Good news for the Guilty

I was expecting a number of things to be pretty hard and challenging about moving overseas in service of Christ. One of the things I didn’t anticipate was deeper experiences of guilt. What do I mean?

I suppose guilt is a universal feeling. If you’ve never felt guilty about anything then I’d wager there’s something pretty seriously wrong with you. We all have regrets.

But - in all honesty - before I first really came to terms with what Jesus had done for me, put my trust in him, and began to follow him, any feelings of guilt were pretty shallow and short-lived. Even though there was plenty I was guilty of. It’s sad and shameful but, to be candid, I didn’t really care that much.

Now, though, everything has changed. God is my gracious Father. Jesus is my dear Saviour and Brother. The Holy Spirit is my intimate Comforter. So whilst I know that all my sin, guilt and shame has been dealt with absolutely and once-for-all through Jesus’ sacrifice, now I hate it when I sin - when I mess up in thought / word / deed, which (by the way) is every day. Because I’m grieving my wonderful God. And the feelings of guilt resurface.

I hate it when I sin. But I also hate the memory of sin - those mental replays that can come again and again. There’s no “ctrl + z” in life, is there? We simply can’t undo what is done.

And I wonder if there are a couple of factors in my personal situation that accentuate the painful memory of sin and the feelings of guilt:

1. I am very rarely reminded of the wonder of the gospel - the good news of Jesus, which frees us from all guilt. For the last 10 years of my life really it has been a most precious privilege to be part of a network of Christian friends and colleagues, who were consistent in encouraging each other in who Jesus is for us and what he has done for us. I could bank on turning up to church and singing songs that beautifully express the gospel of Jesus, being reminded of the power of Jesus in the gospel to forgive, cleanse and restore, hearing a clear explanation and celebration of the gospel from Scripture. In many of the churches I visit, and in most of my relationships here, sadly that simply doesn’t happen. (Did I tell you about the sermon supposedly on John 3:16 that didn’t mention Jesus...?) Praise God for a few exceptions, but the overall experience is a serious change. 
2. The Devil loves to discourage servants of the gospel. The whole reason I am in the Gambia is the cause of the gospel: the convictions that everyone needs Jesus, people come to faith in him through hearing his word, and so the importance of training people to understand and proclaim his word truthfully. Oh how Satan hates all of that! And so I’m sure that he loves to do all that he can to discourage those involved in this work, dampening their resolve and stealing their joy. 

The name Satan means Accuser. And his weapon against the Christian believer is a cocktail of true-false accusations. Here’s what I mean:

His accusations are true, in that he doesn’t make them up! He will happily use the material I’ve supplied him with, and point to specific things:

“Remember that time you… [did that to that person] / [said that to that person] / [thought that about that person] …? You really shouldn’t have, should you?” - No, Satan, you’re right.

“Remember that time you… [didn’t do that to that person] / [didn’t say that to that person] …? You really should have, shouldn’t you?” - Yes, Satan, you’re right.

Like a global situation when a country puts its head in its hands, as it sees the arms it’s naively supplied to a now fierce enemy… That’s exactly what we’ve all done with Satan.

And to make it worse, he’ll gladly use things in the present too:

“What are you really achieving? Are you sure it’s really worth it? Are you actually helping anyone? Aren’t you wasting people’s resources? And are you really qualified? Have you forgotten how sinful you are? Your’e not doing a great job, are you?”

But whenever Satan’s accusations may be true, they’re also false - because they’re powerless. They no longer apply. His weapon, though looking sharp and mighty, is actually as harmless as a sword made out of sponge. Because this is the good news…

“As far as the east is from the west, so far has the Lord removed our transgressions from us.” (Psalm 103:12)

All our sin and its accompanying guilt has been taken as far, far away from us as possible. If you look at a globe, how far apart are the east and the west? Infinitely! East is always east and west is always west! Right?! It’s not like north-south (though even that’s a pretty big distance). My sin has been completely removed.

The prophet Micah looked forward to how God would do this:

“You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl our iniquities into the depths of the sea.” (Micah 7:19)

All totally gone. Crushed underfoot, and hurled to the bottom of the deep blue sea, never to be dredged up or seen again. What was Micah looking forward to? How can we be so sure of this?

“For Christ died for sins, once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God.” (1 Peter 3:18)

Boom.

Those are some of the sweeter-than-honey words of God that I need to call to mind when Satan accuses. As Martin Luther said, “One word will fell him.” 1 

I love these words from the hymn, ‘Before the Throne of God Above’:

When Satan tempts me to despair

And tells me of the guilt within

Upward I look and see Him there

Who made an end of all my sin.

Because the sinless Saviour died

My sinful soul is counted free,

For God the Just is satisfied

To look on Him and pardon me

.

2

There’s a mountain of profound theology and power-loaded good news in those few lines. But the simple, crucial step we need to take when reminded of the guilt we ought to feel? “Upward I look and see Him there who made an end of all my sin.” Jesus Christ is in heaven, seated on his throne, job done. The sinful records of all his people are smothered with the letters, big and red in his priceless blood, PAID IN FULL. Trusting in him? Then he has borne the weight of all your sin and all your guilt. That’s what he was doing when he died that death that he, the Perfect Beautiful Sinless One, never deserved - making an end of all my sin. That’s why I can rejoice, “No guilt in life, no fear in death - this is the power of Christ in me.” 3

Until his certain and final downfall, Satan will continue to do his best to discourage me and all who love the Saviour. But I love how Martin Luther counsels us to deal with it. Here’s what he wrote to encourage someone with this great good news for the guilty:

When the devil throws our sins up to us and declares that we deserve death and hell, we ought to speak thus: ‘I admit that I deserve death and hell. What of it? Does that mean that I shall be sentenced to eternal damnation? By no means. For I know One who suffered and made satisfaction in my behalf. His name is Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Where he is, there I shall be also.’ 4

Yes!




1 From the hymn, ‘A Mighty Fortress is our God’, 1529

2 ‘Before the Throne of God Above’, Charitie Bancroft, 1863

3 From the song, ‘In Christ Alone’, Getty / Townend, 2001

4 To Jerome Weller, in ‘Luther: Letters of Spiritual Counsel’, 1530

A forgotten virtue?

When did you last hear someone commend gentleness? Or command it, for that matter?! (What spellcheck automatically changed ‘commend’ to just now!) The following text got me thinking about gentleness.

I was recently preaching on 2 Timothy 2:20-26, which includes these words from the apostle Paul:

“And the Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance…” (vv.24-25)

Paul is unequivocal. The Lord’s servant “must” be like this: not quarrelsome, kind to everyone, gentle in instructing opponents. This isn’t just the way some people are - “oh, those lovely nice people.” This isn’t just one of various personality types. We really, seriously, must be gentle - especially, Paul is saying, if we’re in a position of leadership.

Ouch. That’s hard, right?! Yeah.

I’ve been chewing over some reflections which I didn’t have time to include in my sermon. A couple of thoughts…

1. The truly gentle Servant

My very occasionally gentle dog...

It’s interesting that Paul chooses to use the words “the Lord’s servant”. He could easily have just carried on from how he’s normally addressed Timothy in this letter - in the imperative (‘do this not that’) or the 2nd person singular (‘you know this’). But he opts instead for this unusual phrase in the 3rd person - “the Lord’s servant”.

It’s surely reminiscent of an important title from the Old Testament part of the Bible - “the Servant of the Lord”. Isaiah prophesied about him and the climactic work of God’s salvation that he would achieve: not only to restore God’s people, the Jews, but God “will also make [him] a light for the Gentiles, that [he] may bring salvation to the ends of the earth.” (Isaiah 49:6)

Jump forward 700 years to a hated tax-man called Matthew. He became one of the privileged 12 whom Jesus called to follow him closely. As he looked back, in his gospel account, he saw clearly how these prophecies pointed to Jesus, as did the rest of the New Testament writers. Commenting on Jesus’ ministry of kindness and gentleness, Matthew quotes Isaiah:

“This was to fulfil what was spoken through the prophet Isaiah: ‘Here is my servant, whom I have chosen, the one I love, in whom I delight. I will put my Spirit on him and he will proclaim justice to the nations. He will not quarrel or cry out; no one will hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smouldering wick he will not snuff out, till he leads justice to victory. In his name the nations will put their hope.’” (Matthew 12:17-21, quoting Isaiah 42:1-4)

Though he comes with all the authority of God and fulfilling the eternal plan of God, yet he comes in quietness and gentleness. Twice, Isaiah emphasises (and Matthew) that the result will nevertheless be victorious as salvation reaches to “the nations”. Yet Jesus’ manner is beautifully tender. Those feeling bruised like a useless reed - he won’t break. Instead he lovingly binds them up. Those feeling pathetic like a smouldering wick - he won’t snuff out. Instead he powerfully revives and restores.

It gets even better.

Stunningly, Jesus’ path to achieve all this (salvation to the ends of the earth!), as well as being surprisingly quiet and gentle, will even be despised and shameful. In one of the most astonishing prophecies of Jesus’ saving sufferings on the Cross, Isaiah wrote:

“... there were many who were appalled at him - his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and his form marred beyond human likeness… He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.”

Why oh why would this happen to the special promised Servant of the Lord?? “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 52:14-53:6)

This is awesome. And this is classic God. Even his most climactic and wondrous act of salvation - the cross of Christ - would not be all beauty and glory but battered and gory. It’s the most stunning example of gentleness from our Saviour, as he embraced the role of a meek sacrificial lamb, willingly laying down his life as a sacrifice for our sin: “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.” (53:7)

It’s only because of this staggering gentleness in grace that we can be reconciled to God, let alone become in any sense his servants ourselves. But sure enough - wonder of wonders! - that is what God makes available to everyone who believes. We become his dearly beloved children forever, and then we are given the privilege and responsibility of serving him with what he entrusts to us.

And thus the Apostle Paul addressed Timothy, and addresses us. If we have been made servants of the Lord, saved by this beautiful gentle grace, what place is there for quarrelling or unkindness or resentfulness?! Could there be a more inappropriate response?! Instead, let us remember the tender mercy of our Saviour, and imitate him.

“[T]he Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct…” (vv.24-25)

2. The true power for gentleness

How can we possibly do this? See how Paul finishes off his sentence:

“Those who oppose him he must gently instruct, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth, and that they will come to their senses and escape from the trap of the devil, who has taken them captive to do his will.” (vv.25-26)

It’s possible to be gentle. It may seem impossibly hard at times. Especially when opposed unjustly or unkindly, even in the cause of Christ. Yet it is clearly his purpose for us. It’s one of the lovely virtues listed as “the fruit of the Spirit” - “kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness” (Galatians 5:22-23) - what gradually happens when God himself comes to dwell in us and transform us.

And in these words to Timothy we find a weapon: a crucial conviction to cling on to, which will strengthen our hearts and empower our wills to pursue this gentleness. It’s this: God alone is the One with supreme sovereign ability to change hearts. Go on, read that again.

We can not change hearts - our own or others’. Only God can. See the 4 things God is mysteriously and supernaturally able to do in these words:

1. Grant people repentance 
2. Lead people to a knowledge of the truth 
3. Bring people to their senses 
4. Free people from the devil’s grip 

We could never do those things for ourselves. (Ready for humble pie?) We will not repent (turn away from sin and turn to Christ) by ourselves. We will not know the truth by ourselves. We will not come to our senses by ourselves. We will not escape the devil by ourselves. Huh. Humbling.

But - praise be to him! - God can and does do all those things. And so knowing that and clinging to that frees us and enables us to be gentle. 

Often this clear teaching in the Bible about God’s sovereignty is unpopular. It certainly humbles us and puts us in our place. But the Bible writers are never ashamed or shy about such massive truths. On the contrary - they serve as incentives and motivations and empowerments for purposeful, kind and gentle lives.

If God did not have that kind of supreme ability, and I had to try to muster it from myself, then I can’t imagine what kind of psychological wreckage I’d be in. Who could bear the weight of seeking to change hearts?! It’s what everyone needs, but we simply can’t do it!

To know and trust in and cherish God’s sovereign grace will liberate me from such crippling worry, discouragement or bitterness. It will enable me truly to be gentle, even to the hardest cases, and trust God to do his supreme and sovereign work.

--

There are a handful of very gentle friends in my life whose example is a constant encouragement and example to me. They are not weak. Not at all. They are very strong. Their strength is in the self-control and self-giving of their abilities, rights, gifts, time and resources for others, in gentle, humble, loving self-sacrifice. That is the way of our Saviour. May it be our way too and so point many to the truly gentle Servant.

“Jesus called them together and said, “… whoever wants to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:42-45)