Making Bricks Without Straw (The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification)

Seeking a pure life without a pure nature is building without a foundation. And there is no seeking a new nature from the law, for it bids us make brick without straw, and says to the cripple, ‘Walk,’ without giving any strength.

-Walter Marshall, The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification, Chapter 14

I’ve written about this same theme in detail ELSEWHERE. For the sake of those who won’t click the link, let me share a similar statement by John Owen on the subject of sanctification:

This is the work of the Spirit; by him alone is it to be wrought, and by no other power is it to be brought about. Mortification from a self-strength, carried on by ways of self-invention, unto the end of a self-righteousness, is the soul and substance of all false religion in the world (Mortification of Sin in Believers, ch. 1).

Sunday Hymn: We’re Marching to Zion

This is another of my favorite hymns written by Isaac Watts. I think of Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones every time I sing it, as he was fond of repeating the middle verses:

The men of grace have found
Glory begun below;
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow.

The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heav’nly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.

And, speaking of the Doctor, today would be a good day to listen to one of his sermons. They’re available for free HERE. He’s far and away the best preacher I have ever heard.

 

On Not Being Righteous Overmuch

That precept of Solomon, ‘Be not righteous over much’ (Eccles. 7:16) is very useful and necessary, if rightly understood. We are to beware of being too rigorous in exacting righteousness of ourselves and others beyond the measure of faith and grace. Overdoing commonly proves undoing. Children that venture on their feet beyond their strength have many a fall, and so have babes in Christ when they venture unnecessarily upon such duties as are beyond the strength of their faith. We should be content at present to do the best that we can, according to the measure of the gift of Christ, though we know that others are enabled to do much better; and we are not to despise the day of small things, but to praise God that He works in us anything that is well-pleasing in His sight, hoping that He will sanctify us throughout and bring us at last to perfection of holiness through Jesus Christ our Lord. And we should carefully observe in all things that good lesson of the apostle: ‘Not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God has dealt to every man the measure of faith’ (Rom. 12:3).

-Walter Marshall, The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification, Chapter 12

This section demonstrates Marshall’s pastoral heart more than any other section of the book. Anyone who has worked in the ministry likely realizes that you cannot set the same bars for everyone – even in regards to holiness.

Chesterton once quipped something to the effect that the Puritans wanted to turn the whole world into a monastery. This is a caricature, but it has some teeth. There are those who have misused Puritanism in that way. I would prefer to think that the Puritans wanted to open up the windows of the monastery and let some fresh air in. They didn’t think anyone was strong enough to be a good monk (much less a good Christian) under that suffocating air. C.S. Lewis once pointed out that the tone of the early Reformers and Puritans was one of relief and buoyancy. If our Christianity doesn’t follow that trajectory of relief and buoyancy, then we’re headed down an inverted, yet somehow genuine, primrose path.

So much for the anecdotal, let’s get to a couple of actual points.

First, 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 exist for a reason. Elders and deacons are called to a higher standard than others within the church. If the are quick-tempered, for instance, they are disqualified from the ministry. If other Christians are quick-tempered, they might be disqualified from partaking of The Lord’s Supper from time to time. The Apostle James made a similar point: “Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1). Those texts tell me that I should hold teachers (including myself)/elders to a higher standard of holiness than I would hold someone else in the same congregation. For instance, I probably can’t count the number of times I have let church members get away with saying things (without a rebuke) that I would have chided an elder for. If God judges the teacher with greater strictness, then we should as well.

Allow me to anticipate an objection: this does not mean that ministers never sin and should never be shown grace. 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 do not say that the minister must be perfect. But they do set a certain standard. They still get grace, but there are sins that disqualify them from office. Such sins do not necessarily mean that they are not a Christian; but it does mean that they are not called of God to be elders or deacons or what have you.

Second, the world is not a monastery. We want our people to live holy lives to be sure, but we do not want them to be stiffs. We don’t want to destroy their personalities, but we want their personalities to be submitted to the person of Christ. We want them to live in this world, to have fun, to learn from their mistakes, and ultimately to live a life of repentance. And, sadly, a life of repentance implies a life that includes sin. This does not mean that they will live in constant sin, but it does mean that they will fall. The Christian doesn’t stay in sin, but he certainly will fall into sin. Yet he keeps turning from it.

Third, speaking of living their lives, Christians should not feel under constant oppression. God does not have his thumb on us. As Spurgeon said, not a drop of water gets inside the ark; likewise, not a drop of wrath gets near the Christian. There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:1). Christians are serving a loving Father, not a tyrannical despot. Luther wrote something to this effect: sin boldly, but let your faith in Christ be bolder. I want the people I teach to be unafraid of screwing up. I don’t want them to be looking over their shoulders, constantly in fear that the hammer is about to drop. I want them to know what sin is, and I want them to know when they sin, but I also want them to know the feeling of gospel relief on a daily basis.

In his great hymn, Here, O My Lord, I See Thee Face to Face, Horatius Bonar described his desire in partaking of The Lord’s Supper in this way:

Here would I feed upon the bread of God,
Here drink with Thee the royal wine of heaven;
Here would I lay aside each earthly load,
Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.

The calm of sin forgiven, tasted afresh. That’s it.

Fourth, I’ll bottom line this line of thought. I know what it is like to put yourself under tremendous pressure to live in holiness. I read books about sanctification and talk about Law and Gospel a lot. The reason I do so is this: I am a closet Legalist. I’ve known this for years. I distinctly remember the relief I felt a few years ago upon reading The True Bounds of Christian Freedom and realizing that I am not under the Law as a covenant. But, you see, I already knew that. I just hadn’t experienced the relief of that fact up until that point in time.

An amazing thing happened at that point. My preaching improved, and so did my life – my wife can attest to it. I tell people that the gospel frees us up to be screw-ups without fear of not being loved. If I didn’t believe that I wouldn’t have lasted this long. There are days when I will fight myself on and off for hours at a time over sinful thoughts and temptations – even stupid temptations that 99% of the world isn’t the least concerned about (like how many hours I sleep and how many minutes I spend reading the Bible in a given day). When I do this in my own strength I only beat myself down. When I remember the grace of Jesus Christ, I find myself built up. If that is my own experience why would I put that sort of pressure on other people? I don’t want them to think that sin is ‘okay.’ But I want them to know that God is gracious and forgiving to those who are trusting in his Son. And I want them to know (as I want my children and my wife to know) that I don’t expect them to be exactly like me – or exactly like Christ (and I am by no means exactly like Christ).

To expect perfection is to have an over-realized eschatology. We won’t be eternal splendors until we get to eternity. We are, says Peterson, in the midst of a long obedience in the same direction. That direction implies a destination that we haven’t reached. Don’t expect yourself to be there when you’re still en route. You know what it’s like to wish you had the magic button so that your tedious car-ride would be over. But no magic button exists this side of death. The good thing is that there are radios and audio books and fun games that can be played in the car along the way. I’ve learned more on some car-trips than I did in seminary classes. You’ll get there, Lord willing. The road has bumps and can be tedious, but you’ll get there.

As for how we treat others: we want to encourage one another in holiness, but we want to do so in a godly way. To encourage people to godliness in an ungodly way is the height of hypocrisy. So then, how does God encourage his people to godliness? By gospel means. Go and do thou likewise.

Reformed Catholicity

This little phrase, for me, comes from the title of a Carl Trueman book about John Owen: John Owen: Reformed Catholic, Renaissance Man.  In the video posted below, Trueman references Owen’s ‘catholicity.’

A few years ago I took a two-hour elective class on the writings of Owen. In that class, we were assigned to read about 1500 pages over the course of a semester. It changed my life. I draw nearly every day from what I have learned from Owen.

One of the things that struck me about Owen, especially as I began to read his book Biblical Theology, was the broad range of sources he cites in his work. He cites the church fathers and he cites pagan mythology; he cites his opponents and he cites his friends, and just about everything in between. And, yes, he was a Puritan. Trueman explains it well in the video. It sums up an idea of what modern Reformed Christians ought to be striving for, especially in this age of vast information and shallow thought.

…whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future–all are yours, and you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s (1 Cor. 3:22-23).

On Worshiping the Clock

In our modern muddle, we judge things only by whether or not they are new. The new theologians, says Chesterton, do not worship the sun or moon; they worship the clock.

But what happens to new things? They become old. ‘Living in a world that worships swiftness and success no longer means living in a world of new things. Rather it means living in a world of old things; of things that very swiftly grow old.’

Dale Ahlquist, The Complete Thinker, p. 100

‘There is nothing new under the sun’ takes on a new sense in our culture. There is nothing new because everything is on the verge of becoming a fossil at any moment.

Isaac Watts paraphrases Psalm 90:5-6,

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day

Psalm 90:3-6 states,

You turn people back to dust,
    saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.”
A thousand years in your sight
    are like a day that has just gone by,
    or like a watch in the night.
Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death—
    they are like the new grass of the morning:
In the morning it springs up new,
    but by evening it is dry and withered.

I cite Psalm 90 for this purpose: our constant discarding of the old in favor of the new is a parable of life, an illustration of the brevity of existence. Somehow, because we realize the pace at which we are moving, that we are vapor, we have come to exalt the new – at least for a moment. Our contraptions have taken our form. They become old quickly, but never have the chance to mature. Instead they are only replaced. And so, as vapors ourselves, we make vapors, and sweep them away as if they were hay on a field. It’s a strange, strange form of trying to put ourselves in the place of God; as if Psalm 90:3-6 were speaking about us rather than God, and our contraptions are what spring up in the morning and by evening is dry and withered.

I’m not being clear here. This line of thought is happening as I write. But let me close out this post by dealing with the main point I had in mind when I saved this quote:

We think we have become better than our ancestors who worshiped the sun and moon; but at least those things were not things that they had created. We worship the clock. They worshiped what is ancient and God-made. We worship what is new and man-made. And we somehow think they were primitive. What are we? Diminutive.

We are so small we cannot hold the old. Chesterton put it this way:

The moderns say that they are leaving the past because it is exhausted; but they lie. They are escaping from the past because it is so strong (Ahlquist, p. 98).

Now, I am by no means advocating idolatry of any kind. I am simply making the point that the fact that the idolatry is newer doesn’t make it superior. It’s still idolatry, and in some ways it’s more silly. There’s a better way (for both):

  • Thus says the Lord:
    “Stand by the roads, and look,
        and ask for the ancient paths,
    where the good way is; and walk in it,
        and find rest for your souls.
    But they said, ‘We will not walk in it’ (Jer. 6:16).
  • Isaac reopened the wells that had been dug in the time of his father Abraham, which the Philistines had stopped up after Abraham died, and he gave them the same names his father had given them (Gen. 26:18).