Waking from the Dead

Published on by dpatrickcollins3 Comments

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions — it is by grace you have been saved.

Ephesians 2:4-5 (NIV)

As a young Christian, I walked through a season of realizing just how sinful I was. It was as if all my motives were exposed to the light of truth, and none of them were any good! I realized at that time that even my desire to be good was driven by an unhealthy need to be accepted by others. Which was a problem, of course, since being a Christian meant being willing to be despised and rejected by others for the sake of Jesus.

And so I did what anyone does who thinks he is a pretty good person and suddenly discoveries he is not: I hid. I hid by doing everything in my power to be a good Christian. I was constantly obsessed with the idea God requires radical obedience and tried to obey God in radical ways. Whether it was giving or sharing my faith or reading my Bible or attending church functions, I did so with my whole heart, ideally in a way that cost me something.

But my obedience was not really to God. it was my attempt to change who I was so that I might be pleasing to him. The knowledge of my sin was like a secret I carried; it weighed on my soul like a dark cloud. I felt dead inside.

The beautiful thing about the Cross is that Jesus died for the very thing I was hiding from. It is easy to think Jesus died for my sins or even think He died for my past sins only (and now it is my job not to sin any more presumably). But our problem runs much deeper than that. We are dead in our sin, by nature deserving of God’s wrath. The horror I felt about myself was real. But the remedy was not me trying harder. It was coming out into the light to allow Jesus to do what only He could do: make me into the very thing He desired me to become. And furthermore, recognize He alone has the power to do that. In short, Jesus died that He might raise me from the dead.

Once we are raised from the dead, we are new creations. And our new nature is unpunishable. Jesus has literally put to death the part of us that can be punished and given us a new nature than cannot be punished. This is how far He has separated us from our sin. Our new nature also has the power to do what pleases Jesus, and it is from this nature that we now operate.

But our new nature can only come fully online by us receiving the Good News. In my case, it was by actually realizing whatever I felt I deserved or did not deserve on the basis of my own conduct or even the content of my own heart no longer mattered. All that mattered was recognizing I had been raised to life — a life for whom guilt and punishment was literally impossible. In short, that I had been awakened from the dead.

And when you realize you have been awakened from the dead, all around you is life. And there is simply nothing the God of life will withhold from you.

God the Novelist

Published on by dpatrickcollins2 Comments

You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

Genesis 50:20 (NIV)

The topic of God’s sovereignty – the idea God is orchestrating all events in life and in the world – can be difficult for us. We do not want to think God is orchestrating all things because we reason that means God is responsible for all things. If He is orchestrating all things, then He must be giving people brain cancer, wiping out people with natural disasters, and committing every atrocity on the planet from the time of Adam and Eve till now. So we reason.

And so we make God less sovereign. We say that He is not really in control of all things as much as He is in charge of all things. Or that He was not responsible for the hand we were dealt but that He can win with any hand. Or that he is not responsible for our sickness or season but that He is responsible for delivering us from it. All of these things are an attempt to make God better. But the problem is: they only end up making God smaller.

And the difficulty with this is: We need a God who is not small. In fact, we need a God who is very big, so big that He is fully in control of every detail of our lives and actively causing all things to work together for our good. Without this, we are in a world outside God’s control. And if it is outside God’s control, we must remain in control, forever fearful of what may happen to us.

But what are we to do with a God who is sovereignly in control of a world with so much suffering, tragedy, and evil? Can we responsibly say He is the cause behind these things? It depends on what we mean by “cause.” If we mean God caused them in the sense He is the ultimate cause behind all things, the answer is yes. But if we mean God caused them in the sense He is morally responsible for them – that is, He is the one to blame for them, the answer is no.

An analogy may help here. An author who writes a novel is the ultimate cause behind everything that happens in the world he or she has created in the novel. This includes the actions of the villain in the novel. But it is difficult if not absurd to say the author is morally responsible – again, the one to blame – for the evil perpetrated by the villain. A novelist cannot be tried and convicted for the crimes committed by his or her characters, even though the novelist is the ultimate cause of them.

The important thing to realize here is that when we talk about God being sovereign, this is exactly what we are saying. In this world, the “characters” alone are morally responsible for their actions1, not God. And yet God, in a way we cannot fully understand, is ultimately the cause of them, just like a novelist is. If an evil ruler like Pharaoh comes to power and oppresses the children of Israel, that ruler alone is to blame for his actions. And yet it is God the Novelist who has raised him up for this very purpose.2 Joseph’s brothers intended harm for him by leaving him to die, but God the Novelist intended all along this would lead to the saving of many.

Now it is true God is ultimately responsible for allowing all that takes place in the panoramic novel that is all of human history, whether good or evil. It is also true He is ultimately responsible for allowing the effects of evil, which is all the suffering we see in the world today. But it is important for us to keep in mind this is true whether God was sovereign or not. An all-powerful God who can prevent evil is no less responsible than an all-powerful God who is the ultimate (novelist) cause behind evil. So when we reject the idea God is sovereign, we are really rejecting the idea He is all-powerful. We are trying to make Him powerless over the evil and suffering in the world in order to get Him off the hook for having anything to do with it. But a powerless God is the last thing you and I need.

It is far better for us, in my opinion, to trust God’s Word and accept the mystery of His sovereignty, knowing He is both absolutely good and powerful and has good reasons for sovereignly allowing what He allows in the world and in our lives. But it is vital to realize God Himself became the answer to all evil and suffering: becoming flesh and taking upon Himself the punishment we deserved through His Son, Jesus Christ. The real mystery is not that a holy God would allow suffering, but rather that despite our sins, He would choose mercy. To become sin for us that we might become the very righteousness of God.3

  1. We will have more to say about God’s interaction with us in future articles. ↩︎
  2. Romans 9:17 ↩︎
  3. 2 Corinthians 5:21 ↩︎

The Limits of Faith

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We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith

Romans 12:6 (NIV)

As we have been discussing, faith is ultimately something God supplies. Not that we have no role in cultivating a lifestyle of faith, but recognizing faith is not something we can manufacture ourselves, and that it is ultimately a gift from God, will save us a lot of needless striving (and no small degree of emotional distress). The faith we need to move mountains and see answered prayer is ultimately a gift from God.

But why then does God tell us to have faith? For the same reason He tells us to be perfectly righteous. When Jesus says, “Unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven1,” He is in fact telling us to possess what He alone can provide. It is the same with faith. Our part is to cultivate both through relationship. By coming into relationship with Jesus by receiving His forgiveness purchased by His own death at the Cross, we become perfectly righteous. By cultivating a lifestyle of intimacy with Jesus, we become filled with faith to move the very mountains God is moving.

This distinction is really important because it means we are not ultimately in control of the level of faith we have: God is. Again, we are not trying to manufacture faith; we are learning to operate in the faith God has already given us. This is why the apostle Paul in the opening scripture (above) encourages us to operate in the grace given to us according to our faith. Where grace exists, faith is present. And God ultimately controls both: He gives us the faith to operate in the gifts He has given to us and to fulfill our God-given destiny. He also gives us the faith to cooperate with Him in the soul’s transformation. He is not in other words standing far off expecting us to muster up faith; rather, He leads us by faith.

And this means there are limits to faith. Not in the sense of what faith can accomplish, but in the sense of where faith can be found in our lives at any given point of our journey. That is, faith will always be present in the areas where God is at work in our lives. We do grow in faith, but not by trying to have more faith. We grow in faith by being faithful to partner with God with the faith He has already given to us.

In saying this, I am challenging the whole idea that faith is a super-power that lets us do whatever we want. That faith is an alternate path to perfection that does not require partnering with God at all, really: we just crank up the faith engine through our own effort and we are free to do whatever we want. This whole notion is in actuality a perception of faith from an orphan lens. In many ways it is an attempt to reap the benefits of faith without the cost involved, which is intimacy with God.

Which is not possible. Whether we are talking about romantic love or our relationship with God, intimacy costs you something. In fact, it ultimately costs you everything. But those who have participated in either know the cost is worth it. The path to life is limited by the narrow gate of intimacy. But once we enter, we find God and His goodness to be, well, quite limitless.2

  1. Matthew 5:20 ↩︎
  2. Matthew 7:13 ↩︎

Having Faith like a Child

Published on by dpatrickcollins1 Comment

And Jesus said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Matthew 18:3 (NIV)

Yesterday I discussed the folly of trying to practice faith through a faith-factory lens in which we think Jesus is expecting us to generate faith through the raw materials of our intellect and human effort alone, instead of through the only thing that can, honestly, generate true faith: intimacy with God. It is our intimate connection with Him that reveals to us who He is and what He is doing, both of which supply us with the very faith we need for every situation.

Which, coming from a faith-based culture, seems a bit wrong-headed. We may believe God speaks, and that He often tells us what He is doing. But isn’t the task of having enough faith our responsibility? To suggest God is ultimately the one who supplies us the very faith we need sounds a lot like God doing our job for us. Doesn’t it?

Well, it does – if we are viewing Christianity from an orphan mindset. If we think God’s ultimate objective is to make us independent creatures who rely on our own abilities to accomplish great things on our own and forge our own destiny, then God supplying the faith we need will sound a lot like God doing our job for us. But if God’s real objective is a life of intimacy, characterized by our utter dependence on Him (like a child has with a Father or a Bride with a Bridegroom) then God being the one to supply the faith we need, indeed the One to supply all we need, is not God doing our job for us but instead His job description. He longs to be our everything.

When Jesus says “Have faith in God,” He is not telling us to try harder: He’s telling us to go deeper. He is not giving us a job; He is inviting us into a life of such close intimacy with Himself that we find ourselves commanding the very mountains He Himself is moving, being moved by the very compassion and hope He Himself is feeling, even the very anger at the injustice the Evil One has unleashed upon the world.

The endgame is a life of intimacy. Anything short of this will not only tie us in emotional knots but also lead to a whole lot of spiritual striving. The tragedy in all of this is not just that we are unhappy or unproductive, but rather we are not ourselves. We are alienated from who we truly are. For like a child or a Bride, we were created for intimacy.

Faith is a Lot Like Dating

Published on by dpatrickcollins4 Comments

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

Mark 11:24 (NIV)

The claims Jesus makes about faith are astounding. But how exactly does one go about living a life of faith? How does one believe in a way that we receive what we ask for?

This is an important question because without a good answer, we can find ourselves tied up in all sorts of emotional knots. A visiting speaker at Elevation Church made the observation that the evangelical church in particular has created a culture where it is believed “bright and shiny” emotions – such as joy and hope – are the only ones God wants us to have, and this belief finds it roots in a poor understanding of faith. That if we are feeling hopeless and sorrowful, we are somehow denying God’s goodness and operating in unbelief. Which of course can only lead to a culture of people doing their best to hopelessly deny their emotions. And, as a part of what we might call a faith-based culture, I see this all the time.

But what then is faith if not controlling our emotions? Better yet, how does one have it? Here, it is helpful for us to have the right paradigm. When it comes to faith, most of us see ourselves as faith factories; that is, we think it is our job to produce faith by working with the raw materials we have at hand, like intellect and human effort. But faith is more like a woman on a first date. She may be hopeful, but she knows very little about the man on the other side of the table. And – here’s the rub – she has no idea whether he will come through for her till she gets to know him.

That is the true paradigm of faith. Faith is inescapably relational, and our ability to have faith in God for any situation is directly proportional to our intimate knowledge of Him. It is not something we can possess without knowing Him intimately any more than a woman can possess confidence in the man without getting to know him. Which is why cultivating a life of intimacy with God – one where we come into supernatural contact with His love – is so vital. God’s love is not just the fringe benefit of our salvation; it is the life force that empowers all else in the Christian life. As we come to know God’s love, our confidence He will come through for us in any situation we face will increase.

But this is not all there is to faith. For the life of faith is a relationship, just like a dating relationship, and our faith depends on what is going on in that relationship. For example, a woman who has gotten to know a man and who has earned her trust will believe him when he says, “I will meet you at the restaurant by the pier this Saturday at seven.” But her confidence will not only rest on what she knows about him. It will also rest on the simple if not obvious fact he has just told her what he intends to do. In the same way, our faith in God showing up in a way we expect is not simply based on what we know about Him. It is also based on Him revealing to us what He intends to do.

Many believers are driving themselves nuts trying to muster the faith God will show up in a specific way in their lives without God revealing to them what He intends to do. The reason for this is the faith-factory paradigm: when Jesus encourages us to have faith, we think He means from thin air. Granted, there are many instances in life where we can ask God for things with confidence on the basis of His character alone. But our tendency to think faith takes place outside relationship, as though God is requiring us to know precisely what He intends to do in any given situation without letting us draw close enough to Him to know what He is doing, is neither biblical nor rational. Nor relational, I would add: it is the breeding ground for emotional knots.

But if faith rests on God telling us in advance what he intends to do, doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of faith? Not really. At least, Abraham, the father of faith, did not think so, who believed precisely because God told him what He was about to do. Nor did Jesus, who only did what He saw The Father doing. The endgame of faith, as with dating, is not control or wild predictions; it is relational intimacy.