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Category: Grace (Page 11 of 12)

On Arminius

February 27, 2012 / / 1 Comment

(It was very strange to leave Love Field in Dallas following my layover last night to head “home” to Amarillo. Amarillo is my home. Strange. I found myself in the Love Field terminal defending the merits of living in Amarillo to a guy who just moved here from Denver four months ago. I was defending Amarillo. Strange. And when I got off the plane at Rick Husband and smelled the little bit of “cow” in the air, it felt… comfortable. Familiar. No cowboy boots or ten gallon hat. No belt buckle yet the size of a cookie platter. But Amarillo is home. Strange.)

Following four days with the world’s foremost scholars on Arminian theology, I have a new appreciation for Jacob Arminius and, surprisingly, the way he has shaped us. Most of us don’t even know his name. But we are deeply connected to his ways of viewing God and thinking about salvation. The longer the conference went on at Point Loma, the more I came to realize that I’m preaching this stuff. I’m already teaching this stuff. These are the things I’ve believed most of my life.

Keith summarized Arminian thought by laying out the five articles of the Remonstrance of 1610 — basically a defense of Arminius’ teachings by his students and followers just a few weeks after his death:

1) God chose to save through Jesus Christ all those who through grace would believe in him and persevere to the end.

2) Jesus Christ obtained forgiveness of sins sufficient for all.

3) Fallen humanity can think or do nothing that is truly good by free will.

4) God’s grace, which is not irresistible, is necessary for thinking or doing any good.

5) True believers are enabled by grace to persevere to the end, and it may be possible to lose this grace.

These five articles became the focus of almost a full decade of disputes and debates and conferences aimed at refuting them point by point, resulting finally in the canons of the Synod of Dort in 1619 that became for all of the Netherlands and much of Europe part of the confessional creeds. In the 400 years since, today, and for the next 400 years, I suppose, the discussions between Calvinists and Arminians will be along these same five lines.

Why does this matter? How is any of it really important? Well, how do you think about God? How do you respond to your salvation from God in Christ? The ways you view Christ’s salvation and God’s love and grace will, in large part, determine your Christian response.

These points of Arminian theology have everything to do with the questions we wrestle with all the time. For example, we know that our God is active and involved in our lives; we also know we are not just programmable robots. How do you reconcile that? We’ve all known wonderfully sacrificial servants of Christ, true disciples of our Lord, who, at death’s door, are not certain they are really saved; and others who are so certain of their eternal salvation that they believe their continued lives of sin and refusal to repent will result in no ill consequences. Where’s the correct ground between this hopelessness and carelessness?

The way we think informs the way we live.

God loves all mankind. He created us out of love and he desires that all men and women be saved to live with him in eternity, face to face. God provides the atonement for our transgressions in the sacrifice and resurrection of his Son, the atonement for all mankind. Every sin that’s ever been committed or thought and every sin that will ever be committed or thought has been paid for. Forgiven. Completely. And God’s grace to believe the Gospel story, God’s grace to put faith in Christ Jesus, God’s grace to live a life worthy of that salvation is available to all. To everybody. In equal measure. But God loves us too much to force us to do anything. He’s not going to make you. He’ll push you and compel you, his grace will cause you to know you must put your trust in him, his grace has opened your eyes to him. But he won’t force you. He won’t possess you to make you do something against your will. He loves you too much.

God loves and desires and works to save all; not just some. That’s the Christian confession. From day one.

And it motivates me to live for my Lord. It moves me to live a life of eternal gratitude to my Father. It pushes me to be serious about forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead; pressing on; attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ; adding to my faith in increasing measure. It means I, too, love and desire and work to save all; not just some. It challenges me to live in God’s grace every moment of every day, to accept his grace every hour, to give glory to God for this grace that saves me. To me, it puts all the focus and glory on a gracious Father who moves heaven and earth, who breaks through the barriers of time and space, to deliver me in all my sin. I live for that God.

Thanks, Jake!

Peace,

Allan

Be Careful What You Ask For

January 25, 2012 / / 1 Comment

“Be careful what you ask for…”

You’ve heard that before, right? Maybe you’ve even said it before. “Be careful what you ask for…”

Why?

“…because you just might get it.”

If my understanding of salvation is correct, God’s Holy Spirit is transforming us, changing us into the image of Christ. “Christ in us” is our hope of glory. We are being transformed “into the image of Christ with ever increasing glory.” Paul calls this “being saved.” It’s a process. It’s a journey. It’s a gradual becoming.

And it involves suffering.

Jesus made it plain: “All men will hate you because of me” (Matthew 10:22).

“If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first” (John 15:18).

Paul knew it, too: “Every one who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12).

See, we don’t normally think this way. We preach and teach, we believe and confess that if the whole world acted more like Jesus everybody would love everybody. If we thought and behaved more like our Lord, people would love us and be attracted to us. The Scriptural truth and the ultimate reality is that if we become more like Jesus, people will actually hate us. It’s unavoidable. If you want a safe, untroubled, comfortable life free from danger, then stay away from Jesus! The danger and risk and exposure to suffering increases in proportion to the depth of our relationship with the Christ.

Maybe this is why we sit back and settle for a casual relationship with Christ and just routine religion in the church. It’s safe at most churches. And, the way most of us do it, it’s actually pretty popular to be a Christian and go to church. As long as we’re pursuing the same goals and values and uphold the same ideals as everybody else in the world, even if we put a Christian label on it, the world’s cool with us. As long as our Christianity looks like the American Dream, we’re not going to have many problems.

But Jesus says, “Everyone who is fully trained will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40).

Our Teacher was mocked and beaten and ridiculed and persecuted and betrayed and murdered. He suffered and sacrificed and bled and died. Do we really want to be like him?

“It has been granted to you on behalf of Christ not only to believe on him but also to suffer for him” (Philippians 1:29).

Peter says we shouldn’t be surprised when it happens. Paul says we should consider it a joy. Scripture upholds that suffering is a gift. Christ gives us a gift — suffering. It’s a blessing. It’s a grace. It’s transformational. It’s life; eternal life. It’s discipleship; being like Jesus. Sanctification; being changed. Salvation; being saved.

Make me a servant; Lord, make me like you.

Be careful what you ask for.

Peace,

Allan

I Am Not A Dog!

November 3, 2011 / / 0 Comments

“First let the children eat all they want,” he told her, “for it is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to their dogs.” ~Mark 7:27

The way Jesus talks to this woman always messes us up. It’s fine for Jesus to be rude to Pharisees and Saducees. They deserve it. We even cheer at Jesus’ harsh words to the religious establishment… until we realize he’s talking to us. But it’s just not like him — it’s not Christ-like — for him to be rude to this woman who’s genuinely coming to him for help. It doesn’t make sense. It offends us.

Now, I do think Jesus is doing something deliberate here. And I think Mark is bending over backwards to show it to us. I believe Jesus is re-stating the salvation plan: first for the Jew and then for the Greek. And as he’s saying it, he’s demonstrating that the “then” is right now! He heals this Gentile woman in this Gentile land. And then our Lord immediately takes off for the Decapolis, ten pagan Gentile cities on the east coast of Galilee. And he heals. And then he feeds four thousand Gentiles in a Gentile desert. What Mark is saying in this section of his Gospel is that now it’s for everybody. The power of the Kingdom of God is for all people. You do not set any limits on the universal reach of the Savior of the World.

But sometimes that wonderful news overshadows the great humility of this desperate woman. And I believe Mark wants us to pay attention to that, too.

Jesus calls her and her people “dogs.” There’s no getting around it. And this woman doesn’t argue. She accepts the Jewish priority as explained by Jesus. She concedes the difference between the children and the dogs. And she humbles herself as a dog in order to accept healing from the Lord.

Her attitude is key. It’s necessary if one is going to be a true disciple of Jesus.

She comes to Jesus empty handed. She makes no claim. She has no merit. No priority. No standing. No privilege. She has nothing to commend herself to Jesus. She is in no way deserving of his mercy and healing. She does not argue that her case is some kind of special exception. She doesn’t lobby for special treatment. She completely accepts his judgment and bows down before Jesus as a beggar.

She’s not saying, “Lord, give me what I deserve on the basis of my goodness.” She says, “Lord, give me what I don’t deserve on the basis of your goodness.”

This willingness to humble oneself is a key requirement for discipleship. And it’s a lesson that Jesus’ own hand-picked apostles had a difficult time learning. Her attitude is the opposite of the apostles’ who are always arguing about who’s going to be the greatest. This woman is not bitter about the privileges of others. She doesn’t resent others’ shares of God’s blessings. She accepts her place and she comes to Jesus, just like we all must, as a sinner, poor and needy. She accepts that she’s unacceptable. Just like me. Just like us.

Martin Luther saw the entire Gospel in this one story. We are truly more wicked than we could ever believe; and we are more loved and accepted by God than we could ever dare to hope.

Pride, though, is our huge problem. Augustine said pride is what changed angels into devils. Pride is what causes us to thumb our noses at the God who insists we are unworthy. “I’m not a dog! I’m not weak! I’m not incapable! I’m not undeserving!” We’re offended. And we walk away from the Savior.

But not this woman. No, sir. This woman understood very well what Romans tells us, what all of Holy Scripture tells us: we are rebels and enemies of God, sinful and diseased, dead and powerless. In all humility she accepted that status, and received from Christ the healing and salvation she and her family so desperately needed. She is the perfect model of what it means to be last of all, to bow low and submit to the gracious King.

Don’t believe for a second you’re not a dog. You are. Don’t change the words in the song from “…such a worm as I” to “…such a one as I.” Don’t. You are an unrighteous, unholy, sinful, dirty human being in desperate need of a Savior. And he has come. And he loves you more than you can possibly begin to imagine.

Peace,

Allan

Yet…

October 6, 2011 / / 0 Comments

I happened by the grace of God upon Psalm 78 earlier this week. And it blew me away all over again. God’s great mercy. His incalculable love. It makes absolutely no sense.

Psalm 78 tells the story of God’s people. It describes God’s miracles and the great rescue of his children. It details God’s mighty acts on behalf of his people. He fed them. He protected them. He gave them everything he had ever promised.

“In spite of all this, they kept on sinning;
in spite of his wonders, they did not believe…
they would flatter him with their mouths,
lying to him with their tongues;
their hearts were not loyal to him,
they were not faithful to his covenant.” ~Psalm 78:32-37

It sounds so familiar, doesn’t it? It does to me. It sounds and feels way too familiar. In spite of God’s great gifts of sacrifice and salvation, Allan keeps on sinning; he lies to God with his tongue; his heart is not loyal to God; Allan is not faithful to God’s covenant.

Yet…

Here comes the good part. Here comes the truly wonderful part.

Yet…

“Yet God was merciful;
he forgave their iniquities and did not destroy them.
Time after time he restrained his anger
and did not stir up his full wrath.
He remembered that they were but flesh.” ~Psalm 78:38-39

Yet…

Why?? It makes no sense. Because he loves me? Again, why?? Praise God for the inequities of his great love!

You know, we have a tendency in this age of grace to feel like God owes us his love and forgiveness. God knows I’m human. He made me. He knows I’m going to sin. Of course God loves me; that’s his job!

No, it’s not his job. It is an unimaginable, unexpected, unnecessary wonder of the universe! It’s absolutely amazing. Mind boggling. And to the eternal praise of our Father, it’s not impossible! Despite my sins, despite my rebellion and acts of denial and betrayal, despite my brokenness and stubbornness and pride, God does not destroy me. He is merciful. He forgives me. And, somehow, he still views me as righteous.

And, you too.

Peace,

Allan

The Active Life

October 5, 2011 / / 0 Comments

The life of a disciple is active, not reactive. It has nothing to do with just talking about faith or teaching religious principles or believing theological ideas or keeping biblical rules. It has everything to do with living one’s whole life in obedience to God’s call through personal action. It doesn’t just require a mind. It requires a body, too.

Ours is a life given to us by God to be lived not in some kind of rigid, cramped, crowded, small, compromised, legalistic way but in a full, wild, joyful, exuberant, cheerful, celebratory way. A way that apprehends and assimilates and then radiates the freedom we have from God in Christ.

Our Father wants his beloved children to operate out of joy and freedom to do what is good and right, not out of fear of making a mistake. Isn’t that one of the great lessons in Jesus’ story about the servants and the talents in Matthew 25?

The Christian life is an active life. Our God calls us to give our whole selves to him. Brakes off; no looking back; full steam ahead! We must act in faith that our God who calls us to live boldly and outrageously for him also promises us that if and when we do mess up in enthusiastic service to our King, he promises forgiveness and consolation and salvation.

Peace,

Allan

Jumping In At Central

August 5, 2011 / / 2 Comments

Have I mentioned that I don’t know anybody in Amarillo? We don’t have any family up there. We don’t know anything about the panhandle. Or the high plains. Or West Texas. Dallas – Fort Worth is my home. This is what I know. This is where our family is. Our roots are here in the Metroplex. North Texas. DFW. I know the landmarks of DFW. I know the history. The people. The culture. I know how Belt Line meanders through every part of Dallas County and each place where Boulevard 26 changes names. I’ve been watching Gloria Campos and Dale Hansen since I was a small child. Randy Galloway has been on my radio since I was a teenager. I can name all the churches here and tell you at which ones I attended a Summer Youth Series in the ’80s. I know 7-11 and Reunion Tower and Dallas competitiveness and Fort Worth pride. I know R. L. Thornton and LBJ and what it means to be driving south on the North Freeway. I’m familiar with Frisco and Forney and Aledo and Granbury. And I don’t get lost on Harry Hines.

But I don’t know a crying thing about Amarillo.

We’ve made a few trips up there over the past two months since agreeing to move our preaching ministry to the Central Church of Christ. We’ve fallen in love with Blue Sky and have already eaten there a half dozen times. And bought the T-shirts. I know those things at the intersection of 1-40 and Soncy Road are prarie dogs, not ground hogs. I don’t giggle anymore when I pull into the Toot N Totem for a Diet Dr Pepper. I’m growing a real interest in the storied history of Amarillo High School where our kids are going to be Sandies. And, yes, we’ve got those T-shirts too. We’ve taken in the TEXAS musical at the Palo Duro Canyon and are beginning to get comfortable with basements. We’ve already put our mark on Cadillac Ranch, spray painting the empty tomb symbol at the top of one of the middle cars.

It’s not home for us, of course. Not yet. It’s going to take a while. But something happened yesterday that got us a whole lot closer in a super short amount of time.

Loaves and Fishes. Central’s outreach to the poor and homeless in the downtown Amarillo community. Every Thursday. Inside the Central building, Kevin leads more than 150 of these souls in praise and worship to our God. Mary and Hannah make announcements and describe how much food and clothing are going to be distributed. Mark reads from God’s Word and encourages and exhorts, preaches and teaches the Gospel to people who are hungering and thirsting for righteousness. And for bread and water. And they pray.

Carrie-Anne and Carley and I jumped into the middle of our first Loaves and Fishes yesterday. We sang I Surrender All with a whole bunch of people who don’t have nearly as much to surrender as I do. We clapped and grinned through Lord, I Lift Your Name on High and several other songs. And then Mark brought Christy to the front of the room.

Christy has been coming to Loaves and Fishes for quite a while now. She’s never made it to a worship assembly in the main worship center on a Sunday morning, but I’ll bet half of Central knows her. Christy never misses a Thursday. She’s always there. But, yesterday was different.

Christy was grieving. Her heart was broken. Just 24 hours earlier, on Wednesday morning, Christy had found her 19-year-old son, Caleb, dead of an overdose in his bed in their house. He was her only son. And he was dead. Caleb’s body was in Lubbock awaiting an autopsey. And Christy was in God’s house with God’s people seeking comfort and peace.

We rushed to hug Christy. We put our hands on her and prayed with her and for her. We cried with her. And not a one of us knew what to say. “God bless you.” That’s all we kept saying, “God bless you.”

A few minutes later, once the food distribution began, I grabbed Mark’s Bible and made my way to Christy. Hannah was already there. Listening to Christy. Holding her. Showing her the mercy and grace of our Lord. I opened up the Scriptures to Mark six where the Gospel tells us that while the apostles were rowing against the wind in the middle of a stormy sea, while the wind was blowing them off course, while they were “straining at the oars,” our Christ was watching them from the mountain. He was watching and praying. I showed her the passages in Isaiah 46 where our God promises to carry his children, to sustain them, to rescue them. And then I prayed with Christy.

I met a lot of people at Loaves and Fishes yesterday. I watched God work through my brothers and sisters at Central to minister to “the least of these.” I watched our Lord’s Spirit move through his Church to console and encourage, to provide and protect, to heal.

I saw our God in action. In Amarillo. At Central. He is rescuing the captives and retrieving the plunder. He is saving people. He is impacting and eternally changing lives. He is restoring and redeeming, re-creating. In Amarillo. At Central.

Amarillo is in Texas. It has a Rosa’s. The stores carry Diet Dr Pepper. There’s a Cheddar’s that serves my favorite Buffalo Chicken Strips. They play high school football on Friday night and go to church on Sunday. The people drive pickup trucks and SUVs and say “y’all.” They’re over-the-top warm and friendly. Fiercely loyal. That’s comforting. That’s comfortable. That feels like home.

But the thing that speaks to me, the thing that gives me confidence in this move, the thing that makes me feel right about this, is knowing that God is already at work in Amarillo and has been for a long, long time. It’s God. It’s him. Our God is moving at Central. All I’m doing is just jumping in.

Peace,

Allan

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