Archive for the ‘Sanctification’ Category
I wanted to re-post something that Chuck DeGroat wrote earlier this week on his blog, The New Exodus. I think this is a pretty important discussion that needs to happen amongst the New Calvinism. Reductionism is dangerous and it hurts people. Legalism is dangerous and it enslaves people.
Maybe you’re like the many men and women who I’ve talked to. Having been through Sonship (a fairly well-known discipleship program in conservative Reformed circles) or having digested the writings of Keller or Powlison or Tripp, your still struggling. Or, maybe your version of “believing the Gospel” came from a preacher who told you that the answer to your lifetime of guilt was greater “Gospel depth” or deeper “Gospel transformation.” And so, you searched high and low for that newer and better way, the Gospel way, only to try to believe better and repent better and be less guilty. And that, too, didn’t amount to much.
Just recently, I was talking to yet another person whose digested all the writings and listened to all the sermons and read all the tweets, and ‘Gospel repenting and believing’ isn’t working. He went through Sonship. And each time he talked to his Gospel phone coach, he’d confess his latest idol. “I’m justifying myself through my attempts to repent better, and repentance is now my idol. So, I’m repenting of my repentance, but I’m still neck deep in feelings of guilt. What’s wrong with me?”
“Gospel Tweeting” is the latest phenomenon. The answer to all our problems is this: Just believe the Gospel! If it was that easy. This seems to me to be the newest quick fix, the most recent Christian cliche, and I’m growing weary of it. I’ve counseled people who’ve done the full Sonship workout only to be more racked with guilt than ever. They are repenting of their failed repenting and repenting of their failed attempt to confess their failed repenting. They’re more twisted in guilt than ever. And the ‘Gospel Twittersphere’ isn’t helping.
This is oversimplified Calvinism. Period. It doesn’t take the complexity of sin seriously enough, though it claims to in every way. It doesn’t take it seriously because it oversimplifies the remedy, leaving troubled and struggling people feeling even worse. Gospel counselors tell people that their troubles amount to a failure to believe the Gospel. Freedom is available, we’re told. Just repent and believe! Over and over, preachers are trying to boil this down to 140 characters on Twitter. And I think it’s Gospel arrogance.
The problem is that we’re far more complex and psychologically broken that we’re often aware of. It’s not just “unbelief” that bears down on us. It’s a whole host of things – neural pathways grooved by years of living a certain way, a “divided heart” that thrives on its habitual polarities, weakness of will, and the extraordinary brokenness manifesting in the systems we inhabit, whether in our families or workplaces or churches. And if I’m not being pessimistic enough, consider John Calvin’s words:
“But no one in this earthly prison of the body has sufficient strength to press on with due eagerness, and weakness so weighs down the greater number that, with wavering and limping and even creeping along the ground, they move at a feeble rate. Let each one of us, then, proceed according to the measure of his puny capacity and set out upon the journey we have begun. No one shall set out so inauspiciously as not daily to make some headway, though it be slight. Therefore, let us not cease so to act that we may make some unceasing progress in the way of the Lord. And let us not despair at the slightness of our success; for even though attainment may not correspond to desire, when today outstrips yesterday the effort is not lost. Only let us look toward our mark with sincere simplicity and aspire to our goal; not fondly flattering ourselves, nor excusing our own evil deeds, but with continuous effort striving toward this end: that we may surpass ourselves in goodness until we attain to goodness itself. It is this, indeed, which through the whole course of life we seek and follow. But we shall attain it only when we have cast off the weakness of the body, and are received into full fellowship with him” (Institutes, 3.6.5 or pp. 1:689)
But the problem extends beyond understanding the complexity. It’s the cure that is far more difficult. Having counseled too many men and women who beat themselves up for not growing fast enough by repenting and believing, I’m convinced we do many people a disservice (and harm!) by oversimplifying both the problem and the cure. Those fearful of modern psychology need to begin listening at this point, because what we’ve found is that growth and maturity isn’t found in a method or a discipline or a repentance exercise. In fact, growth is harder, longer, more painful, and more puzzling than many of us care to admit. People who we serve in the church would like microwavable strategies, but the fact is that growth and maturity isn’t microwavable. It defies programs and methods. It frustrates the most competent pastor or therapist or spiritual director. And, it can’t be captured in a tweet, even a well-formed Gospel tweet.
I admire the hearts of my friends out there who attempt to tweet Gospel cures. They mean well. Most are pastors, and you know who you are. And I really do like you a lot. But, hear me when I say that people are suckers for your 140 word fixes. Why do you think you get re-tweeted so much? We’re suckers for remedies and methods. We love a sound byte. But I’m asking you to step back and consider the complexity. Do you really see people growing that quickly in your churches? Do you really see ‘Gospel transformation’ happening in a “repent and believe” moment? I’m prone to think that this is where we need a good dose of those old stories, like Pilgrim’s Progress, that highlight the long and difficult journey. Because most people I know don’t find that the methods work. Most people I talk to struggle day to day just to believe, just to utter a one word prayer, just to avoid another outburst of anger or another deluge of cynicism. Most people find that it takes a lifetime to believe that they are the prodigal who is lavished with a Father’s prodigious love.
Gospel tweeters: Relax. You are far more screwed up than you think. And your cure is far too simplistic to help. This journey requires more than a 140 characters of Gospel happy juice. A big and good God requires a long and difficult Exodus journey for real change to happen.
There are few books that I purpose to re-read every year: one of those few is The Pursuit of God, by A.W. Tozer. It is short but cuts straight to the heart. The first three chapters alone are worth the price of the book. Here is one of my favorite passages:
There is something more serious than coldness of the heart, something that may be back of that coldness and be the cause of its existence. What is it? What but the presence of a veil in our hearts? A veil not taken away as the first veil was, but which remains there still shutting out the light and hiding the face of God from us. It is the veil of our fleshley, fallen nature living on, unjudged within us, uncrucified and unrepudiated. It is the close-woven veil of the self-life whihc we have never truly acknowledged, of which we have been secretly ashamed, and which for these reasons we have never brought to the judgment of the cross. It is not too mysterious, this opaque veil, nor is it hard to identify. We have but to look into our own hearts and we shall see it there, sewn and patched and repaired it may be, but there nevertheless, an enemy to our lives and an effective block to our spiritual progress…
It is woven of the fine threads of the self-life, the hyphenated sins of the human spirit. They are not something we do, they are something we are, and therein lies their subtlety and their power.
To be specific, the self-sins are self-righteousness, self-pity, self-confidence, self-sufficiency, self-admiration, self-love and a host of others like them. They dwell to deep within us and are too much a part of our natures to come to our attention till the light of God is focused upon them. The grosser manifestations of these sins – egotism, exhibitionism, self-promotion – are strangely tolerated in Christian leaders, even in circles of impeccable orthodoxy. They are so much in evidence as actually, for many people, to become identified with the gospel.
Guilty as charged, this passage is the main reason I re-read this book. We are blessed beggars in God’s economy of grace. May it convict you as it has me time and time again.