was his ability to freely admit that which demonstrated his spiritual maturity–he had nothing to prove or protect because it wasn't about him!

I'm realizing that the sin I need removed daily is precisely my narcissistic understanding of spiritual progress. I think too much about how I'm doing, if I'm growing, whether I'm doing it right or not. I spend too much time pondering my failure, brooding over my spiritual successes, and wondering why, when it's all said and done, I don't seem to be getting that much better. In short, I spend way too much time thinking about me and what I need to do and far too little time thinking about Jesus and what he's already done. And what I've discovered, ironically, is that the more I focus on my need to get better the worse I actually get. I become neurotic and self-absorbed. Preoccupation with my performance over Christ's performance for me makes me increasingly self-centered and morbidly introspective. After all, Peter only began to sink when he took his eyes off Jesus and focused on "how he was doing."

So, by all means work! But the hard work is not what you think it is–your personal improvement and moral progress. The hard work is washing your hands of you and resting in Christ finished work for you–which will inevitably produce personal improvement and moral progress.

The real question, then, is: What are you going to do now that you don't have to do anything? What will your life look like lived under the banner which reads "It is finished?"

What you'll discover is that once the gospel frees you from having to do anything for Jesus, you'll want to do everything for Jesus so that "whether you eat or drink or whatever you do" you'll do it all to the glory of God.

That's real progress!

Rethinking Progress is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Promise Driven Commission

About 10 days ago, Mike Horton's new book on the Great Commission came out entitled The Gospel Commission: Recovering God's Strategy for Making Disciples.

Mike spoke on this topic during his session at our inaugural "Gospel-Centered Life" conference at Coral Ridge back in January (you can listen to the audio here). He began by asking the audience to say the opening words of the Great Commission from Matthew 28 out loud. As you can imagine, almost everybody started with the words, "Go therefore…". Mike rightly pointed out that the Great Commission actually begins with the words, "All authority in heaven and on earth is given to me" (v. 18). It's only after Jesus says that, that he says, "Go therefore…" (v.19).

This may seem like an insignificant thing but it's actually a paradigm shattering observation. In fact, if we don't see it, our understanding of the church's mission will be weakened.

In an article Mike wrote for Modern Reformation magazine entitled The Great Announcement, he expands on this idea:

Just go. Just do it. "Get 'er done," as they say. Reflection slows you down.

The same thing can happen with the Great Commission. It doesn't really matter if we don't get all the details right as long as we are zealous. It is easy to subordinate the message to the mission, the evangel to evangelism, as if being busy with outreach could trump the content of what we have been given to communicate.

Of course, it can work the other way, too. We can be preoccupied with getting the message right without actually getting it out. The evangelist D. L. Moody once quipped to a critic of his methods, "I like my way of doing it better than your way of not doing it." If "zeal without knowledge" is deadly (Rom. 10:2-3), then knowledge without zeal is dead. The Great Commission doesn't give any quarter to either of these extremes.

"Go therefore into all the world and make disciples." This is the version of the Great Commission that many of us memorized. However, it leaves out a great deal. To begin with, it leaves out the whole rationale for the commission in the first place. Although it sounds a little corny, a good rule of thumb in reading the Scriptures is that whenever you find a "therefore" you need to stop and ask "what it's there for."

When we see an imperative such as "Go therefore," we need to go back and look at what has already been said leading up to it. There is no reason for us to go into all the world as Christ's ambassadors apart from the work that he has already accomplished.

The Great Commission actually begins with the declaration, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me" (Matt. 28:18). This is the rationale for everything the church is called to do and to be. The church's commission is indeed directed by a purpose ("making disciples of all nations"), but it is driven by a promise.

Read the whole thing here.

Mike's excellent point is one that I've made time and time again. Namely, that imperatives – indicatives = impossibilities! Whenever we see an imperative in the Bible (what we must do) we need to look for the indicative that grounds it (what Jesus has done). Because, no matter how hard you try or how radical you get, any engine smaller than the gospel that you depend on for power to do what God has called you to do will conk out…most importantly, the Great Commission!

Promise Driven Commission is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Our New And Exalted Identity

While the world constantly tempts us to locate our identity in something or someone smaller than Jesus, the gospel liberates us by revealing that our true identity is locked in Christ. Our connection in and with Christ is the truest definition of who we are.

When most of us stop long enough to consider what establishes our identity, what really makes us who we are, many of us act as if the answer to this consideration is "our performance." In Who Will Deliver Us, Paul Zahl expands on this:

If I can do enough of the right things, I will have established my worth. Identity is the sum of my achievements. Hence, if I can satisfy the boss, meet the needs of my spouse and children, and still do justice to my inner aspirations, then I will have proven my worth. There are infinite ways to prove our worth along these lines. The basic equation is this: I am what I do. It is a religious position in life because it tries to answer in practical terms the question, Who am I and what is my niche in the universe? On this reading, my niche is in proportion to my deeds. In Christian theology, such a position is called justification by works. It assumes that my worth is measured by my performance. Conversely, it conceals, thinly, a dark and ghastly fear: If I do not perform, I will be judged unworthy. To myself I will cease to exist.

The gospel frees us from this pressure to perform, this slavish demand to "become." The gospel liberatingly declares that in Christ "we already are." If you're a Christian, here's the good news: Who you really are has nothing to do with you—how much you can accomplish, who you can become, your behavior (good or bad), your strengths, your weaknesses, your sordid past, your family background, your education, your looks, and so on.

Your identity is firmly anchored in Christ's accomplishment, not yours; his strength, not yours; his performance, not yours; his victory, not yours. Your identity is steadfastly established in his substitution, not your sin.

You're free!

Now you can spend your life giving up your place for others instead of guarding it from others—because your identity is in Christ, not your place.

Now you can spend your life going to the back instead of getting to the front—because your identity is in Christ, not your position.

Now you can spend your life giving, not taking—because your identity is in Christ, not your possessions.

Paul speaks of our "having been buried with him [with Christ] in baptism," in which we "were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead" (2:12). Our old identity—the things that previously "made us"—has been put to death. Our new identity is "in Christ." We've been raised with Christ to walk "in newness of life"—no longer needing to depend on the "old things" to make us who we are.

All this is our new identity—all because of Christ's finished work declared to us in the gospel.

When we truly see and understand all these aspects of what we've become in Jesus Christ, what more could we possibly ever want or need when it comes to our self-identity? Here in Christ we have worth and purpose and security and significance that makes utterly laughable all the transient things of this world that we're so frequently tempted to identify ourselves by.

Our New And Exalted Identity is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Jesus + Nothing = Everything

In the fall of 2011 my next book entitled Jesus + Nothing = Everything will be released by Crossway. I'm almost finished with it and would greatly appreciate your prayers as I wrap it up. Right now I'm enslaved to it (hence, the infrequent blog posts).

My hope and prayer is that it will serve the church a probing and practical theology of the gospel. It is autobiographically illustrated–using the most difficult year of my life (2009) to show how God revealed to me my own idols and helped me rediscover the emboldening, liberating power of the gospel.

Here's Crossway's description of the book:

Jesus + Nothing = Everything is the equation that Tullian Tchividjian took away from a year of great trial and turmoil. In his new book he describes the bitter divisions that soured the beginning of his pastorate at Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church, and the personal anchor that he found in the overwhelming power of the gospel. The book of Colossians, in particular, forms the basis of Tchividjian's call for Christians to rediscover the gospel and continually reorient our lives around Jesus.

Tchividjian insists that many who assume they understand the gospel fail to actually apply its riches to their lives. He takes particular aim at self-righteousness, which motivates moral behavior by fear and guilt. In contrast, the gospel of grace, with the radical freedom that it brings, provides the only sustainable motivation for Christians. This book delves into the profound theological truths of the gospel, yet the message is intensely practical—Tchividjian sounds the call for believers to lean hard on Christ in every area of every day.

Stay tuned…

Jesus + Nothing = Everything is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

What To Preach To Yourself Everyday

Because we are so naturally prone to look at ourselves and our performance more than we do to Christ and his performance, we need constant reminders of the gospel.

If we're supposed to preach the gospel to ourselves everyday—what's the actual content of that message? What is it exactly that I need to keep reminding myself of?

If God has saved you—if he's given you the faith to believe, and you're now a Christian; if you've transferred trust from your own accomplishments and abilities to Christ's accomplishment on behalf of sinners—then here's the good news. In the phraseology of Colossians 1, it's simply this: You've already been qualified, you've already been delivered, you've already been transferred, you've already been redeemed, you've already been forgiven.

It's been widely accepted that in the original language of Greek, Ephesians 1:3-14 is one long sentence. Paul becomes so overwhelmed by the sheer greatness and immensity and size and sweetness of God's amazing grace, that he doesn't even take a breath. He writes in a state of controlled ecstasy. And at the heart of his elation is the idea of "union with Christ." We have been blessed, he writes, "in Christ with every spiritual blessing" (1:3): we've been chosen (v. 4), graced (v. 6), redeemed (v. 7), reconciled (v. 10), destined (v. 11), and sealed forever (v. 13). The everything we need and long for, Paul says, we already possess if we are in Christ. He has already sweepingly secured all that our hearts deeply crave.

We no longer need to rely, therefore, on the position, the prosperity, the promotions, the preeminence, the power, the praise, the passing pleasures, or the popularity that we've so desperately pursued for so long.

Day by day, what we must do practically can be experienced only as we come to a deeper understanding of what we are positionally—a deeper understanding of what's already ours in Christ.

I used to think that growing as a Christian meant I had to somehow go out and obtain the qualities and attitudes I was lacking. To really mature, I needed to find a way to get more joy, more patience, more faithfulness, and so on.

Then I came to the shattering realization that this isn't what the Bible teaches, and it isn't the gospel. What the Bible teaches is that we mature as we come to a greater realization of what we already have in Christ. The gospel, in fact, transforms us precisely because it's not itself a message about our internal transformation, but Christ's external substitution. We desperately need an Advocate, Mediator, and Friend. But what we need most is a Substitute. Someone who has done for us and secured for us what we could never do and secure for ourselves.

The hard work of Christian growth, therefore, is to think less of me and my performance and more of Jesus and his performance for me. Ironically, when we focus mostly on our need to get better we actually get worse. We become neurotic and self-absorbed. Preoccupation with my effort over God's effort for me makes me increasingly self-centered and morbidly introspective.

You could state it this way: Sanctification is the daily hard work of going back to the reality of our justification–receiving Christ's words, "It is finished" into new and deeper parts of our being every day, into our rebellious regions of unbelief.  It's going back to the certainty of our objectively secured pardon in Christ and hitting the refresh button a thousand times a day. Or, as Martin Luther so aptly put it in his Lectures on Romans, "To progress is always to begin again." Real spiritual progress,  in other words, requires a daily going backwards.

In her book Because He Loves Me, Elyse Fitzpatrick writes about how important remembrance is in Christian growth:

One reason we don't grow in ordinary, grateful obedience as we should is that we've got amnesia; we've forgotten that we are cleansed from our sins. In other words, ongoing failure in sanctification (the slow process of change into Christlikeness) is the direct result of failing to remember God's love for us in the gospel. If we lack the comfort and assurance that his love and cleansing are meant to supply, our failures will handcuff us to yesterday's sins, and we won't have faith or courage to fight against them, or the love for God that's meant to empower this war. If we fail to remember our justification, redemption, and reconciliation, we'll struggle in our sanctification.

Christian growth, in other words, does not happen first by behaving better, but believing better–believing in bigger, deeper, brighter ways what Christ has already secured for sinners.

Preach that to yourself everyday and you'll increasingly experience the scandalous freedom that Jesus paid so dearly to secure for you.

What To Preach To Yourself Everyday is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Preach The Gospel

The other day I was reading through a book that Mike Horton gave me last time I was in San Diego–a relatively new book that he edited and contributed to entitled Justified: Modern Reformation Essays on the Doctrine of Justification. At the end of the book Mike outlines six-core beliefs that define the mission of Modern Reformation and the White Horse Inn (his weekly radio broadcast). While all six of the core-beliefs are foundational, I was struck by the gripping clarity of belief number two on the importance of Gospel-centered preaching. Everything he writes here not only defines my theology of preaching but is, in my opinion, the only type of preaching that will rescue the church from Christless Christianity. He writes:

Scripture is of no use to us if we read it merely as a handbook for daily living without recognizing that its principle purpose is to reveal Jesus Christ and his gospel for the salvation of sinners. All Scripture coalesces in Christ, anticipated in the OT and appearing in the flesh in the NT. In Scripture, God issues commands and threatens judgment for transgressors as well as direction for the lives of his people. Yet the greatest treasure buried in the Scriptures is the good news of the promised Messiah. Everything in the Bible that tells us what to do is "law", and everything in the Bible that tells us what God has done in Christ to save us is "gospel." Much like medieval piety, the emphasis in much Christian teaching today is on what we are to do without adequate grounding in the good news of what God has done for us in Christ. "What would Jesus do?" becomes more important than "What has Jesus done?" The gospel, however, is not just something we needed at conversion so we can spend the rest of our Christian life obsessed with performance; it is something we need every day–the only source of our sanctification as well as our justification. The law guides, but only the gospel gives. We are declared righteous–justified–not by anything that happens within us or done by us, but solely by God's act of crediting us with Christ's perfect righteousness through faith alone.

Preachers, read that paragraph over and over.

As I've said here before, don't make the mistake of assuming that people understand the radical nature of what Jesus has done so that your preaching ministry is focused primarily on what people need to do.

The "what we need to do" portions of the Bible are good, perfect, and true–but apart from the "what Jesus has already done" portions of the Bible, we lack the power to do what we're called to do. The good commands of God, in other words, do not have the power to engender what they command. They show us what a sanctified life looks like but they have no sanctifying power. Only the gospel has the power to move us forward. This is why the Bible never tells us what to do before first soaking our hearts and minds in what God in Christ has already done.

The fact is, that any obedience not grounded in or motivated by the gospel is unsustainable. No matter how hard you try, how radical you get, any engine smaller than the gospel that you're depending on for power to obey will conk out in due time.

So, preach the gospel!

Preach The Gospel is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

The Gospel Everyday

I once assumed the gospel was simply what non-Christians must believe in order to be saved, while afterward we advance to deeper theological waters. But I've come to realize that " the gospel isn't the first step in a stairway of truths, but more like the hub in a wheel of truth." In other words, once God rescues sinners, his plan isn't to steer them beyond the gospel, but to move them more deeply into it. All good theology, in fact, is an exposition of the gospel.

In his letter to the Christians of Colossae, the apostle Paul portrays the gospel as the instrument of all continued growth and spiritual progress, even after a believer's conversion.

"All over the world," he writes, "this gospel is bearing fruit and growing, just as it has been doing among you since the day you heard it and understood God's grace in all its truth" (Col. 1:6). He means that the gospel is not only growing wider in the world but it's also growing deeper in Christians.

After meditating on Paul's words, a friend told me that all our problems in life stem from our failure to apply the gospel. This means I can't really move forward unless I learn more thoroughly the gospel's content and how to apply it to all of life. Real change does not and cannot come independently of the gospel. God intends his Good News in Christ to mold and shape us at every point and in every way. It increasingly defines the way we think, feel, and live.

Martin Luther often employed the phrase simul justus et peccator—"simultaneously justified and sinful." He understood that while he'd already been saved from sin's penalty, he was in daily need of salvation from sin's power. And since the gospel is the "power of God for salvation," he knew that even for the most saintly of saints, the gospel is wholly relevant and vitally necessary. This means heralded preachers need the gospel just as much as hardened pagans.

In his book The Gospel for Real Life, Jerry Bridges picks up on this theme–that Christians need the gospel just as much as non-Christians–by explaining how the spiritual poverty in so much of our Christian experience is the result of inadequate understanding of the gospel's depths. The answer isn't to try harder in the Christian life but to comprehend more fully and clearly Christ's finished work for sinners and then to live in more vital awareness of that grace day by day. The main problem in the Christian life, in other words, is not that we don't try hard enough to be good. It's that we haven't accepted the deep implications of the gospel and applied its powerful reality to all parts of our life.

As I see it, there are two challenges for preachers, those of us called to announce this good news. First is to help people understand theologically that the gospel doesn't just ignite the Christian life but it's also the fuel that keeps Christians going and growing every day. The second challenge, which is much harder for me than the first, is to help people understand how this works functionally.

I address the second challenge by regularly asking myself questions like this one: Since Jesus secured my pardon and absorbed the Father's wrath on my behalf so that "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus," how does that impact my longing for approval, my tendency to be controlling, and my fear of the unknown?

Where exactly am I experiencing agitation… impatience… unease… anxiety? Why is it there? What's that really all about? I try to identify where my restlessness is rooted—because that's where a confrontation with the gospel is needed. Whatever deficiency lies at the deepest root of our restlessness—no matter how big or small, whether it's life-gripping or comparatively trivial—the missing component is something very specific which Christ has already secured for restless sinners like you and me.

To put it simply, how does the finished work of Christ satisfy my deepest daily needs so that I can experience the liberating power of the gospel every day and in every way?

If you're a preacher, then God has called you to help others make the connection between Christ's finished work and their daily life. To do this, we must unveil and unpack the truth of the gospel from every biblical text we preach in such a way that it exposes both the idols of our culture and the idols of our hearts.

Every sermon ought to disclose the ways in which we depend on lesser things to provide the security, acceptance, protection, affection, meaning, and satisfaction that only Christ can supply.

I pray that as you come to a better understanding of the length and breadth of the gospel, you will be recaptured every day by the "God of great expenditure" who gave everything that we might possess all.

The Gospel Everyday is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Relativizing The Relativizers

Sociologist Peter Berger used to talk about "relativizing the relativizers." By this he meant applying to skeptics the same skepticism they apply to others–pushing them, in other words, to the logic of their own presuppositions so that they can see the unsustainability of their own conclusion.

On his blog, my friend Mike Wittmer (Professor of Theology at Grand Rapids Theological Seminary) prints a remarkably creative parody of Rob Bell's promo video for his new book Love Wins. Mike's colleague, Jeremy Grinnell (Asst. Prof. of Systematic Theology) "was troubled by the lopsided rhetoric in Rob's promo video. He noted that the video will persuade many people, not because of its content but because of the power of its narrative."

Turning on itself the logic Rob Bell uses in his video, Jeremy shows how the same line of questioning can be equally used for the opposite view–thereby, relativizing the relativizer; debunking the debunker by using his own logic.

I think this is a super creative and smart way to illustrate "the rhetorically powerful yet easily refutable logic of Rob's piece." If you haven't seen it, watch the video first (linked above) and then read the parody below.

Several years ago I was touring a holocaust museum, and I was deeply moved the images of suffering and inhuman brutality that I saw there. And near the end of the tour on the wall was a picture of Hitler standing in front of the Eifel Tower in Paris. I and many who were with me were struck by the idea of Hitler enjoying the beauties of Paris while at the same moment one of the greatest genocides the world has ever known was being carried out on his orders.

But apparently not everyone saw it exactly the same way

Sometime in the previous few hours, somebody had attached a hand written note to the picture, and on the note they had written, "It's okay because God forgave Hitler too."

God forgave Hitler?

He did?

And someone knows this for sure?

And felt the need for the rest of us to know?

Do the most evil and unrepentant people in history, remaining what they are, still make it to heaven?

And what of those who aren't quite so evil as that—Child molesters, racists, drug lords.

And what of the rest of us who only yell at our children, cut people off on the highway, and cheat on our taxes?

And what makes our evil less and Hitler's more?

Is it the number of people you hurt? Or how badly? Or whether anyone else knows? Or whether you meant to?

And what if you're the one who was molested or your loved ones murdered because of their ethnicity?

And then there's the question behind the question?

The real question… What is God like?

Because millions and millions were taught that the primary message of the gospel of Jesus Christ is that God is willing to forgive everybody no matter who they are or what evils they've committed against the rest of us.

So what gets subtly sort of caught and taught is that God is willing to forgive the perpetrators of evil, regardless of whether or not their victims ever see justice. That God is willing to let slide things that we mustn't.

But what kind of God is that?

Can a God so uninterested in justice be good?

How can that God ever be trusted?

How could that ever be…good…news?

This is why lots of people want nothing to do with the Christian faith.

They see it as an endless list of absurdities and inconsistencies, and say, "why would I ever want to be a part of that?"

See what we believe about heaven and hell is incredibly important because it exposes what we believe about who God is and what God is like.

What you discover in the bible is so surprising, and unexpected, and beautiful, that whatever we've been told or taught, the good news is even better than that, better than we can ever imagine.

It means pure and perfect justice, no wrong accusations, no punishments that don't fit the crime, no hidden motives, no unaccounted pains or sorrows. But overflowing compensation for anyone who's ever been hurt or betrayed.

The good news is that "justice wins."

Relativizing The Relativizers is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian

Contend To The End

There are things worth dying for. The gospel is at the top. Regardless of what others may say or what seems most culturally acceptable, the gospel remains the power of God to deal with the penalty, power, and eventually presence of sin and is therefore worth giving your life to and for.

This is super important to remember at a time when so many preachers are calling into question (and even mocking) cardinal doctrines of the Christian faith that brothers and sisters throughout history have literally taken a bullet for, burned for, lost their children for, been raped for, lost limbs for and thrown in prison for. In light of this, I can't help but think of Jude 1:

I found it necessary to write appealing to you to contend for the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints. For certain people have crept in unnoticed…who pervert the grace of our God…

Perverting the grace of God is serious business–messing with the good news is ultimately very bad news.

Both theological liberalism and theological legalism "pervert the grace of our God." Both are equally dangerous because both ignore the gospel. Liberals pervert the grace of God by turning it into God's soft tolerance and refusal to judge anybody for anything. Legalists pervert it by maintaining a cautions, even suspicious, posture toward grace–championing the need to "keep it in check", sustaining a "yes grace…but" position that keeps moralism swirling around in our hearts and churches.

At the root of both theological liberalism and theological legalism is unbelief–failure to believe the gospel of God's grace in all of its glory, radicality, hilarity, and scandal.

Speaking into this failure to believe the gospel, which inevitably leads to a failure to preach the gospel, B.B. Warfield exhorts us with beautiful, urgent passion and clarity:

When we really believe the Gospel of the Grace of God—when we really believe that it is the power of God unto salvation, the only power of salvation in this wicked world of ours—it is a comparatively easy thing to preach it, to preach it in its purity, to preach it in the face of a scoffing, truculent and murdering world. Here is the secret. . . . Believe this Gospel, and you can and will preach it. Let men say what they will, and do what they will—let them injure, ridicule, persecute, slay—believe this Gospel and you will preach it.

Men often say of some element of the Gospel: "I can't preach that." Sometimes they mean that the world will not receive this or that. Sometimes they mean that the world will not endure this or that. Sometimes they mean that they cannot so preach this or that as to win the respect or the sympathy or the acceptance of the world. The Gospel cannot be preached? Cannot be preached? It can be preached if you will believe it. Here is the root of all your difficulties. You do not fully believe this Gospel! Believe it! Believe it and then it will preach itself!

God has not sent us into the world to say the most plausible things we can think of; to touch men with what they already believe. He has sent us to preach unpalatable truths to a world lying in wickedness; apparently absurd truths to men, proud of their intellects; mysterious truths to men who are carnal and cannot receive the things of the Spirit of God. Shall we despair? Certainly, if it is left to us not only to plant and to water but also to give the increase. Certainly not, if we appeal to and depend upon the Spirit of faith.

But let Him move on our hearts and we will believe these truths; and, even as it is written, I believed and therefore have I spoken, we also will believe and therefore speak. Let Him but move on the hearts of our hearers and they too will believe what He has led us to speak. We cannot proclaim to the world that the house is afire—it is a disagreeable thing to say, scarcely to be risked in the presence of those whose interest it is not to believe it? But believe it, and how quickly you rush forth to shout the unpalatable truth! So believe it and we shall assert to the world that it is lost in its sin, and rushing down to an eternal doom; that in Christ alone is there redemption; and through the Spirit alone can men receive this redemption. What care we if it be unpalatable, if it be true? For if it be true, it is urgent.

Christian, believe the gospel…and then preach the gospel! You may lose life and limb, sacrifice reputation and "relevance", but the gospel remains God's power to set the captives free. Don't forget it. Don't ignore it. It's worth dying for.

Contend To The End is a post from: Tullian Tchividjian