Eternal Perspectives

A remote planet and a ponderous star conspired this morning to send my thoughts spiraling off into the nether regions of space – or, perhaps, the limited depths of my thoughts about God.

The distant planet was a post by Dan at TeamPyro in which he discussed what he calls “gutsy grace.”

(For Dan, “gutsy grace” stands in contrast to his pejorative “gutless grace.” I find it curious that, while admitting that he struggles to adequately define grace he nevertheless can label some manifestations as “gutsy” (his own, of course) and others as “gutless” (anyone who disagrees with him). But I digress.).

One of the things Dan endeavors to do is to define grace. This is no mean feat for, as he rightly notes, it is possible to offer definitions that are accurate but fail because they are not sufficiently comprehensive. I sympathize with him and any others who seek to define the term; that, however, will not stop me from trying.

My own attempt to define grace centers on the twin concepts of divine enabling and divine compelling, neither of which cease operation once salvation is initiated. The problem with my definition is the problem with all definitions: the terms I use have to be defined themselves.

Divine enabling should not be construed to mean that salvation or sanctification is a mutual or shared effort involving God and the elect sinner. Salvation is completely a work of God to which we are somehow responsible to yield. God’s enabling could be likened to that provided by an elevator that takes me to the top of a building: it is true that I must get on the elevator, but that is (a) made possible by God (cf. Jn 6.44) and (b) the sum total of my “contribution.”

Divine compelling makes change a passive imperative, i.e., a Christian will be changed. How much a believer changes is contingent on time, but all will be changed to some extent. I suspect, though, that the difference between the change of a stubborn, willful believer and that of a eager, compliant one is insignificant compared to the monumental change each will undergo when they behold Christ (1 Jn 3.2).

The giant star whose gravity altered my own journey this day was a chapter in Henry Cloud’s book Changes That Heal. Cloud speaks of the necessity of grace, truth, and time for believers to heal, change, and grow. He adds,

Change only takes place in ‘good time.’ Good time is time in which we and our experiences can be affected by grace and truth. If we have removed some aspect of ourselves from time, grace and truth cannot transform it . . . Grace and truth cannot affect the part of ourselves we won’t bring into experience.”

These words reminded me of a realization I had some years ago that people, including Christians, hide from others and God the very areas in which we most desperately need to be loved. It is only when we allow God, others, and God-through-others to love us in those most hideous areas that change can occur.

Love, it seems to me, is perhaps best defined as the marriage of grace and truth. Its perfect demonstration is found in Jesus Christ (Jn 1.17; cf. Ps 85.10) but it may also be gleaned on almost every page of Scripture. Love without grace is not love; love without truth is not love. It is only when grace is combined with truth and truth is joined with grace that the love of God is present. All else falls short.

It is precisely this manner of love to which believers are called and held accountable. It requires the enabling of God, certainly; the Spirit’s presence is relentlessly compelling. God takes us as He finds us – that is grace – but He does not leave us where we are – that is truth. But the grace present in God’s finding us is not separate from truth, and the truth of God’s changing us is not divorced from grace.

We may display one or the other – i.e., grace or truth – or one at the expense of the other, but God cannot. These two attributes of God – grace and truth – compose the essence of God, which is love. All that God does is characterized by love, the presence of grace and truth.

When we, enabled and compelled by God, embody such love then – and only then – do we abide in Him and He in us:

Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” – 1 Jn 4.15-16

This post, or one very much like it, has been asking to be written for some time now. It is an explanation, though not an excuse or apology, for my lack of substantive blogging for however long it has been. The problem has not been one of lack of time to write but more a lack of desire.

Life events, of the negative variety, conspired to make serious inroads on my desire. It has been the presence or burgeoning of good things, however, that seem to have finally decimated my need to blog. This is not something to be grieved and not something about which I feel any sense of loss.

A few months ago I began teaching systematic theology to a Thursday night men’s group of which I am a member. There are usually twelve or so of us on any given evening, although the number of men involved is closer to fifteen or sixteen. We’ve been at it, as I said, a few months and are still in the Prolegomena, i.e., introductory matters. We spent a month covering covenant theology and will spend a similar amount of time on dispensational theology. It will take years to finish. There is no need for haste: we would rather relish than rush.

The contrast between real ministry and real relationships is remarkable and nothing short of miraculous. There is an additional Person (or Two or Three) present when we gather and He facilitates not only meaningful teaching and learning but wonderful fellowship, too. I can sometimes feel the Holy Spirit carrying me along as I read Scripture and teach truth; at the same time, I feel the Spirit minister to me through the men who challenge, disagree, and join with me to deepen our relationships with God.

This is totally lacking in blogging. I don’t think there’s much biblical basis for genuine fellowship through the internet, though certainly normal, uninspired connections can be made. We can benefit spiritually from reading Scripture on one another’s sites but it is not feasible for the Spirit in me to minister to those who might read my words, nor is it possible for an intangible reader’s spirit to be a vehicle of blessing to me. Sharing theologies and favorite verses is not fellowship; living life together is biblical fellowship.

But, someone might say, what about Paul’s letters and the blessings his original readers and subsequent readers have had from them? The answer is obvious, of course: the Bible was inspired by the Holy Spirit in its writing and continues to be inspired today as He gives life to it through His teaching and comforting ministries. Blogs are educational and entertaining but fall short of being inspired, illumined, and invigorated by the Spirit.

The contrast, as I mentioned earlier, is much like night and day. It is the presence of God in the men at Bible study versus the unanimated, lifeless words of a blog post. I still read and find some excellent thinking and points, but it is like getting a phone call from my wife when she is away versus kissing her when she is here. One quickens the imagination with longing, the other quickens it with desire. There is no comparison.

This is not to say that I will not continue to blog from time to time, but it is to say that it will likely be infrequent. Real life awaits and beckons and the detached pseudo-communion of blogging has, like the emperor’s new clothes, been exposed for what it is – and isn’t.

Perhaps this will fall on the deaf ears of some who stumble across this post or will cause a defensive reaction on the part of others. My hope is that anyone and everyone who spends too much time writing and reading blog posts will withdraw their energies from this artificial spirituality and find a real, loving, Spirit-indwelling fellowship of which they can be a contributing giver and a grateful receiver.

Again, the difference is that which exists between reading a menu of heavenly delights versus actually tasting a sample of what has been promised and will be provided. Don’t spend too much time merely reading the menu, collecting recipes, and studying ingredients. Enjoy a taste of heaven now: it will make you yearn for the full meal that awaits us one day.

For those of you interested in following along, this is the first post on the Spiritual Discipline of Silence Conference now underway.

Session I

Next: Session II